#would they rather i no show and then act like what happened was so bad i was pulled away from my phone

[vidavalor]

re: modern day flashback: That would be so fun! I'm a bit confused, though-- the trip to Edinburgh was to go to The Resurrectionist for the Everyday mystery (& for Aziraphale to go to the graveyard to work on his PTSD)? I do think we're probably going to briefly flash back to *very* modern days-- to after Aziraphale blew up his halo and The Metatron got on the circle floor zoom thing, as Aziraphale seemed to be saying happened the prior night during the morning of the end of 2.06.

We're going to see that Aziraphale told The Metatron to go fuck himself the night before right around the time that Aziraphale gets off the elevator in Heaven and is brought to... The Metatron. Because the one who took on that appearance and showed up with the coffee in The Final 15 is Satan. Hell doing Heaven's punishing for them a la the Job minisode, as Furfur brought up again just before The Final 15. Then, the actual falling part of Aziraphale's fall happens.

Our angel's a demon now but he's about to become the last angel to fall because the concept of Aziraphale being seen as evil is going to be enough to break the brains of every other character in this show enough that it's going to wind up toppling Heaven and Hell by them challenging The Metatron over it. That would be needed to help some people see what they just watched in The Final 15 differently and set us off running for The Finale.

If they want to show us another era that is closer to modern (by comparison to others lol), didn't they want to do the 1980s at one point? That would be fun. Like with anything, it'd have to be short and critical to the story to make it into The Finale but we don't know what else they have in store for us.

re: Bad Omen... Funny you should mention that... *dark snerk* I do think there was a plan for a Bad Omen-- not within the story but the show itself...

Didja notice how damn neat and tidy what I laid out in that post is? Like, suspiciously neat and tidy? I've had the thought that S2 was done in such a way intentionally that it would be possible for it to be concluded as a season or a movie. The asshole was always a ticking time bomb. I'm sure it was planned with options and I'm glad we get an ending but I've plotted story before and this was left in S2 in a perfect place to go either way with a season or a movie. I don't think that was sheer dumb luck.

S2 went deeper and slower in a way the story needed and it might have seemed like nothing was happening at times but everything really was. People mistake fast, action-oriented scenes for story. It's one of the reasons why the Armageddon threat being over so quickly in 1.06 throws some people. They don't realize that all the legwork to build to that quick dispatching of the threat was the slower-paced stuff they were watching the whole season through. The Finale is going to be the same way. People are freaking out about there not being enough time for flashbacks and it's just like... get Crowley & Gabriel to see what's going on and rally the other characters together and once that's in place within the first third of The Finale? They can end the fascist Mr. Potato Head in the length of time of a commercial break because we already spent S2 watching them get to that place.

Would I want more? Sure. Always. I love this show. Since the news of the film broke, though, have I ever been concerned that the film is too short to handle the main story points left and conclude it in a way that people will love? Not for a single second. It's going to be great.

<<The F15 was essentially the end of act 2. We only have the final act to uncover.>>

Exactly. I think people are concerned because they think that S3 was going to be about Jesus judging humanity and it's not. In a lot of Christian traditions, The Second Coming and Armageddon are more two parts of a whole rather than being the same thing. In order to get to the Jesus part, the war of Armageddon has to already be fought and won. In Good Omens, that would mean Earth would be destroyed and Heaven would defeat Hell. That's not happening. We may well see Jesus again before it's all over but, if we do, it's going to be briefly in some quirky capacity, not because The Second Coming in the Biblical sense was successful.

The Metatron's end goal is to get through Armageddon to The Second Coming but the plot is really Armageddon: Round Two. It's the same as it was in S1-- they have to stop Armageddon. They can do that by coming together and getting rid of The Metatron. That's very do-able with the time that's left because it's really now just a matter of needing something that pulls the characters back together and motivates them to do this-- i.e., needing to help Aziraphale.

The Finale is really more like not having a S3 but, instead, having a bonus, two episode finale to S2. I think it helps to think of it all more like we've only seen six of the eight episodes of S2, which is the final season, because The Finale isn't a separate plot with a new starting place. It's going to pick up where S2 left off.

<<If I was running the show I would hit us up with the flashbacks back to back like in S1, ending on their new arrangement which would feed right into the final 15. Recontextualise everything, and then hit the ground running...>>

Oh, you're a dastardly writer. *grins* I like your style! Just come in hot, flip everything on its head, leave everyone reeling and riveted through to the end. I think it could very well be like that and that would be a lot of fun.

I have a pretty big suspicion that the first scene of The Finale is The Vavoom. Whether that's a one-off scene that flips the kiss in The Final 15 on its head for some people and then goes into the opening title sequence and we're back in the present or whether it's the start of a second cold open, I don't know.

I tend to agree with you that doing a flashback sequence cold open to start The Finale would be pretty amazing. Structurally, I think this is the best place for it to go... in large part because of what could happen immediately in the present on the other side of it.

Imagine they cold open for, like, 25 minutes straight like they did in 1.03 and we go through time with Crowley & Aziraphale again in a half-dozen scenes and now, since they're past the point of needing to duck and weave in order to pull off the S2 twist, these are all pretty openly romantic scenes. The ancient times first kiss, a story around the cottage making us unable to wait for them to go live there, the origins of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", the last part of 1941, etc...

...and then, while we're all trying to come up for air? Boom, we're back in the present, where Aziraphale gets off the elevator and is taken to the The Metatron to fall-- and Saraqael takes his memories before he does.

Everything we just finally watched is, for the moment, now gone in the story. We saw it to set up its existence being temporarily erased. Aziraphale goes into the pit of boiling sulphur and... cue the opening title sequence.

They should definitely do that. 😂 People would be screaming.

Ok,Since the Good Omens Finale is only going to be 90 minutes,I have a feeling we might not get a flashback sequence.

Hi there, @rougeside4 💕 I made an apple pie, if you want some. 😊Allow me to offer a different take? I wouldn't worry about this. There will be flashbacks. It's not the show without them.

Short thing on why we're definitely getting flashbacks and on which ones we can maybe see as being very likely still in The Finale.

The secret sauce of Good Omens, imho, is that the real juice of the story is actually always in the flashbacks. The flashbacks that we see are not random; they're always written to support the story in the present. There's a point to why it is these flashbacks we are seeing-- and when and in what order we are seeing them--when Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth for over 6,000 years and we could see any of their adventures. They're designed to inform our understanding of the story in the present. The real beating heart of the story is in the scenes set in the past and the story in the present would lack... *searches for words* emotional resonance? thematic weight? general, dramatic oomph? all of these?... if they were to cut the past. Put more plainly: it would suck 😂, and they're smart enough not to do that.

I think some of the most exciting parts of The Finale are actually going to be the flashbacks, just like how they were always the biggest treats in S1 and S2. In the way that they roll those out to us, piece by piece, they're changing our understanding of what we're watching in the present. The meaning of the story in the present is driven by the flashbacks in the past to a point that you cannot have one without the other.

Good Omens is actually driving all of its suspense and anticipation through the story in the past and that's what makes its non-linear storytelling clever. After all, right now, most people know this thing has a happy ending and aren't worried about that, right? We know Crowley and Aziraphale will get back together and be fine and no one is stressing over that. (And if you are... really? Guys. Honestly?! It's called Good Omens. It's a romance. It's a sweet, cuddly show. It's going to be fine. 💕)

So, what are we curious about, if not where it's going in the present?

1941, Part 3, right? Whether or not there's an ancient times vavoom coming our way? What the deal is with Jane Austen and/or 1650? Whether or not we might be surprised with a flashback that hasn't already been set up earlier in the story and what that might be?

Our biggest questions in the story aren't about what will happen in the future but about what we might get to see that has already happened in the past.

There is actually no conceivable way to do The Finale without flashbacks because the entire story is built towards having at least a couple of essential ones happen in its end game. I would not be surprised if at least somewhere around a third of The Finale is set in the past. Are there ones that we would have had with a full season that will be cut? Yes, but, are there also ones, though, that are too essential to cut because the entire story for two seasons has been building towards eventually revealing them to the audience in the final part of the story? Oh, yeah. 😉

Guaranteed: 1941, Part 3. There is no chance that they cut this-- none. They have built the ending of this trilogy of flashbacks to support the ending of the story in the present so it has to happen. It doesn't need to be an entire minisode in length. Part 2 really did all the heavy-lifting with plot and themes here, and Part 1 was a single, brilliant, not terribly long scene. If Amazon reduced The Finale to 15 minutes long, I think the show would still find a way to put 1941, Part 3 in there. The first two parts were so pivotal to the themes and parallels of the story in the present and it's the only flashback that we keep getting installments of throughout the story so its Part 3 is going somewhere massive. If there's one flashback that's in The Finale, it's this one.

Extremely, extremely likely: the ancient times vavoom to which they have been building in clues and hints for two seasons that is going to flip the entire show on its head by going back to The Flood. It would parallel and add extra weight to all the conflicts we have in the story in The Finale that were set into motion by the end of S2-- the kiss, one of them leaving/them being separated, the threat of an apocalyptic-like event, etc.. It would, in almost no time at all, complete the narrative magic trick of the show by turning it inside out for the audience.

The show that shows everything backwards has been sitting on the real first kiss the entire time and saving it until the end game of the story and that end game is The Finale so expect that angel and that demon to be sheltering under a canopy from a rainstorm in the very long ago days and break the internet in the process.

If I were them, I'd even open The Finale with this flashback, just because of how much it's going to pull the rug out from under The Final 15. After all, the first two seasons opened with a canopy-and-rain-themed scene, did they not? Just one wing at a time, though... no under a canopy together yet. No gazing into each other's eyes and vavooming. That bit of the beginning of their story has always been going to be shown to us in the end of the story. It could well be the, well, beginning of the end of that story by opening The Finale. We'll have to see. Either way, it's in there.

It's also worth mentioning that both of these above flashbacks would be going back to eras we've already visited in the story so no time would need to be devoted to setting up the scenes. That would seem to make them easier to not cut, in addition to how narratively important they are.

Going To Be In There In Someway, Somehow: A flashback that sets up the South Downs Cottage ending, which is suspected to be the Jane Austen flashback because of her living in real life in the South Downs around the years that it was mentioned in S2 that Crowley and Aziraphale knew her.

When this was set up for S3 back in S2, the Jane Austen story felt juicy enough to potentially be a whole minisode in length. Maybe especially since it's probably how they are going to be build a history of the cottage between Crowley and Aziraphale to help give emotional weight to them going to live there in the present at the end of the story. I've no idea what this looks like with a shortened run time. They might abbreviate or maybe it was never even that long in the first place? They might do something different in its place? It's hard to say, since we don't know, but they've got to do something to set up the cottage, so...

Whatever this winds up being, though, we're now up to three flashbacks that have to happen because of how they connect to the story in the present in The Finale. These are three, non-negotiable ones, basically-- and we are obviously only looking at ones that we can see having been set up already.

There is also the fact that there's usually a surprise flashback that wasn't set up but which is crucial to the story, like the Job minisode was in S2. It fits in perfectly, retrospectively, but we were intentionally not really given enough in S1 to see it coming in S2 so that there was something unpredictable for us to enjoy. I'm not expecting anything as long as Job again but there could still be a scene more 1.03 Cold Open in length that we don't even know is essential at this point because we aren't meant to know at this point but, much like we did with Bildad 😊, we will see as vital to everything once we see it.

Including that as a possibility, we're now up to four flashback scenes that seem unlikely to be chopped from The Finale. What I just described, give or take and depending on the length of 1941, Part 3, is probably collectively getting within shouting distance of the run time of the 1.03 Cold Open-- and that's going really bare bones and only talking about the scenes that seem too story-essential to consider cutting. There's also one more that might meet that criteria...

Could Go Either Way: 1650. If this has nothing to do with Agnes Nutter, it's probably gone. If it's how Agnes has an appearance in the end of the story to pull stuff together, they'll probably find a way to put it in there because... Agnes. 😊

No one knows what this thing is supposed to be about but we do know that it was set up in S2 for S3 and, between Aziraphale mentioning it, the historical ties to eccles cakes to this era, the fact that it could potentially show a Whickber Street in early development and, most importantly, that it's set five years before Agnes Nutter died, whatever this thing is? It's intriguing. We don't know how long it was meant to be but if it's something that was minisode-length but could be reworked to be shorter-- or if just was always short in length-- it's probably still in there.

It's very possible to have many, quality scenes that hop throughout time in a very short period of time. The 1.03 Cold Open is about 23 minutes long and jam-packed with goodness. I have no idea if they're going to sprinkle flashbacks in throughout The Finale or if they're going to do a flashback sequence like 1.03/Ineffable Bureaucracy again but I do think that at least a third of The Finale-- so, roughly 30 minutes of it, give or take-- are likely flashbacks.

We are going into this movie a lot closer to the end of the story in the present than I think it may appear to some at this point. All the set up work to get the characters into place to overthrow The Metatron in The Finale was already done in S2. It's not going to take 90 minutes for Aziraphale to be in trouble, Crowley and Ineffable Bureaucracy to find out and rally the troops, everyone to challenge The Metatron, expose him as a fraud, and kill the threat of Armageddon by overthrowing Heaven and setting it up to be democratized. That's pretty much what everyone knows needs to happen in The Finale and what is likely going to be the main story in the present in S3.

We know what is going to happen because we know it has a happy ending and we know that we need the Armageddon threat gone for the South Downs Cottage happy ending to occur. We know the only answer is that they've got to overthrow The Metatron. Whether you think the plot is Supreme Archangel Aziraphale or whether you're like me and think the plot is that Aziraphale is in mid-fall as of the end of S2 and that's the thing that triggers the other characters to come together against Heaven, the end result is still going to be the same: The Metatron's gotta go and everyone's got to come together to make that happen if we're getting the happy ending we already know we're getting.

We are all sitting here knowing pretty much exactly what the story in the present is going to be in The Finale and that's because the story has set it up so that we do. Yes, there's going to be joy in watching that unfold but a story designed like a magic trick has to have suspense and give the audience a sense of anticipation. We feel that from this story and from where are we getting that?

The past. The flashbacks.

Everyone knows what the end of this story in the present is but no one knows for sure where, say, 1941 is going, or what new things about Crowley and Aziraphale the past will show us in The Finale. Every new thing we see in the past? Changes our view of the present. That's what makes the story clever. It's also what makes it enjoyable. They cannot cut flashbacks because they'd be cutting the most interesting parts of the story and what makes Good Omens the quirky, unique bird it is.

The present and the past are so interwoven in the story that I'm pretty sure that it is impossible to do Good Omens without flashbacks. The only question going into The Finale is which ones they're going to surprise and delight us with. Don't lose faith or sleep over it-- at minimum, we'll see Crowley's 1941 hat again and that, truly, is all any of us really need to survive.

[fleshprisonbabe]

do i call out from work for a personal day bc im losing my mind or do i power cope and go in

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Dating the Slytherin boys (+ Harry) ▪ HEADCANONS

Requested: No

Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Regulus Black, Harry Potter (+ y/n)

Warnings: NSFW mentions, English is not my first language

A/N: I'm not sure I like this but here we go. However I have to say I like Regulus' one so I might turn his version into a one shot one day (when uni won't be killing me slowly). This will include also the pre-dating/flirting stage as well. SORRY FOR THE TYPOS. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^^

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @anawritez-posts @pumpkinchee @alwayslatetothefandoms

Mattheo Riddle:

His feelings for you probably confused him at first 

If he falls first, he either won’t let you know or will do everything to get your attention (‘Hey, y/n, come sit here, the seat is free!”, “y/n, do you mind helping me with homework for Snape? I can’t bloody do it”, “How about we go to Hogsmeade, just you and me?”, “you look beautiful, y/n”)

Your love for him always calms him when he gets anxious or when he’s upset, especially after his father comes back

Will tell you things he never told anyone

Would rather spend time with you than with his friends

Is terrified something will happen to you because of his father 

VERY jealous, but trusts you

Despite easily getting angry, he can’t get mad at you. Even during arguments 

LOVES sleeping in your arms or when you just hold him

He's crazy about your body

Loves showering with you, and we both know how it often ends

HOT, passionate sex

Will randomly eat you out without expecting anything in return (doesn't mind if you return the favor, though)

100% calls you "baby" or "love" all the time

Doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him as long as you love him

Your love makes him feel lighter and stronger

You're his whole world

Feels bad when he hears someone criticize you for dating him 

Always makes sure you don’t overwork yourself, and makes sure you get enough sleep, water and food, and comforts you when you're anxious

Holds your hands when he's anxious or stressed

Will listen to anything you have to say 

Crazy about your perfume

Theodore Nott:

Struggles to express his love or feelings in general, at least in the beginning 

Has never done serious relationships before, and it may cause some trouble in your relationship, as you end up believing he doesn’t care about you

It causes many fights, and the last one will be the first time he says ‘I love you’

Always goes to you for comfort 

Loves sleeping with you in his arms/on his laps, or cuddling, and with time he can’t sleep without you

Loves watching you sleep 

Loves having you on his lap

Always gets you great gifts (even randomly)

“Well, it thought it was pretty, and…it reminded me of you.”

Will fight any guy who is rude to you or acts like a creep 

Very jealous (trusts you, doesn’t trust others)

Doesn’t mind PDA at all, will gladly hold your hand or kiss you in public

Always has a hand on your waist or around your shoulders 

Very supportive in everything you do, even when he doesn’t understand it/isn’t really interested in it

Isn’t very good with comforting people (mostly because he's not used to it), but will hold you and listen to you as long as you need, can even give you advice/reassurance 

Every compliment/'I love you' you say melts his heart and means much more to him than he shows, same goes for anything you do for him

Loves doing fun things, even if it’s just throwing snowballs at each other during winter (which ends in loving kisses, just savouring the joy of being together)  

Love getting in a pool with you and playing "childish" games during summer

Any form of intimacy means A LOT to him 

He's used to hooks up and "fucking" but it takes him a bit of time to have sex with you (despite being crazy about you and your body) because you mean everything to him and with you it's really making love instead of just "fucking"

The first time is loving and slow yet passionnate (eye contact at all times, hands holding, desperate kisses from him), and it gets a bit rougher and passionate the next times (but aftercare, which he isn't used to, is always on point and keeps getting better)

Is secretly very insecure, and is terrified you will leave him (especially for another “better” guy) 

Craves your touch and your love but won’t admit it

His boggart is probably you being dead alongside his mother

Will tell you sweets things in Italian

Very clingy in private - and also in public with time

With you he learns to be happier and discovers a happier side of himself he didn't know he had

Loves you much more than he actually shows at first 

Will often say you're all he has (and means it)

But with time, you have no reason to doubt his love and he’s the perfect boyfriend

Blaise Zabini:

Probably will court you like the gentleman he is

He doesn’t trust people easily and might be a little distant (while always polite and kind) in the early stages of your relationship 

But with time he becomes very warm and smiles a lot

Always kisses the top of your hand or your forehead 

Doesn’t do much PDA except for holding hands and kisses on your forehead

However in private he’ll 100% cuddle you and hold you

Dates in parks or restaurants  

Get you flowers at least once a month

Will always defend you against others 

One of his love languages is acts of service

Lorenzo Berkshire:

You either were friends before dating or he fell in love with you at first sight, there is no in between

Takes you on fun dates (arcade, funfair, theme parks) 

Can be shy at the beginning, which will make it a bit hard for him to talk about how he feels about you

Movie nights where you two eats lots of snacks and sweets while cuddling 

Always smiles when you enter a room

So supportive 

Loves when you're on his lap

He has no problem with PDA

Quickly willing to meet your family if you agree

He’s a great listener and mostly gives good advices 

Loves taking naps with you 

Always makes you sure you get enough sleep, water and food

Won’t let you get yourself into dangerous situations

Loves to go anywhere with you, no matter the activity and even if he just follows you around 

Many pet names

If you're Muggleborn or grew up among Muggles, he will totally ask you questions about the muggle world

Passionnate sex, will get rough if he hasn't seen you in a long time or if it's angry sex after he got jealous

His aftercare is the best, and he's always thankful you trust him enough to have that form of intimacy with him

Draco Malfoy:

Won’t flirt at first with you but keeps wanting your attention

Tries to seduce you with expensive gifts, and is a bit taken aback when you say he doesn’t work

Continues to get you gifts, but will make sure they match your interests/tastes, and keeps expensive gifts for your birthdays and Christmas (even though he’d like to get them all year for you) 

At first he doesn't show any weakness in your presence

With you he’ll learn patience and to focus of more positive things, and also to stand up to his father

Takes you on dates every chance he gets

Will ditch his friends to spend time with you

Probably makes Crabbe and Goyle carry your bags or do things for you

So proud to be dating you, it might even make him more arrogant

Gets grumpy when jealous but after a kiss on the cheek he’s back to his normal self 

Will invite you to his home and write you nearly everyday during holidays

Hates it when Harry or any Gryffindor boy tries to talk to you

Surprisingly has no problem with PDA

Loves when you come to see him play during Quidditch matches

Tom Riddle:

Oh boy

It started with him admiring/watching you from afar, for a reason he can’t understand

SUPER confused by what he feels for you and why

Will probably try to get closer to you through homework or through books if he sees you read one

Will know everything about you, and will secretly follow you, saving you if you’re in danger with you never knowing who saved you

Crazy about your perfume, so much so that it makes him steal one of your clothes just to be able to smell it anytime he wants

After a while, he’ll spend most of his time with you without ever admitting he likes it

Will probably let you know his feelings for you after he cast a spell on a guy for being a creep with you 

Won’t let another man touch you

Will ask Mattheo for advice to be better or to make you fall in love with him

Will do your homework without hesitation, even if he pretends that he hates it, and will leave explanations so you understand his answers/his work

No PDA except for holding hands or your hand under his arm, but will make sure to stay close to you at all times 

Is a surprisingly good listener 

VERY jealous, but surprisingly isn’t mad or suspicious at you

“Did you enjoy having his attention? Do you wish for me to show you how my attention is better?” 

He doesn't stress over homework or stuff like that, so he finds it ridiculous when you do (learns with time to be more understanding)

Will let flowers in your room with a note on it

Pretends to not care about the gifts you get him for his birthday or Christmas but it actually means so much to him as no one ever got him any gifts before 

Nothing the others say about him gets to him, but he gets angry when he hears someone say that you deserve better than him

Is secretly insecure about his background and the fact that he’s poor, and thinks you deserve better 

As Voldemort: Might be torn between continuing his goals for power or spending a simple life with you; is aware you’ll leave him if he gets on a darker path 

As Voldemort’s son: would do everything to protect you from his father, and if he’s forced to get the Dark Mark, he will makes sure you don’t know 

Possessive kisses 

Would hurt anyone who does you wrong

Borrows money from Draco to take you on dates or to get you gifts, as he feels like you deserve the nicest things, even though you keep telling him his mere presence is enough

May feel a little bit guilty that he can’t properly show you his love like “normal” boyfriends do 

Won’t admit it but considers you the only good thing in his life, and if he ever lost you he’d get on a dark path

Won’t cuddle at first, but if you wake up first you’ll find him sleeping close to you, with at least one of his hands touching you

Always notices when you don’t eat, sleep or drink enough

You’re the first (and only) person he will feel romantic love for

He has a bit of sexual experience before, but with you it's completely different - once you guys have sex for the first time, he becomes obsessed with your body and how it makes him feel

Loves fingering you

"You like it, dove?"

Even if you guys don’t work out, he won’t ever be with somebody else 

Would ask your parents for you hand in marriage, but honestly it's just out of politeness, the only answer that matters to him is yours

Regulus Black:

Like Blaise, he was raised the old fashioned way

Acts coldly towards everyone except you, his tone and eyes gets warmer and kinder when talking/looking at you, and you’re the only person he’ll smile at

You were his best (and only) friend and he has been in love with you for years

He hides his feelings very well, but one day you start dating someone else (thinking Regulus doesn’t share your feelings) but he can’t bear it and confesses his feelings

Always defends you

He’ll take you on restaurants or picnics dates, always bringing flowers

Mostly fine with PDA (holding hands, hands on your waist)

Thinks he’s very lucky to have you

Probably already starts thinking of marrying you during your last year at Hogwarts 

A bit jealous, but can’t stand it when Sirius tries to talk to you

Will gladly do your homework with/for you

Loves it when you sleep in each other’s arms, loves feeling you close

Loves it when you call him “Reggie” (only you is allowed to)

Will literally do everything you ask him to

You’re everything to him

Can’t stay away from you for long

Will get worried if you’re five minutes late

Always calls you “sweetheart” or “love”/”my love” 

Slow, romantic sex most of the time but sometimes he needs to be rougher

Thanks to you he’ll feel lighter and he will become kinder

You’ll even make him change his views on blood purity and stand up to his parents, and with time he gets closer to Sirius thanks to that (and you) 

If that doesn’t change and he still joins Voldemort, he’ll leave you a letter before going to the cavern, saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him

Harry Potter:

Don’t expect any pet names from him, but he might create a nickname with your name (like he calls Ginny ‘Gin’ in the Cursed Child) 

His love languages are fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a patience he didn’t knew he had

Has no problem with PDA because he doesn’t care about what other people think  

Loves cuddles

Rarely gets mad at you, and feels guilty when he does

Mostly gets mad at you when you hurt yourself (for example during Quidditch) but it's also because he was scared for you

Hot kisses in private

Will be jealous if he sees you with another guy 

He’s passionate in a lot of things he does, and it includes you and everything you do

Will fiercely defend you again anyone, can even throw hands

Gets FURIOUS when Umbridge hurts you during detention, and will cuddle you for hours and do everything he can to make the pain disappear

Knows people are mean to you during fifth year because you're dating him and he hates it

During that year the only peace he feels is when he's holding you or when you sleep in his arms (it's also the only time he doesn't get nightmares)

Very supportive 

Loves getting you gifts 

You make him feel SO happy, he’ll just keep smiling for no reason 

Gets more and more clingy with time

Always write to you during the holidays (you always invite him to come to your house)

I'm not sure about sex while you guys are at Hogwarts but he 100% feels lust for you, there will definitely be hot making sessions when you guys are alone in a dark corner of the castle and it often ends up with you against the wall with your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck and caresses your legs

However sometimes he just can't stop himself and will eat you out (even maybe finger you at the same time), and will be proud when you come

Any act of service you do for him means a lot

You're always worried about him when he's at the Dursleys but he reassures you that he's fine

Comes to you in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare and generally comes to you for comfort or to rant 

Needs you more than ever after Voldemort comes back and after Sirius’ death 

Misses you like crazy during his quest for Horcruxes, and he can’t bear the thought of something happening to you 

Might struggle to show it, but he knows and is thankful of how patient and comprehensive you are with him, and that makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be

Terrified Voldemort might hurt/kill you

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[thinkinonsense]

ok so i had a thought😏😏 dbf!logan takes ur virginity and from then on u guys hook up whenever u get a chance (all the time). one night he gets done dicking u DOWN and u say u love him and he’s all like “we can’t do this anymore kid” very ANGSTYYY

i love you, i'm sorry- dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part two *mdni

"i love you, logan."

four little words that would send your world crumbling before your feet. the older man lifts himself from in between your chest, both of you panting post orgasm. nights like this had become a bad habit for the both of you.

from the moment logan first slipped off your panties in this exact spot a year ago, you had been wanting to tell him how you really felt. you wanted to tell him how you craved his touch when he wasn't around, how you adored the way he took care of you and most importantly, how this didn't feel 'casual' to you anymore.

seconds turned into minutes of silence, desperately waiting for logan to say something; anything.

"lo, are you going to say some-"

"we can't see each other anymore, kid." he says, avoiding eye contact with you as he pulls out.

"what?"

this wasn't real. that's the only sentence that your brain could form as you watch him put his boxers back on. you laid there on his bed, naked, vulnerable, with his cum dripping out of you and he can't even look you in your fucking eyes.

"ya' heard me." logan says, putting a cigar in his mouth and tossing your dress on the bed next to you.

"what happened?" your voice was trembling on the verge of rage and heartbreak.

"i told you a year ago not to bring that 'love shit' in here."

a year ago when he took your virginity. he promised to be gentle and to care for you. guess that didn't extend past sex for him.

you scoff, pulling your sundress over your head. "you didn't say that when you said you love how tight i fit around you or when you said you love how well i know you. was any of that even true?"

logan ignored you as he lit his cigar and waited for you to leave. you stand up and walk over to him, touching his chin and turning to so he's facing you.

"look me in the eyes when you kick me out of your bed." you spit angrily at the man you adored endlessly.

all logan could see was your eyes full of tears and your red puffy lips, trying to keep yourself together. deep down, he knew he deserved all the shit in the world thrown at him for him for breaking your heart. you would never understand why he had to be so cruel but his intentions were never to hurt you like this. it killed him.

"find someone your own age to love, kid." logan says, twisting the knife.

"don't call me kid, logan!" you yell at him. "i'm not a fucking child!"

"then stop acting like one!" his voice boomed back at you, spurring on more tears.

who had he turned into? you couldn't recognize the man in front of you. this wasn't your logan.

"so, you're just going to let me leave like this?" you cry, glaring at him. "give up everything we have all because you're afraid of me loving you?"

you didn't expect an answer, he already shoved your hand away from his face, no longer wanting the image of your broken heart haunting him.

logan wanted to tell you everything, explain why he can't accept your love because it will put you at a greater risks, but logically, logan knows he has to let you go.

"in ten years, when your ass is still sitting drunk on one of my fathers bar stools and he shows you photos of me and a man who can appreciate me for more than sex, a man who can admit he loves me back, you'll remember this moment because this will be the last time you ever fucking see me." you tell him rather calmly as you collect your shoes and purse.

logan watches you do as he asks and leave. if he was a better man, he would have done it differently; but then again, if he was a better man, he never would've fooled around with a twenty-something year old.

the front door slams with a broken sob escaping your lips. from the bedroom, logan could hear your car engine starting and that's when he could allow himself to grieve the life he would've had.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

all roads lead back to you | c.sc (scoups)

(where you take an annual cabin trip with your friends and your ex decides to join this year)

pairing: ex!seungcheol (scoups) x f!reader genre: exes to lovers | angst, smut rating: explicit - minors DNI word count: ~10.6k warnings: these are exes and the relationship ended badly, but we're healing, drinking, midnight kisses, reader is mentioned as wearing a skirt & tights, making out, seungcheol picks reader up, body worship, slight nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), choking, cheol has a big dick (i don't make the rules), unprotected sex (they talk about it, but don't do this), multiple orgasms & overstimulation (f. receiving), aftercare

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 11 - cabin vacation. i'm not really sure what happened, something about scoups just makes me blackout and write too much (i only started this 2 days ago). also shoutout to @tbzhub for saying we'd do this together lmao. thank you to @gyuwoncheol, @wonwussy, & @wooahaeproductions for helping me land on cheol for this fic. also, just for fun, tagging some scoups enjoyers because i'm nothing if not a menace: @ugh-yoongi, @seungkwansphd, @wongyuseokie, @beomcoups, @horanghater, @cheolism

The holidays are usually your favorite time of year. Sure, they’re really hectic and there’s always way too much to do without nearly enough time to do it. But, you still love it. Love being around friends and family. Love how everyone seems to acknowledge that any problems can wait for the new year. This is a time for joy and happiness. A time to celebrate all the wonderful things that did happen and leave the bad in the year you’re leaving behind. 

This time of year also brings around an annual trip that you take with friends. A trip to a secluded cabin where you can all just disconnect. Where you can sit by the fireplace and read. Where you can go to the nearby resort to ski or snowboard. Where you can drink hot cocoa and swap stories and just enjoy the company without the bustle of the city. It’s one of your favorite weekends every time the holidays roll around. 

Not this year. 

This year, your friends decide that they want to make the group a little bigger and spend a long weekend, including New Year’s Eve, together. Which is great, you’re single and there’s nobody else you’d rather ring the New Year in with. Except for one problem. Your ex is also coming. It’s been a little over a year since you broke up, so you know it’s time to move on. Moving on feels a lot harder when he decides he’s going to come to the cabin weekend again this year. It shouldn’t really surprise you. After all, you were friends before you dated. Didn’t think anything could stop you from being friends after. Didn’t actually think there would be an after, if you’re honest. And you’re definitely not going to be the one to back out or admit you’re still not really over it. 

So, that’s why you’re sitting in a car with Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Mimi, headed off to the cabins that your friends booked for an extended long weekend. You’re just thankful that Wonwoo offered you a spot in his car on the way up. Makes it a lot easier. Even if it means Jihoon and Mimi are currently in each other’s space in the backseat as she shows him something on her phone. It’s not that you mind how cute they are together, it’s just still weird to see Jihoon acting like that with anyone. She seems to have waltzed in and melted any defenses he had.

From his position in the driver’s seat, Wonwoo reaches over to squeeze your thigh. You look over at him, grateful for the reminder that you’re not alone in all of this. Grateful that he swore up and down to make sure you never felt awkward the whole weekend. Maybe it won’t be so bad, you think, as you queue up more songs for the drive. That’s the best part about being in the front seat. You get to control the music and Wonwoo started the trip by telling Jihoon and Mimi just to roll with it. Not that they’re paying all that much attention, but it was a nice thought all the same. 

The drive up is uneventful. Wonwoo navigates the winding back roads with a practiced ease. You sigh happily, taking in all the trees dusted with snow and the winter wonderland all around as you leave most of your troubles behind. There’s something almost refreshing about being out here. Like the air is crisper and everything is stiller. Wonwoo would make a smartass comment about how there’s more trees, less pollution, and a lot fewer people. So, of course all those things are true. You think it’s more, something about the magic of Christmas and the New Year. 

Your smile falls the second you pull up to the main cabin because you can see that Seungcheol’s car is already there. Figures he would not only drive, but beat you there. You try to set that aside, though, because the place is beautiful. It’s set up with a main cabin where you can hang out, cook, play games, or do whatever you want. Then, there are separate small cabins, mostly just with bedrooms and bathrooms, to sleep in. Nayeon, bless her, took care of figuring out the sleeping arrangements for everyone. At least that would be easy. 

Jihoon and Mimi are out of the car almost as soon as it stops, even if Jihoon grumbles about how his legs are stiff and the air is cold. It takes one smile from Mimi and he’s smiling back, grabbing their bags from the car to head for the main cabin. Meanwhile, Wonwoo adjusts his glasses and makes sure everything is turned off before getting out of the car to stretch. When he meets you at the trunk, his gaze is soft. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks. 

You sigh and pull out your suitcase, with a little help from your friend. “No.” 

“We shouldn’t have come,” Wonwoo says.

“Just because I’m being a baby doesn’t mean you should’ve stayed away,” you reassure him.

“You’re not being a baby,” he says with a frown. 

“Still,” you press. “We’ve been broken up for a year. There’s going to be a lot of people here, it’ll be fine.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Wonwoo relents. “He didn’t bring anyone, did he?” 

“No, Nayeon said it’s just him. She’s worried about me too,” you say with a playful eye roll. “She’s got me staying in a cabin with you, her, and Joshua.”

“I’m glad we’re at least staying together,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m gonna be fine, Wonwoo, you worry too much,” you insist. 

You get through the first night and breakfast the next morning without having to say a single word to Seungcheol. It’s been awhile since you last saw some of your friends, so there’s a lot to catch up on. The group is also pretty large, which makes it easier to blend in. Everything, even something as simple as making a meal, is kind of a process, too. You’ve always been pretty comfortable in the kitchen and offer to help cook. Seungcheol can’t say the same. It feels like maybe it’ll be smooth and you can just do your own separate things without it being a big deal. Like you can both just agree to give each other space during the trip and not be awkward.

That lasts until the afternoon on the first full day, unfortunately. 

Even though a lot of people take time off between Christmas and New Year’s, a decent portion of the group decides a Friday will still be less busy on the slopes. They want to get some runs in earlier in the day before whatever everyone wants to do later. Seungcheol, thankfully, was one of the first to say he wanted to go. Not surprising, you know he likes really anything where he can be active. Wonwoo was also quick to say he wanted to, after asking you if that was okay. You, again, insisted it was fine. 

You’re reading your book by the fire, periodically watching Jun, Nayeon, and Mimi play cards on the other side of the room, when Seungcheol comes hobbling back in. Minghao just behind him, scolding him for not waiting and ruining the peaceful atmosphere. 

“What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, looking up from the game.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Seungcheol says shortly.

“He rolled his ankle,” Minghao interjects. 

“Now you see why I stayed behind,” Jun says.

“I’m fine, really,” Seungcheol insists. 

“You should ice it just in case. And keep it elevated,” Minghao says as heads off to the kitchen. 

Trying to keep your face straight, you mark the page in your book and get up. All you want is for this to be as subtle as possible. But, Jun is also in the room.

“Where are you going?” Jun asks. 

“Oh, just back to my room to get something,” 

It’s a lie and you’re pretty sure they know it, but you also don’t care. You’re not going to stay in the room with an injured Seungcheol because he gets pouty when he can’t do exactly what he wants. This is going to be one of those times. There’s no way he’s going to be happy sitting still when he knows his other friends are still out on the trails. Especially when it’s such a minor thing. You hope that they all understand your decision to just let them deal with him and whatever he has to say.

When you feel like it’s been enough time, you venture back into the main cabin, portable charger in hand, for good measure. Not that you think anyone will ask what it is that you needed from your room, but it’s always a good idea to be prepared. Just in case. At first glance, you think the main living area is empty. That makes you sigh in a little relief. Not that you want to be alone when this is a trip for friends. It’s just nice to have a quiet moment in all the chaos. You think you’ll be able to get back to your book, at least for a little, until you notice someone laying on the couch. Not someone. Seungcheol. Quickly, you turn around, hoping he doesn’t see you. And it would probably work, if you didn’t bump into the corner of a table on your way out.

His head snaps up and swivels to look at you. “What - oh.” 

“Sorry, I was just leaving,” you say.

“Can you really not be in the same room as me?” he asks. He sits up so that he can look at you more easily.

“I’ve been in the same room as you plenty,” you point out.

“Not alone,” he persists. 

“What reason would we possibly have to be alone together?” you wonder. 

“You don’t have to be so…” he starts.

“So, what?” you press.

“So…like this,” Seungcheol finishes, somewhat lamely.

“How should I be?” you ask. 

“I don’t know, just, not like this. We were always comfortable with each other, even before…” he starts and stops suddenly.

“Before we dated? Before you shattered my heart? Before you decided it was easier to shut me out instead of just talking to me?” you ask, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. 

“I know,” he admits.

“You just abandoned me,” you say quietly. “I needed you and you weren’t there. I never would’ve left you like that.” 

“I know. I made so many mistakes. So many things I can’t take back,” he says. He actually looks remorseful. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse. “I’m so sorry for that. I would take it all back if I could. I’d do everything differently.”

“This was a mistake,” you say.

“Talking to me?” he asks.

“Coming on this trip at all,” you admit and turn away. “I have to go.” 

With your back to him, you miss the way his face falls at your admission. Don’t see the way he considers getting up to follow after you. It’s for the best, anyway. Your heart's already breaking again just from one conversation. Just from seeing the emotion on his face. The one face you thought you’d always know better than your own. It’s amazing how everything can change in a single moment. How something that took years to build, first as friends and then as a couple, can all come tumbling down in a second. A split second or a fork in the road. One wrong turn and it’s all gone. 

You make it through to Saturday without any more forced conversations with your ex-boyfriend. Manage to sit on the opposite end of the table from him during meals. Wait until he commits to playing a game or watching something before you decide what to do yourself. Still, you feel very included in everything with different groups of your friends because there are plenty of people there to hang out with. If you take the forced conversation with him out of the equation, it’s actually been a pretty good trip, overall. Not nearly as hard as you expected it to be. 

“I’m gonna go check out the lodge at the mountain, anyone wanna come?” Wonwoo throws out. There’s a smattering of lukewarm responses. Mostly, people say they may hit the trails a little bit later after they’ve had a lazy morning.

“I’ll come,” you offer. 

“Shocking that you two are a pair,” Nayeon jokes from her spot on the couch, curled up with Joshua.

“That’s enough out of you,” you joke back before turning to Wonwoo. “I’ll go grab my coat.”

“Can you grab my hat? I think I left it in my room,” Wonwoo requests.

“Sure,” you agree. 

When you meet Wonwoo in the entranceway, you find your eyes back on the living area. Almost like you can feel someone watching you. But, when nobody is, you figure that you must have imagined it, not noticing the way Seungcheol’s jaw tightens or his mouth turns down in frown. He had just been looking and he wasn’t liking what he saw. Instead, having missed all that, you fall into step beside one of your closest friends and head out of the cabin.

“It’s not a far walk, but we can drive if you want,” Wonwoo offers, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“No, a walk would be nice. It’s not as cold today,” you say.

One of the best parts of being friends with Wonwoo is the sheer comfort you feel with him. It’s always been like this, since the beginning of your friendship. Always just as easy to say the hard things to him as it is to sit in silence. Always easy to avoid the hard things, because he seems to find it easy to to tell when you don’t want to say something. Unfortunately, it’s also easy for him to push you to speak, even when you’re not sure if you want to. Like now, as soon as you reach the Lodge. 

“Are you doing okay?” Wonwoo asks as the pair of you make your way over to a stand selling hot drinks. 

“I’m assuming you don’t mean from the walk over here,” you deflect while you look at the menu.

“No,” Wonwoo answers simply. 

“I’m fine,” you insist, stepping up to the counter. “Peppermint hot chocolate and whatever he wants.”

“You don’t have to…” Wonwoo starts, falling silent at the look you give him. He sighs, knowing you won’t relent. “Just a plain hot chocolate.” 

“Thanks,” you say as you pay.

“You’re not fine. I can see it on you,” Wonwoo says.

You pause when someone calls out your name for the order. “I really am doing fine. The only hard part was getting sucked into a short conversation with him yesterday.”

“What did he say?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Nothing much,” you say and meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You can tell you need to carry on. So, you recount the conversation as best as you can remember.

“He misses you,” Wonwoo surmises. 

“And if he does? What does it matter?” you ask.

“You miss him too,” Wonwoo points out. “That’s why it matters.”

“I don’t,” you argue. “He broke my heart.” 

“What happened? A year ago when you broke up, what happened?” Wonwoo asks.

“You know what happened,” you say with a sigh.

“No, I don’t. I know he left, somehow, but I don’t know what really happened. You’ve always kept that part of the story close to the vest,” Wonwoo says.

“Because it still hurts,” you plead. 

“Maybe it’s time you let someone else take a little of that pain by talking about it,” Wonwoo suggests. You find a table to sit down as you’re considering sharing.

Ultimately, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. To get someone who knows you both, and cares about you both, to weigh in on everything that happened. Even if Wonwoo seemingly took your side, you know he still talks to Seungcheol as well. With a steadying breath, you launch into the whole explanation, at least your side of it. It’s time, past time, honestly, that you get this off your chest.

It was great, at the beginning. The two of you were friends first, for years, before something shifted and you started to see each other differently. Suddenly stepping a little more carefully around each other. Not really knowing what to do or what to expect. Not sure if it would ruin the friendship to admit that there were feelings there. Until one day, Seungcheol finally made the move, asked you out on a date, and made sure you knew that’s what he was asking. It got very serious, very quickly. Far more quickly than either of you expected. But, that’s what happens when you start as friends. There are so many things you already know, so many things you don’t have to ask, so many memories already embedded into your relationship. Things were good. It wasn’t like they were perfect. There were little fights here and there, but nothing that felt that serious. Nothing that felt like a dealbreaker. 

It’s hard to admit, even to Wonwoo, that you saw Seungcheol as your forever. As someone you wouldn’t let go of once you had him. He was your safe space without ever being boring. Your protector without ever being one of those toxic assholes. Your biggest cheerleader without being condescending. It was way too early in the relationship to be feeling like he was your forever, so you didn’t ever say it to him, but you felt it. Felt it deep in your bones. He was also vulnerable with you in a way that he wasn’t with anyone else. At least anyone else that you’d seen. The first time he just let you take care of him, let you see him as something other than someone strong and in control, it made you fall even more deeply for him. It didn’t hurt that he nearly stopped your heart with how stupid hot he was. That gets a snort out of Wonwoo before you continue on. 

Suddenly, everything changed. Seungcheol withdrew into himself and stopped confiding in you. He could always be a bit moody, a little deep in his feelings. Still, he would always talk to you about it. Would always share with you what he was feeling. Sometimes it was something so simple as you getting a little too much attention, which he didn’t like. He could be a little jealous. It was something you worked on with him. Sometimes it was a conversation with a friend weighing heavily or something going wrong at work. No matter what, he always talked to you about it. Until he didn’t. Until he just stopped saying much of anything. Until he got a bit secretive with everything in his life and you didn’t really recognize him anymore. His phone was always turned over. Not fully paying attention to you when you were in group settings. Not making plans the way he used to.

“What did you do?” Wonwoo asks. 

“I confronted him,” you say. Simple. It was so simple. “I told him it wasn’t okay and that I deserved better. That we always got through things together and that we needed to get back to that.” 

“Mature of you,” Wonwoo says.

“I thought so,” you say and take a steadying breath. “He agreed, even. Told me that I did deserve better.”

“So what…” Wonwoo asks, but trails off. Obviously confused. 

“He said that it was too much. That he couldn’t give me the things I deserved. That I would be better off finding someone else who could,” you say and wipe away the stray tear. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Wonwoo says. 

“I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to look at me like that,” you admit. “Like I was broken because someone didn’t want to love me.”

“You’re not broken,” Wonwoo insists softly, hand reaching out for one of yours. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. But it’s okay to admit when you need help. Or when you need a friend.”

“I know,” you sigh. “It’s just hard.”

“I know, but I’m here,” Wonwoo assures you. 

Saturday night finds Wonwoo and Seungcheol as the last two awake in the living room, finishing their drinks in relative silence. It used to be easy for Seungcheol, sitting with his friend like this. Yet, it hasn’t been, not in the last year since he broke up with you. Not since Wonwoo made it clear that they were friends, but he was sticking by you no matter what. Not that Wonwoo’s been cold or rude or anything. That would have made it easier, Seungcheol thinks. No, instead he’s been mostly the same. Still just as friendly and supportive. All it does is make him feel worse. Why can’t Wonwoo just say what’s really on his mind?

“How was the lodge earlier?” Seungcheol asks.

“Hmm?” Wonwoo asks, eyes seeming to come back into focus as they look over at him.

“The lodge? You went over there earlier. I was just asking how it was,” Seungcheol repeats.

“Oh, fine. We just ended up getting hot chocolate and talking. Kinda watched people coming and going from the trails,” Wonwoo says like it doesn’t matter. Maybe it doesn’t. 

“Are you two…are you…” Seungcheol starts and stops the question several times.

“Dating?” Wonwoo asks, taking pity on his friend. “No. She’s been single since…”

“I broke her heart?” Seungcheol supplies humorlessly. 

“I wasn’t going to say that.” 

“No? It seems like someone spending that much time with her would say that.” 

Wonwoo regards him for a second, adjusts his glasses like he’s buying time to think. “What happened? With you and her, what happened?”

“I’m sure you’ve already heard it from her.” The answer is short. Seungcheol doesn’t want to play these games, not with someone that’s so obviously close to you.

“I’m not asking to hear it from her. I’m asking to hear it from you,” Wonwoo presses. He’s insistent, but his eyes are soft. It’s easy to wonder if it’s time to share. 

“I got scared,” Seungcheol admits. “And jealous.” 

“Of what? Or of who?” Wonwoo asks.  Seungcheol takes a long sip of his drink and grimaces a little. He isn’t buzzed enough for this. Can’t really believe he’s entertaining sharing in the first place. But, well, isn’t this what he’s hoping for? Another chance?

“Of everything and everyone,” Seungcheol says. “She was so kind, so patient, so good to me. Good for me. Just the best person I’ve ever known. I just thought that one day, she’d wake up and she’d realize that she deserved more than me.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Why did you think that?” 

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol admits. “I guess, well I know I can be difficult. That I get in my head a lot. I know sometimes it’s hard to talk about what I’m feeling. She made a lot of that feel easier, which made me fall harder for her. But, then she makes a lot of people feel that way, doesn’t she? Like she’s the only one who will understand. I don’t even think I was the only friend of ours that had feelings for her. I just, I don’t know, it sounds so fucking dumb now, but I couldn’t compete.” 

“It wasn’t a competition, Cheol,” Wonwoo says.

“I know that,” Seungcheol insists.

Wonwoo fixes him with a stare. “Do you? She’s a lot of things, maybe a lot that make people interested in her. But, she chose you. She chose you and kept choosing you, every chance she got. I don’t think that ever would’ve changed.” 

“Do you want me to feel worse?” Seungcheol asks, voice rising a bit. “I already told her that I would go back and change things if I could, but I can’t.” 

“Do you still love her?” Wonwoo asks, voice so quiet. Yet, it carries all the same.

“Of course I do,” Seungcheol says.

“Then figure out a way to tell her,” Wonwoo replies.

“It’s not that easy,” Seungcheol says. “And aren’t you supposed to be telling me to leave her alone? As her friend?” 

Wonwoo rises from his seat. “It can be that easy, if you stop being your own worst enemy. And I’m your friend, too. It doesn’t seem like the chapter is really over for either of you yet.” 

Seungcheol sits and considers what his friend shared. Wonders if there might be something there. He barely registers as Wonwoo says goodnight and calls a goodnight in response. Then, he’s left with his thoughts again. Should he say something? Can he bring himself to say something? Or will you just shut it down again?

New Year's Eve brings a snowstorm with it that has your group of friends deciding it’s best to just stay in the cabins instead of venturing out to the party they’re having at the lodge. There’s plenty of you for a party, plenty of food, and plenty of warmth, especially close to the fire. The snow falls lightly outside the windows, blanketing everything around with a fresh layer of powdery flakes. It’s not supposed to get truly heavy until much later in the evening. So, you can just get dressed up and have a party with everyone that’s familiar to you. No worrying about mixing with strangers and how they’ll impact the party.

When you and Mingyu go into the kitchen to take stock of what you have and plan out the food for the day, you realize that maybe you don’t have everything that you need after all. You could actually use more food and you definitely could use some champagne to toast with. It makes sense, though, you planned to go into the lodge to ring in the new year. Your smile when Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Joshua offer to go out and do a run is immediate and wide. You hand over a list of what you need (well, you text it to all three of them just to cover your bases) and they’re off into town. That lets you turn back to the kitchen, where Mingyu and Mimi are starting on an appetizer. You’re trying to figure out what you can work on when someone clears their throat. Your heart skips a little when you look up.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” Seungcheol asks you, face more open than you’ve seen in a while.

It makes your mouth go dry. How are you supposed to turn him down when he’s asking in front of everyone like this? Like it’s just a totally normal thing to ask? All you can do is nod and avoid looking at anyone else around you. Just nod and follow him into a smaller side room off the main living area. 

“Thanks,” he says when they stop walking.

“What was I supposed to do? Make a scene?” you ask. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to ask you to talk,” he admits.

“I heard you,” you say, cutting across his words. He looks confused. “Last night? I heard you talking to Wonwoo. I left my charger in here and came back to get it.” 

“Oh,” is all he says.

“Oh?” you repeat.

“I wanted to actually tell you, not have you overhear me talking through things with someone else,” he says, mouth turned down like he’s upset.

“Then you should have just talked to me,” you press.

“I couldn’t! You won’t talk to me,” he says defensively.

“Not this weekend. A year ago, when it all happened,” you say quietly.

“I know,” he says. You expect him to look annoyed or defeated, but he only looks sincere. “I knew the moment you walked out that I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I’ve tried a hundred times since then to just talk to you, but the words never felt right.” 

“Cheol,” you plead. You’ve been waiting a year to hear this. Except, you finally feel like you’re starting to move past it all and this is only making it confusing. 

“Just, you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to hear me out,” Seungcheol pleads. “I know I have absolutely no right to ask you that, but I’m asking anyway.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“I fucked up. I knew I did when you walked out, but it took me a while to realize just how bad. I didn’t just drive a partner away, I drove someone away that got through all my walls in a way nobody else ever has. I drove away the person that made me feel comfortable, that supported me even when I was being an idiot, that constantly showed up for me. I was afraid that I didn’t deserve you and always jealous of everyone else that paid attention to you. I thought one day you were gonna wake up and realize that there were better people out there that were less, I don’t know, emotionally closed off. I didn’t realize until way too late that you knew exactly what you brought to the table and what you deserved, but you picked me. I didn’t realize that it’s the only thing I ever needed, was you seeing all of me and picking me anyway,” Seungcheol says. 

“I don’t, that’s…” you trail off and shake your head to clear it. You’re trying to find the words when Nayeon pokes her head in.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to butt in, but Mimi just kicked me out of the kitchen. I was only offering because Mingyu said he needed help,” Nayeon says. “I think they need you.”

“Oh, um,” you start, kind of like a deer in headlights.

“You should go help him. I don’t want everyone hating me for keeping you from helping Mingyu,” Seungcheol says with a light chuckle at complete odds with the situation. 

“Thank you,” Nayeon says with a smile as she grabs your arm to whisk you away.

“Does Mingyu actually need me?” you ask.

“Huh? Yeah, he does,” Nayeon laughs. “I wasn’t trying to save you, you’re good enough at that on your own.”

“I don’t buy that,” you say, pulling both of you to a halt. Nayeon rolls her eyes.

“Fine, maybe I heard what he said to Wonwoo last night from Joshua and maybe I want you to at least consider what he has to say,” Nayeon admits. “I liked you together, sue me.”

“I just might,” you grumble, heading off to help Mingyu in the kitchen without Nayeon in tow.

After dinner, you and Mingyu insist that you’re not getting anything, for anyone, for the rest of the night. And probably into tomorrow. Mimi got distracted part way through and disappeared for entirely too long with Jihoon. Which would be fine, but there were a lot of people to cook for and you needed all the help you could get. Joshua popped in and out, thankfully, but it was still tiring. The perk has been that you actually haven’t had to lift a finger since. Your drink stays full and someone is always willing to get you something to eat. That lets you settle in to play a game with the group.

The TV in the background steadily counts down as it gets closer to midnight. Occasionally, the performance draws your attention to watch. Mostly, you’re just drinking entirely too much. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, you know that you’re just trying to avoid thinking about everything Seungcheol said. Or trying to avoid thinking how good he looks tonight. It’s hard to stop yourself from lingering on the way his shirt clings to his chest. Has he been working out even more? Or the way his pants stretch tight across his thighs. Not for the first time, you shake your head to clear it, recross your legs, and focus on whatever game it is you’re playing. Ignore the look Wonwoo gives you from his place next to you. He certainly hasn’t missed your looks. (And nobody else really has, either, except for Jun. But, that’s just Jun for you.)

Everyone sets aside the games when it gets closer to midnight, milling around with varying amounts of energy instead of sitting still. You realize, even with any awkwardness from Seungcheol being there, you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather ring in a new year with. Surrounded by all of your favorite people, what else could anyone ask for? Well, except maybe a New Year’s kiss. As if on cue, your glance drifts over to Seungcheol. It’s a little surprising to find he’s already looking at you, smiling softly. It sends a surge of emotion through you to think of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. When you turn away to take a sip of your drink, you find it’s empty. With midnight rapidly approaching, you really need a refill on the champagne. You’re about to go do that when a voice breaks into your thoughts.

“Here,” he says.

You turn to look at Seungcheol, now very firmly in your space, holding out a new glass of champagne. “Thanks.”

“I just noticed you were almost empty and figured you’d want it,” he offers.

“Yeah, I should make sure this one lasts,” you chuckle out.

The host on TV announces that there’s only a minute left. Everyone around you starts talking excitedly or getting closer to their partners, if they have them. Jokingly, you told Wonwoo that he would be your New Year’s kiss. Now, that’s the last thing on your mind. Seungcheol hovers close by. When you look over at him, though, his eyes are on the TV, counting down along with the host when it gets to ten seconds.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” 

Everyone shouts together and starts clinking glasses. Hugging their friends or kissing their partners. Your body makes the decision for you when you turn to the man next to you and cheers his glass. As he starts to turn away, you grab his arm and pull him into you. Press your lips against his before either of you can figure out what’s happening. He recovers from his surprise quickly and wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. It’s familiar and also somehow completely new at the same time. 

Breathless. That’s what you feel when you pull away and cheers with other friends. You throw your arms around Nayeon and press a kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek. Pointedly ignore any looks or raised eyebrows about your decision to kiss your ex in a room full of all your friends. It’s fine. Everyone is doing fine. You’re definitely thankful that someone suggests a game and you can all go back to celebrating without talking about the elephant in the room. A very different elephant than when you first got to the cabins. 

There’s another massive difference, too. Instead of sitting on the fringes or carefully leaving space, Seungcheol plops down right next to you. Lets his arm rest along the back of the couch. His arm isn’t around you, but it could be with the slightest adjustment. Several of your friends look at you with the question in their eyes. You avoid all of them, like the true adult you are, and focus, instead, on the warmth of Seungcheol’s thigh when it presses into yours. Actually, you avoid drinking any more, either. The whole night has been a little confusing (read: a lot confusing) and you don’t need an alcohol haze adding to that. It doesn’t escape your notice that he stops drinking as well. 

When you start to get a little tired, you excuse yourself to the kitchen, claiming you need a snack and don’t know what you want. A minute later, Seungcheol appears on the other side of the island. Leaning casually against it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he hasn’t sent your entire world into a spiral. Like he’s not still one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So, uh, I don’t wanna assume anything…” he starts and you hold up a hand.

“I’m going to excuse myself in a minute to go to bed. Give it a few minutes and then come to my room,” you say, walking around him without waiting for a response. 

When you tell the group that you’re going to turn in for the night, you do your best not to meet anyone’s eyes. You’re not naive enough to think you’re fooling anyone. Not that you even want to. It’s just, well, you want this time to figure out what’s happening. It’s a little hard to do that when you know everyone’s eyes are on the two of you. There’s the tiniest bit of you holding onto the hope that you can pass it off as you being overwhelmed by the kiss at midnight. Like you didn’t just tell him to meet you in your room.

Back in your room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on the bed. The seconds seem to drag by waiting for him to show up. For a second, you wonder if he’s actually going to show up at all. You stop those thoughts in their tracks. He had a lot to say and he kissed you back. Then, he spent the rest of the night pressed up close to you. He’s going to show up. Before you can spiral further, there’s a knock at the door. You’re halfway to the door when it opens a crack and Seungcheol peeks his head inside. 

“Can I come in?” he asks, looking unsure for the first time since before you kissed him. 

“I did ask you to come to my room,” you joke.

“I was a little surprised,” he admits.

“Me too,” you agree. 

He shuts the door behind him, allowing you to really look at him for the first time all weekend. To take in his appearance, as he removes his jacket, without any other eyes on your. Or anyone analyzing the interaction. To just appreciate the man you fell in love with. His hair is a little shaggy and blond, a color you don’t remember seeing on him before. He catches you looking, but instead of a smirk, there’s only a smile. Hopeful and genuine. It’s a little overwhelming to have him in your space. To know you need to talk. To know there’s so much to work through.

Instead, in the only move you can think of, you close the distance, wrapping your arms around his middle. He doesn’t even miss a beat. Just wraps his arms around you, erasing any last bit of space between you. It feels calm, familiar. Like no time has passed. Like you’re not different people now. He kisses the top of your head, so soft you think it might shatter any resolve you have left. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you in front of everyone without talking to you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“I’m not,” he quickly reassures you.

“I really fucking want to kiss you again,” you admit, still talking into his shirt rather than looking at him.

“Then,” he starts, moving a hand to tilt your chin up, “what are you waiting for?” 

“We probably should talk,” you say.

“You’re right,” he sighs.

Except, do you really want to talk right now? Do you really want to stop yourself from kissing him again? You stopped drinking so your head would be clear enough to make this decision. You’re just a little sick of overthinking everything this weekend. Sensing the indecision, Seungcheol presses a feather light kiss to your lips. Enough to make the decision, while also being light enough that you could easily pull away. 

You do, just for a second. “Fuck it, let’s talk tomorrow.” 

Your lips crash back against Seungcheol’s, hungry and desperate, arms wrapped around his neck. It makes him tilt down a little so that you can press against him. There’s no hesitation on his end, either. You find yourself wondering if he was always this good at kissing or if he’s gotten better since you broke up. Or maybe it just means more the second time around. When he picks you up, you gasp into the kiss. Wrap your legs around his waist to feel a little steadier. Not that you think he would ever let you fall. It’s easier than you expected to fall back into this kind of trust with him. 

It’s like you both want to go fast, yet also take your time. Seungcheol deposits you on the bed, then takes his time removing your shoes. Toes his off a little more quickly. You go to remove some of your layers, only to have his hands stop you. He’s so slow, removing the sheer top with painstaking care. Kissing along your skin as he exposes it. The amount of attention makes you squirm. You’re prepared for something quick and dirty. Something more like a one-night stand. You’re not prepared for him to worship your body as he exposes more of your skin. Part of you feels really exposed, because he’s still fully dressed, as he carefully unhooks your bra. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world he’s ever wanted, makes your heart ache. Makes you second guess if this is right. 

“We can stop. We don’t have to do this,” he whispers into your skin. 

You grab his face so that you can look him in the eyes. There’s something in you that just needs to gauge him for a minute. Needs to really know what decision you’re making. There’s so much love there, so many unspoken words, so much sincerity. Maybe you’re not over him at all. Maybe he meant everything he said.

“No, I want this. Want you,” you assure him. 

His eyes sparkle a little. There’s no time to dwell on it, though. His mouth is on your skin again. Kissing the spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. Kissing the beauty mark on your shoulder. Kissing across your collarbone. When he works his way down to your nipples, he’s not being so soft anymore. He pinches one between his fingers without warning.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss. 

“Too much?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking, but you do anyway. That knowing smirk sends desire coursing through you.

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine. 

He pinches the same nipple again. Watches you as he flicks his tongue over the other. Actually smiles when you arch into his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind it.” 

You wind your hand into his hair in response, pull a little harder than normal. He groans against your breast, sending a little vibration into your skin. “You don’t seem to mind a little pain, either.” 

There’s no answer. Not that you need it. One of his hands moves down your body, mouth still focusing on your chest, until he gets to your thigh. Your skirt is bunching up around hips from squirming on the bed. “How much do you like these tights?”

You look down at the sparkly tights you bought just for the party. That you’ll probably never wear again. “I mean, they’ve got sparkles. Wasn’t planning to wear them again.” 

“Good,” he says. 

You’re expecting him to rip them on the spot. Instead, he returns his mouth to yours, kissing you hard, and lets a finger run over your entrance, through both tights and underwear. It’s not enough. There’s entirely too much fabric in the way. He’s teasing you, he has to be. There’s no other reason that explains this kind of torture. 

“Jesus, Cheol, please,” you beg. 

“What are you trying to do to me?” he groans. Seems like he still likes it when you beg for something.

In either case, he carefully rips a hole in your tights, too focused on you to figure out pulling them down. Seemingly in one motion, your underwear is pushed to the side and he’s got a finger running up your entrance. Feeling that you’re turned on from the way he’s been kissing all over your body. Thankfully, you don’t have to beg again. At least, not yet. He presses his fingers at your mouth and you suck them in eagerly. Swirl your tongue around them. He almost looks reluctant when he withdraws them to press one inside your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans. 

“Forgot how good your fingers felt,” you answer, squirming underneath him.

“Bet I could make you come just on my fingers,” he says as he adds a second one.

“Fuck,” you draw out. He’s not being gentle with you anymore. “Then you don’t get to taste me. And we both know how much you love that.”

He leans in closer, you’re assuming to kiss you. Instead, his lips find your ear. “Who says I can’t do both?” 

You bite down on your fist to keep from screaming out when he thrusts faster. Try your best to hold on when his thumb brushes over your clit. All you want is to prove him wrong. Prove that you can hold on and that you’re not putty in his hands. Except, your body remembers. It remembers just how good he makes you feel. Remembers how well he knows what makes you crazy. Nobody has ever known your body like him. And it’s a little annoying. With his fingers inside you, it’s easy to realize that nobody feels as good as him. You could never get yourself off like he could.

It’s an embarrassingly short time before you’re coming on his fingers, fighting not to scream out. Trying anything you can not to make it more obvious just why you decided it was time to head to bed. Seungcheol guides you through the high as you fall back into the bed, sinking deeper into the mattress. After a moment, you prop yourself up to watch him remove his shirt. You’re no longer the only one that’s overexposed. Then again, you don’t feel exposed being half naked around him. It only feels comfortable. Once he removes his shirt, he moves back to your body. Actually takes the time to remove your tights and underwear now. His breath ghosts across your cunt. That action alone is enough to send a little shiver through your body. You’re definitely sensitive. 

Seungcheol positions himself between your legs and looks up when you suck in a breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

He’s so pretty like this. You’ve always thought that. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking up at you from underneath his lashes like he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. So caring. The little bit of caution you get from him in the middle of him ruining you. You clear your throat to remember he asked you a question. “Yes, Cheol. With you, always.” 

It’s immediately more honest than either of you are expecting. Instead of breaking the moment, though, it seems to spur him on. The kind smile dissipates into something much more confident. He spreads you open and looks up for a last time before his tongue licks a strip up your entrance. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time he was between your legs, your entire body remembers. It’s like muscle memory. The way your back arches. The way your hand knots in his hair. The way the praises fall from your lips. You’re sensitive. So fucking sensitive. And he knows. It’s always been one of his favorite things with you. Pushing you to the edge and then over again.

“God, I forgot how fucking good you taste,” he says when he takes a breath. 

“Well maybe, fuckkkk,” you start before cutting out. 

For once, he’s not a demon. He doesn’t ask what you were about to stay. Just keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. When his nose bumps against your clit as he’s buried deep in your pussy, you lose it again. Come all over his tongue and his face. Come harder than you remember coming in a really long time. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

By the time the last shock works through your body, he’s laying next to you on the bed. You can’t help it. You have to lean over and kiss him. Want to taste yourself on his lips. It’s almost like you need that to know this is all real. That it’s all happening and it’s not just some weird, horny dream. (It’s not like that would be a first, either. You’ll never admit it, but you’ve thought a lot about him since you broke up. Especially when you were horny and needed a release. That’s your business, though.)

“Fuck, Cheol,” you utter when you pull away from the kiss.

“I’ve missed hearing my name on your lips,” he admits. “Specially when you call me Cheol.” 

“I’ve missed saying it,” you share, equally honest. 

You’re a little weak already. It’s hard to imagine what tomorrow is going to be like. But, you move down the bed anyway. Seungcheol tracks you with his eyes as you position to undo his pants. He moves his hips up to help you pull both his pants and briefs down. His stare as you pull your skirt down and discard it at the side of the bed is almost possessive. It sends something through your body. 

It’s your turn to remind him that he’s not the only one who remembers. You also remember just what drives him crazy and just how to get him going. You remember every place he likes to be kissed. So, you start there. Run your lips along every part of his body, like you’re committing him to memory again. As if you could ever forget anything about him. You delight in the sounds you pull from him just with your kisses. Maybe he knows, though, that you’re working your way down. 

“So hard just from getting me off,” you comment. 

“Because I know that nobody can make you come like I can and it’s fucking hot,” he answers.

It’s the same answer he’s always given and something about the familiarity makes you bolder. Even though you know there’s a conversation for tomorrow, it feels like the easiest thing you’ve ever done. You take his dick in your hand, run a finger over the tip and feel a little bit of the precum there. When you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, he shudders. Closes his eyes for a second before they snap back open to watch you. He’s always been like this. Always wanting to watch. This time is no different as you slowly take him into your mouth. You know he wants to fuck into your face, know you’d let him. But, you’re thankful he doesn’t. Even if you remember, he’s still big and thick inside your mouth. You need the time to get used to him. Once you do, though, you start to bob. Slowly, at first, before you let him take control. Relax your throat and let him find purchase in your hair. Encourage him to jerk his hips up as you keep your eyes on him as much as possible. You know how much it drives him crazy, even as the tears form and you gag a little 

“Fuck,” Seungcheol utters. 

He pulls you off his cock and up to his face so that he can kiss you. This is your favorite version of him. When he’s needy and desperate and completely putty in your hands. Like he can’t possibly imagine being anywhere that you aren’t. It’s when you know that you’re not crazy, that he’s just as far gone for you as you are for him. 

“I really need to fuck you,” he says. His lips are swollen from kissing you and his pupils are completely blown. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.” 

“It’s fine, I’m still on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone since you,” you say. 

That seems to catch him off guard. “You haven’t?”

“No,” you answer.

“I haven’t either,” he admits.

“Then, we’re fine. I trust you,” you tell him. 

“Thank god, I really miss being inside you,” he breathes out.

“Think you just miss me,” you grumble as you reposition to straddle his lap.

“You and that smartass mouth of yours,” he retorts.

“I’m about to ride you, Seungcheol, and you just fucked my smartass mouth. So, maybe, pipe down,” you warn him.

This has always been your dynamic, swapping back and forth for who’s in control. As much as he says he likes control, you know he likes giving it up to you just as much. You know that he hasn’t ever let anyone else be in control apart from you. He looks up at you as you position yourself over him. There was a time when you hated this position. Felt really self conscious about how you must look from this angle. The second you admitted it to him, he was quick with his praise. Assuring you that you’re beautiful to him and there’s nothing to worry about.

He stops you before you lower yourself onto him. Puts his fingers in your mouth again and you obey without a second thought. Then, he runs his fingers along your entrance. Slides a finger in before quickly adding a second. It’s an awkward angle, but you get what he’s trying to do. Appreciate that he wants to make sure you’re at least a little prepped. When he pulls his fingers out, you’re only a little embarrassed at the moan that slips through your lips. If you completely ignore the smirk that he throws your way, well, who can blame you? The smirk is gone a second later when you finally lower yourself onto him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans. 

You know him so well. You know his instinct is to buck his hips up into you. You know it’s hard for him to let you adjust. But, you also know that he wants to be gentle, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“I forgot how good you felt, jesus fuck,” you moan out. 

“Please, I need to feel you move,” he begs. It’s nice, when he’s the one to beg for something.

And who are you to deny him anything he asks for when he sounds so pretty asking? You do move, entirely too slowly. You need to find your rhythm, though. Need to find some place to anchor your hands. They settle on his chest, at first, and you actually can’t believe how much muscle he has there. He’s always liked to work out. Always wanted to be in shape. This is even more than that. You’re still appreciating the way his chest feels when he grabs one of your hands. Without a word, he moves it to his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He nods. It’s been awhile since you choked him, even lightly, but it turns you on. It’s easy to see that it turns him on, too. As you apply a little bit of pressure, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips. You do everything that you can to pick up the pace. To move faster on top of him. It doesn’t take very long until he’s planting his feet so that he can set the pace. He takes over the rhythm and it gets a lot harder. Bodies slapping together with each movement.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you say, trying not to scream. 

You move your hand from his neck so that you have a better grip. He’s moving too fast for you to feel comfortable that you won’t press too hard into his neck. It’s insane, you know that it’s insane, but you already feel like you’re getting close again. You start to clench around Seungcheol, making the stretch feel that much more intense. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come if you do that,” he groans. 

“Then do it,” you force out. “Wanna feel it inside me.”

“Jesus,” he groans. 

Everything happens so fast. You can feel him everywhere and your body is on fire. He’s still fucking hard into you, but he’s also rubbing your clit. Helping you get there with him. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to realize you’re already on the verge of your third orgasm. Oversensitive and overstimulated. Your body starts to shake and it’s hard to keep yourself upright on top of him. 

“Fuck, Cheol, I’m coming,” you hiss out. 

“I’m about to come too, fuck,” he answers. 

His thrusts get a lot more erratic and you feel him let loose inside you. You feel the way he moves to try and support you even while he’s working through his own release. When he stills, you collapse forward onto his chest. Breaths shallow and heavy. Your whole body’s exhausted, yet so happy at the same time. Carefully, you pull yourself off him. You’re sure a little bit of cum slides out with the loss of his cock inside you. Not that you care. 

It’s several minutes of silence. Seungcheol lays on his back and you’re on your side next to him. It might be a mark of how much he really did miss you that he doesn’t flinch when you start tracing patterns onto his stomach. It’s not like you just stop being ticklish. Eventually, you realize you need to get up. The last thing you want is to go to bed crusty. 

“Come on, I got lucky and I have an attached bathroom,” you say when you get up off the bed. You reach a hand to him and smile when he takes it without question. 

It’s quiet again as you help clean each other up. A comfortable kind of quiet. The way it used to be. This is another favorite of yours with him. Aftercare has always been his thing. No matter how rough he is with you in bed, he’s impossibly gentle when he cleans you up. It makes your heart ache a little because you’re so fond. It’s a weird mix of feelings.

“We should sleep in my room tonight,” he says. 

“We’re already here,” you point out. 

“With sheets that are probably soaked,” he teases back. 

“What are the chances we can get to your room without being seen?” you wonder. 

He shrugs. “It’s late. Probably better than the chances nobody heard us.” 

Your cheeks flush a little. Sure, you definitely tried to be quiet. You’ll have to wait until the morning to see if you succeeded. 

“Come on, my room has a door to the outside,” he says. 

So, you follow. You put your layers back on and grab something to sleep in. And you don’t actually see anyone before you’re safely tucked away in his room. That night, falling asleep tangled up in Seungcheol, is the best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long time. 

Morning comes and brings with it the need for an actual conversation. As you stretch in bed, you appreciate the soreness in your body with a smile. Anything you’re feeling now is surely worth it. That is, until you realize you’re in bed alone. Dread creeps in. Could last night really have meant something different to Seungcheol than it did to you? Did you just make a massive mistake? You’re starting to wonder if you’re only going to break your own heart this time, with nobody else to blame, when the bedroom door opens. Seungcheol steps inside with a thermos and a bag that looks like it might have some of the pastries Wonwoo brought back from the store yesterday.

“You’re awake,” he says with a smile. He sets down the thermos and removes his jacket to hang it up. 

“I was worried you’d left,” you admit when he finishes taking off his shoes and sits next to you. His face looks hurt for a second before it settles. 

“No, I just went to get coffee and figure out what we were walking into before you got up,” he says. 

“And?” you prompt. 

He pulls out a pastry and hands it over. “Nayeon asked where I slept last night and if I knew where you were. I don’t think she heard anything, but who knows with her? Wonwoo wasn’t in the main area, so I don’t know. They said they all knew I was following you, though.”

“Guess we can’t really avoid it,” you joke. 

You’re expecting him to smile, too. Instead, his face is serious. “Do you want to? Avoid it, I mean.”

It makes you serious. Maybe a little too honest. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, not right away, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says and takes your hands in his. “If you give me another chance, I’m never letting you walk away from me again. I’ll prove that I’m worth everything you give me.”

“You’ve always been worth it, Cheol,” you tell him. 

“I realize that now,” he agrees. “I also realize it’s up to you to know what you deserve and what you want. That wasn’t ever my decision to make and I’m really sorry for doing that to you.”

“It hurt, for sure, but not having you around hurts so much worse,” you admit. It’s hard to meet his eyes, even though you know you’re safe. 

“It hurts so fucking bad. I hate it. Last year was the worst year of my life,” he says. 

“You got a massive promotion, though! Wonwoo told me,” you say. 

“This is going to sound so cheesy, but I’m done caring. That promotion didn’t mean shit without you being there to share it with,” he shares with you. 

“I guess we’ll have to celebrate it this year,” you say. 

His face lights up. “Really?”

“I want to give us another chance. I don’t think either of us are over it,” you acknowledge. “Last night aside, I want to take it slow. I want to take our time instead of rushing in like we did the first time around. I want to get it right this time.”

He nods immediately. “We can go as slow as you want. I mean it. I’m not letting you go again.”

“Good, because I don’t think we should wait to see if the third time’s the charm,” you joke. 

“I’m glad I came this year,” he says as he grabs the thermos. 

“Me too,” you agree. 

It’s funny, you think, how someone can feel so familiar and yet so new at the same time. Seungcheol feels like home, like your favorite sweater, or like curling up with a book by the fire in winter. But, he feels entirely new, too. Like maybe you both changed over the past year. Maybe you both grew into the people you needed to be to love each other better. To love each other right. Later, you’ll have to break the bubble and face your friends. Right now, though, you can just appreciate that this silly little cabin trip brought you peace. 

this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you liked it 💕

[lyrefromthesea]

Do you think you could maybe do the Hashiras with a dying reader? Not like dying in there arms but a reader who's so ill that they can't move and bed ridden, dying?

Remember to take care of yourself!!

Hashira x Reader - how sickening

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader, Shinobu x reader, Mitsuri x reader

content warning: angst, fluff?

Tengen:

"i'm home" he said, still both his swords in hand. he had started immediately coming home after his missions, worried over your safety.

since the doctor told you to stay in bed, he had to help you more now. he didn't mind, he would give you acts of service as long as you live.

however, when he heard sounds coming from the kitchen, he dropped both his swords, rushing towards the room.

you stood in front of the counter, trying to chop vegetables. his eyes widened, knowing that you put a toll on your body. with a swift movement, his hand was on yours as he stood right behind you.

"darling, it's enough." he told you, gently taking the knife out of your hands. he almost felt bad when you looked at him with big deer eyes. "the doctor told you to rest."

"i know, but it doesn't sit right with me. i still feel like i can do things myself. i want to be helpful." you admitted, your head lowering.

"i know, but it's important to rest at times. let's bring you to bed, I can finish this." he answered, nodding at the vegetables. he put an arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the bedroom.

listening to your words, he knew you still wanted to feel helpful - strong, but he saw how weak your body truly was.

he knew that there was a slim chance of survival. he didn't want the time you still had decreasing because you were pushing yourself too much.

Obanai:

you were asleep again. it happened more often since he came visiting you every day. his eyes were looking you over, trying to find anything out of place.

you had more bandages on your arms, probably from all the shots you were receiving. your lips have turned more pale and dark circles were slowly growing under your eyes.

he had come up with a routine when you were asleep upon his arrival, checking your body first and then placing his head on your chest.

he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of your heart. the steady beat always managed to calm him down, but it has grown weaker over the past days.

he felt worry consuming the back of his mind, not noticing how your hand moved until it was placed on his head.

"Obanai.. you came to visit again." you mumbled, opening your eyes just a bit, everything else felt too exhausting.

"i promised." he answered, carefully pulling away. he knew it was stupid, but he was worried about putting too much weight on you.

"you can continue, i don't mind.." you tried to encourage him to continue, not wanting him to feel stressed. he declined your offer right away, much rather looking after you.

"i'm fine."

Rengoku:

his eyes were locked on your plate. the two of you have eaten lunch about half an hour ago. when he decided to do the dishes and found your nearly untouched plate, worry began to pool in his gut.

you hadn't eaten properly over the past few weeks, but it had been so much worse since last week. he put the plate down, not feeling like cleaning it right now.

his mind was elsewhere - with you - trying to figure out how to make you feel better.

he had already known what an untreatable disease could do to people. he had watched his mother be bedridden until the moment of her death.

and even though you've told him that you made peace with the fact you were going to die, he had at least wanted to make your days as bearable as possible.

he shook his head, trying to lock the negative thoughts out. times were hard, he needed to show you he was a reliable husband - that he still had hope.

he cleared his throat, trying to look more confident a he wandered to your room. perhaps he could convince you to eat a small treat.

Sanemi:

visiting the hospital was something Sanemi dreaded every day. he would've avoided ever seeing this place, but that meant he wouldn't be able to see you.

entering your room, he found himself swallowing down his sorrows. he did it for you, but it got harder for him with each passing day.

he stood next to your hospital bed, looking down at your face. you nearly looked like last time, but you've grown more pale.

he wondered if you could feel the change - feel anything. if he only knew that his daily visits were helping you grow healthy.

yet there was no indication of your well-being. you had been in a coma for three months now and the doctors didn't believe in your recovery anymore.

"i tried cooking your favourite, when you wake up again, i want to show you." he started, standing next to your bed. he didn't know what to do, so he decided to tell you about his day when he visited.

he knew it wasn't anything interesting, but he hoped you would hear something - anything. he hoped you would wake up and prove the doctors wrong.

Giyuu:

this wasn't fair. his sister. his friend. the people he fought to protect. and now you.

ever since you've grown sick, he has stayed by your side. he knew you couldn't move on your own so he did it for you. it was easy to carry you around, you've grown much lighter in his arms. it worried him, even the inexperienced eye could tell you weren't healthy.

"the sun will set soon." his quiet voice proclaimed, feeling your head move. he sat down on the engawa, keeping you in his arms.

"is this okay?" he asked, trying to ensure you weren't uncomfortable in his hold. he wanted you to feel at ease at all times.

"it's good, don't worry." you mumbled, placing your head against his chest. his hold on you grew tighter, he was glad you put your trust in him.

he swore to protect you, but protecting someone from a demon is different than this. he felt helpless, afraid of losing you.

he didn't know how many sunsets you would be able to see.

Gyomei:

when the first signs of your sickness started occuring and you wished to still indulge in the pleasures of life, he had supported you.

deep down he thought it would maybe make you feel better, treat what was untreatable.

however, it didn't change the number of times you were more tired than usual, passing out in the midst of a conversation or task.

"Gyomei..?" you awoke in your bed, hands slowly rubbing over your eyes. you didn't know why you were here, you had been walking through the meadow a few moments prior.

"your fever has returned." he informed you, placing a wet towel on your forehead. you shuddered at the feeling, sinking deeper into the blankets.

"i didn't notice, i'm sorry." he said, his voice having grown more quiet. he felt guilty, he should've noticed that you had grown more ill again.

"don't apologize. it's nothing we could've seen coming." you answered, a quiet chuckle leaving your lips.

he smiled, yet he couldn't unhear how weak your voice has gotten, how you had to exhaust yourself everytime you answered.

Shinobu:

"are you ready for your daily shot?" she asked you, wanting to make sure you're fine. you nodded, trying to force a smile on your face.

she glanced at your face for a short moment, then proceeded to take the syringe in her hand. you had been staying in the butterfly mansion for a while now, but you still didn't look any better.

the sting of the needle barely hurt and feeling the small amount of liquid entering your arm made a weird sensation spread throughout your body.

you wanted to tell Shinobu, but stopped when you saw her face. the smile she tried to keep up vanished every time she had to give you a shot.

you figured that he was worried about your state, not wanting it to worsen. naturally, you brought your hand on top of hers, her eyes meeting yours.

"it's going to be fine." you told her, a weak smile forming on your face. she smiled back. "i know."

she needed to leave a few moments later, telling you to rest some more. your emotional strength was admirable, but it wouldn't keep you safe this time.

how long would she be able to treat you until she gave up fighting a deadly disease?

Mitsuri:

"[name]!" Mitsuri cheered, rushing towards you after she entered your shared estate. it was the first thing she did since you had been bed-ridden.

"i brought you some sakura mochi! i thought sharing some would lift your mood!" she cheered, placing a huge plate of the sweet treat down next to you.

she smiled happily, though her face dropped when she saw your apologetic look. had she done something wrong again?

"thank you, Mitsuri, but i'm not supposed to eat sweets.." you reminded her. now she really lost her smile, looking at the plate and then back at you.

"i'm so sorry! i just wanted to cheer you up!" she whined, her hands immediately coming up to meet yours. she didn't do this will ill intentions, she had just wanted to make your day brighter.

"it's fine. i appreciate the gesture." you comforted her, gently squeezing her hands. at least that's what you tried, but your strength has drastically reduced, making the action barely noticable.

"sit down and tell me about your day. i've been worried about your mission." you said, watching her slowly sit down. she did as you asked, wanting to make you happy.

and as you two sat there, speaking for hours, she didn't notice how you had pushed the sakura mochi further to her - by the end of your conversation the plate was empty.

[babyleostuff]

NANA CUDDLES | JEON WONWOO

dedicated to @wonijinjin

fluff 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!wonwoo x gn!reader 𐙚 wc: 763

“what are you giggling at?”

without tearing your eyes from the screen, you blindly reached for wonwoo’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. “i've never seen you so unbothered about being shirtless on camera before,” you said amused, unable to look away from your computer. “on national tv may i add.” 

he scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he was trying to make a point. “you would be too if a horde of people barged into your room shoving cameras in your face.” 

wonwoo was clearly not as entertained as you were, not that you cared - you were too busy melting over your shirtless boyfriend with the cutest bed hair, who looked like the squishiest (and most confused) dumpling ever. 

“i had bigger things to worry about,” he said, and reached for his gaming controller.

“like what?” you could barely hold back your laughter at his pouty expression and the way he spoke in a sulk. offended wonwoo was an endearing wonwoo. no wonder he became Na PD’s favourite child when he acted that cute without even realising.

“like being kidnapped.”

you quickly paused the video, turning your head in your boyfriend’s direction.“that's not an excuse, jeon wonwoo. you were kidnapped to fucking italy!” 

“language.” 

you hated yourself for how down bad you were for your boyfriend, because oh god, you’d love to punch him for being so annoying sometimes, but you couldn't - instead, you wanted to smooch him all over his kissable face.

“why are you being so mean about it? i never said you looked bad or anything,” you mumbled and resumed the video, sinking further into the sofa. wonwoo sighed softly and you knew something bigger was going on, but you didn't want to argue with him any further if he was going to be so annoying. 

out of the corner of your eye, you saw him grab the blanket that was lying next to him and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself - no matter what the temperature was, wonwoo always ended up being cold. 

"it was embarrassing. i mean, it is now that i look at it," he mumbled, picking up your computer and without looking at you, he covered your legs with the blanket. “and it’s even more embarrassing seeing you freak over it so much,” he raised his gaze to you, shyly looking at you from behind his glasses that slid to the tip of his nose.

you cooed at him, only now noticing the blush on his cheeks. "i didn't do it to spite you, honey, seriously. you just looked so cute and it's not often you show this side of you when you're on camera,” you said, adjusting his glasses. “seeing you so happy even in such an uncomfortable situation for you,” you sighed, brushing gently some of his hair from his forehead. “i love seeing you like this. happiness looks good on you, wonwoo.”

wonwoo scrunched his nose sweetly, looking down. “thank you,” he said, and leaned towards you, pecking your forehead.

“what are you doing?” you looked up from your book in confusion, watching wonwoo climb into bed.

"i'm going to bed?" he asked with amusement, pulling the covers over him.

"okay, but what are you wearing?" wonwoo couldn't help but laugh. he placed his glasses on the nightstand and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “a shirt,” he replied and kissed your cheek, settling more comfortably against your side.

"this is some kind of joke, right?"

"what are you talking about, baby?," wonwoo muttered, grabbing his own book.

“you never sleep with your shirt on,” you whined. without even putting the bookmark in the book, you threw it somewhere and knelt next to wonwoo, waiting for an explanation.

"you were so crazy about me being shirtless earlier that i'd rather not take it off now so you don't go insane again. i wouldn't want anything to happen to you, hm," he hummed, patting your thigh, as if that didn’t just make you go nuts. 

“wonwoo, please?” you wanted nothing more than to wipe his stupid smirk off his face, you knew he was just teasing you now. 

smiling sweetly at you, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it to the ground. "better?" he asked, amused. you wanted to scream yes, but instead you threw yourself at him and snuggled into his side, finding your usual place in the crook of his neck. “much better,” you huffed happily.

“oh baby,” wonwoo murmured, kissing your temple.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @soul-is-a-strange-kid @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @wonvsmile @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds

[ghoulsbounty]

Hi! I wanted to request a TH/fem reader and RZMM/fem reader

Maybe like a how would they show possessiveness over someone? A little angsty bc they're big guys and they would definitely manhandle their so in the heat of the moment

How Thomas Hewitt and RZ!Michael Myers Show Possessiveness Over You

Warnings: smut (18+), aggressive sex, slight mention of dumbification, manhandling, bruising/mark making, angst, obsession, stripping, stalking, slight yandere i guess?, possessiveness, canon-typical violence, control.

Words: 2.7K

A/N: Anon, thank you so much for my first slasher request! I love these boys so much and wanted to delve into their intentions behind their protectiveness a little, cause I think it would be very different for both. This is my first time writing a headcanon, I hope I've done you proud. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

Thomas Hewitt

→ Thomas's struggle with social norms makes his possessiveness glaringly apparent. He perceives everyone outside the family as a potential threat to his happiness, particularly when it concerns you. His demeanour shifts abruptly at the slightest hint of danger; his typically measured movements become swift and aggressive. Despite his efforts to restrain his emotions in public, such as at the Cele Community Centre where you and his mother work, Thomas often finds himself instinctively drawn to your side. His hand firmly grasps the fabric of your shirt, his protective stance evident to anyone who dares to look at you. His gaze sweeps the surroundings with a discerning eye, meticulously assessing each customer until you gently remove his grip and convince him to wait in the back.

→ Thomas's overprotectiveness occasionally acts as a double-edged sword, simultaneously shielding you from harm while subtly restricting your freedom. As a man of few words, he struggles to articulate the depth of his need to keep you safe, resulting in actions that may be misinterpreted as possessiveness rather than genuine concern or fear of losing you. He means well, but it can feel suffocating.

→ Preferring to keep you within his line of sight whenever possible, Thomas's protective instincts often clash with the demands of daily life, leading to occasional conflicts with Charlie over the use of his time. The older man's frustration with what he perceives as your bad influence over Thomas' attention to his work further exacerbates tensions within the household. 

→ Certain areas of the house are off limits to you. The basement serves as a sanctuary for Thomas's work, and he is adamant that you are shielded from the horrors that happen inside. However, he still insists on your presence nearby, perched on the steps that lead down to the space or listening to the radio in the dining room upstairs. Your proximity seems to offer him a sense of security and focus, enabling him to delve into his his task with unwavering concentration and produce some of his best work.

→ Thomas finds solace in words of affirmation and constantly seeks reassurance from you. Despite the intimacy you share and the countless times you've assured him otherwise, he harbours an unshakeable fear that if he loosens his grip even for a moment, you might slip away from him. This nagging insecurity gnaws at him, overshadowing moments of connection, leaving him perpetually haunted by the possibility of losing you.

→ Physical gestures become one your languages of reassurance. You hold his hand tightly, intertwining your fingers as a silent promise that you're there for him. Running your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles into you becomes a comforting ritual, soothing both him and you. Your touch on his chest, just over his heart, keeps his anxieties at bay.

→ Words also become a source of comfort for Thomas. You express your pride in him, highlighting his strengths and the ways he makes your life better. You tell him how happy you are to have him by your side, emphasizing that he's not just your protector but also your partner. Sometimes, the simplest affirmations have the greatest impact on Thomas. Hearing you call him "yours" fills him with a sense of belonging and purpose, and when you tell him that he's been good, he can't help but prove just how good he can be by filling you with his fingers, tongue or cock.

→ Thomas feels most valued when you grant him your undivided attention and allow him to reciprocate. He revels in spending hours between your legs, skilfully coaxing orgasm after orgasm from your willing body until you're left a whimpering, trembling mess beneath him. Despite his efforts to maintain control in your relationship, you always seem to hold the upper hand, which is why he finds solace in reducing you to a thoroughly fucked-out state on his bed. In those moments, with your mind blissfully empty and your body consumed by a primal hunger for his touch, he feels a sense of power and satisfaction unlike any other.

→ Despite this, the mounting tensions within the household, particularly with Charlie, often leave Thomas grappling with pent-up aggression. As the demands on his time intensify, with Charlie clamouring for more of Thomas's attention and you taking on additional shifts at the community centre to assist his mother, Thomas finds it increasingly challenging to maintain his composure.

→ You've become attuned to the subtle shifts in his demeanour, recognizing the tell-tale signs when he's received a stern tongue lashing from his uncle or had a particularly taxing session in the basement. Thomas' simmering rage begins to permeate his interactions with you. His touch, once tender and reassuring, now carries an undercurrent of tension. The few words he mutters in your presence are laced with frustration and discontent, rather than devotion.

→ Despite your best efforts to sooth him, there are moments when Thomas's volatile emotions threaten to overwhelm him. In those instances, you find yourself walking on eggshells, navigating the precarious balance between offering solace and inadvertently stoking the flames of his anger. You are never fearful of Thomas, but these are the times when you remove yourself from his presence when possible. That is, until you learn that the best way to calm him during these storms is with your body.

→ Thomas's heavy-handed nature becomes even more pronounced during these moments of heightened emotion. He handles you with a forcefulness that borders on brutality, moulding and contorting your body into painful positions that elicit tears of discomfort. While he typically refrains from spanking you unless requested, in these instances, his large hand comes crashing down upon your flesh with punishing force, leaving behind welts and bruises that you carry for days. Unlike his usual attentiveness to your pleasure, Thomas's focus shifts solely towards finding an outlet for his frustration, using your body as a means to an end in his quest for release. He bites, scratches, and fucks every inch of you with an almost desperate intensity, seeking solace in the physical connection between you.

→ Yet, there are fleeting moments of clarity when the clouds in his eyes dissipate, and the gentle giant you know and love re-emerges. It's in these moments of vulnerability that you offer him comfort, reassuring him that he can take what he needs from you, and that you will still love him.

→ After the intensity of the moment subsides, Thomas retreats into the solitude of the basement, locking himself away as a form of self-imposed punishment for his mistreatment of you. Despite your efforts to coax him out, reassuring him of your well-being and offering comfort, he remains secluded until he feels ready to face you once more. When Thomas finally does emerge, you're quick to envelop him in the warmth of your affection and reassurance. With a soft kiss to his leather-clad cheek, you convey your unwavering support and understanding, letting him know that you harbour no resentment towards him.

→ In the aftermath of the encounter, Thomas's protective instincts kick into overdrive as he tends to any wounds that adorn your body, his touch gentle yet purposeful. It's in these moments that his true nature shines through—he may be heavy-handed and prone to bouts of aggression, but above all else, he possesses a deep-seated desire to care for and protect you, to make amends for any harm he may have caused.

RZ!Michael Myers

→ Michael's possessive nature over you begins with an intense and inexplicable fixation. From the moment his eyes land on you, something primal within him snaps, and he becomes singularly obsessed with making you his own.

→ He can't quite explain what draws him to the Red Rabbit Lounge that evening, but as he leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath after a harrowing escape from Smith's Grove, he is immediately captivated when you emerge from the back door. Unlike others who shrink away from him in fear, you meet his gaze with a calm demeanour, lighting your cigarette and casually pointing out his papier-mâché mask. Your nonchalant remark about liking the orange because it reminds you of your favourite holiday only adds to the intrigue, sparking something deep within Michael's psyche.

→ Following that initial encounter, Michael becomes an omnipresent presence in your life, a shadow that lingers at the edges of your awareness. You sense him in the periphery of your vision, catch glimpses of his shadow darting past windows, and hear the faintest rustle of his breath in the stillness of the night. He becomes your unseen companion, meticulously observing your every move. He studies your routines and habits, committing them to memory with an almost obsessive attention to detail. Always one step ahead, he waits patiently until the opportune moment presents itself to make his presence truly known.

→ Michael finds immense pleasure in the exhilarating pursuit of you, convinced that you share in his enjoyment of the chase. He keenly observes the subtle signs of your awareness, noticing the wry smirk that graces your lips when you sense his presence nearby. In those moments, he imagines feeling the same giddiness that surges through you when he lightly brushes your hair, a fleeting touch that leaves you yearning for more, even as it vanishes before you can turn around. The first time you called out to him, he battled against every instinct urging him to step out from the shadows and claim you as his own. Despite the overwhelming desire possess you, he restrains himself, savouring the anticipation of the inevitable moment when he would finally make his move.

→ In Michael's twisted psyche, you are more than just a person; you are a coveted prize that he will protect at all costs. He perceives himself as the sole rightful owner of your being, and he harbours an intense fixation on claiming you as his own.

→ As the regular patrons of the lounge mysteriously vanish one by one, leaving a bewildered community in their wake, Michael remains a silent observer, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon you. He knows all too well the allure of your presence, the captivating dance you perform for these men, reminiscent of the performances his late mother once gave. Yet, while others may see you as an entertainer, Michael sees something far deeper—a connection, a possession, a symbol of his ultimate dominance that he must preserve.

→ From the shadows, he watches as you bare your body to these patrons. To Michael, it doesn't matter whether you are aware of his claim over you; what matters is that he sees you as his, and he will go to any lengths to ensure that no one dares to challenge him. In his mind, you are his alone, and he will stop at nothing to secure what he believes is rightfully his.

→ When Michael finally decides to collect his prize, it's in the eerie stillness of the night. He patiently waits in the shadows of your home, a silent sentinel standing rigidly in the corner of your bedroom as he observes your every move. You can feel his presence, an unspoken acknowledgment that he has come to stake his claim on his property.

→ As you undress, acutely aware of his watchful gaze, a shiver runs down your spine. There's a palpable tension in the air, a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension. Yet, despite the unease that courses through you, there's also a strange allure, a primal instinct drawing you inexorably towards him. When you finally coax him from the shadows, he engulfs you in his arms with a ferocity that takes your breath away. The force of his embrace is suffocating, his touch demanding as he grasps and claws at every part of your body. In that moment, there's no denying the intensity of his desire, the need to make you his own consuming him entirely.

→ Michael is not gentle with you; he doesn't hold back his deep urges to possess you completely. He revels in your whimpers and the screams of his name as he stretches you open and takes what he deems rightfully his. His touch is rough, unyielding, as if trying to merge your bodies into one. Each movement is driven by a fierce need to mark you, to ensure you understand that you belong to him and no one else. Every night with Michael is filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. His eyes intense and unwavering, remain locked on you, drinking in every reaction, every cry. To him, this is the final step in owning you, the ultimate act of protecting what is his.

→  Removing the mask takes time. It's one evening, after the intensity of your shared orgasms have ebbed, and Michael lies heavy on top of you. Your fingers tentatively trace the edges of the white rubber mask, sensing his body tense beneath your touch. His hand instinctively reaches out, grasping your wrist to halt your movement, but your lips find solace in the warmth of his knuckles as you plant a gentle kiss, your breath whispering a desire to see him. For a fleeting moment, there's resistance, a hesitancy borne from years of concealing his true self, before he lets you unmask him. His long hair cascades over your face as the mask falls away, revealing the man beneath. In that vulnerable moment, you stroke his sweat-glistened cheek, your fingers tracing the contours of his features as you call him "handsome", perhaps the first time he's heard the word since his mother.

→ Despite Michael's disapproval of your continued work at the lounge, you are unwilling to relinquish your independence completely. He grumbles and fumes when things don't go his way, but deep down, he appreciates your defiance, feels a strange allure in your willingness to challenge him. Although his overly protective nature remains, he secretly enjoys the way you push back against his control, finding a strange sense of satisfaction in the game of give and take between you. A hand on his chest or a kiss along his strong jawline is all it takes for him to soften, his resolve melting under the warmth of your affection. You eventually compromise, only working certain shifts and allowing him to escort you home. As if you really have a choice on the matter. Michael finds your attempts at negotiation endearing.

→ If anyone dares to come between Michael and what is his, he reacts with violent outbursts of rage. His attacks are brutal and merciless, driven by a primal need to assert his dominance and protect you. Unfortunately, you are also not exempt from his aggression, and when he catches sight of you one night, engaged in conversation with a stranger outside the back of the lounge during your smoke break, he snaps. In a frenzy of fury, he swiftly disposes of the man, his actions marked by a sickening crunch of bones as his body is hurled against the brick wall. Then, turning his attention to you, Michael's muscles coil with tension and his chest heaves with barely-contained anger. Gripping your arms so fiercely that bruises bloom in their wake, he shoves you against the wall, once, then again, as if attempting to jolt some some sense into you.

→ With swift determination, Michael hoists you over his shoulder and retreats into the shadows, his purposeful strides carrying you home. But the journey doesn't lead to the bedroom; instead, he deposits you onto the stairs with a roughness that steals your breath. There, in the dim light, he strips away the remnants of your clothing, his actions forceful and unyielding. Again and again, he fucks into you with a ferocity that leaves you screaming his name, your pleas mingling with the echoes of both passion and pain. In those moments, as his protectiveness gives way to possession and consumes you, you find yourself uttering the words he craves to hear—that you are his, and his alone.

→ Yet, even amidst the ecstasy, a shadow of uncertainty looms. You can never be certain that Michael wouldn't cross that final line, that his compulsion wouldn't drive him to take everything from you, including your life. For Michael, protection is not just about control—it's about ownership to the point of obsession. If he can't have you, no one else can either.

[joonsytip]

Only for Love || Mingyu - Part 3

Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au

Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?

Warnings: character death, mentions of pregnancy, Mingyu acts dumb, reader goes through a whole lot of emotional turmoil, mentions of divorce, tears, profanities, major angst.

Word Count: 5.7k

@wongyuuu thanks a lot for brainstorming out this with me & happy birthday, love! 💕🎂

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

Mingyu returns to an empty house. He waits for you for an hour, two hours and when the clock strikes midnight his mind clouds with concern. He fishes out his phone and ignoring the series of notifications that keeps on popping up, he calls you.

But with all his calls remaining unanswered, Mingyu surges in panic and calls Soonyoung who's extremely pissed and shows his discontentment through a dry, edgy reply.

"She left with Minghao."

That's the only line Mingyu hears before getting hung up. And Soonyoong does not pick up his call again.

And now he sits rooted to the couch, tapping feet in anxiety and worry with no idea about your whereabouts and who the hell is Minghao?

His thoughts bounce off the walls and he decides to take his car and drives off to find you aimlessly. He goes to your office only to be greeted by the security. He goes to the café you are regular at, knowing very well that it would be closed but he makes a round just for his sanity. He knocks on your apartment door but it's empty just like the house was.

Dejected he fishes out his phone to call your uncle when the notification of your name flashes on the screen.

'Meet me at home within fifteen minutes.'

There's no way he's gonna get home within the said timeframe but just as he rushes towards his car, his phone vibrates again.

'Half an hour. Don't run the red lights, don't run over people.'

Mingyu listens to your advice and thankfully he reaches you in one piece.

But he stands frozen as he sees you in the hallway carrying a duffle bag.

"Where were you?", no greetings, you ask checking your watch.

Mingyu knows you know and you know that he knows that you know.

"I had to leave with Sora."

"And who's she?"

Mingyu bites his tongue before answering, "My ex."

"What made you go somewhere with your ex rather than watch your wife getting felicitated?", your voice is calmer than usual and it scares your husband to the bones.

He stays silent. And you wait for him like you have all the time in the world.

"I can't tell you right now, Y/N. I'm sorry.", he answers quietly, lowering his gaze.

"Okay.", you say and Mingyu looks at you flabbergasted. Before he could speak, you add,"I'm going to stay at my uncle's."

Mingyu feels electrified, the sensation which burns his whole body, itches on his skin and scratches at the throat.

"I'm sorry, I know it is an unacceptable behaviour of me but please trust me. I haven't done anything to be ashamed of.", Mingyu grabs your hands and blabbers, "You can stay with your uncle but please tell me when you are going to return, that you're going to return."

You pull back your hands from his grip, "I don't think I'll be returning anytime soon.", you say sternly, "I had something to share with you but this isn't the right time."

"Y/N--"

"Before I leave, tell me one thing. Are you going to keep seeing her?"

Mingyu flares at this, "I'm not seeing her for fucks sake! I would never do something bad, I'm your husband."

You stare at him for a solid minute, "You didn't answer my question. Anyways, I'm disappointed. Keep yourself in my shoes and give it a thought."

"Let me drive you, it's late.", he offers.

"You don't have to worry about me, Minghao is already waiting with his car."

Mingyu twitches on hearing the name for the second time, "And who's that?"

"I can't tell you right now, Mingyu. I'm sorry.", you mimic his words from before and just as you are about to cross the threshold, you whisper shaking your head, "You can't even put yourself in my shoes..."

Mingyu watches you leave with a grim heart.

It's been a two weeks since you've been living with your uncle. And though you've left home in despair, Mingyu has somehow made it a mission to win back your trust.

But who's gonna tell him that you never doubted him, you were just mad, just like a teenage girl who can't keep her act straight in front of her love.

He calls you every night. For the first week you didn't pick up his calls but when your anger started to subside you entertained his calls but never spoke much, just listened to him telling how his day went. He asks every time if could visit you, getting a straight no as reply. He might be obedient but he's sneaky as hell because most of the times when you're getting off work you somehow see him engrossed with some conversation with Soonyoung at the parking.

What is he doing at your workplace almost everyday, when he could crash at Soonyoung's place. Why does Soonyoung have to call out your name every time when you're walking past them, roping you into some small talks.

Soonyoung is the imposter.

And why does everytime aa you are about to take leave after the conversation, Mingyu asks you the same question, "When are you returning?"

You never answer.

"You've gotta be kidding me!", Seokmin yelps. They all have gathered at Mingyu's place because everyone is stressed and wants to know what is actually happening.

"There are all sorts of rumours at the workplace. And I wanna punch everyone in the face.", Soonyoung says dejected, "Minghao and Y/N went to the same university so some are saying that they have dated during that time." he takes a chug from the can and continues, "And since Mingyu didn't show up at the event last time, it has sparked the speculations."

Mingyu sits head lowered, rubbing his hands all over the face.

"I'm sure Minghao likes her. I can tell by the way he looks at her.", Soonyoung puts it down.

"What about Y/N?", Mingyu asks his heart beating in his chest rapidly.

"What do you think dumbass?", Junhui glares at him.

"Woah, I'm offended now that you asked that question.", Hansol speaks in distaste.

"It's been a month without her.", Mingyu sighs, his lips curl down, eyes filled with concern, "I think everything was going back to normal, assuming by the way she responded, I felt like she'd be coming back anytime but she has gone radio silent suddenly. For the past two weeks she isn't responding to my calls or texts, she is even working from home."

"Yeah maybe Minhee can tell something", Junhui suggests, "But I doubt she'd spill anything if Y/N has told her not to."

The evening bleeds into night and the guys keep on chatting when suddenly Jeonghan who hasn't been much involved decides to speak.

"Now that Sora is back? What are you gonna do?"

The laughters die down and room falls silent with all the eyes on Mingyu.

"What's going on guys? Is there something we don't know?", Seokmin asks in fear.

Jeonghan leans back on the couch and looks at Mingyu, saying, "I think it's time, they should know. I'll go first, that day Mingyu left with Sora to meet me. Apparently, the guy Sora had left Gyu for turns out to be a douch. Won't go to the details but he kept blackmailing her, so desperate to save herself and afraid that I won't be meeting her if she went alone, she took him with her. I'm skipping the legal parts and that guy has been sort of taken care off. But that's not where it ends.", he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "The problem is that Sora wants him back now."

Gasps erupt through the room.

"Why did I see it coming though?", Seokmin says, "You have said no straight to her face right, Min?", he asks Mingyu.

The silence that follows horrifies every other one present in the room.

"Don't tell me...", Hansol trails off, eyeing his friend in utter disbelief.

"It's not what you're thinking.", Mingyu frowns, "I haven't said anything to Sora. But I have loved her for so long it's rolling back like a habit.", he hesitantly looks up and sees a bunch of disappointed faces, "But if it had been the previous me, I'd have gone to her in a snap but I'm changed now."

Mingyu gives a wry smile when looking at the relief washing over his friends.

"Here's the real deal begins. We have been married for over two years, in a few months we'd be hitting the three year mark. It's a long time right?", he sweeps his gaze across the large wedding frame of you both on the wall, "Instead of being a couple, I feel like living with a roommate. No feelings involved. She's stoic, nonchalant and even inconsiderate sometimes, even if I think that there's something between us, her actions act as bucket of cold water on those thoughts. I understand that not everyone is the same and I agree that Y/N has changed but somehow we're still at the starting point and it's starting to tire me out. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to this marriage--"

There's a sudden thud and all the necks turn in unison only to find you standing by the hallway and your bag on the ground.

Heartbreak is one thing but the humiliation is another form of descend you're currently facing. You return your home only to find your husband shit talking about how unhappy he is in this marriage to his friends.

And the biggest loss turns out to be how you're the only one who thought that it's a happy, perfect marriage. Your husband isn't wrong when he said that you're inconsiderate.

Tears prick at your eyes but aren't you stoic, nonchalant so why should the people infront of you get the leverage to see you vulnerable? They shouldn't, so you pick up your bag and walk past them going straight into the guest room.

There are continuous knocks on the door. Your phone keeps ringing but you pay mind to none. Your mind only reels the words of your husband from before.

The previous you would have stomped out of the house but now, you can't. The situation has changed, the circumstances are different and you are totally lost.

Because there's a life is growing inside you. The reason you decided to return home tonight but your second attempt at letting Mingyu know that he's gonna be a father cracks again. The first attempt was the night where Mingyu chose Sora over you. He doesn't want you, would he want to raise a child with you?

Maybe you shouldn't have gotten married, maybe you shouldn't have fallen in love with your husband and maybe she's better, the previous you who knew you're undesirable, who knew that people like you are unlovable, who very well knew how to maintain a boundary.

You have lost the track of time but you sure can hear voices from the other side of the door. You think attachment is something you can't effort, you are not people's people.

So that's how what Mingyu had said, you turned into his roommate. Since that day, you have settled in the guest room. You don't get out of your room unless it's an emergency. You leave for work early and return home at late hours.

You haven't spoken to Mingyu since that day. You've rejected all his advances of striking a conversation. But you're thankful to him for making you food everyday because you can't eat anything else, it makes you nauseous.

"Hey, are you okay?", Minghao asks worried as he takes a sit beside you at the cafeteria of the office, "You have been throwing a lot."

You nod your head, avoiding his gaze, "I'm fine."

Minghao doesn't buy your words but you both settle in the comfortable silence and until he gasps.

You cock brows looking at him.

"Are you pregnant?", he gasps, "Oh my god."

You freeze and slap your hand over his mouth and proceed to tell him everything that has been happening.

"So Mingyu doesn't know yet. And he's being a jerk ever since his ex-girlfriend returned.", Minghao says in anger. He sweeps a gaze across your face and his eyes soften, "You love him, don't you?"

You avoid his gaze again, you don't answer him.

A sad smile graces on his lips as he reminiscences the past. How he had practically clinched himself in your life. How he had fallen in love with you but knew that you wouldn't reciprocate, the reason why he disappeared abruptly from your life years ago. The apologies are always on the tip of his tongue for leaving you alone, for creating the safe place but also leaving it void.

"You know you shouldn't be taking stress. I know it's not easy but I'd suggest for you both to sort things out, atleast for the baby.", he says patting your back in a comforting manner, "If Mingyu does anything to hurt you again, tell me I'll beat him for you."

"Thanks Hao.", you say smiling.

"Also let me know if Soonyoung bothers you. I'll handle him as well."

You shake your head laughing, "He insufferable Hao, you'll give up."

"We'll see that.", he smiles softly, "But do plan on telling him. Uncle also needs to know, he'd be so happy."

"I want the baby's father to know first. Then I'll tell everyone.", you assure him.

Mingyu knows he went overboard. He knows he was being an absolute asshole when he uttered those baseless words in your favour.

Maybe he should never have compared the type of relationship he had with Sora with the one he's having with you. It's a grave mistake and the lack of your presence is taking a toll on him. But he understands if you need space or even don't want to see his face. He's willing to give you all that but he plans to apologise to you and if you don't forgive him, he'd understand.

Work is hectic but the situation at home is feverish. He has been getting earfuls from all of his friends and family, specially Minhee. She has been giving him shit routinely.

His reverie breaks when he receives a text from you. Hurriedly opening the text, his eyes widen with a mixture of horror and anticipation.

'Come home as soon as possible. I have something to tell you.'

His mind could only hint at it being something ominous.

You pace around the entire house nervously.

"Mingyu, I'm pregnant. You're gonna be father."

You shake head at the selection of words.

"Congratulations! You're going to be a dad!"

Sounds too exciting for an unplanned pregnancy.

"You're pull out game was weak. Guess what I'm pregnant."

Too snappy, rejected.

"Kim Mingyu, you're pregnant, I will be-- wait what no-- I'm pregnant, we're expecting."

You sit down pulling your hair in frustration.

After another hundred million failed rehearsals you sort to say whatever your heart would feel like at the moment in his presence.

But where's Mingyu? You check the clock, it's past his work hours. Maybe he's running late for some reason. It's your third attempt to tell him about your pregnancy and you hope that you'd succeed this time.

Your phone rings and you would never have guessed that your world would come crashing down.

You stand with head your head bowed down the entire time at the funeral hall. The band wrapped around your arm acts as a constant reminder that you're the chief mourner. You don't raise your head, not ready the see the picture that's kept on the board.

The heart attack was so brutal that it claimed the life of your uncle without a chance of revival. When you were informed he was already gone.

No last words, no goodbyes. Now you're left with only his photo and memories. You walk into the room where his body is kept as you've made a special request to let you meet him before he's taken into the coffin.

He's almost unrecognisable as you sit beside the body. Gently caressing his head, you finally let the tears fall.

"You were so eager to meet everyone that you left me alone here.", you sob, "What do I do without you now?"

You caress his cheeks gently, "Whatever I have become it's because of you. Even though I was the reason they died, you took me in and raised me like our own."

"I have something to tell.", your hands place themselves back on his head, "I'm pregnant. You're gonna be a grandparent. Tell mom, dad and aunt that I have grown up. Tell Sejin that he's gonna be an uncle."

You spend some more last moments with your uncle before there's a knock on the door. You quickly wipe the tears and look up to see Mingyu standing at the threshold.

"It's time.", he says solemnly.

You nod and look back at your uncle saying, "Thank you for everything. Have a nice reunion with everyone up there. Forgive me if I have been a bad daughter. Goodbye comrade."

You don't like the pitiful look everyone throws at you. You hate it, it claws on your skin and you feel like throwing up. Running into the washroom, you sit down opening the lid to empty your stomach when you feel your hairs being pulled back in gentle grip.

It's Mingyu, you know even though even without seeing him. He doesn't care about entering a ladies washroom when he has to look for you.

"Here, drink some water.", he uncaps the bottle and offers it to you.

He's presence is somewhat comforting, he makes things bearable. Your uncle is laid beside the rest of your family and you request everyone to be left alone. It's night time when you leave the place only to see Mingyu waiting for you.

There's silence throughout the ride back to home, no words spoken when he makes you eat something he cooked when you were showering, unspoken words when you go back your room and he goes back to his.

You mourn for days and while you do so you take notice of a lot of things.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for that day. I didn't mean anything I said, I was just being an idiot.", Mingyu  says after barging into your room one night because he had enough. He decides he won't let you suffer alone anymore.

You nod your head, "It's okay.", your short and curt reply doesn't settle well with your husband.

"I know one apology isn't enough and I understand if you won't forgive me but please let me be there for you.", he pleads closing the gap and taking your hands within his. His eyes searches for your face and his brows crease when he finds you avoiding eye contact.

You pull back your hands out of his grip, "I can take care of myself, Mingyu."

Your call of name rings oddly in his ear. It's rare for you to call him by name, it's always husband when throwing banter or Gyu while being affectionate.

Affectionate? His mind reels in the moment. Aren't you unexpressive then how could his mind produce that word in your wake?

"I'm tired. Let's call it a night.", you say poised, "There's no need for an apology. Everyone has the right to voice out about anything they don't like."

Mingyu feel like he's not your husband rather an office colleague. Your tone is so formal and dry. Your words cut him like a dagger. He wonders if he has caused damaged beyond repair.

It's so fucked up that he wants to hold you sleep, say sweet nothings to calm your senses but he's afraid to ask you to come back to the master bedroom.

So he lets you bask in your own company. He'll interfere with your personal space for sure one day, hustle in forcefully if you don't let him, no matter how rude and irritating it is, he'll mend the broken bond.

His heart breaks when he notices that you don't look him in the eyes anymore. You always had a strong lively gaze, but they are now hollow. You don't call him when you're struggling to open the jar, you don't ask for him when you can't reach something kept on the top shelf.

His friends are all dejected at how you don't indulge them anymore, they're sad at how they don't get to see you nowadays.

Mingyu had attempted to gauze you out of the coop by inviting the guys to the apartment. But you had locked yourself in the room the whole time.

His parents lament on how he ruined something so beautiful, his sister cries at how you don't communicate with even her nowadays.

He's already going crazy and Sora's pestering him by showing up outside his workplace often or making thousands of phone calls almost everyday, makes him ponder upon how was he even in love with her at some point.

He regrets again, now that he can clearly see the difference. You are you, the actual indifference you're showing is now and it's driving him crazy.

He wants to fix this. He needs to fix both of you because he needs you.

You're in the middle of some paperwork when there's a knock on the cabin door.

Soonyoung enters and the look that you give him is sharp enough to scare him off.

"How have you been doing?"

"Breathing fine, alive."

He should have taken the clue and left but it's Soonyoung and he lives as if he has nine lives.

"We miss you, please stop ghosting us."

"I'm not ghosting anyone."

"Minhee is miserable."

The writing stops, your hand halts for a moment before continuing. Soonyoung knocks on the table demanding your attention on him.

You sigh, having no option but look at him.

"You can be mad at your husband but we didn't do anything, Y/N. I don't even know Mingyu, I'm your friend."

The corner of your lips threaten to curl up. Your heart twinges and you smile sadly, "It's better to be prepared ahead so that you all will get accustomized to it later. Attachments are always painful."

Soonyoung looks at you quizzically, "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing.", you drew yourself back in the papers, "I have a meeting in ten minutes, I need to go over these documents before that."

Soonyoung maybe callous at times but somehow seeing you and hearing your words today makes him bothered.

Another weak passes and you are packing your bags the entire time little by little, unknown to Mingyu because your door is always locked. Your office room is almost empty except for the systems. When Mingyu's not at home, you roam in the bedroom, swaying in the memories you both made there. You lay on the bed, sniffing the pillows because they smell like him.

You crave his touch all the time and him being in your vision doesn't help at all when you could sense the longing in his eyes.

Mingyu doesn't know that you've stolen one of his shirts and a hoodie. He should never find out.

Your soul knows. It tells you that it’s time to distance yourself from those who no longer align with you mentally, emotionally or physically.

"I can't stay here.", you whisper to yourself as you continue to pack rest of the items.

"I'm cursed.", you frantically wipe your tears, "People related to me keep dying."

Your body shakes, eyes producing another batch of fresh tears, "No one should be associated with me. I need to cut everyone out of my life for their sake. Without me, they'd be safe."

You heave a breath, in an attempt to calm yourself, "Mingyu doesn't like me anyways. I'm just a burden. He'll be free once I leave, he can be with Sora.", you rub your chest as it stings, "He'll be happy and that is what I want."

Your gaze instinctively lands on your belly, hands gently rubbing circles, "I promise, even if we won't be together, me and your dad will try our best to raise you. I can't wait to meet you, to hold you."

Mingyu, on the other hand is set on winning you back. He knows you don't like anything extravagant, so he plans to surprise you out a romantic date at home. He's ready to go to the lengths to make you forgive him. He craves your presence, your touch, your shy smiles, the way you call him when you want something from him.

He wants to love you, wants to make love to you. He has been dreaming a lot about starting a family with you. He wants the little versions of you both running around the house. When his friends took the initiative to show him how he has changed and it's for better he knows that it's true. He wonders if all the frustrations were because his heart wasn't ready to seek out the real feelings.

But now he has figured it all out, he likes you, likes you a lot. So he wants this marriage to work out.

He hopes for you to like him back. So who's gonna tell him the truth?

Some free time at work and he's watching new recipes to cook for you. Before going to bed, he's open the phone gallery and goes over your pictures, the pictures which are candid, the ones in which you posed, the best where he's with you in them.

Would you like it, if he throws pebble at your window and serenades you at the middle of the night? Would it be a good idea if goes down on his knees because he hasn't done it before and know he wants to.

Mingyu is all giddy making up scenarios in his head. He wishes to watch them all happen successfully.

"Are you having mood swings?", Jeonghan asks him one day when everyone gathers at the former's home, "Or do you have dissociative identity disorder? You were regretting getting married to her some weeks back and now you're saying that you like her?"

Junhui is grumpy, he takes a look at Mingyu and smacks him hard on his head causing the later to scream out in pain.

"He claims he is the most closest to Y/N and he is grieving because she is not responding to his texts.", Seokmin clarifies and eyes Mingyu in disbelief, "Seriously dude, what's wrong with you? How can you mess up this bad?"

Before Mingyu could speak up, Hansol interjects, "How hard it is to sort out your feelings? How could you even utter such ridiculous things about her when you know how difficult it had been for her, the whole life. Now she even lost her uncle. Imagine listening to your husband yapping about how much he dislikes you when you think he is one you can lean on? And that too instead of voicing out your mind to her first, she heard you telling it to us."

Hansol is a calm man, he never loses his cool except for some situations and this being one of it.

"It's not only me and Jun. Everyone is upset.. I know I'm making it sound bigger, we know that she is your wife, first and our friend, second but we can see that even though she never shows it she cares a lot. I'll tell you no one has ever entertained me constantly to help me, not even you guys. She even suggested me tools that she thought might help me with the editing though she had to invest time on getting to that point. She gifted Jun a diffuser as the previous one was causing him throat irritation but he was too stubborn to discard a newly bought machine."

Seokmin adds up to Hansol, "Didn't she help you with the paperwork late at night even though you both work in an entirely different industry? I'm sorry but did Sora ever do that being in the same line of work? No right. If you would have noticed she has always tried to accomodate herself within us even when it was difficult, it was all new to her."

Mingyu sinks his face into the palm of his hands, as he says regretfully, "I made a huge mistake. I let my intrusive thoughts win and ended up hurting her."

"What if it's too late to fix things?", Soonyoung speaks, his vision dazed as your words from before keeps reeling in his mind, "You should resolve the matters before it's too late."

The following week is hectic for Mingyu. The clients are visiting and everyone has to stay late attending them. It's a whole damn hustle, draining the employees out. The week goes on and out with him spending most of the time in office when all he wants is to go home just to see your face.

It's the last day of the visit and Mingyu thanks the heavens. He's usually patient but now all he wants is to avail the comfort of his home.

It's around one at night but unlike other times the hallway is lit in dim lights flooding  into the dining. There's an eerie silence and something unpleasant awaits.

"Let's get divorced."

When Mingyu came home late at that night to see you awake and waiting for him, there was an uncanny feeling that settled within.

Your hands are crossed, face void of any expression. He almost misses your words. If not for your next words, he would think he's hallucinating.

"We can decide on the terms and clauses, all as per your convenience.", you stress, "I do not expect any trouble from your side."

Mingyu finally registers everything you have said till now and everything hits him all at once.

"W-What are you talking about? Why do you want a divorce all of a sudden?"

Your monotonous tone rather asks him another question, "We have been married for over two years, nearing its third anniversary. Do you really want to be tied in this marriage?"

Though Mingyu thinks he doesn't know you well enough but he knows you enough to catch the wind of your words. He knows its not because of something he had said that day.

A familiar set of papers lying on the table catches his attention. His gaze then turns towards his office room and his suspicion confirms to be correct when he sees the door opened ajar.

"Why did you enter my office? I had clearly warned you about not doing so.", he says in a strict voice.

"That doesn't answer my question.", you say getting up, "Anyways it doesn't matter anymore. I'll get a lawyer, you get one too and proceed with the divorce. Oh, you already have Jeonghan."

As you turn back, you feel your husband's hand wrap around yours.

"How are you so calm? Why are you not asking me anything? Do I really mean nothing to you?", you hear his voice laced in frustration, "We are married for almost three years now and your cool headedness after, I'm assuming, knowing everything makes me aware of the fact that I really don't know you."

You jerk your hand out of his grip and turn back to look at him, "And how is that my fault? Maybe you've never tried to know me.", your voice drops another octave, "You can stop with the doting husband act now that I know the truth."

Mingyu doesn't miss the way your eyes show vulnerability for a moment. Your words strike a chord within him.

"You signed a contract with my uncle in exchange for marrying me.", you chuckle bitterly, "All you wanted was the stocks of the company uncle owned, a goddamn promotion, this house, everything else but me. I was never on the list. I was just a pawn. I don't know what my uncle saw in you to desperately marry me off to you. I hope all of this was worth it. The stocks must have passed down to you smoothly as it can only be acquired by someone working in the company. You can keep this house, keep everything."

"Y/N--"

"I don't wanna hear anything. I was waiting for you to come back so that I could make you aware that you're busted. I'll to go bed."

Mingyu reaches out for you again but you lay out a hand, "Please, I'm tired."

"O-Okay.", Mingyu backs down noticing the resignation in your demeanor, "But we're gonna talk it out tomorrow morning.", he sounds sincere when he says, "I'm sorry. I hope you'll give me a chance to explain everything."

But little does he know, you've already closed the room for any diversions, that you've decided to part ways with the person who has betrayed your trust.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.

[sugarypinecones]

DODGE!!!!! god i want dodge so bad i want to lay between his stretched out legs and wrap my arms around one of them and rest my head on his thigh while he plays with my hair while we watch smth together but it's all background noise because his dick is so close to me mouf and i js wanna run my nose against the little outline from his washed out jeans IS THAT A CRIME IS THAT SO TERRIBLE please oh my god his strong rodeo arms i just wanna sit on his lap and rub my hands all over him im sorry i think im ovulating

(in lois griffin voice) whoever that was.. thank you….

NO because ur SO real.. like i audibly went holy to this, had to screenshot, send to council, and come back to re read again like that one sarah paulson video.

this was meant to be a tiny tiny blurb but it turned out way longer than expected so sorry lolz + f!reader

ALSO! if you sent an ask i am working on it, but i was on vacation so now im finally home and yupppp

send more asks. anything. i will try and match ur freak as hard as i can pls god, and anyways that being said:

like, get me; it starts out somewhat innocent. tired and lazy because of all the panic bullshit, you two decide to just stay home rather going out to all the random parties and events thrown between each game.

dayna and his mom don’t care that he has you over — they find it nice he found someone, a nice distraction from inside his head.

as for the show, it’s probably some random documentary or reality show: first thing he saw when logging into the streaming platform. he, genuinely, is probably engrossed in it, but you’re engrossed in him: how close you two are.

you’re laying between his legs, obviously, and his hands are strung around you messily, just wanting to have some sort of hold on you. how he’s holding you, you probably have no idea what, focused on the washed-out jeans of his — weathered from wear by rodeos or helping anne or anything else.

he’s probably yapping about something on the TV — “i don’t see how bestfriends could do that to eachother..” bla bla bla, you’re not really focusing in on it - humming, trying to sound interested in whatever it is he’s actually talking about. some “oh really?” and “i know..” are strung throughout the humming, but you have no idea if it’s actually appropriate to his talking.

he seems to catch on, though, unbeknownst to you. it’s hard not to notice his pretty girlfriend’s eyes focused directly on his crotch every few minutes, head shifting back and forth ever so slightly — making his dick twitch with need.

you wondered if his jeans are always this tight — wondering if you looked earlier you could’ve seen it, but the truth was, you really couldn’t. this only happened after the fact you got in the car — but obviously, you weren’t keenly aware of his crotch up until the minute you got in bed.

his hands run up and down ur back softly, and god it just makes the URGE to run ur face along the outline so much worse !!! he’s fallen quiet, so u slightly wonder if maybe something’s wrong or maybe he caught onto your disinterest in his words, so you glance up out of the corner of your eye, only to realize he’s been watching you for god knows how long.

he probably says something stupid, like: “you know the tv’s over there, right?” or “interesting?” something really dumb and smart-assy. you roll your eyes, probably say something back, and one thing leads to another and he’s nonchalantly trying to suggest you could do it if you wanted to.

so you do. and god !! does it feel as good as u thought it would. he twitches beneath u and tries to act like it’s really not turning him on as much as it is, but it’s hard not to, a sticky, wet patch is already forming at the tip of his cock; itching to bleed through the light jeans.

he ends up pulling you closer, forgetting all about the tv, bringing you into a hasty kiss, needy and desperate but still filled with tenderness.

you fix yourself on his lap, smiling into the kiss, glad you got your way, like it was ever a fight to begin with — it never was, he would give you anything you asked for whenever you wanted.

he’s so gentle when he touches you. his large hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you even closer into his lap, his eyes closed, enjoying the kiss for a few more moments before pulling away, panting softly, breathless.

"you’re really not very good at paying attention." he mumbled breathlessly, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you.

he moved his hands down your sides, running them up and down your thighs, his thumbs brushing against the skin beneath the hems of your shorts as he shifted underneath you slightly.

“what’s going through your pretty little head, hm?” he mused, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face.

you hummed softly, looking up at him with a small, playful pout on your lips.

“well… i was listening,” you pouted, “kinda.”

he chuckled softly at your response, his hands continuing to run up and down your thighs, the touch of his palms warm and rough against your skin.

“you’re so cute,” he murmured, “but i don’t think you were listening at all.”

he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on your nose, before continuing to trail his lips down your jawline and down your neck.

“i think you were too distracted by something else,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin as he nipped at your neck softly.

he knew you far too well - he knew the way your body reacted to his touch. he knew how to make you melt.

he continued to nibble at your neck, gently, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send shivers down your spine.

“can you even remember what i was talking about?” he murmured playfully, his hands still running up and down your thighs.

“of course,” you retort, clearly defensive. “you don’t get how best friends.. could do that to eachother.” it’s clear you were listening to him, but not the television.

he chuckled softly, his lips pressed against your skin as you spoke.

“of course you remember that part,” he teased, knowing damn well you were paying more attention to his jeans than the television.

he gently nipped at your skin, sucking on a small patch of it for a moment, before pulling away.

“you were paying more attention to something else, weren’t you?”

you flush. obviously you were — who could blame you ?? :(( he was just soo close to u and so there..

he caught the flush of your cheeks, a smirk playing at his lips as he lifted his head to look at you.

“aww, you’re so cute when you blush, you know that?” he teased, “especially when you realize you’ve been caught.”

he chuckled softly, his hands moving up to your waist, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

you pull him into a needier kiss this time, hands roaming all over, as if trying to find the right place to grab: but all seemed so promising, that you couldn’t actually settle.

he groaned softly into the kiss, matching your neediness with his own. his hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pulled you close into his lap.

he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, requesting access that you happily gave him. his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it hungrily, as his hands roamed across your body.

he trailed kisses down your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. he nipped at your collarbone, leaving small, love bites in their wake.

he slowly pushed himself back against the back of the bed, pulling you with him so that you were now laying on top of him, your legs on each side of his hips.

his hands roamed down to your legs, gripping your thighs as he shifted beneath you, his hips rolling up against yours.

he groaned softly as he felt the pressure against his lap, his lips still moving across your neck, leaving little love bites in their wake.

“you drive me crazy,” he mumbled against your skin.

you hum in response — too overwhelmed with pleasure to say anything other than jumbled messes, so simplify yourself with a hum.

his hands moved up, slipping underneath your shirt, and running his palms across your skin. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it only made him want you more.

he pulled away from your neck, looking up at you with his blue, lust-filled eyes.

“i want you,” he breathed, “so badly.”

your breath hitches — and you want to tell him to have you — right there, however much he wanted, but you can’t strangle any words out.

he moved his hands up to your hips, his grip tightening as he pulled you tightly against him, grinding his lap up against yours.

he let out a soft groan, his head falling back against the back of the headboard as he felt the friction against his straining jeans.

“you’re so beautiful,” he panted, looking up at you with a look of need in his eyes, “so damn beautiful.”

he slid his hands up further, pushing up your shirt as he did, exposing your stomach. he ran his hands up across your stomach and up to your ribs, his touch leaving chills in their wake.

he bit his lip as he looked up at you, studying your face, taking in your features as if he hadn’t seen you a million times before.

“i want you,” he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse with need, “all of you, darling.”

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“well,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “what’s stopping you?”

he looked up at you, his eyes darkening with need.

“nothing,” he replied, his grip on you tightening as he spoke.

he shifted beneath you, pushing himself up so that he was sitting up properly against the back of the couch.

“except for these damn jeans,” he muttered, his hands moving to the button on his jeans.

you’re quick to help him — eagerly pawing at the button, undoing it with ease.

he let out a soft gasp at your eager touch, his hands moving to grip your waist as you undid the button on his jeans.

he lifted his hips as you began to pull down the jeans, a small, needy whine escaping from his lips as the fabric slid down his legs and hit the floor with a toss of your hand.

“so fucking needy..” he groaned softly, his hands running up and down your sides.

he pulled you back down onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he settled you against his lap.

his hips bucked up slightly, his arousal pressed against your thigh as he moved.

“you’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands roaming up and down your back as he spoke, “i’m so lucky to have you.”

he tilted his head, his lips tracing a path down your neck, nibbling at sensitive spots along the way. he left a trail of little love bites, his teeth grazing against your skin in a way that made you shiver.

“i want to touch you,” he murmured against your skin, his hands running up your thighs. “please let me touch you.”

you could give him permission a million times over — and he’d still ask before doing anything else in the process, so gently; a contrast difference to his rough hands.

“please.” you retort softly.

he groaned softly at your response, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled you closer.

“always so polite,” he muttered, his lips still trailing down your neck.

he slowly moved his hands up your thighs, his fingers slowly sliding under the hem of your shorts.

“i need you so badly,” he panted, his hands moving higher, “can i..?”

you nod vicariously.

he let out a soft sigh of relief at your response, his hands moving further up your thighs, until they reached the edge of your panties.

he ran his fingers along the edge of the fabric, groaning softly at the realization that he was so close to what he wanted.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “so perfect..”

you hum contemptibly, smiling.

he smiled at your hum, his hands slowly moving up, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

he ran his fingers over your skin, his touch gentle and soft, as he slowly moved towards your center.

he could feel you shiver with each touch, his own hips rolling slightly beneath you as he grew impatient.

he slowly moved his hand down, his fingers sliding across your sensitive flesh, his touch sending shivers up your spine.

“you’re so warm,” he murmured, “so ready..”

he gently began to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch light and teasing, as his other hand moved to your hip, holding you in place.

he groaned softly at the feel of your reaction, his eyes studying your face intently.

“so beautiful..” he repeated, his fingers slowly increasing their pace.

he watched as you began to move against his touch, your hips rolling in response to his touch.

he groaned softly as he felt you press against him, his own arousal growing more and more with each small movement you made.

“that’s it,” he panted, “just like that..”

he continued his movements, his fingers quickening their pace as he felt you growing closer.

he could feel your body shaking with need, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“just relax darling,” he murmured, “let go for me..”

he continued to rub at your sensitive core, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm, as he watched you grow closer and closer to the edge.

he could feel your body growing tense, your grip on him growing tighter, as you began to whine and pant with need.

“that’s it, just like that..” he repeated, his own hips rolling up against you as he continued his ministrations.

he watched as you grew tense, your body trembling as you reached the edge, your eyes squeezing shut as you arched your back slightly.

he kept up his movements, his hand still rubbing at your sensitive flesh, continuing to bring you closer and closer to release, “come for me, please..” he panted, his own need growing stronger by the second.

he could feel you growing closer and closer to the edge with each second, your breath coming in soft pants and moans as you teetered on the brink.

and finally, you came, your body shaking as you reached your climax, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

he continued to move his fingers gently against you, helping you ride out your orgasm, as he spoke softly, “so perfect..”

he gently pulled his hand away from you, his eyes watching as you came down from your high. he studied your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“that’s it darling,” he murmured, “just breathe..”

he moved his hands to your hips once more, holding you tightly in his lap as he waited for you to regain your bearings.

[girlgenius1111]

face the consequences

ingrid x mapi x reader mapi talks you into being a brat. ingrid has no patience for it, and punishes you both. basically ingrid topping tf out of mapi and r.

smut. 18+

cw: light choking. dom sub dynamics. fingers. cunnilingus. strap on use. riding. biting? i guess? once? mentions of spanking, but no actual spanking.

-----

You knew you were in for when Ingrid didn’t even look at you as she all but pushed you into the backseat of the car, very unnecessarily buckling your seatbelt for you.

You knew earlier than that, really, when you’d let the random woman grind up against you on the dance floor, when her hands had drifted somewhere more than friendly, and Ingrid had gotten very sick of watching your little show. 

It was Mapi’s fault, though, not that Ingrid would ever believe you. Mapi was her perfect girl, and you were… not. María had clearly been in a bratty mood, but was too much of a coward to act out herself, so she talked you into making your girlfriend jealous. 

Ingrid hadn’t let it go on for very long before she was dragging you both out of the crowded club by your hands, mumbling about how she couldn’t just have one night out where you didn’t act like a slut. Your explanations that this had been Mapi’s idea had seemingly fallen on deaf ears, and eventually you gave up. You grew steadily more turned on as a tense silence filled the car. Mapi was rather pleased with herself, Ingrid was fuming, and you were frustrated, but more so excited. You wanted what was coming your way, you thought. 

The Norwegian was possessive even when you hadn’t been draped all over another woman 20 minutes earlier. Now, though, she was downright pushy, pulling you out of the car and barely letting you go as she unlocked the front door and guided you into the house. 

She had you fully in her arms, Mapi forgotten behind her, within a second, spinning you around and tilting your face up to look at her. 

“Needy slut, hmm? Couldn’t wait for me to give you what you wanted? You had to get it from someone else?”

Wisely, you kept quiet, only blinking up at the brunette with a sheepish look on your face. 

Ingrid regarded you for a moment, her fingers gently tucking your hair behind her ear. “How much did you have to drink?” She asked, face softening just slightly. 

“Huh?” You replied, confused at the turn this conversation was taking. 

“How much did you drink? You can’t be drunk if I’m going to do to you what I want to,” 

You inhaled deeply. “2 drinks.” 

That was apparently not good enough of an answer. “How do you feel?” 

“Good, I’m good, Ingrid,” 

“Hmm. I wouldn’t say you are good. You’ve been very bad tonight, darling.” She said condescendingly, and you forced yourself to keep your eyes on hers, even though the look she was giving you was rather intense. “You want to do this? You remember your safewords?” 

“Yes,” you responded breathily, as her hand started to creep down from your lower back, gripping at your ass. 

“Good. Go get on the bed. And take your clothes off.” 

There was no room for conversation or argument, so even though you didn’t particularly feel like leaving your girlfriend’s sides, you moved quickly, heading into the bedroom, hearing a sharp gasp from behind you. You didn’t dare turn around to see what the cause of the sound was, focusing on the task Ingrid had set you, and only that. 

Ingrid had Mapi pressed up against the wall, similarly to how she’d just had you, though Mapi wasn’t quite expecting it. She should have been, but the attention had been on you, and she hadn’t known Ingrid knew what’d she done. 

“What happened to my good girl, hmm? I’m used to our princesa being a brat, but not you, mi amor. Never you. I’m disappointed.” Ingrid whispered, ghosting her lips across Mapi’s jaw. 

Mapi whined, a pathetic sound she’d never admit to making. “I am your good girl, Ingrid,” 

“Do not lie, María,” Ingrid hissed, wrapping her veiny hand around Mapi’s throat, applying very light pressure. “You told her how to act, and she listened, didn’t you?” 

“Sí,” Mapi breathed, her brown eyes on Ingrid. The Norwegian hummed quietly, contemplating. 

“Are you going to make it up to me?”

“Sí, claro que sí,” 

“I know you will,” Ingrid cooed. “What do you think your punishment should be, baby?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Mapi tried, blinking up at Ingrid with a slightly dazed look on her face, the domination the brunette was showing making her feel weak in the knees. 

“Think, elskling. What would make you all needy?  What would make your cunt drip for me?” 

Mapi’s mouth was suddenly very dry, and she opened and closed her mouth a few times before answering. “Don’t let me touch her,” she suggested, hating herself for it as soon as the words left her mouth. She had no chance, though, not with Ingrid looking at her so intently. 

“Muy bien,” Ingrid smiled. Per usual, the Spaniard felt her face flush at the sound of the Spanish phrase so heavily affected by her girlfriend’s thick Norwegian accent.

 The look in Ingrid’s eyes was downright predatory, and Mapi felt a shiver run down her spine, knowing the Norwegian was not about to let either of you off the hook very easily. 

Meanwhile, you were growing impatient. It had been a couple minutes, and you had done as Ingrid had instructed. You were kind of cold, though, and you ached for the feeling of either of your girls’ skin on yours. Perhaps more than that, though, you wanted something harsher, something rougher. You were pretty sure you knew how to get it too, so you let your hand trail down your stomach, settling over your hot core. It wouldn’t possibly feel as good as Ingrid or Mapi’s hands on you, but it would probably succeed in getting what you wanted. You weren’t quite understanding of Ingrid’s mood, though.

You kept your hand where it was, playing with your clit, as you saw your girls stumble back through the doorway, Mapi being backed into the room by Ingrid, the taller woman’s lips working insistently against the Spaniard’s. Ingrid’s eyes fluttered open very briefly, to make sure she wasn’t about to smash Mapi into the bed, widening when she saw what you were up to. Her lips broke away from your other girlfriend, but her hands remained all over Mapi, drifting under her shirt and playing with her chest. 

“Stop.” 

The look on Ingrid’s face, paired with the very simple command, had you freezing. 

“You are not going to get what you want. I’ll touch you when I want, how I want. Hands off what is mine.” She warned, and you completely abandoned your plans, hands practically flying away from where it had been resting. 

The brunette turned back to Mapi, who was looking at her with the familiar dreamy expression she got whenever Ingrid got bossy with you. Before she had time to react, Ingrid had her backed up against the wall again, this time falling to her knees before the older woman, and yanking down her pants and underwear impatiently. 

“Fucking-Ingrid, jesus,” Mapi cried, when Ingrid’s mouth immediately attached itself to her. 

“Shut up.” Ingrid warned. 

Mapi’s hands scratched at the wall behind her, hovering over Ingrid’s head before she decided against it. She gripped the door jam in one hand, and clenched the other into a tight fist, her body already spasming under Ingrid’s precise tongue. Mapi was clearly unsteady, and Ingrid didn’t help matters when she gripped the other woman’s leg and threw it over her shoulder, giving the Norwegian a better angle.

It was torture, watching and not being able to do anything. You knew just what Mapi was feeling, too, the feeling of Ingrid’s tongue flicking over her clit, her fingers teasing over the Spaniard’s entrance before harshly pushing in and searching insistently for the spot deep inside. The spot that Ingrid knew would make Mapi fall apart in mere seconds. It was a point of pride for the Norwegian, how quickly she could make the both of you come, purely based on her own skill and how well she knew your bodies. 

She knew Mapi very well, indeed, knew the minute the older woman began to tighten around her fingers, the minute her legs began to shake on either side of Ingrid’s head, that Mapi was close. 

“Ingrid, Ingrid, Ingrid,” Mapi whined, her body jerking, trying very hard not to grind down too hard on her girlfriend’s face. 

“Am I making you feel good, María?” Ingrid asked mockingly, pulling her face away as she spoke. 

“Sí. Ay dios mío, sí por favor, más rápido amor.” Mapi cried out. Ingrid obliged, speeding her fingers up until they were sliding in and out rapidly of Mapi’s pulsing cunt, her entire hand covered in Mapi’s wetness. 

“Are you close? Are you going to come all over my fingers?” 

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” Mapi begged. She was, in fact, dangerously close, all thoughts of her behavior and her punishment fucked right out of her head. She wasn’t cautious, the way that you would have been, not used to being punished by Ingrid. You saw what was coming from a mile away. 

Just as Mapi was about to come, so close she could feel her orgasm beginning to ripple through her body, Ingrid withdrew her fingers and stood up, a very satisfied smirk on her face. 

“No, Ingrid baby, no,” Mapi cried, her legs not quite strong enough at the moment to hold her up. She stumbled forward just slightly into Ingrid’s arms, and the laugh that echoed through the room was soft, not cruel, adoring and not teasing. The Norwegian held Mapi easily, whispering sweet reassurances in her ear, as she guided the woman over to the bed. 

Mapi flopped back onto the bed, pouting up at Ingrid, until your face leaned over hers. 

“Well.” You teased. “Ingrid’s perfect girl being punished? I never thought I’d see the day.” 

Still, your hand cupped Mapi’s cheek, and you left a light kiss on her forehead. Mapi could only grumble incoherently in response. She was kind of embarrassed, honestly, at how easily Ingrid had gotten her to fall apart. You deserved a lot of credit, it seemed, for lasting so long through Ingrid’s teasing and punishments before you started begging. Mapi had barely lasted one ruined orgasm. Just as she was about to comment on this, she heard you let out a low, drawn out moan, and her eyes flew open. 

Ingrid had you bent over the side of the bed, her fingers lightly teasing you. The red bite mark on your left ass cheek told Mapi exactly why you’d just made that sound, especially when Ingrid was still barely touching you. 

A fact you were very aware of. Ingrid hadn’t wasted any time getting to work on Mapi, but she was taking her time with you. You knew why, and you weren’t sure about it. You’d been a massive brat, yes. And normally, this would warrant Ingrid’s favorite punishment to dish out, one which would leave your ass red for days. You just… weren’t feeling it today. When Ingrid punished you like that, all the attention would be on you. She’d work you up to it, focus on you, before making you take it. She hadn’t done that today, which was fine. You needed something different from her, though, and you knew you had to speak up, or she’d continue with what she was planning. 

“Ingrid,” you said, voice slightly muffled by the duvet under you. 

“Hmm?” She responded absentmindedly, her hand stroking easily over your ass. 

“I don’t want that tonight?” You mumbled, more of a question than a statement. 

Her hands left your body briefly, before she flipped you onto your back, and hovered over you, her face only inches from yours. 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” You knew what her real question was. Were you drawing a line, or being a brat?

“Telling,” you whispered. Her lips met yours in a soft kiss, and you settled into the comfort and familiarity of it. 

“Okay.” She said against your mouth, smiling at the glazed look in your eyes at a simple kiss. “I have something else in mind, then,”

“Okay.” You replied breathlessly, agreeing without a second thought. Her green eyes were blazing with excitement, and you knew whatever was coming, it would be a lot. 

Her weight was off of you in an instant, moving quickly as she rifled through the drawer with all the toys, selecting the perfect one before also grabbing Mapi’s strap. 

“You’re going to ride María. Now. You can get yourself ready while she straps up.” 

And you did just that. Her permission flipped a switch in your brain and it was only seconds before you were spreading your legs open and burying your hand in between. You were dripping already, from watching, from Ingrid being so close to you, from hours of pent up energy in anticipation of tonight. You took two fingers easily, eyes falling shut as you focused on the task at hand, ignoring the movement on the bed behind you, and the words exchanged. 

“She’s going to ride you, but you can’t touch her. Do you understand?” 

“Ingrid,” Mapi whined. 

Ingrid shook her head smiling to herself. “No, baby. You picked it. No complaining.” 

You let out a pleasured sigh, and the Norwegian fixed her attention on you. “Enough. Come here.” 

Regretfully, you withdrew your hand and moved, clambering on top of Mapi and settling yourself over her strap. She didn’t move an inch, her hands gripping tightly to the duvet, though her eyes roved up and down your body with a distinct hunger. 

Ingrid retreated to her favorite place to watch the both of you from, the leather chair in the corner of the room. She settled there, sitting back relaxed, as if she was about to watch a movie, not watch her girlfriend get herself off on her other girlfriend. 

You turned your attention back to Mapi under you. She was the reason you were in this predicament to begin with, and you decided to make this as difficult for her as possible, lining yourself up with the strap and sinking down onto it with an almost pornographic moan. 

You threw your head back, allowed your fingers to pinch at your nipple, and began to rock up and down, slowly, and then faster, finding the perfect angle for the strap. It was a bit of a stretch, but one that you were more than willing to take. You let your audience know how good you were feeling, how good you were making yourself feel, a steady stream of curses and whimpers leaving your mouth. 

“Good girl, putting on a show for us. You look so pretty riding María, don’t you? So pretty fucking her cock.” Ingrid said softly. You opened your eyes, glancing back to find her watching Mapi intently. You turned your attention to the woman under you, and withheld a grin. 

“You’re making María go crazy, aren’t you?” Ingrid called. 

You definitely were. For as good as Mapi felt inside of you, her strap the perfect shape and size to fill you just the way you needed, enough that when you clenched around it, you really felt it, Mapi looked like she was about to explode. Her face was red, her hands a stark white from how tightly she gripped blankets under her. Her whole body was tense, her ab muscles on full display as her eyes followed you up and down, up and down. 

“Neither of you can come until I say so.” 

At this, you both let out a frustrated huff. The strap Mapi was wearing had a vibrator attachment that Ingrid had obviously utilized. Every movement from you jolted it inside of the Spaniard, and combined with the friction of the actual strap on her clit, she was getting close. 

She had nothing on you, though, as you tipped forward, forgetting about putting on a performance and making Mapi pay for making this punishment occur in the first place, too lost in the pleasure, lost in the sensation of your climbing orgasm. You were fighting it, trying to fight it, that much was obvious to Ingrid. You gripped Mapi’s abdomen under you, nails scratching at the skin, making the other woman squirm, but you were past noticing and past caring. 

“Ingrid, I can’t-” you warned her. 

“Yes you can. If I say you can, you can.” 

Mapi was biting her lip now, her legs twitching under you. She so desperately wanted to fuck up into you, take over and give your shaking legs a rest. Get you under her, and rail you. But Ingrid said not to touch. And Mapi had already been bad tonight. She wasn’t planning on doing it again. 

“Don’t slow down,” Ingrid warned, and you let out a rather undignified whimper. 

“Please, baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, please just let me come,” You begged, pride forgotten as you tightened every muscle in your body, trying to fight it off. 

That was, apparently, all that Ingrid was waiting for. “You can touch now, María. Fuck her.” 

It was like Mapi had known all along the instructions she’d receive, because the words were barely out of ingrid’s mouth before she had you under her, her face buried in the crook of your neck, thighs working to fuck into you rapidly. 

She grunted quietly with every thrust, gripping tightly to your body. You were blabbering nonsense at this point, your girlfriend’s names barely understandable as your back arched. Mapi hadn’t been as close as you, and she didn’t slow down when the first orgasm hit you. 

No, she only sped up, until you were screaming her name, tightening around her strap as one orgasm turned into two, and Mapi could barely move inside of you. It didn't matter, because she’d gotten herself there, too, a guttural groan fighting its way out of her lips as her hips stuttered and thrust into you one last time, her body weight practically collapsing on top of you. 

You weren’t sure you were on earth anymore, half sure you’d ascended into heaven. Words weren’t an option, and moving was barely an option as Mapi pulled herself out and rolled off your body, gasping for breath along with you as she stared dazedly at the ceiling. 

Soft Ingrid was back, instantly, climbing onto the bed next to you and checking in, her soft fingers tracing a pattern over your cheek until you opened your eyes. 

“Okay, my love?” 

You could only nod, and Ingrid chuckled at the fucked out look on your face. 

“María, niña bonita, estas bien?” She asked, looking over to the other woman. 

“Good, good. Your turn.” She murmured, leaning up on her elbows, and directing a very enticing smile in Ingrid’s direction. 

“No, mi amor, it’s alright.” The Norwegian tried to insist, but Mapi was unrelenting, removing the strap from herself, and getting everyone situated how she wanted. 

Of course, Ingrid only allowed this because she wanted to. Mapi wouldn’t dare manhandle the other brunette if she wasn’t sure she’d be okay with it. No, Ingrid let herself settle back against your chest, with you propped up on some pillows. She rested her head on your shoulder, feeling your hands lazily tease at her chest. 

Mapi settled between her legs, finding her absolutely soaked, and knew it wouldn’t take much. You were still on another planet, practically, listening to Ingrid’s soft moans and whimpers as Mapi worked her up. 

Even when she was technically under her girlfriend, Ingrid wasn’t one to let up control, or let anyone forget who was in charge. Her hands came to rest over yours, directing your movements on her chest. She kept up a steady stream of instructions and praise, something that always made Mapi work harder. 

“Fuck baby, there. Faster. I said faster María. Good, baby, your tongue feels so good,” Ingrid murmured, enjoying the feeling of your hands on her, of Mapi’s mouth on her, more than she could express. 

Mapi had been right; it was only a few minutes before Ingrid’s thighs were clamping around the Spaniard’s head and she was crying out, fingers lacing into Mapi’s hair, before she relaxed completely, falling limp on top of you. 

You kissed her cheek lightly a few times, feeling Mapi move up and lay practically on top of Ingrid, the Spaniard’s head resting on the Norwegian’s abdomen. 

Because, at the end of the day, while you were at Ingrid’s mercy, she also relied on you more than anyone thought. Her sense of control in the bedroom made her feel inexplicably safe. The only thing that felt better was being pressed up against the both of you, completely content, completely satisfied. You never left each other unsatisfied, or unhappy, and all three of you were quite sure that you never would. 

------

worked on this for three hours straight and im tired but i have no regrets

[unluckilyimnot]

Hey again thank you so much for answering my love language request I loved it sm😭hope you don’t mind but may I also ask for some jealousy/possessive/protectiveness headcanons for umemiya, suo, kyotaro and togame (plus any other characters you’d like!) thanks again💗💗

When they're jealous – suo, umemiya, kyotaro, togame

m.list | rules

Suo

he’s a chill guy but don’t mess even a little bit with the people he likes

he’s the over-protective type so he doesn’t really go through an jealous phase with strangers

he jump straight to the “touch them I break your arm” with a smile on his face

he stays behind you if you think they’re nice, just in case and to let them know that you’re taken ; maybe he’ll do most of the conversation to piss them off

if they’re clearly hitting on you, he doesn’t care much then, he would probably make a sappy note about them or their looks (he’s petty like that) and leave with you, kindly guiding you with a hand on your back

but he’s a possessive guy and let’s be honest, he’ll get jealous if you’re really close to sakura or nirei

“oh you like spending time with them ? Good.” but you can tell he’s annoyed – even if he’ll NEVER admit it

he would lie about him until swearing on his dead body

but don’t be surprised if he got more clingy around them with you after that, still subtly but enough for them to acknowledge it

he holds your hand a lot outside, it’s simple, people don’t mind it much he likes it – it says it all

“you know I love you right ?” sometimes you’re scared he doesn’t know I and sometimes, just mess with you a little, he acted likes he doesn’t

just because he loves how you can spend half of your day stopping, from time to time, what you’re doing just to kiss him or stroke his hair

Umemiya

less chill than he looks like

he’s more verbal about it I think, less shy to talk about it and show you that he’s not fine with it – as long that it’s a casual situation

like you spending more time with other person than him, to the point that he feels like you’re forgetting him within your own group friends or his

he would lay on your back, leave some of his weight for you to take care off before you beg him to stop, that he’s going to kill you – but he really just need affection

you cradling his face, kissing his nose, telling him you’re sorry – the most is when you two can spend a few dates together after that, cuddle up into each other's limbs

but if someone approach you and make you uncomfortable on top of that, that’s another question

he’s not silly anymore, he’ll make sure they leave as soon as possible

and if they don’t while he’s still asking politely then you are leaving

he doesn’t want to pick a fight, but he will if he has to – but it rarely happens

what happens though is him feeling he’s not good enough for you after seeing you being friendly with someone

sadly he’s the type to think that you can always find someone better than him, when he’s already all you can ask for – you have to remind him that a lot

Kyotaro

he has a hard time showing it when he’s jealous because he feels like he shouldn’t feel like this

you’re the one noticing there’s something wrong most of the time, because he tends to be distant, with Umemiya rather than you for a bit too long without him checking on you

you have to try to talk about it with him or he’ll never come talk to you

you have to be patient and understanding ngl, because he won’t admit it until you have to tell him it’s ok to feel bad a hundred time

you really have to reassure him a lot

in the end, he’s most likely to spent the rest of the day glue to you, following you like a lost puppy

pulling on your shirt when he feels like you’re too far, he expected you to make it up for him with some good quality time : so you’re not going anywhere

it makes you giggle a lot and you end up doing nothing with him for a whole afternoon while he’s curled up against you like a cat

Togame

he has a arm around you all the time outside, especially since him and his gang are around a lot of bars

he never has much to do for you to don’t get annoyed but he’s always careful

overly, he’s not the overprotective type, just quiet jealous but he plays it cool all the time

he pulls you over in his laps or for you to rest against his chest, an arm around your waist and if you’re in a quiet corner, he may leave a few kisses in your neck

only because he loves you so much he wants you to know – and for those over there looking at you as well

he whines a little when he feels left out to tease you and so you can fall into his arms, all sorry but god he wishes he could have you whole for himself at the moment

likes it when you make it up for him (yes like that) and you can expect the same from him if you happened to be jealous of someone too

[collapsedglasshouses]

HOTEL NEIGHBORS || Noah Sebastian x fem!Reader

PHOTO CREDIT: Bryan Kirks

SUMMARY: After you hear Noah talk about liking experienced women, you can't help but feel insecure about yourself. Noah wants nothing but to lift your spirits.

WARNINGS: SMUT, MDNI, friends to lovers, inexperienced reader, slight ? dom!noah i guess, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected p in v (dont do that), slight mutual pining?, not edited oopsie, ...

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @circle-with-me @jilliemiw86 @justeli6

A/N: This idea planted itself in my head last night and I don't even know what to say anymore. I’m more than stressed because of university, but I hope my creative spark is coming back rather sooner than later. Is anyone actually reading what I say here. If you're reading this say hi in the comments, ily. Please, enjoy and consider reblogging if you liked it.

You didn’t exactly know you had gotten into this situation but at this exact moment you were shifting in your place and wanted nothing more but to vanish into thin air.

You were currently sitting in a hotel lobby, exhausted and tired from the show the boys had played, and waited for Matt to hand you the keys to your hotel rooms. Somehow in the course of the last ten minutes, the conversation between the guys had turned. They were talking about previous relationships and the experience it came with since Folio had been freshly separated from his ex-girlfriend.

“I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I just want someone with more experience, you know? I’m not saying I wouldn’t date anyone who doesn’t have much experience but I just-… I don’t know. You know what I mean, Noah?” Folio rambled and looked at the man next to you in hopes to find confirmation.

“Yeah, I know. I prefer women with experience, too. I guess.” Noah just mindlessly mumbled while looking at his phone.

You knew for sure the boys didn’t say this in an ill intend but somehow this exchange began to bother you more than you wanted it to. In all honesty, it felt like a punch straight to your face. You felt stupid that this simple exclaim from Noah got to you, but you couldn’t really help it. It wasn’t like you never had sex. You had a boyfriend that you dated from high school to about two years ago, but when it came to your sex life it felt like you never really experienced anything. You knew almost everything that only concerned you, but when it came to another person being involved, your knowledge stopped. You knew what you liked and what you disliked. But that didn’t make the conversation you just witnessed any less hurtful.

You swallowed hard before standing up from your waiting seat in a rather fast manner.

“Imma head to the bathroom.” You mumbled so quietly you feared nobody would have heard you, before walking away. You didn’t see how Noah looked after you with a confused facial expression.

You slammed the door shut behind you and stared at your reflection in the fancy bathroom mirror. Your eyes were watery and you hated yourself for that. Especially Noah’s sentence echoed in your head and you hated that you had a weak spot for him. You hated that you got along with him too well for your liking. When the band hired you as an assistant for Matt about a year ago, you hadn’t planned that all of this would happen. You thought you were there for only one tour and now you were already on your third with the band. To your astonishment, you got along wonderfully with everyone, but you and Noah had a special bond. You didn’t know what it was exactly but somehow you repeatedly found yourself in deep conversations about literally everything with him. It took you well over six months to realize that you didn’t just simply like him as a friend, but you were starting to fall for him.

Right now, you hated yourself that you never got brave enough to admit it to him. You always acted like nothing had changed and you felt embarrassed about the fact that a small sentence like that could throw you off so bad when you didn’t have the right to act like that about it.

A couple of minutes passed before you had enough courage to head back to the boys. So, you took a deep breath and wiped away the single tear that had managed to escape, before stepping out of the bathroom again. Gladly, you didn’t have to justify your sudden move as Matt approached the group at the same time as you to hand you the keys.

“Finally, I thought we needed to sleep in the lobby.” You managed to say with a lopsided smile while Matt handed you your key.

While your group headed in the elevator, you took up a small conversation with Matt about things that had happened at tonight’s show, before he headed out together with the others. The only two left in the elevator being, of course, you and Noah.

“Looks like we’re neighbors tonight.” He answered you with a sweet smile after looking at your key for a second.

“Cool.” You tried to exclaim as friendly as possible and cringed for your second. Even the most unempathetic person on this planet would have realized that something was going on with you, but you were glad Noah decided to not talk about it as you walked to your rooms.

A couple of hours later, you were finished with your evening and ready to go to sleep but before you could slip under the blankets, you heard a slight knock on your door. For a second, you considered to just ignore it but when it knocked again, you sighed and opened the door just enough to look who was disturbing your peace at these ungodly times.

You were greeted by Noah with a worried expression on his face. For a second, you just looked at him confused, but he was fast to explain, while you opened the door a little more.

“Tell me what I did. You’ve been ignoring literally all my texts for more than three hours at this point.” He exclaimed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Of course, he was right about his statement. You had seen his texts. Normally, you’d test about the concert or some random stuff until you were both to sleepy to respond, but you had decided you couldn’t deal with him this evening. Not after you got so emotional because of a stupid sentence.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You lied and mirrored his gesture.

He lifted his eyebrow, and you already know he wouldn’t let you out of that conversation until you gave him the answers he wanted. “Gaslight someone else, sweetheart.” He grumbled.

You sighed and looked at your hands. “It’s nothing, Noah.”

“Oh, come on. You know nothing you is unimportant.” He encouraged you.

It felt stupid. Stupid how easy it was to open up to him, but you knew you couldn’t just tell him what’s been on your mind, so you simply shook your head. You were about to close the door, when he reached into the doorframe and pressed himself in your room while you protested.

“Y/n. Seriously, what’s going on?” He muttered in a soft tone while sitting down on your bed. He patted the place next to him. When you sat down, he turned to fully face you and touched your shoulder. “Please talk to me.”

“I really can’t, Noah.” You whispered. “It’s so fucking stupid.”

You felt so dumb, you wanted to slap yourself. You didn’t want this to go bad. You hated your feelings for choosing him. For opening up to him. For becoming so close with him. You remembered how you had joked with Matt about how everyone would eventually fall for THE lead singer and how you said Noah is just a really good friend and now look at you. Unable to even look him straight in the face.

“Did I say something?” Noah wanted to know, and you briefly looked at him. You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer in fear you would crack. You looked at his shirt to calm your thoughts but that was when you noticed his neckline and your thoughts instantly began to wander.

“You never not tell me anything.” Noah urged.

“Why are you so desperate?” You asked him in slight annoyance and swept his hand of your shoulder.

He blinked surprised for a couple of seconds before answering you. “Because you can’t even look at me and I don’t like that.”

Your heart jumped with happiness when you heard that confession, even if it was innocent.

“That’s not true.” – “Then look at me.”

You sighed before forcing your eyes onto his for a second just to look away again.

“See?” He mumbled, defeated. “I’m sorry if I said something that upset you. I didn’t mean it.”

“So, you didn’t mean you liked girls with experience better than others?” You spat out before you could even think about it more and instantly regretted it.

Noah opened and closed his mouth in confusion. He knew about your previous experiences or lack of experience.

“See that’s exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. It is dumb.” You tried to brush off what had just happened, but Noah shook his head.

“No, no, no. It’s not dumb. I didn’t mean it like that, I-…” He began to explain but you just sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Just stop, Noah.” You mumbled and laid down on your bed. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow is another stressful day.”

“N-no… I really didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t even paying attention to Folio. I-… I don’t care about experience, Y/N. I consider myself lucky if anyone gets close to me at the moment. I’m a stressed mess, you know.” Noah rambled out and you noticed that he was nervous. You couldn’t really think about why.

“Oh c’mon. Everyone would consider themselves lucky to sleep with you, Noah. And you fucking know that.” You joked halfheartedly, but then a smile crept onto his face.

“You too?” He asked with a broad smirk on his face.

“Huh?” You huffed as your eyes grew wide.

“I mean… I know you are worried about not having too much experience… I just-…” He swallowed hard. “I could… help with that.”

“You wanna have sex with me?” You bluntly asked your friend and felt your heart almost exploding in your chest.

“I-… You know, we-… I-…” He began to stutter for a second but then he saw how nervous you looked and stopped in his tracks. “So, you wanna have sex with me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and you swallowed hard. “Uh… I…”

“Forget it, you don’t have to answer th-…” – “Actually, I do.”

Your voice was not more than a whisper while your thoughts were racing. You just blankly confessed that to him, because you were tired. Tired of holding back.

“You are joking, right?” Noah mumbled; his mouth slightly open.

“Oh, come on. As if this comes as a surprise. There are literally people writing fanfiction about you.” You said and ran a hand through your hair in frustration.

“And you know that why?” He exclaimed and smiled lopsidedly.

Your eyebrows rose for a second when you realized what you had said.

When you didn’t answer, he spoke again. “So, you wanna have sex with me?”

“Trust me, with each word coming out of your mouth, the urge is getting less and less.” You answered him and rolled your eyes. His smile faded slightly, and he looked you deep in the eyes.

“Would you feel better if I told you I’ve thought about it, too?” He exclaimed and the tone of his voice shot straight to your core. This didn’t feel real.

“Yeah… Yeah that would help.” You mumbled and swallowed hard, not knowing how to proceed.

A second later, Noah was hovering over your, his face only a couple of inches away from you and you felt how the atmosphere in the room changed.

“You really wanna do this?” He asked you as your hands travelled to the hem of your shirt. You nodded.

“Tell me, you want this.” He almost pleaded with you.

“I want you to fuck me, Noah. For god sake, should I write it down for you?” You whisper-shouted against his lips and with that he giggled quietly before kissing your lips with such force that you realized he wasn’t joking. You grabbed his face and pulled him even closer to you. It felt like you two grasped onto everything. It felt like you were each other’s last meal. Like you were starved for so long, you couldn’t control it anymore.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him down towards your core that was only clothed in your underwear, and you could feel how hard he was. You couldn’t help but grind against him. He slightly moaned into your mouth as your tongues danced with each other and you moved your hips again.

“Stop that.” He suddenly groaned against your mouth, and you began to grin. “What if I don’t?”

“Then I’m not going to go easy on you, sweetheart.” He warned you. It didn’t take a second for you to grind against him one more time, while smiling proudly about what a hard time he had with you.

“You’re going to regret that.” He mumbled and grabbed your hips with his hand firmly. This alone almost made you cum. It felt like something in him snapped. His pupils were blown wide with lust and then he was underdressing you. It was like he was ripping you out of your clothes.

When he reached your underwear, he stopped for a second and looked at you for reassurance. It was the last chance for you to tell him, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want him to stop.

“I trust you.” You breathed out and bucked your hips for a second.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for his, Y/n.” He answered you as he slowly slipped down your underwear. He didn’t waste any time after that and only a few kisses later to your stomach, you felt how his tongue moved through your folds. A soft moan escaped your mouth and you arched your hips to possibly get any closer to him.

Your hands found their way in your hair. It wasn’t the first time someone went down on you, but never before had it felt so intense to you.

He pinned your hips down to the bed with one arm and his tongue was devouring you like it was the last thing he would do. The sounds you were making only made him go harder. Then you felt how he added a finger inside of you, quickly followed by another.

“Oh my-… Fuck, Noah.” You gasped and you felt the vibrations of his laugh against your core. You felt a knot building inside of you and you tried to concentrate on anything that would help you not to come instantly.

“I can feel that you’re close.” He mumbled against you and flicked his tongue over your clit while his fingers pumped in and out of you.

You nodded, unable to form clear words without moaning them.

“I know, you can go longer than that, Y/n.” He hummed against you, and you felt like you were going insane.

“God, please.” You cried out, fearing you couldn’t hold it any longer.

His mouth and fingers felt so good, you were sure you couldn’t help yourself much longer. You felt your orgasm built up and then-… He stopped. He pulled away from you, his fingers out of your pussy and you whined at the loss of contact.

He grabbed your face with the hand that had been inside of you just seconds before and looked you in the eyes. “When you come tonight, it’s gonna be on my cock.”

“You know, it’s kind of unfair that I’m laying here completely naked while you’re fully clothed.” You breathed out with a small smile on your face.

“Oh, yeah?” He laughed against your lips before climbing of the bed to get out of his clothes. His eyes never left yours and yours never left his.

He was in nothing but his underwear, his cock hard underneath them and you bit your lip as his hands hooked under the waistband and he slowly slit them off. Your eyes slowly widened at the sight of his member, and you suddenly realized that all of this was real. He looked so perfect. All of him.

“You still okay?” He asked as he crawled back to you.

“Yes.” You breathed out when he was on top of you again. He leaned down to kiss you. You could feel him against your core, his cock moving between your folds as if he belonged there.

“Noah, please.” You moaned out and let your hands roam over his back.

“Yes?” He teased you and rocked his hips once more.

“Don’t be such a tease.” You whined and dragged your fingernails over his back. He let out a soft moan.

“Tell me what you want, Y/n.” Noah exclaimed, and you whined, before rolling your eyes.

“Do that again and I’ll make you regret it.” He breathed out.

“Oh, I’m so scared.” You answered him in a mocking tone and he instantly gave his words truth.

For the second time something snapped inside of him. You let out a small yelp as he flipped you over in a swift motion, your chest hitting the mattress. He grabbed your hips with such force, you were sure he would leave bruises.

“You still wanna continue to be a brat?” He asked you in an almost dangerous tone and you shook your head.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” He almost moaned and you felt this cock against your ass. He positioned himself behind you, his tip teasing your entrance. His hands wandered over your hips softly and you felt a kiss against your neck. “We can stop anytime.”

“Please, don’t stop.” You breathed out. After that he slowly slid into you, your mouth open in a silent moan as he bottomed out.

“Is that alright?” He asked with a soft tone as you tried to get used to the feeling of him inside of you.

“Yes, everything is perfect.” You moaned out.

When he started to move, you thought you were going to die. In a good way. In a way that made you decide right there and then that when your time has come, this was how you wanted it to end.

“Oh, my f-… Noah.” You whispered out and gripped the sheets beneath you.

His right hand slowly reached to the front of your body and found your clit. He swiftly circled it while rocking into you.

His head was buried in your neck and the room was filled with moans and pants and curse words that were almost illegal to speak out.

“Shit, Y/N.” He whined into your neck. “You feel so good.” His thrust became faster and you were almost certain the bed was going to break if he kept that pace. But you were too far gone to care. You felt that knot in your stomach again and you knew this time you couldn’t contain yourself.

“Come on. Come for me, sweetheart.” He whispered against the back of your head, and you screamed. You screamed load enough that you were sure Jolly in the room underneath to you would hear.

He fucked you through it, his pace only slowing down moments later, right before he pulled out and you felt hot liquid painting your back.

You let yourself fall onto the pillow and he soon collapsed next to you. You turned to face him and could help but smile at him. He reached out to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but I’m in desperate need of a shower and I don’t even wanna talk about the lack of sleep we’ll have tomorrow.” You answered him and giggle for a second that caused him to smile.

“It was worth it.” He mumbled before leaning in again.

“Yes… yes it was.” Your lips met in a soft kiss and for a second everything inside of you began to tingle. You knew this was a new chapter for the both of you and that this was only the beginning.

“Let’s shower.” He mumbled before getting up and reaching out to help you up. He slung his arms around you for a second. “Maybe you can tell me about those fanfictions while showering.”

Your eyes widened for a second, before you made your way to the bathroom, followed by a laughing Noah.

“I’ll keep that to myself.” You answered him, before closing the bathroom door behind the two of you.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[crowleysgirl56]

Ok, so I wanted to do a deeper dive into this particular passage of Good Omens:

For context, this is at the climax of the book, they’re at Tadfield airbase, the horsemen have been dispensed with, Aziraphale has his body back, and Satan is about to claw his way out of the pit.

In most of the proceeding chapters involving Crowley it talks a lot about how scared Crowley is. He is very scared of Hell.

One could perhaps say maybe he is scared of them due to The Arrangement, but that is never explicitly stated. I think it has more to do with Hell is bad, and Crowley has spent the majority of the book being yelled at by some entity through the radio or TV telling him how he’s going to be in super amounts of trouble when they get their hands on him. He is just scared of what will happen. When he comes across the book shop burning he doesn’t cry for his lost friend. He curses Aziraphale, and I think it’s because the one person who may have been able to keep him safe and protected from Hell is now gone.

So when he thinks to himself (as shown in the above screen shot) that there is now nothing left for him to lose, this is why I never thought (upon reading the book the first time that is) there were any romantic feelings between him and Aziraphale. I know that technically he had already lost Aziraphale. But by this point he was back again, and back in his body. If there truly were romantic thoughts between them surely the idea of losing him again would come up.

I have read so much fanfiction, some old, some new, and what they all have in common is the detailed inner monologue of Crowley’s turmoil over his feelings for Aziraphale and how he doesn’t feel like he can act on them. In the book we get nothing of the sort, from either character. Even when they’re separated there is hardly ever any description of them thinking of the other except occasionally to frame a short reference to something. Reading the book I never got the impression that there was anything more than two ethereal beings spending time and proximity to each other and doing work for each other for no other reason than they’re essentially a bit lazy.

I think they’re only queer coded for the fact that there’s the line about Aziraphale appearing “gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitric oxide”, and Crowley is, well, very Freddie Mercury coded. Them being seen as gay together and all the gay slurs in the awful racist scenes of Aziraphale body hopping about in culturally indigenous people after the bookshop fire has more to do with the very typical 80’s/90’s trope of “being gay = comedy gold”, than them actually being together romantically.

I think the reason why they were shipped so much after the publication however is for the same reason we ship so many male couples (or female couple) in modern media, why we’ve always shipped them: because of the complete and horrid lack there of, of proper queer representation.

If you’ve ever seen the magnificent Russel T Davies TV series It’s a Sin, there is a wonderful scene where the character Ash starts a job in a school library and the headmaster asks him to go through all the books and find any book that has queer love scenes so they can be removed. Ash then gives a most beautiful and impassioned speech (albeit it turns out the speech is just in his head) of how there is nothing. Absolutely nothing. There is nothing to the point where they are nonexistent. They are invisible. They are not seen. (Or like, something to that effect. I tell you though, it’s bloody brilliant).

So I think that’s rather the point really. You have two iconic characters, albeit supporting bit characters practically, and I think a lot of our minds automatically get drawn to wanting to put them together because of the sheer lack of queer couples. People have been doing it for years from Frodo and Sam, to Harry Potter and Draco (or Ron I guess), to Sherlock and Watson (even before the Benedict Cumberbatch show. Also as an aside let’s not get into how obsessed people got about Sherlock Holmes back in the day when those books were first published. The obsession was the reason Doyle killed the character off the in first place, then after getting letters from people telling him they were literally going to kill themselves, the reasons why he resurrected him again. Don’t tell us that modern day nerds are weird and obsessive. We’ve ALWAYS been like this).

It’s for this reason why queer representation is so god damn important. Why I still support the idea of Good Omens season 3. Because regardless of how the characters were originally intending to be represented in the book, it’s very clear now that they are so much more than “Just friends”. And we NEED that! Whether you subscribe to the idea that they will be physically intimate with each other, the fact remains is they love each other. They love each other immensely. And that comes from years of Terry Pratchett (and the other guy) accepting that canon and telling fans that it’s true. Because Michael Sheen made a choice and held a belief about how he saw his character and then David Tennant followed suit. That literally tens of thousands of fanfiction writers have decided the same.

So that’s my take. I don’t think loving each other was ever intended that way in the book, but in the last 35 years their story has morphed into the ineffable husbands that we now know.

What are your thoughts? Have I rambled on long enough to make any sense? Do you agree? Have I missed something completely obvious and gotten it all wrong? Keen to hear thoughts.

[runerapier]

With FS 2 finally out I wanted to share some of my thoughts, I think it would be fun to talk about the possible mental state Angeal is in around this time in his life and subsequently how it reflects Sephiroth, as well as the meaning behind Angeal's dream sequence.

Since a lot of the details of Angeal’s backstory are hidden in external material, I’m going to use it as a point of reference. Crisis Core has a lot of content they were not able to include at the time of it’s release, so it will be fun to see if they follow up on these things they wrote about but couldn’t include in game.

We already see from the get go that Angeal is serving as a contrast to Sephiroth’s outlook, demeanor, and manners. Angeal’s energy and passion he has for teamwork, his comrades, and genuine care he has for doing his job all directly contrast Sephiroth’s whatever attitude. Even small acts of chivalry are made to highlight this, showing Angeal going the extra mile to help Alissa across the bridge vs Sephiroth’s refusal to engage with anyone socially. Sephiroth was brought up to function independently, made to be a one man army, no use for friends, families, or allies. Especially with the recent loss of friends, he is going to be distant.

This is extremely important for contrast with Angeal, who has likely recently left home and is missing his family, not to mention he is someone he deeply values his connection to others. There is no set age for when Angeal left home, but it is likely within the last 2~ years. His sword in game is listed as type 90, this is comparable to Zack’s sword in CC which is type 99, the type number likely reflects the year the sword was created or the year of when that model was created. Assuming that it's updated every year, leans towards the fact they've been in SOLDIER since at least that year. Meaning Angeal likely left home at 14~, which is closer to around the age Zack and Cloud left home for SOLDIER anyways.

Angeal is someone very sentimental, he is very defensive of his home and his family. CC showed us he was quite nostalgic about Banora on several occasions. This is another contrast to Sephiroth, who doesn't have a hometown or a family. According to the CC ultimania, Genesis was one of the motivators for Angeal to leave and find a better way of living. The new chapter confirmed Angeal left home because he wanted to help pull his family out of poverty. In CC, Angeal's father was said to fall sick from overwork to pay off debt from the buster sword; however, the ultimania mentions an important detail: his father has always been weak and sickly. It’s partly due to his father being chronically ill/disabled that they aren’t able to make a lot of money. The buster sword isn’t the sole cause of his death but rather an extension of working in a system that likely exploits disabled people. Genesis might have been the push Angeal needed to leave far away from home rather than staying and trying to take care of his sick father.

Which gets us to Angeal’s dream, there is debate on how much of it is real because Sephiroth’s wasn’t real. In my personal opinion, the dream being real is a very important contrast to Sephiroth. We know that whatever Alissa is, she is preying on the desires of them. Especially in the case of her being Jenova, who uses memories of her victims to her advantage. Angeal doesn’t need to make up a scenario of his family loving him or being proud of him, because it’s already a reality, Sephiroth doesn’t have this luxury. Angeal's father pushed himself to the brink just so he could support his son in his endeavor, there is no doubt his family loved and supported him. So, what is Angeal's actual desire then? In CC it is never really specified when Angeal's father died, but in Gillian’s profile in the ultimania, it mentions his father died shortly after Angeal left for SOLDIER, even the dream is hinting towards something bad happening on the horizon. Angeal's dad is probably already dead and it is mirroring Sephiroth wanting to see his mother. Possibly reinforced by the fact he is already refusing to use the buster, while it's not confirmed if he didn’t use it all because of his cheapness, I think his father's death added significant value to the sword, making it irreplaceable. They are two kids who just want to be with their parents again, one's desire being entirely fictional and the other's being in the past. It is another contrast between them with their dreams: Sephiroth's being all he lacks, and Angeal's is all he had, but left behind. Both unattainable but in a different sense.

This dream is likely some of the last stability Angeal had before leaving home, along with possibly being one of the last times he saw his father alive which is probably why he is yearning for it. I think if the dream itself symbolized only wanting stability Angeal wouldn’t mention leaving for SOLDIER, I don’t think he wanted to leave home to provide for his family if given the choice. Instead "Jenova" is preying on something that is tangible. However, there is still a possibility it is exaggerated a bit with Angeal having the money for donations and plenty of food. I don't think this is true either, the dream implies Angeal was already working at this age to support his family, so it’s not entirely out of the question he uses what little he has to give back or that he helped with saving for Gillian's birthday party. In contrast nothing in Sephiroth's dream was real besides the fact he lives in the Shinra building, we know Angeal has loving parents, we know he is a hard worker, we know he left for soldier, and we know he loves his village and his family, more was real than just the setting. Also, I think there's a point that this is a special occasion, they could've opted to save up for her birthday. It really didn’t feel too wild to me that one day in particular they had extra food, especially considering they live in a farm village. When and the exact reason why Angeal stole when he was younger is honestly not clarified at all. He could have been afraid of asking for extra food, it could have been during droughts, or even when his father was too sick to work. It is very common for poor families in remote villages to grow their own crops, we even see people in Gongaga growing their own supply, so these things are not really out of the question. I think if any of these details were fake Angeal would be confused or surprised by having these things like how Sephiroth did to make it clear to us as the viewer, but that didn’t happen. The dream closes with remarking his desire to provide for his family so they live happy and healthy… and we know that didn’t happen, which is the point. I think it's also worth mentioning there are some small discrepancies in the localization. He isn't just giving out expensive equipment to multiple people individually, instead, it's a donation that is meant to be shared by everyone. Angeal is building community with farmers who might also be struggling, and I feel like this is an important detail that's missing.

(small disclaimer: I'm not fluent, I only know basics, but I did my best to break down the sentences to make sure these were accurate)

I think it’s clear Angeal isn’t yearning to be rich (or someone else that��s not even relevant in the current narrative… especially when their focus currently is to compare and contrast him with Sephiroth). If Angeal wanted to be rich or famous why isn't he chatting up the PR guy to hope it gets him more attention to the point of promotion? Instead Angeal cares about doing his job and making sure it’s done right, he even gets angry at Bachman and tells him his priority is the rescue mission. Angeal cares deeply about protecting and caring for the people around him, especially those important to him. The dream is only reinforcing this. They even made his gameplay reflect his narrative by being the one to provoke and tank damage for his team, which shows how he views his role as a leader. I want to preface this with there being nothing wrong if the dream ends up being exaggerated, I think regardless it is a good insight on Angeal's character. He loves his family and friends, he wants to support them and make them happy. It shows how they were a positive influence on his life and how they affected his motivations. I think narratively speaking though, Angeal having something that is at very least somewhat more real is another important contrast with Sephiroth, especially when a point of contention between them is how they grew up in different worlds. I think the turmoil of Angeal’s father being most likely dead is going to carry a lot of weight for this story and is meant to parallel Sephiroth's desires for wanting family, it possibly being how they find common ground. While Angeal did grow up in a loving household, he is going through a lot right now with his father's passing. The focus on the Buster sword is incredibly important since it is going to represent why Angeal fights. To protect and to care for what he couldn’t back home, for what his father wanted for him. A dream of a better future and to not lose sight of his morals.

In my personal opinion, it makes a lot of sense that Genesis might not be joining for this section of the story. It's shining a light on some of two most iconic swords in gaming history, and how Angeal’s outlook related to his struggles is going to shape Sephiroth. Angeal’s character and his trauma shape the foundation of the Buster sword and future wielders, and it shaping the Masamune too will be an extension of that. He is the heart of SOLDIER, and I am excited to see this story continue to reinforce that.