#you don't understand i had to walk away from the entire show for a whole week to calm tf down after this
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levanterhaze · 3 months ago
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── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN
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♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader praise kink, protected sex, rough sex, fluff & angst.
♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.
[12.3k words ]♡― here we are, at the last chapter of gameboy. writing this series has been so much fun and having the opportunity to tell the stories i love to write is a privilege. i hope i don't disappoint you with this ending, that you understand each choice made for the characters. i also hope you continue to support me, this has been so special and welcoming to me, i can't thank you enough for everything. thank you for embracing gameboy, for continuing to read and for all your support. from the bottom of my heart. PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.
♡― THE PLAYLIST.
♡ [part one] ♡[part two]♡ [part three] ♡[part four] ♡[part five] ♡[part six] ♡[part seven]
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'Cause I'm right here waiting for us 때로는 두려웠어 다신 오지 않을 것 같아서 두 손 꼭 잡은 채 그 어떤 순간이 덮쳐 ���도 널 놓지 않을게
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After all the chaos, the only thing that made sense was leaving.
So you did.
You shot Hyunjin a text, practically begging him to take you to the bus stop. He didn’t ask questions—he was too pissed off about the whole thing, ranting the entire drive about how it was bullshit that you had to be the one to go. In his mind, Eunji and Mingyu should’ve been the ones packing their bags.
And maybe he was right. But you were exhausted. Your body ached from the tension, your head was a tangled mess of emotions, and honestly? You just didn’t have it in you to fight anymore.
By the time you got back to campus, you had a plan—or at least, a temporary bandage disguised as one. You marched straight to the admin office and spun some tragic, half-true sob story about needing to “regain focus” on your studies. A few forced tears later — maybe slightly real ones— they handed you the keys to a new dorm on the other side of campus.
No hesitation. No second-guessing. You packed what little you had and moved in before anyone even realized you were gone.
And then you disappeared.
One day after another, like clockwork. No calls, no texts, no explanations. Just silence.
Your life has shrunk down to a routine: rehearsals, studying, sleep, repeat.
Hyunjin and Seungmin still tried to pull you out of your self-imposed exile, inviting you to lunch, cracking jokes at rehearsals to get a reaction out of you—but you always politely refused. You weren’t rude, just... distant. Like a ghost of yourself.
Bangchan had tried. Over and over. Messages sent and then deleted, calls he never made, moments of hesitation that stretched into frustration. He wanted to give you space, wanted to respect whatever it was you needed, but that didn’t make it any easier. Every time he saw you, it felt like his chest was caving in.
He’d even asked Hyunjin about you, but the guy was like a vault. Hyunjin wasn’t about to betray you—not even for him. “She’s busy,” was all he ever got. “Leave her alone, man.”
But how could he, when you were right there? When you were always the last to show up at rehearsals and the first to leave, slipping away before he even had a chance to try? It was torture. Watching you go about your life like he wasn’t part of it anymore. Like he never had been.
And it was worse because he could still feel you.
In his bed, between the sheets. In his hands, aching for your touch. In his mind, where your laugh and your voice were stuck on a loop, growing more distant with every passing day—like a dream he was trapped in, running but never getting anywhere.
And you wouldn’t even look at him.
If your eyes ever landed on him in the theater, they flicked away like it physically hurt you to see him. If you spotted him on campus, walking with the boys, you immediately turned your head.
So you buried yourself in anything that wasn’t him. Anything that wasn’t Eunji. Because thinking about either of them was the only thing more unbearable than being alone.
And Eunji—who didn’t even look at you, let alone speak to you. Every time your paths crossed, she barely acknowledged your existence, like you were something rotten in her periphery. A stranger. No, worse—something beneath her.
And that hurt. Maybe even more than Bangchan.
Because you’d believed in her. In you two. In the kind of unspoken loyalty that came with late-night talks, inside jokes, and secrets exchanged under dim dorm room lights. You thought there was sisterhood in that. Something unshakable.
But in the end, it was nothing. A mirage. A mist that vanished the second you tried to hold on.
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A few weeks had passed and you were enjoying your own company in the library, an iced coffee and your headphones. You were studying your lines for the next class, until someone took the seat in front of you and your eyes looked up in surprise to see Sohee sitting with her arms crossed.
“Sohee.” you murmured, almost not believing she was there.
Sohee arched her brow, unimpressed. “Oh, so you do remember me.”
You blinked, scrambling for words. “I—of course, I do. I just—”
“Disappeared?” she finished for you, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, I noticed.”
Guilt twisted in your stomach, but you kept your expression neutral. “I’ve been busy.”
She let out a dry laugh. “Right. Busy. Too busy to text? Too busy to tell me why you packed up and moved to the other side of campus?” Her eyes narrowed. “Eunji won’t tell me what happened. Neither will Hyunjin. Which means something happened, and I need you to stop bullshitting me.”
Your mouth went dry, fingers tightening around your coffee cup. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, bitter and unspeakable. 
What if she looked at you the way Eunji did? 
Sohee exhaled, her sharpness softening just a fraction. “Look, I don’t know what went down, but I missed you, okay?”
Your heart clenched. She wasn’t angry. She was hurt. And that somehow made it worse.
You put your headphones aside and took a deep breath, gathering the courage to begin.
So you started from the very beginning. Bangchan, the secrets, then Mingyu, Eunji finding out, all your emotions, the fight between Bangchan and Mingyu, and how completely broken you’d been ever since.
Sohee listened, her expression shifting from shock to disbelief. “That’s... insane. I can’t believe Eunji would do something like that.”
“I know.” You gave a small, bitter smile. “That’s why it hurts.”
“And rightfully so. She had no right to interfere in your life or come at you like that.” Sohee leaned on the table, eyes searching yours. “But please, don’t let this kill your spark. Everyone misses you.”
And you missed them too. All of them. Without exception.
“If you must know,” Sohee drawled, cocking her head with a little smirk, “I’d already kind of guessed there was something going on with you and Bangchan.” 
You shot her a look, but she kept going, unbothered. 
“I just figured you’d spill when you were ready. No pressure. Not my circus.” She shrugged, then narrowed her eyes playfully. “But seriously… you do like him, right?”
Your chest tightened. Because the answer was obvious.
Sohee gave you a pointed look, like she could see right through you. “Oh, come on. Don’t give me that I guess it doesn’t matter bullshit.”
You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It doesn’t.”
“It does.” She leaned in, voice low but firm. “You’re miserable. He’s miserable. And all of this is because of what? Miscommunication and some high school level drama?”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “It’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, it kinda is.” She shrugged. “You like him. He clearly likes you. But instead of dealing with it, you ran.”
“That’s not fair—”
Sohee held up a hand. “I’m not saying you didn’t have your reasons. I’m saying that if you keep avoiding it, you’re just gonna hurt yourself more. Let things cool down, sure. But don’t wait until it’s too late.”
You stared at her, words caught in your throat. Because the truth was, you were terrified. Terrified that if you faced him, he’d look at you differently. That the damage was already done.
But another, quieter part of you—the part that still remembered the warmth of his touch, the way he looked at you like you were it for him—wondered if maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late at all.
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You were alone in the theater, the crumpled sheets of your solo scattered around you like forgotten love letters. You were dead set on nailing that high note — the heartbreak one, the kind that’s supposed to rip your chest open and bleed on stage. Humming through the first verse, you air-strummed like your life depended on it, lost in the rhythm.
“Am I crashing a rockstar's private concert?” Changbin’s voice broke through your focus, making your head snap up so fast it almost hurt. He was in his basketball jacket, the team logo front and center, and that usual mischievous grin was pulling at his mouth. He stepped closer, then plopped down next to you on the edge of the stage like he belonged there. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You’re fine.” You flashed him a crooked little smile as you scooped up the sheets from the floor. “I’ll just pretend you weren’t suspiciously wandering the theater.”
“Busted.” He lifted both hands in mock surrender. “What can I say? If you hadn’t pulled a full-on undercover mission and vanished from campus, I wouldn’t have to play detective just to track you down.”
You shot him a look. “Busted.”
His smile softened a bit, but it didn’t reach his usual brand of easy humor. Changbin had always been the steady one — loyal to Bangchan, to the whole group really. But right now, there was something quieter in him, like he’d pocketed the jokes for later.
And even though you kept your expression cool, you felt it too — the weight of whatever he wasn’t saying yet. “The guys miss you, you know that, right?”
His voice was casual, but it landed heavier than he probably meant it to. You dragged in a breath, sharp like it might actually clear out the guilt clogging your chest. 
Spoiler: it didn’t. You’d gone ghost on them, the second life got messy, and there was no pretending otherwise.
Before you could open your mouth, probably to spit out some lame excuse, Changbin raised a hand like he could see it coming from a mile away. “And no, before you even ask, he didn’t send me,” he said, shooting you a knowing look. “Didn’t even bring you up. But it wasn’t rocket science, you know? Mingyu stormed off, then Chan showed up looking like he lost a bar or something.”
You winced. “Bin… I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” He shook his head, like that wasn’t what he came here for. “This isn’t a guilt trip, alright? Whatever Mingyu pulled, he had it coming. Trust me, no one’s crying over him.”
A pause. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
You straightened up, catching the shift in his tone. Less playful, more real. The kind of real that you couldn’t dodge even if you wanted to.
“I’m just—look, I’m just trying to knock some sense into both of you,” Changbin went on, like he’d been carrying this around too long. “I don’t know all the details, and honestly? I don’t need to. But I do know my best friend’s been walking around like the lights are on, but nobody’s home.”
Your chest tightened, the words slipping past your guard way too easily.
“And I’m not saying this to dump it on you, okay? I swear,” he added, catching your expression before you could speak. “It’s just... he’s a mess. And it’s not just the basketball thing, or the usual stress — it’s you. He misses you. Bad.”
The way he said it — simple, no drama, no exaggeration — hit you harder than any speech could’ve.
And you hated it. You hated that part of you wanted to hear it. You hated that it hurt more than you expected. Because deep down, you already knew.
“I’m only doing this because he’s my guy,” Changbin started, running a hand through his hair like this whole conversation weighed more than he let on. “Chan’s always been the one to clean up after the rest of us, you know? First to show up with advice or some half-baked plan to save the day.”
You tilted your head, a small smile sneaking onto your lips despite yourself. Classic Chan.
Changbin caught it, and his own grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, softer this time. “Yeah, exactly. And when he met you? Man, it was like someone turned the lights on in his head. Swear to God, I’ve never seen him like that. He was just... lighter.”
The way he said it twisted something in your chest, but you held his gaze, letting him finish.
“What I’m saying is,” he went on, “even if you two don’t go back to being, like, whatever you were before—” he waved a vague hand between you, “—at least talk to him. He’s stuck in that ‘she hates me, so I better give her space’ spiral, and you know how Chan is. He’ll bury it to do what’s best for you.”
You blinked, caught off guard by how much that stung. “Wait... so he doesn’t hate me?”
Changbin actually laughed at that, a real, rough-around-the-edges laugh. “Hate you? Please. I don’t think that man has it in him, even if he tried.”
Your fingers tangled together, fidgeting without you meaning to. The truth slipped out before you could stop it. “I care about him. I really do.”
“Yeah,” Changbin said simply, no teasing this time, just plain fact. “I know you do. And I know you’ll figure this out.”
After a beat of quiet, Changbin pushed himself up, casually brushing nonexistent dust off his jersey like he’d just wrapped up something way more dramatic than a heart-to-heart.
“Thanks, Binnie,” you said, flashing him a crooked smile as he gave you an overly formal little bow.
He started toward the door but paused right at the exit, glancing back over his shoulder with that familiar spark in his eye. “You know I love you, right? But if you mess with my best friend’s heart, I will write the nastiest diss track you’ve ever heard. Full production. No skips.”
That earned a laugh out of you, real and warm. “Gonna throw in choreography too?”
He smirked like you’d just dared him to. “Obviously. Backup dancers and everything."
And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall, his voice echoing back as he called out, “You’re not getting off that easy!”
And just like that, you were alone again—surrounded by a whole storm of thoughts you weren’t quite ready to untangle.
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You’d swallowed that whole conversation with Changbin like it was a bad shot of cheap tequila — still burning in your chest, still impossible to forget. And yet, life rolled on, dragging you with it while you kept trying to figure out when the hell would be the right time to talk to Bangchan.
Problem was, the whole thing still felt like an open wound — not bleeding anymore, but definitely not ready for anyone to poke at it either.
Sohee was in your new room, fussing with the straps of her dress in front of the mirror. The place wasn’t as roomy as the one you used to share with her and Eunji, but it did the job.
“I talked to Eunji," Sohee said, swiping mascara on with laser focus. "Well — argued is probably the more accurate term. She wouldn’t even let me finish when I tried to tell her she was being a bitch."
You were sprawled across your bed, cozy in your oldest, softest pajamas, like this whole conversation wasn’t tying your stomach in knots.
"I didn’t want you two fighting because of me," you muttered, playing with the hem of your sleeve.
Sohee whipped around, one eye still missing eyeliner but her energy fully charged. “Please. I’m morally allergic to bullshit. What she did was a straight-up foul. And until she figures out how to act like a halfway decent human being, maybe it’s time we put that friendship on ice.”
You sighed, a tangled mess of guilt and low-key relief knotting in your chest. "Yeah, well... it still kinda sucks."
“Everyone’s gotta make their own choices…” Sohee went back to her makeup like it was no big deal, but then spun around again, narrowing her eyes at you. “Speaking of choices… you’re really not going to the game? It’s the final. Literally, everyone’s gonna be there.”
You let out an exaggerated sigh and flopped onto the pillows like your life depended on it.
“Yeah, hard pass. Not in the mood to humiliate myself in public, thanks.”
“Girl, come on,” Sohee groaned. “This is your perfect excuse to finally talk to Bangchan and fix things. I know he’d love to see you there, especially at his last game this semester.”
You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know… Feels like showing up would just make it worse.”
Sohee snapped the mascara shut like it personally offended her. “Stubborn as hell, I swear. Fine. Just—promise me you won’t do something you’re gonna regret later, alright?”
“I know, I know,” you waved her off, a little smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll figure it out when the time’s right. Go have fun, kiss your boyfriend, and drink an unreasonable amount of beer in my honor.”
She grabbed her bag off the bed, but before heading out, she paused at the door and shot you a final look over her shoulder. “Last chance. Are you sure you’re staying?”
“Yeah. Have fun at the game,” you said, forcing a half-smile.
Sohee shrugged like she’d expected that answer. “Alright… I tried. Don’t say I didn’t.” She shot you a quick grin over her shoulder as she headed out. “Catch you later!”
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As the minutes dragged on, boredom hit you like a brick. Your brain was way too wired to even think about running lines for the play. You tried putting on a movie, but you zoned out every five minutes and had to keep rewinding just to figure out what the hell was going on.
That’s when you decided: screw it. Time to hit the campus café and drown your existential crisis in hot chocolate and maybe the most sugar-loaded cupcake you could get your hands on. Comfort food therapy, top tier.
You threw on some cute but cozy clothes, something to shake off the emotional slump clinging to you like a bad ex. Skirt, sweater, your trusty boots — the holy trinity.
The second you stepped outside, it felt like the whole weather system had joined your pity party. What started as a light breeze had upgraded to full-blown dramatic gusts, and the sky was throwing major moody vibes with all those gloomy gray clouds.
The cafeteria was basically a ghost town. No surprise there — most people were off hyping up the basketball final, the very game everyone had been pushing you to go to. But showing up last-minute just to cause a scene was so not your style. If you were going to fix things, you’d do it on your own terms, not crash the party like some soap opera twist.
Inside, the café was warm but dead quiet. The staff looked just as miserable as you felt, probably counting down the seconds till they could ditch work and catch the game too. You kind of felt bad for bothering them. Kind of. But hey, desperate times. Your soul needed sugar before life threw another plot twist your way.
You went for the hot chocolate — obvious choice — and threw in a slice of strawberry sponge cake for good measure. Not exactly a gourmet pairing, but at this point, flavor combos were the least of your problems.
You slid into the table by the window, pulling out your phone like it could somehow save you from your own restless brain. 
Sohee had just posted a story: her, Minho, and Felix, all grins and mid-cheers. Typical. You kept scrolling, letting the endless stream of everyone else’s highlight reel wash over you. Felix, Jisung, and Hyunjin had apparently hit up a barbecue place recently, and yeah — that one stung. Hard. Like a punch right in the ribs, just above where you’d been keeping all your unresolved guilt.
Brilliant. Love that for me.
“Hey.”
The voice snapped you out of your spiral so fast you damn near fumbled your phone like it was evidence in a crime. Guiltily, you locked the screen and glanced up.
Mingyu stood there, iced coffee in hand, wearing that soft, easy smile.
“Hi…” you answered, a little awkward. He hadn’t exactly been on your recent contact list either.
"Can I sit?" He gestured at the chair across from you. "I won’t take up too much of your time, scout’s honor."
You nodded, curiosity getting the better of you. Might as well — it’s not like you were killing it at the whole “alone with your thoughts” thing anyway.
“You kinda vanished,” Mingyu said as he set his coffee down and folded his arms casually over the table. “Haven’t seen you around at all.”
You let out a humorless little laugh, more of a scoff really. “Didn’t exactly feel like I had a choice.”
“I see,” Mingyu exhaled, slow and steady, like he was gearing up to unload something heavy. “Look, I’m really sorry about everything. Honestly. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, coming out swinging at Bangchan like that.” He shook his head, as if still baffled by his own actions. “That’s not me. At all. And I’m sorry for dragging you into the mess.”
Well. That was... unexpectedly nice of him.
You weren’t sure what you’d expected — maybe some half-baked excuse or him brushing it off — but an actual, straight-up apology? Kind of refreshing.
“I should’ve seen it, you know?” He gave a small, hollow laugh. “The way he looked at you... yeah, it was pretty obvious. Can’t really blame the guy.”
There was a flicker of something in his smile, something resigned and maybe a little bit sad.
 “I’m sorry for hurting you,” you added, softer this time.
He shrugged, a wry twist to his lips. “No need. Things happen the way they’re supposed to, right? We had a good run. And well... I guess that’s it.”
“No hard feelings?” he asked, reaching his hand across the table like he was closing a deal.
You didn’t even hesitate — you took it, gave it a firm squeeze. “No hard feelings.”
“Right.” He nodded, like it was the final period of a sentence. Then he got up, grabbed his coffee, and shot you a parting smile. “I—I just hope you’re happy.”
And just like that, Mingyu walked out through the glass doors, disappearing across campus like he was just another passerby in your life. It wasn’t until the door swung shut behind him that his words really hit you, settling deep in your stomach like a lead weight.
I hope you’re happy.
And you weren’t happy. Not even close.
The brutal truth? You had no one to blame but yourself. Every twist, every wrong turn, it all traced back to your own fear, your own hesitation. If you’d been just a little braver — if you’d let people in instead of keeping them at arm’s length — maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe you’d be happy.
The cruel part? It took hearing it from Mingyu to finally see it for what it was. It was always you.
Your half-eaten cake sat abandoned on the table, the hot chocolate cooling into something sad and forgotten. Without thinking twice, you pushed back your chair and stormed out of the café, straight into the chaos waiting outside.
The wind hit you like a wall, and then, as if the universe was feeling especially theatrical today, fat, icy drops of rain began to fall — fast and merciless.
Karma? Maybe. Challenge accepted.
You didn’t slow down. You ran.
Your biker boots pounded against the slick grass, water splashing up your legs as the rain came down harder, so heavy it blurred the world into a messy watercolor. But you didn’t care. You weren’t stopping now — not when your heart was finally awake after pretending to sleep for so long.
The gym was all the way across campus, of course it was. Far enough that you were completely drenched by the time the courtyard came into view. Your chest heaved with every breath, burning like you’d sprinted through fire instead of rain. Your clothes clung to your skin, soaked to the bone, and your hair stuck to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck — like the rain wanted to wear you down.
But you kept going. You had to get there. No matter how soaked, no matter how late.
You had to.
You squared your shoulders, puffed out your chest like you had a whole army at your back, and stomped straight toward the gym doors. No hesitation. Okay — a little hesitation. Your heart was doing somersaults in your chest, adrenaline crashing into nerves like they were fighting for control.
But you pushed the doors open anyway.
Only to be greeted by... absolutely no one.
Just the janitor, casually mopping the far end of the court like this was any other boring Saturday.
Your pulse stumbled, like it tripped over itself. No way.
You yanked out your soaked phone, fingers slipping against the drenched screen, and checked the time. Way too late. The game had ended — you’d missed it. They were probably already at some bar downing cheap drinks and yelling over greasy plates of fries, and here you were, a walking raincloud with nothing to show for it.
Your thumb hovered over Sohee’s number, ready to call, beg, something — but before you could hit the dial, a voice cut through the empty court.
“Your plan is to flood the gym or what?”
Your heart flat-out stopped.
Slowly, you turned, every inch of you shivering from the rain and a healthy dose of panic.
Bangchan.
He was right there, leaning against the entrance like he hadn’t just flipped your entire internal system upside down. His hair was a mess of wet strands, some falling over his forehead in a way that should’ve been illegal.
Your mouth went dry, brain buffering like a bad connection.
"I'm... um... a little soaked," you managed, glancing down at yourself and the puddle spreading beneath your feet. A tremor ran through you, part chill, part nerves, leaving your words thin and shaky.
Bangchan gave a quiet, amused breath — almost a laugh, but softer — before he started walking toward you.
It was only then, as he drew closer, that you really saw him. His hair had grown longer, the damp curls now brushing the nape of his neck, framing his face in a way that felt painfully unfair. Draped over his shoulders was a black jacket, the kind that made him look like he’d stepped right off a movie scene.
"What are you doing here?" Bangchan’s voice cut through the hollow echo of the gym, roughened by surprise but threaded with something deeper.
With one simple movement, he removed the jacket from his shoulders and placed it over yours. You gulped, the words knotting in your throat. "I—I'm leaving," you managed, barely above a whisper.
"You're leaving?" His brows pulled together, like the thought alone caused him genuine pain.
Instinctively, you took a step back, clutching his jacket tighter around your soaked frame. Coward. Even now, even with him standing right in front of you, you were slipping into old habits, retreating when you should be reaching out.
Bangchan tilted his head, eyes flicking over your rain-soaked figure. "You really think I’m gonna buy that? After you ran through a damn storm to get here?" His voice was low, rough around the edges, but his gaze was soft.
Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself, your breath turning shallow and uneven. "I thought the game was still on," you confessed, your voice small, almost childlike.
"It ended early," he said, his tone softening. "Thunderstorm warning." He gestured toward the windows, where the rain continued to batter the glass in relentless sheets. "Most people cleared out fast. But I stayed behind."
Why? you wanted to ask. But maybe you didn’t need to — his eyes already told you everything you needed to know.
"You stayed," you echoed, almost in disbelief, as if saying it aloud would make it real.
He stepped closer, his gaze dipping to your hands, which clung to his jacket like it was the only thing keeping you afloat. When his eyes met yours again, something flickered in them — something deep and quiet, something that felt dangerously close to hope.
Bangchan’s gaze didn’t waver. "You came here for a reason," he said, his voice rough at the edges. "So stop pretending you didn’t."
Your heart twisted painfully, tangled in the unsaid. The truth clawed at your chest, desperate to surface. I wanted to see you. I wanted to stop running.
"I..." But your voice trembled, fragile as glass stretched too thin.
Bangchan’s expression softened, like he could see straight through the façade, like he saw every crack you were trying to hide. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached up and brushed a damp strand of hair from your cheek. His fingers were warm against your chilled skin, and despite yourself, you leaned into his touch.
"You’re freezing," he murmured.
"I'm fine," you lied, even as your body betrayed you with a violent shiver.
A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Liar."
"I need to ask you something," you said, your voice tighter than you wanted. "That night on the beach… were you serious? About everything you said?"
His expression twisted, disbelief written all over him. “Really? Really? Don’t waste my time pretending you don’t know.”
You let out a breath, sharp through your nose. Fair enough. But you had to say it, get it off your chest before it ate you alive.
"I messed it all up," you admitted, the words tumbling out. "I kept telling myself I didn’t care what people thought, like I was above all that crap. But it turns out I care. Way more than I should. And that fear? It had me choking on my own feelings."
You risked a glance at him. He was watching you like you were the only thing left in the world worth looking at. No interruptions, no sarcastic quips — just quiet focus.
"I mean, you were— God, you were so good to me," you kept going, voice thick with regret. "And I think I freaked out because I’d already fallen for you way before I let myself admit it. Like, properly fallen. And that scared the hell out of me because I never thought I’d actually… like you. Not like this."
Your throat tightened, a painful lump that wouldn’t go away. "I liked everything. Being around you. Talking to you. Even the way you annoyed me." you smiled softly.
Your eyes stung, tears slipping free, but you kept going like you couldn’t stop. "I hate what I did to you. I hate that I messed this up beyond fixing it. And I know it’s too late... yeah. I get it. I understand."
You swallowed against the lump in your throat, words tumbling out too fast. "I just needed you to know, before I go — I’m sorry. For everything. You didn’t deserve any of it."
Your breath hitched, but you met his eyes anyway — full on, no flinching. "I’m so sorry."
Tears blurred your vision as you crossed the court toward the exit, not even bothering to shield yourself from the rain. What was the point? You were already soaked, inside and out.
You let out a choked sob, hating yourself for being such a coward — for always running when it mattered most.
“Wait—” Bangchan’s voice cut through the downpour, rough and almost swallowed by the storm.
You froze, eyes narrowing against the sheets of rain, blinking fast to see through the water streaming down your face.
“Wait," he called out again, sharper now, like the rain itself had finally lit a fuse. "What gives you the right to drop that on me and just walk away?” His anger was written all over him, carved deep into the lines of his face.
"What?" you shot back, breath catching, but the storm swallowed your voice, forcing you to yell just to be heard.
Bangchan raked a hand through his soaked hair, slicking it back as he stepped closer, chest rising fast, like he couldn’t breathe right with you this far away. "You’re running," he said, rough and tight. "Running from me. From us. Again."
And hell, he wasn’t wrong.
"Everything I’ve done," he said, the words rough-edged and raw, "since the second I met you — it’s been about you. Always you." He caught his breath, like saying it out loud made it real. "Because I wanted you. More than anything."
The confession hit like a punch to the ribs, sharp and breath-stealing.
"Since Hyunjin introduced us and you barely noticed I existed," he kept going, like he couldn’t stop now. "Since you breezed right past me without a second thought. Since you crashed into my life and wrecked every single thing I thought I had figured out."
Your heart was beating out of rhythm, too fast for your own body to keep up, like it was trying to outrun the storm — or maybe run straight to him.
"You don’t get to stand there and tell me it’s too late," Bangchan shouted over the rain, his voice tearing through the downpour like it had something to prove. His eyes burned so bright, it almost hurt to look at him. "Not when I’ve been standing here this whole time, heart wide open, just waiting for you to see me."
His chest heaved, rain sliding off him like he didn’t even notice, like all he could see was you. "I’ve been waiting for you," he said, softer this time, but it was the kind of softness that carried weight. Heavy. Unshakable. "So if you want me — really want me — you’ve got to say it. I need to hear you say it."
The storm raged around you, but it felt like the eye of it had landed right here, right between the two of you. Your pulse throbbed in your ears, every muscle strung so tight you could barely breathe.
This was terrifying. This was exhilarating. This was everything you had been too scared to want.
Your lips parted, but for a heartbeat, all you could do was try to swallow the lump in your throat. Then, steadying your breath, you let a small, shaky smile tug at the corner of your mouth. A flicker of defiance, maybe even a little hope.
"Bangchan," you said, your voice rough but sure, "there’s never been anyone else. It’s only ever been you."
There wasn’t a second of hesitation when your lips found his — only the wild, breathless certainty of two people who had run out of ways to pretend they didn’t need this.
The desperation between you felt electric, almost feverish, like your skin couldn’t decide if it was burning or freezing in the rain. You’d never felt anything like it — like the whole world had finally spun off its axis and was crashing headfirst into this moment. Into him.
When his hands, just as cold and trembling as yours, cupped your face like he was terrified you might slip away, you gasped, a sharp breath of shock and longing tangled together. Bangchan made you feel reckless. Young. Like you were caught in the middle of one of those ridiculous romance high-school movies you always scoffed at, the kind where the girl lifts her leg during the kiss — and for once, you understood why.
This kiss, soaked to the bone and laced with every scrap of resentment and longing, felt like proof. Proof that what you had wasn’t just real, but unstoppable.
You clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the earth, fingers fisting in his drenched shirt as the rain poured over you both, careless and wild. And still, beneath the chaos, something pure unfurled in your chest — something terrifyingly beautiful, raw and undeniable.
Bangchan kissed you like he was starving, like he had been starving for you. He deepened the kiss, tasting every inch of you like it had haunted him in dreams and in every quiet, aching moment you’d spent apart.
It wasn’t new, this hunger — you’d felt it before. But tonight, in this storm, in his arms, it felt entirely different. Like you’d finally let yourself give in to the fire you’d been dancing around for far too long.
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How you ended up sprinting down the hallway with soaked shoes that squeaked like a bad joke didn’t even matter at this point. Thunder growled overhead like it was personally offended by your existence, and Bangchan was fumbling with the dorm keys like his life depended on it.
“Could you not kill the key while you’re at it?” you shot at him, half breathless, half laughing despite the anxiety twisting in your stomach.
“I'm trying, damn it,” he muttered, jamming the key into the lock with a speed that was both impressive and completely ridiculous.
The door finally gave in, and the two of you stumbled inside, drenched to the bone. The room was dim, only lit by the bruised grey daylight leaking through the window, and for a second, the world just... stopped spinning so fast.
You didn’t even think about it. Your hand found his face like it belonged there — like you were tracing something ancient and sacred, a statue carved by the gods, Apollo himself if Apollo wore wet hair and a breathless grin. Your thumb brushed his cheekbone, and you caught yourself smiling, then sinking your teeth into your lip to hold it back.
Bangchan swore under his breath, like your touch was enough to short-circuit his whole system. He closed his eyes for half a heartbeat, then caught your hand in his, holding it like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“I missed you…” you admitted, your voice low and honest, like the words had been burning a hole in your lungs.
Bangchan’s breath hitched. He caught your hand gently, his fingers wrapping around yours like he was scared you might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough. His eyes — god, his eyes — they searched your face like you were something holy, like every answer he’d ever wanted was written in the curve of your smile.
He kissed your knuckles, slow and passionate, and that tiny gesture nearly undid you. The way he was looking at you sent a shiver down your spine. Tears pricked behind your eyes, not from sadness, but from the insane, overwhelming relief of finally feeling. Like your chest had cracked open and light was pouring in, fierce and free.
And damn, it felt so, so good to finally breathe again.
The best part, freedom didn’t need an invitation — it just showed up, slipped right between you two like it belonged there all along.
And then, his lips found yours. No hesitation, no second-guessing, just there — warm and certain and carrying every shred of doubt far, far away. If those questions still existed, you sure as hell weren’t looking for them.
Bangchan kissed you like he knew. Like he knew exactly how long you’d been waiting for this, and he wasn’t about to ruin it with panic or rush. He was careful, but not shy — calculated without making it feel forced, a perfect balance of hunger and restraint that made your heart stutter in your chest.
This wasn’t reckless. No, this was something else entirely. This felt like he was handling something precious, like you were made of glass and he wasn’t sure if you’d shatter or melt in his hands. Maybe a bit of both.
Your arms looped around his neck, a familiar move, but now it felt charged. You’d always been secretly obsessed with how he towered over you, how his presence alone seemed to wrap around you like a second skin. Like gravity had picked favorites and he was yours.
Without even breaking the kiss, you found the hem of his drenched T-shirt, fingers brushing over cool skin as you tugged it upward. He caught the hint, helping you pull it over his head in one smooth motion before tossing it somewhere behind him like it didn’t matter — because it didn’t.
The jacket he’d draped over your shoulders slipped to the floor with a quiet thud. Your lips were still tangled in his, tasting rain and fire and something dangerously close to forever. Every brush of your mouth against his felt like a spark in a storm, friction building and building until you were certain you’d catch flame.
You didn’t know how long you’d been kissing him, and honestly? You didn’t care. All you knew was this moment — soaked skin, racing pulse, and the wild, breathless certainty that whatever this was between you, it was finally, finally real.
Before he even thought about sitting down, Bangchan stripped off every soaked, useless layer like it personally offended him. His shirt hit the floor with a wet splat, followed by the rest, and then he dropped onto the edge of the bed like he owned the damn place — which, technically, he did, but still.
You stood between his knees, and for a second, it felt like the air got thinner.
Slowly — painfully slowly, because he had to know exactly what he was doing to you — he tugged your skirt lower, knuckles grazing your skin like it was an accident. His fingers made quick work of your boots, then your sweater, all without breaking eye contact. His gaze had this impossible mix: soft but hungry, steady but burning with something you couldn’t quite name. Like you were some kind of inevitable he’d been waiting for without even realizing it.
Without a word, he curled his hand around the back of your thigh and coaxed you onto his lap, like you were gravity and he didn’t stand a chance. You went willingly — of course you did — knees bracketing his hips, your palms finding his shoulders, solid and warm beneath your hands.
He hovered at your mouth, maddeningly close but not quite there. A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his lips, easily teasing you.
His breath skimmed yours, electric and careful, until finally his lips brushed over yours, so light you almost convinced yourself you imagined it. His hands tightened at your waist, fingers sinking into your skin like he needed you closer. Like breathing wasn’t enough anymore.
The room fell into this heady, perfect silence, just the sound of your breathing, uneven and shallow, and the rain tapping against the window like it was keeping rhythm.
Your voice barely rose above a whisper, but it carried all the weight in the world. “Can we just freeze this?” you asked, your eyes tracing every line of his face like you were afraid it might vanish. “Right here, right now. Forever.”
You felt him shiver beneath your fingertips — or maybe it was you. Hard to tell anymore. His answer was the way he kissed you like yes. Like hell yes.
Bangchan let out a low, rough sound, like you’d just stolen the last ounce of self-control he had left. His mouth trailed along your jawline, barely-there kisses that felt like they were searing into your skin.
Normally, he was the one filling the space with words — teasing, coaxing, making you dizzy with how easily he could wreck you. But tonight, you wanted him to feel it. To really feel it. Not just in his head, but in his bones.
You cupped his face between your palms, your thumbs brushing the damp heat of his cheeks. God, he looked at you like you were the whole damn galaxy — like he’d waited light-years for this exact moment. And you traced your fingertip along his parted lips. He didn’t even hesitate; he kissed your fingerprint like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m yours,” you breathed, your voice barely louder than the rain tapping at the window — but it hit him like thunder all the same.
He froze, like your words had short-circuited every nerve in his body. His chest rose on a sharp inhale, his eyes drinking you in like you were the only thing keeping him alive. “I’ll always be,” you whispered, like a vow only he was meant to hear. 
His eyes softened, something raw flickering in them, right before you kissed him — full of every unspoken promise, fearless and certain, like you were stitching your heart straight into his mouth.
His hands found your waist, grounding you, as he shifted you effortlessly to the center of the bed. His lips brushed your neck, making you shiver all over again.
“My heart is yours,” he said softly, his lips brushing your skin like he was confessing a secret. “I’m all yours.” His words melted into kisses — first at your lips, then your cheek, and finally at that place beneath your ear that made your breath hitch.
You couldn’t help it. You laughed, breathless and a little reckless. He grinned against your throat, like he liked you like this — alive, teasing him back.
For a heartbeat, you just looked at him. At this man who somehow made the world quiet and loud all at once. Like maybe, just maybe, life could actually be this simple.
“God, you’re so beautiful…” he said, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, his fingers cradling your chin. His gaze dipped to your lips, dark with hunger. “Wanna touch you everywhere…”
His hand slid to the curve of your neck, making your eyes flick up in challenge.
“Make you feel so good,” he added, voice rough with intent.
You bit your lip, settled deeper into his lap, and gave him your signature smirk. “Then what are you waiting for?”
He didn’t need an invitation twice.
The kiss deepened, turned heady and hungry, but never rushed. Bangchan’s fingers toyed with the side of your panties, lazy and teasing, like he had all the time in the world to drive you insane. He hooked his finger under the edge, barely grazing your skin — just enough to send a sharp, electric pulse through your entire body.
There was heat, sure. A wildfire between you, no doubt. But underneath it, something steadier, something that felt terrifyingly like eternity. He wasn’t rushing it. He wasn’t just touching you to have you — he was memorizing you. Worshipping, almost.
“I want you,” you breathed in his mouth, voice rough around the edges, like it had been sanded down to the truth.
He didn’t waste a second. Quick, practiced, a little frantic but still smiling that lazy half-smile of his as he reached for protection, slipping it on in record time, like every second apart was unbearable.
You shifted your knees, adjusting for him — for both of you — and his eyes darkened like you’d just flipped a switch. He tugged the last stubborn scrap of fabric away, his hands lingering like he couldn’t quite let it go.
Without thinking, without hesitating, you sank down onto him, the movement natural, inevitable, like your bodies already knew this rhythm by heart. A gasp escaped you both, caught somewhere between surprise and relief.
Your hands clutched at his shoulders, not for balance, but because you needed to hold on to something real — and he was the only thing that felt like solid ground.
Bangchan buried his face in the crook of your neck, lips warm and wet against your skin, like he couldn’t get close enough. Like he wanted to taste every inch of you, commit you to memory, down to the last shiver.
You moved against him slowly at first, like you wanted to feel every single second of it — to let it burn through your nerves until it became too much to hold back. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as if he couldn’t stand even a breath of distance.
Every shift of your hips dragged a sound from him, rough and raw, like he was barely holding on. His head fell back for a moment, jaw clenched tight, but then his gaze was back on you — dark, devouring, full of need that felt like it could swallow you whole.
You tried to swallow the sounds tearing out of you, sinking your teeth into your lip, into his shoulder, into whatever you could reach — but it was useless. Every slow thrust made you unravel a little more, made you feel like you were coming apart right around him. He filled you so deep, so perfectly, it felt obscene, like your body was made just to take him.
And he knew it too — the way he moved inside you was relentless, unhurried but devastating, like he wanted to make sure you felt every inch of him, every inch of what he was doing to you.
And he wasn’t any steadier.
He fought to hold himself together, but the moans kept breaking free, rough and desperate. He was lost in the delirium of being buried deep inside you, of feeling you stretch and clench around him like you were made to take him. The way you took him, so eager and tight, had his control fraying fast.
He was pulsing with need, every second of restraint twisting into something almost unbearable — too good, too much, almost painful in its pleasure.
His hand slid up to your hair, fingers threading through before he tugged it aside to expose your neck. His mouth found your skin without hesitation — warm, open kisses trailing along your pulse, his tongue tasting the sweat-slick heat of you. 
He worked his way down your neck, lips brushing teasingly over every inch of your sensitive skin. At your chest, he paused, let his tongue explore the soft skin there, coaxing a sharp gasp from you as your body reacted without thinking. He wanted to ruin you with his mouth, to taste every inch until you were dripping for him, until the only thing you could think about was how good he felt owning you like this.
You found your rhythm together, perfectly in sync, like you’d been built for this. Built for him. Each roll of your hips sent a fresh wave of need spiraling through your veins, building, tightening, pulling you both closer to the edge. His hands held you like he couldn’t bear to let go, his touch rough but reverent, worshipping every inch of you.
The room felt molten, the air thick with heat and desire. Moans tangled between you, breathless and desperate, until all you could hear was the storm outside and the sound of your bodies moving together.
"Can’t get enough of you—fuck—" Bangchan’s voice tore out of him, rough and wrecked, words slipping into broken sounds as his hips snapped into yours, chasing the high with a desperation that felt like it might kill him.
Sweat and rainwater dripped down his skin, slick between your bodies, his hair clinging damp to his forehead. He looked like sin, like every fantasy you’d ever had but filthier, messier, better.
You crashed your mouth to his, swallowing the ragged moan that escaped him, tasting the heat of it on his tongue.
“Please,” you begged, breath trembling as your lips brushed his. “God, please, just—”
"You feel—fuck," he choked, breath catching hard as you rolled your hips, grinding right where he needed you. His eyes fluttered shut, helpless to the way you squeezed around him.
"Say it," you demanded, your voice all heat and sin, lips brushing his ear like a spark to gasoline.
He groaned, wrecked. "So good, so fucking good, baby, you drive me insane."
Your lips parted on a shaky exhale, your entire body tightening around him. The knot low in your belly twisted, pulling you closer to that breaking point with every relentless thrust. The storm outside thrashed against the windows, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside you.
Your forehead pressed against his, breaths tangling, sweat-slicked skin sliding together as you moved in sync. His gaze burned into you, wild and wrecked, like he couldn’t get enough.
"That's it," he rasped, rough and hungry. His thumb worked your clit in tight, relentless circles, dragging you closer to the edge. "Cum for me, baby. Be my good girl and soak my cock. Let me feel you lose it all over me."
“Fuck, you were made for me,” he rasped, voice thick and raw, every word dripping hunger. His hips snapped into you, fast and relentless, hitting so deep it made your mind spin, had you gasping his name over and over like it was the only thing you knew how to say.
You felt impossibly full, stretched around him to the point of unbearable pleasure, and you craved it — you wanted more, wanted him to take you apart until you were nothing but his.
Bangchan’s hand slid up to your throat, not choking, just holding you there, steady and close, like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you. His other hand gripped your waist tight, dragging you harder onto his cock, like he was chasing something dangerous and beautiful all at once — like he needed to claim every part of you.
“Take every inch of me,” he growled against your skin, his lips hot at your neck as his teeth sank in, just sharp enough to make you shiver. “Fuck—yes, just like that, my perfect fucking girl.”
Your body clamped down on him, another violent wave of pleasure wracking through you as you moved together, desperate and wild. His breath stuttered, sharp and wrecked, his hips jolting hard when you clenched around him again, milking him, pulling a raw, broken moan from deep in his throat.
“Fuck, angel,—” His voice cracked, strangled on a gasp, and then he lost it completely. His hips slammed up into you, rough and frantic, burying himself deep as he spilled inside you with a helpless, guttural sound, like he was unraveling from the inside out.
The second you felt him pulse, you shattered, pleasure crashing through you in devastating waves. Your whole body jerked, trembling in his hold, your mouth falling open on a cry of his name that sounded like both worship and ruin. He groaned through his release, grinding up into you as he emptied himself fully, like he couldn’t stop, like he never wanted to stop.
Even when the aftershocks tore through you both, he kept you tight against him, breathing hard, lips brushing your skin in shaky, reverent kisses. He kissed you like he was trying to swallow your moans, like he was desperate to keep every last sound of you for himself.
Your breath was wrecked, your chest heaving against his as you clung to him, still pulsing around him like you never wanted to let him go.
“Such a perfect little thing for me,” he rasped, dark and tender all at once, “my pretty girl.”
And in his eyes, you swore you saw it — the words he didn’t say yet, thick and heavy and dangerous on the tip of his tongue.
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After basically spending the entire weekend barricaded in Bangchan’s apartment — more specifically, in his bed — where you’d thoroughly explored every possible way to kill the mutual longing, you figured it was time to rejoin society. Preferably not looking like you’d just crawled out of a two-day sex coma, but well, damage done.
The perfect excuse arrived in the form of Changbin and the rest of the soccer guys throwing a victory party after their game. They won, obviously — and Bangchan had not let you forget it for even a second. He’d been strutting around the dorm like some smug MVP, dropping lines like, “You’re literally sleeping with the best basketball player, babe. Iconic behavior.”
You were so gone for him it was almost embarrassing. Almost.
It was Sunday night, and looming over you like an anxious little storm cloud was the fact that this was your last week. Final week. Curtain call was Friday, and you were already spiraling.
The panic over your performance felt like it had its own pulse — quick, sharp, and completely unnecessary, considering Hyunjin and Seungmin had basically held your hand and all but screamed, “You’re going to kill it. Stop overthinking.”
Still. Easier said than done.
Although, to be fair, the crippling anxiety had taken a temporary vacation over the last 48 hours — because Bangchan, bless him, had thoroughly, repeatedly, and almost heroically, fucked it right out of you.
Like a true gentleman.
He kept your hand in his the entire walk, fingers tangled like it was the most natural thing in the world. And you couldn't help but smile at the way he casually included you in every plan for the mid-year break. Like he couldn’t imagine doing any of it without you. You didn't even realize how much you needed that feeling until you had it.
When you got to the frat house, the party was already in full swing—music thumping, laughter spilling out into the yard. The moment you two stepped through the door, a few of the basketball guys waved, greeting Bangchan with their usual teasing banter. And, surprisingly, they were actually kind of polite to you. No eye rolls, no snickers. Just the usual ‘Hey, Bangchan’s girl’ vibes. But that was enough.
You’d chosen a dress that was a little daring—tight, short, and definitely not the kind of thing you’d wear to a casual party. But you didn’t mind it. Especially when Bangchan’s leather jacket was draped over your shoulders. It was a nice change, wearing something of his, and you kind of liked how it made you feel like you had a little piece of him with you.
And, of course, he didn’t complain about it. In fact, he was practically glowing, the way he looked at you, like he couldn’t wait to show you off. You could tell he was enjoying the attention, and somehow, that made you want to pull him in closer, just to remind him that yeah, you were his too.
The party was already in full swing when you and Bangchan walked in, fingers laced. When he squeezed your hand like a silent promise, you didn’t think twice about holding tighter.
The music was loud, people were already half-drunk on cheap beer and good vibes, but it was the way your friends froze mid-conversation that really caught your attention.
Changbin’s eyes went wide first, like he’d just seen his parents kissing. “Hold on. Hold on,” he said, pointing between you and Bangchan like he was trying to solve a crime scene. “My two pretty best friends are... doing this now?” He made a vague swirling motion with his finger that you hoped was meant to represent holding hands and not something filthier.
Hyunjin didn’t miss a beat. He scoffed and threw his arm over your shoulder, grinning like the devil himself. “Back off,” he shot back. “She’s my best friend.”
You raised a brow, looking between the two of them. “Okay, can we not make this weird?” you deadpanned, shrugging Hyunjin’s arm off with a smirk. 
Your friends were loving every second. You could see it on their faces — the shared glances, the knowing smirks, like they’d been waiting for this moment longer than you had.
"Honestly," Jisung chimed in from the couch, raising his drink dramatically, "about damn time."
Seungmin just gave you a slow, nodding approval, the corners of his lips barely twitching into a smile. “We had a pool going,” he said, as if that explained everything.
You shot him a playful, but suspicious look. "A pool? Seriously?"
"You're a very predictable couple," Seungmin replied with zero shame.
Bangchan chuckled under his breath, his smile tugging at the corners of his mouth in that way that made your knees go a little traitorous. "Told you they’d figure it out."
You nudged him with your shoulder, smiling but with a touch of sass. “I was kind of hoping for more mystery. You know, make them work for it.”
"Yeah, well," he said, leaning closer so only you could hear, his voice low and warm in your ear, "I’m not that good at pretending I don’t want you."
And just like that, you were the one who had to fight back the stupid, giddy grin threatening to take over your face.
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The night rolled on with teasing jokes and too many toasts in the team’s honor, but somewhere between the crowded kitchen and the messy dance floor, you caught Bangchan watching you — like you were the only person in the room worth looking at.
And you looked at him the same way.
You were still breathless from Bangchan’s kiss, your smile stretching so wide it almost hurt. You two were dancing and kissing almost the whole night. When you felt someone step into your line of sight.
You turned, and there she was — Eunji.
Her gaze flicked between you and Bangchan, catching the way he still had his arm slung lazily around your waist like he belonged there (because he did). For a split second, something unreadable passed over her face, but then she forced a smile.
“Hey.” Eunji’s voice was quieter than usual, almost hesitant, as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Congrats on the game. You played really well.”
Bangchan blinked, caught off guard by how soft her tone was. “Uh… thanks,” he said, a little wary.
She shifted her weight, eyes flicking to you for a beat before landing back on him. “Do you think we could talk for a second?” she asked, nodding toward the hallway. “Just us?” Her gaze lingered on you, like she was asking permission. Or daring you to say no.
You shot Bangchan a quick glance. He met your eyes with quiet understanding and gave you a little nod, squeezing your hand before letting go.
Curiosity pulled you to follow her.
In the quieter corner of the frat, Eunji took a breath like she was gearing up for something heavy. 
“Look, I probably don’t have the right to even ask you to listen,” she began, voice tight. “But I need to say this.”
You didn’t move. Arms crossed, not hostile — just careful. “Okay. Say it.”
She nodded, like that tiny bit of permission gave her permission to fall apart.
"I was jealous," she admitted, the words tumbling out too fast, like they’d been bottled up for too long. "It’s stupid, I know. But it felt like you had everything — both of the hot guys," she gave a bitter, awkward laugh, "while I had no one. And it got in my head. Made me ugly inside. I hated how small I felt next to you."
Her honesty was disarming. You hadn’t expected her to just lay it out like that.
"I guess I thought," she went on, voice wobbling, "if I could tear you down, maybe I’d feel less... invisible. But it didn’t work. It only made me feel worse. And I am sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you."
You searched her expression, looking for cracks, for any sign of performance — but what you saw was genuine. Flawed, but real.
You studied her face. No defenses. Just raw regret and maybe a little shame. For the first time, she looked like someone trying to unlearn the worst parts of herself.
You tilted your head. “Is this because of Sohee?”
Her head jerked up. “No,” she said quickly, eyes wide. “This isn’t damage control. This is me... finally being honest.”
Silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. Finally, you let out a breath.
"I can’t speak for everyone," you said honestly, thinking of your friends who had long since cut ties with her. "But for me... I need more time. You hurt me, Eunji. Really hurt me. And that’s not something I can forget overnight."
Eunji’s eyes shimmered, but she didn’t argue. She nodded slowly, lips pressed together like she was holding back a hundred other apologies. “That’s fair,” she whispered. “And... I’m happy for you. And Bangchan. You look really happy.”
You didn’t say thank you. But you didn’t walk away, either.
And maybe that was enough — for now.
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away, her figure disappearing back into the noise of the party. You stayed there for a beat, letting the moment settle in your chest, then spun on your heel and made a beeline for Bangchan.
He caught sight of you immediately, his whole face lighting up like you were the only thing that mattered in the room. "Hey," he said, pulling you back into his arms like you were gravity itself. "Everything okay?"
You slipped your arms around his neck, your heart finally settling. "Yeah."
His grin went lazy and warm, and he kissed you again, slow and certain, like you were home.
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You were pretty sure your organs were about to revolt — heart somewhere in your throat, stomach twisted in knots, lungs forgetting how to breathe. Your hands trembled as you peeked through the velvet curtain, catching a glimpse of the packed house. First row, all family. Behind them, a blur of students, teachers, and more faces than you wanted to count.
Seungmin was adding the final touches to his makeup with clinical calm, while Hyunjin stretched dramatically in the corner like he was about to run a marathon instead of hitting the stage.
You were ready — or as ready as someone could be when standing on the edge of a dream. The makeup they had given you was soft, radiant. Perfect for Seulgi — the wild, bright, untamable girl you’d spent months breathing life into. A character made of longing and light, all wild heart and messy hope. You’d love her instantly.
And tonight, you were going to give her everything.
Then, right on cue, you felt him — warm arms sliding around your waist, steady and grounding, a kiss pressed to the top of your head like a silent anchor in the storm.
You leaned into him without thinking, soaking in the calm he carried like it was oxygen.
“Holy shit,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you, his grin wide and full of awe. “My girl’s a star.”
And for a moment, everything stilled — nerves, noise, the chaos behind the curtain — like the whole world was holding its breath just for you.
You felt your face flush, your cheeks burning in that dizzying, weightless way that only came when someone made you feel so properly, soul-deep loved that it scrambled your entire system.
“I’m so nervous, I think I might faint,” you whispered, pressing a trembling hand to your stomach. The silky fabric of your dress did nothing to calm the storm underneath.
You peeked through the curtain again, heart stuttering at the packed audience. It looked endless. A sea of eyes. A million possible failures.
Bangchan gently cupped your chin, coaxing your gaze away from the chaos and back to him — steady, warm, certain.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and fierce in that quiet way of his. “You’re gonna walk out there and blow their minds. There’s not a single universe where this doesn’t go amazing — because it’s you. And you’re the best.”
It was stupid, how quickly your throat tightened. How fast your chest got all shaky, like his words had knocked the air clean out of your lungs. You blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall and mess up the makeup Nahee had so carefully painted on you.
“Stop,” you whispered, biting back a wobbly smile. “You’re gonna make me cry and then everyone’s gonna think my character dies in act one.”
He laughed, quiet and warm, and you took a shaky breath. Because suddenly, you wanted to say something that had been burning at the edges of your mind for days.
You wanted to leap, to risk it all.
“Bangchan, I—”
“Guys! It’s time!” Miss Baek’s voice cut through the moment like a bell, bright and urgent as she clapped her hands, motioning everyone to gather backstage.
You stepped back, breath caught, the confession stuck in your throat. But you weren’t ready to let go of him just yet, so instead of finishing your sentence, you reached for his hand and pulled him into the small circle forming around the cast and crew.
Miss Baek stood in the center, her eyes gleaming with pride. “All right, everyone,” she said, voice a little breathless with excitement. “This is it. You’ve worked hard for this show. Now go out there and own it. I trust you — every single one of you. So... break a leg.”
You felt Bangchan’s thumb brush over your knuckles again, grounding you.
And even with your nerves still coiled tight in your chest, a flicker of something brighter pushed through — like maybe you could do this. Maybe you were ready.
Especially with him right there, holding your hand like he never planned to let go.
The curtain rose slowly and steady, gliding open with a faint hum that made your pulse spike. Lights warmed the stage with a golden hue, soft and rich, like the first rays of sun spilling through a window on a quiet morning. The theater was silent — not the heavy, awkward kind of quiet, but the kind that buzzed with anticipation. Like everyone was holding their breath at the same time.
And then Seungmin stepped into the light.
Dressed in his costume — something timeless and simple — he looked completely at ease, the softest confidence in his posture as he took his place center stage. No theatrics. No build-up. Just him. And then he opened his mouth to sing.
It was like the world paused.
His voice slipped into the room like silk — clear, effortless, pure in that heart-wrenching kind of way that doesn’t just touch you, but clutches at something deep inside your chest. Notes floated from his mouth like a secret he trusted the whole room to keep. 
Someone in the third row audibly gasped. Someone else sniffled. And no one even cared about hiding it.
You could feel it ripple across the room — the moment where everyone realized this wasn’t just a student play. This was something real. Something alive.
And a huge part of that was Bangchan. He made a real effort to help.
You could see him in the sound booth, lit only by the glow of his equipment. His headset was on, hands gliding over the controls like he was conducting his own invisible symphony. Every rise and fall in Seungmin’s voice was perfectly balanced, wrapped in a sound that felt warm and cinematic.
The reverb was subtle, giving Seungmin's voice the echo of a cathedral without drowning him in it. The background instrumental, faded in at just the right moment, swelled like a heartbeat — quiet and steady — then soared.
The lighting shifted with the rhythm, delicate hues melting from gold to soft blue, and you knew that was Bangchan too. Timing everything. Perfecting everything. Making the show feel bigger than the stage it stood on.
The audience didn’t move. No one dared. It was like they were afraid that even a single breath might break the spell.
And when Seungmin hit the last note — long and gentle, the kind of note that settled into your bones — the silence lingered for one suspended second before the applause burst like a wave, loud and relentless, crashing against the walls of the theater.
You clapped with everyone else, heart pounding, chest full, eyes shining.
And somewhere backstage, you caught Bangchan glancing up from his booth just long enough to shoot you a grin.
As if to say, Yeah. We did that.
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It was Act Three.
Your act.
The final, sweeping moment you’d been rehearsing in front of mirrors, empty classes, and late-night voice notes. And now, standing just behind the curtain with the theater buzzing like a live wire around you, it hits you all at once — the weight of it. The lights dimmed, the overture swelled, and your pulse was racing so hard it felt like it might echo through your mic.
You smoothed your dress with slightly trembling hands, eyes darting through the curtain gap to catch a glimpse of the full house. Your chest rose with a shaky inhale. 
“Hey—hey, wait,” a voice said, breathless.
You turned, confused — and there he was.
Wild-eyed, flushed, a little out of breath like he’d just run across the building — and completely not where he was supposed to be. “What are you—? You need to go,” you whispered, eyes wide. “You’re supposed to be in the booth! I’m literally about to go on—”
He didn’t answer. He just grabbed your face and kissed you.
No warning. No hesitation. Just lips on yours like it was the most natural, necessary thing in the world. And everything else — the voices, the music, the sheer panic clawing at your ribcage — melted into static. It was just him. Warm and real and grounding you in a moment that didn’t feel like it could possibly exist in real life.
When he pulled away, he didn’t go far — his forehead pressed to yours, and his hands lingered like he didn’t want to let go just yet.
“Break a leg,” he whispered. Voice low. Serious.
You were about to respond, maybe something witty to cover how stunned you were “Thank—” but then he said it.
“I love you.” He mumbled.
Just like that. No build-up, no performance. Just soft and real and tossed at your feet like a match he was willing to watch burn.
Your breath caught.
You looked up at him, eyes gleaming, lips parted — something in your chest cracked wide open, but the words stayed stuck behind your teeth. Not because you didn’t feel the same. God, you did love him back. But the moment had too much weight, too much emotion, and not enough time.
Someone offstage hissed a frantic “Places!” but neither of you moved.
Instead, you smiled. A little too wide. A little breathless. Tears covering your eyes.
And he got it. He didn’t ask for anything else. 
His entwined fingers slid unhurriedly, inch by inch, until the last touch. Then he backed away like it hurt to leave and vanished into the shadows like he’d never been there at all. 
You wanted to cry — not from sadness, but from the overwhelming weight of it all. Being loved like this, so completely, felt like being wrapped in sunlight after a lifetime of gray. It was terrifying and beautiful and everything in between.
You never expected to fall for Bangchan. Not like this. Not so fully.
But somewhere between the late-night conversations, the lingering looks, and the quiet ways he held space for you, your heart cracked open — and he simply walked in.
And that was it. You were his. And he was already yours.
And then the curtain rose. The light hit your face. And you stepped into it like you were made for it.
And as the first line left your lips, steady and clear, you weren't just playing a part anymore.
You were living it — heart full, eyes bright, and finally, finally, not acting at all.
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♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely @bitchysunflower11 @ravengxbss @letrascafeymar @letrascafeymar @twentytwofour @pacha02 @skzaddictsincedebut @strayk1ds143 @micr0c0soms @vixy-vix
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2000sangel · 27 days ago
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I’ve actually had this one in my head for a few days: lightner!reader abruptly disappears from the dark world. For like,,, WEEKS. In the light world, they’re had to suddenly attend to and emergency situation or been in an emergency themselves (like ending up in the hospital or something) and they have no way to contact tenna and tell him that they haven’t just up and abandoned him! And so when they’re finally able to return home and get back to the tv world…. emotions might be running high >:3 💖💖💖
-✨
Hey so!! I want to be a little serious here and lay down a Warning for potentially toxic behaviors (and mentions of a loved one being at the hospital).
This is Hurt/Comfort but also a way for me to explore the Tenna BPD Headcanon which I'm not sure if I portrayed well without making him come off as awful or as like...'woobified' (I don't like that word, but I don't know how else to get my point across).
I was able to reflect on some things while writing this, too, so I hope it doesn't entirely suck. Enjoy! :,)
Tenna x Reader - Short fic - "Misconstruction"
This incident has taken everything out of you; between the constant worry following it, the trips to the hospital to make sure everything was okay with your loved one, and the never-ending anxiety of a call that might or might not come, after these two weeks…you're totally spent.
They're okay now, thankfully, and have also been relocated to a hospital closer to where you live, so you don't have to make a big amount of planning before deciding to visit.
What you've hated through this all though, is your inability to visit the Dark World and your partner, Tenna; obviously, your phone isn't reachable while there, and same thing applies to you as a whole. Plus, between this emergency and your usual work shifts, you haven't physically found the time to enter the alternate reality in two weeks.
So, even though you're exhausted, the guilt you feel overrides your physical state, and you enter the Dark World as soon as you have the first free afternoon.
The studio is as busy as ever, Darkners running left and right with either documents to sign or props that will be needed for the next show. You almost bump straight into some of them, apologizing profusely for possibly slowing down the crew.
It takes you a while to find Tenna; he's not on stage, as this is not the usual time he's on air, he's not in his private office or changing room either, and you haven't noticed him walking around the studio either -something quite easy to do, considering his size-.
What's left are the conference rooms, that despite having easy access to the rest of the place thank to being his partner, you obviously can't just barge into unprompted.
So you wait, seated outside the one he's usually needed in, as you can hear his voice coming from inside. You close your eyes now and then, and zone out out of tiredness, but manage to keep yourself awake until you hear the door being opened.
Some workers step out of it, wide eyed when they notice your presence- obviously they know who you are, so you don't really get why they must be acting like they've seen a ghost instead.
The Darkners make space for Tenna, who exits the room last; you immediately stand up, an apologetic smile appearing on your face, which slightly falters when he notices you and he doesn't reciprocate it at all.
“Oh. It's- It's you.”
He sounds conflicted, like he's feeling different emotions that don't necessarily make sense paired with one another. His body language suggests so, too.
“Of course it's me,” you decide to grant him an explanation straight away, though before you can do so he interrupts you.
“Where…have you been?”
“...I was about to explain, I had an-”
“No, scratch that, I shouldn't…I shouldn't even be talking to you right now.”
His choice of words surprises you, direct and…almost repulsed. You don't understand, but at the same time you understand completely.
Leaving without coming back for days, weeks…showing no signs of life whatsoever for that whole time; who knows what he must've thought and felt.
At this point your smile is completely gone, replaced by a frown.
“What…no, Tenna, let me explain before coming to conclusions…?” he's avoiding your gaze now, conflicted about whether he should be leaving or not, “Please?”
. . .
Eventually he leads you to his office, where you can talk more privately at least. He looks like he's barely holding it together as he sits behind his large desk, which you notice is a mess of papers, some of them crumpled.
You don't sit like you usually do, though, merely leaning on the opposing chair, the air tense;
“Do you know how you made me feel?”
He's speaking faster than usual as he massages the bridge of his nose, screen flickering;
“If you could just let me explain-”
“What kind of explanation could you possibly have?”
He's not quite yelling, but he does sound mad and like he's already settled on a very specific scenario that must've kept you from visiting him.
“An emergency!” you cry out before he can interrupt you once again, “I had a family member at the hospital, Tenna!”
You bring one of your hands to cover your mouth when he slightly jumps, taken aback;
“I-I had no way of contacting you and I couldn't risk them calling while I was here-”
“You could've done it for a short time-”
“What…” you frown, stopping yourself from reacting badly. You then take a deep breath, “Okay, maybe I could've…but just what did you think I was doing for all this time…?”
He looks extremely guilty, screen now completely black and antennas lopsided, he's even begun to shrink a little.
There's a short moment of awkward silence.
“A-An emergency…really?”
You blink.
“Yes, Tenna, I promise that's what it was. And then I had work, and I was exhausted, and I kept looking at my phone and hoping for good news. That's why I couldn't come, and…” Your heart beats faster as you consider saying something like ‘they’re fine now, thanks for asking’, but you decide against it; “...and I don't know. I don't know what you thought, but it wasn't that.”
Fixated on your monologue, you almost miss the sound of Tenna's breath hitching, his palms now covering the spot his eyes would be if he had any.
“W-Wow. I'm an ass, aren't I?” he digs his palms deeper into his screen, biting on his lower lip to choke back what you assume is a sob.
Despite the misunderstanding you had, you quickly walk to his side, grasping his chair and turning it so he's now facing you.
“H-Hey, hey, what's this? Tenna, what-”
“I just thought you left me!!” he blurts out, shrinking even more. You're basically the same height now. “I-It’s stupid after hearing your explanation but?! You're asking, so there's your answer…!”
You sense he's craving touch by the way he has slid towards you with his chair, so you tentatively hover your arm beside his waist;
“Maybe we can hug while talking, what do you think…?”
Your partner nods, all attempts to hide his sobs going out the window once your arms wrap around each other's bodies;
“Please…” he manages to say, and you hum to encourage him to continue, “...ju-ust, I don't even know, I think I need…”
“...Reassurance?” you suggest, and he nods against your cheek, “I love you, Tenna, and I'm sorry…if it happens again, I'll…I'll make sure to find a moment to warn you, okay?”
“I-I’m sorry too, for this, for earlier, for the mess, for not understanding- I'm just, a bad par-”
You stop him right there with a squeeze before leaning back so you can look at his face; he's frowning, cheeks glossy with pixely tears rolling down them. You've seen him sad, you've seen him cry before, but even though you're not exactly in the wrong here you feel a pang of guilt in your chest thinking about the fact that he must've thought you were abandoning him, deep-rooted issues surfacing because of something you could've somehow prevented.
You don't find it in you to completely blame yourself though, and neither to completely blame him. Some things you can't just expect or prevent from happening, you suppose.
“Don't. Don't say that, this is just…something that happened, okay? And you can't really compare to…other relationships.” You sadly remind him, and he sighs in understanding.
“I love you too…I'm sorry, again, I'll- I'll do better, won't cut you off anymore, or anything like that…ahah…and just,” he inhales sharply, “just say it if changes are needed, okay?”
You nod, glad that he's calming down enough to speak more clearly.
“Okay, Tenna, I promise I will. And you don't assume the worst immediately, right? Something like this could happen again. Just trust me when I say I wouldn't just up and leave.”
You're aware that when issues like this arise, some reassurance and a hug aren't enough to solve anything definitely at all.
Though you're one step closer to helping him through it, you assume. And both of your boundaries might need to be worked on later, too.
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a-hazbin-reader · 1 year ago
Note
Hey did you get my ask/request of Alastor and Wife!reader having an argument and Alastor says something horrible to her leaving him to have to make up for it?
I did, I just have a lot of stuff in my inbox
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
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TW: Alastor being in the DOGHOUSE
Description: ☝️⬆️
Alastor doesn't mind fighting, likes to bicker with and irritate those around him as some strange show of dominance
But his wife is an exception, he hates fighting with his wife and goes to great lengths to avoid it
Despite his efforts, you two do still fight from time to time and he hates it, he tries so hard to reign in that cruel part of him
He doesn't really even remember what started the fight, probably something dangerous he did that upset you
Something like the Adam stunt
And he probably tried to brush it off, his pride not letting him admit that your fears were warranted
You were understandably getting worked up over his dismissal, and he was getting irritated that you wouldn't just drop it
Everyone else in the hotel had scattered and hidden the moment you two started to uncharacteristically raise your voices at each other
Angel had to grab Niffy to stop her from watching the entire argument play out
He just doesn't want to scare you with the idea of losing him, he wants to be your strong, invincible husband
It makes him uncomfortable that you see beyond the powerful overlord demon and instead zero in on the man beneath it all
"Darling, I would understand your fears if I hadn't come back to you in one piece, but I'm here. With you. Perfectly fine."
You could rip your hair out due to frustration, almost in tears, how could he not understand how you felt?
"Alastor! That's not the point! You can't be so reckless! It's not just you that you have to worry about anymore! You have a wife! You have to live and be safe for me!"
He fears a pang of anger over being told what to do, rage and irritation over the unintentional reminder of his failure to win
Which makes his mind wander to his deal, his fucking leash
The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes what he's saying
"If I knew that everything I do had to be approved by you then, I would've rethought this whole marriage ordeal."
Alastor regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, his ears folding back at the sight of your hurt expression
Your eyes have tears in them but you're doing your best to hold them in, turning on your heel to leave the room
"Wait-Darling, I didn't-"
"Just...give me some space, Alastor."
He regrets it so much, watching you walk away from him when he should be begging for forgiveness
He hates seeing you so upset but he hates being the reason for it even more
Alastor tries to give you the space you asked for, but it's difficult when all he wants to do is make up with you already
But he also doesn't want to actually talk about what happened
So he breaks fairly easily when he sees you again, coming up behind you and hugging you
Only to be shrugged off when he goes for a small kiss, left with a sinking feeling in his stomach
"I said to give me space, I'm not ready to talk to you yet."
Normally, Alastor loves it when you're cruel and cold, finds it a little hot, but when it's aimed at him? He hates it so fucking much
Literally looks like a kicked puppy when you walk away from him again, Charlie and Vaggie looking at anything but him
"You know what, Charlie? I do see that crack in the wall!"
He tries again later, sitting next to you and trying to wrap an arm around your shoulders while the radio bursts to life with a love song
Only to be rewarded with an ill hidden sniffle and you immediately getting up to walk away from him
"If you're not going to apologize and have a genuine conversation with me then don't even bother."
It's driving Alastor crazy not being able to be with you, to not be able to properly make up with you
But he still doesn't want to admit he messed up or have that uncomfortable conversation with you
So he tries lavish gifts and other romantic gestures that all get rejected or given to Niffty to do whatever she wants with them
"Yay!! I'm going to poison these and give them to the mother bugs!!"
Okay...maybe Angel should have these...
Alastor is starting to understand that he can't just gloss over this one
He understands it a little more later that night when you go to bed without him, and he's left too nervous to follow after you
Several hours into the night, the guilt eats at him and he breaks, sneaking into the bedroom
You're awake, your eyes red rimmed from crying but you manage to give him a glare before turning your back to him
"Darling, I believe I owe you an apology..."
The way your tense body relaxes is all he needs, crawling into bed with you and pulling you to his chest
It's a difficult pill for him to swallow, so it's easier for him to have these conversations with you like this
He doesn't want you to see his weakness even when he's laying it out for you
Luckily, Alastor is good with his words and you're willing to listen now that an apology is on the table
It's a long conversation that leaves you both sleepless and emotional in each other's arms
But things are settled and Alastor is forgiven, happy to be back in your good graces
He tried to be strong and hold himself back, he really did... but being without the warmth of your love was torture for him
It was a rough couple of hours for him
HA WHIPPED
"Angel, shut the fuck up before you get yourself killed!"
He's extra clingy and romantic with you for DAYS afterwards, making everyone else at the hotel practically nauseous
Except for Charlie, of course, she loves it
He's just so relieved that you've forgiven him, still disgusted with himself for even saying what he said
Asks you for yet another kiss that morning before Husk finally walks away, annoyed by Alastor's neediness
You don't mind your husband's clingy antics, enjoying the extra attention he's giving you
You should get mad at him more often
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ravstars · 11 months ago
Text
Bad date (ᗒ⩊ᗕ)
⌇Wanderer/ Scaramouche x Reader.ᐟ
જ⁀➴Smut: Your usually stoic and ignorant college roommate seems abnormaly engrossed in the date you had planned with a mutual friend, insisting on giving you advice on how to dress, etc. When you come back that same evening, all pouty and disappointed, telling him about how bad it had went, he can't help but show you what you're missing out on with him.
a/n: Careful, this is smut! If you do decide to read it, i hope you enjoy! This is AFAB and Scara does refer to the reader as a good girl. I am still kind of figuring this whole layout thing out as I go so I might change some stuff up sometimes. ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
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Scaramouche was very annoyed.
As if you weren't insuffrable enough, having a date with some imbecile, who you both knew from some party you forced him to go a few months back, made you even more intolerable than before. Why would you go out on a date with some ugly idiot anyway? He huffs, deciding to check in on your pathetic state of getting ready for an immature frat boy.
You were sitting down on the floor infront of your dresser, messily looking through every dress you had. Scara doesn't hesitate to put his hand on your head, making you flinch away and complain about ruining your hair.
''I don't understand what your issue is, just pick a random dress, why are you being so peculiar about this? It's quite frankly pitiful." He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as you don't even look at him once.
"The white one or this navy one?" You hold two options up, one navy denim dress and one classy white dress with intracate details. He looks at both and decides to indulge himself for this once. It's not like he gets to take you out anyway, so he might as well make you work for his opinion.
''Try both on.'' He simply states, his expression unreadable. You hesitate but agree nonetheless. Getting up with an exasperated sigh and kicking him out until you try the first dress on. You decide to indulge him and show him the first dress — the navy one. You step out of your room, spinning for your roommate, waiting for a reaction.
“Well?”
“It kinda makes you look weird.” He says, suppressing a smirk. You looked ravishing in his truthful opinion, yet he would never admit that.
You huff, wordlessly turning back into your room and trying the other dress on. A pretty basic white dress, fitting for any occasion.
Stepping out once more you’re greeted with complete silence. You spin suspiciously, brows furrowed
“Wear the other one.” He simply says before turning on his feet and leaving you be.
Did this one look that bad? If only it did, Scaramouche thought.
Due to the uncertainty he had left behind, you do decide to wear the navy dress, getting ready as usual. Time had finally come and you couldn’t wait to meet your date, you couldn’t be blamed for being so excited, could you? You walk out that door and leave to the restaurant, Scaramouche unenthusiastic in his goodbyes, the only thing him having said to you being a mumble of ‘…you better stay safe… I don’t want to be responsible for anything later’.
Apropos later… well, it wasn’t an ideal date.
“Look, I arrived there and, first of, he was 10 minutes late. It’s not like that’s a big deal in itself but considering how he didn’t have any manners, it just adds to everything. He kept asking invasive questions and even asked me if I was interested in sleeping with him 30 minutes in. Who does that?” You groan, taking another sip of your energy drink, now a few hours later and at home again, in a big T-shirt as you vented to Scaramouche, who hadn’t said a word the entire time.
“It was horrible, Scara. Why do all the men interested in me have to be such douchebags?”
“Hm,” He mused, the corners of his lips twitching upwards, “Maybe because you’re the one choosing those idiots.” He was a selfish man, he knew that, especially when he felt great gratification when he found out your date had gone terribly. He only offered an energy drink in consolation and an ear, though, he was just an actor like that.
“Oh, and where are those non-douchebags I’m supposedly not choosing then?” You sigh, putting the drink down
“Tch. Dumbass, right here.”
“Huh?”
You turn to him, seeing him with a determined look, his eyes seeking out yours.
“You heard me.” He simply says, as if challenging you to make sense of what he’s telling you.
“Stop saying things like that, Scara…” you grumble, looking down.
“And what if I don’t, hm?”
You feel both of his arms encasing your body, having semi-crawled on top of you. You look up and your noses almost touch as you do. He looks different to you from this angle and you see the faint blush on his cheeks. You look into his eyes and he meets yours the same way. It’s as if he’s asking for permission as he bumps his nose against yours, your lips gaping in silent consent. His eyes flicker down to your lips before he closes them and finally leans in.
His lips press softly against yours, testing the waters with how far you’re willing to take it tonight. As you make no move to pull away he lets his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter your mouth.
His tongue curled around yours in a passionate dance of growing arousal. His hands have found their way to your waist, his nails softly digging into the soft skin of your sides.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.” He purrs out, breaking the kiss to look at your flushed expression
“Watching you go out with these weird, undeserving dimwits…” He kisses along your jaw before trailing gently down your neck. You can’t help the sound at the back of your throat when he sucks particularly hard at one spot on your neck. He chuckles under his breath before continuing his work on you. His hands trail down to your thighs and squeeze gently, parting them slowly settling in between
“Are you sure about this, Scara?” You ask, looking up at him from underneath. His lips are shiny, as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting your saliva on them, so sweet, he thinks to himself.
“Are you sure about this, princess?” He answers with a question back, eyeing your expression with smug curiosity, making you gulp. You have never been this close to him before, what did you even feel for him in the first place? All you knew was you wanted him and you craved his touch deeply.
“I am, I want this.” You reassure shyly, earning a light chuckle from the man above you.
He responds by pressing his lips against yours again, this time more powerful, grinding up against you slowly. He hums at your reciprocation, your hands flat against his chest.
“Mm, may I?” He mumbles into your mouth, hands itching up to play with the hem of your oversized T-shirt. You hum, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. He dares to slip his hand under your shirt for the first time, losing his mind at the feel of your skin. You were always perfect to him, there was no doubt, but right now - this has to be his favorite way of seeing you. He feels you up, hands roaming your hips, rubbing his thumb over the fabric of your underwear on your hip.
“So perfect… haah…” He pulls away with a gasp, his free hand on your jaw “You’re so perfect.”
You can’t comprehend what’s happening, the words coming out of his mouth. He hooks his two fingers under the fabric, startling you. He waits for you to adjust before tugging the fabric down your thighs.
“I can’t wait anymore.” He admits and you nod, closing your eyes. “No, no, look at me, open those eyes, keep your pretty eyes on me.”
Pushing up your shirt he feasts upon your anatomy, kissing and tasting your warm and flushed skin. He groans, growing needy at your gasps and moans.
His fingers find your cunt, gently rubbing your clit, as he relishes in the noises you make, squirming against him.
“I can feel you getting wetter and wetter, hm?” He’s breathless, trying to appear calm and collected, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.
“It’s unfair…” you start, making him stutter in his movements “You have to take your clothes off too.” He chuckles at your complaint, taking his hands off you momentarily to pull his shirt off. Your hands find his bare skin, smoothing over him, over anything you could see - beauty marks, scars, anything and he swears he could die, drowning in your touch, in your attention, in your love.
You begin to feel your core aching, longing for something of him, a fragment, a piece, anything you could get.
“Please,” you urge and he immediately knows what you want. So he enters one finger into you and opens you up, preparing you gently. Your eyes flutter shut in response, squeezing closed.
His eyes are trained on you, watching every reaction and every expression you made. He leans down to kiss the spot under your ear, feeling you shudder against him.
“Can I put in another one?” He asks, feeling that you were ready for it. He doesn’t hesitate when you nod, groaning as he feels you around his fingers.He grows impatient soon, pulling his fingers out of you just as you were about to cum, making you whine at the loss of contact.
“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, working on unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down to his knees. Your eyes fixate on him, straining painfully.
“Are you okay?” He makes sure one last time, as he tugs down his boxers and you can barely nod, not trusting your voice.
“Ah, shit,” he lubes his cock up with your juices, grinding up and down your folds for as long as he can take.
“Put it in, please,” You force out, hands reaching out for his own. As he intertwines your hands he pushes his tip in, both of you panting in pleasure and maybe overwhelming emotions. He bottoms out quickly, leaning down to be close to you, yearning for more and more and more of you.
Whimpering, he starts to set a pace fitting both of you. He’s never felt so vulnerable before. Being so intimate with you, of all people, it made his heart ache. He liked you - No, he loved you, but he could only express that through his actions right now. He starts to go faster, hitting that spot in you making you roll your eyes.
“Oh, good girl, such a good girl- ah,” he kissed you desperately, the pleasure burning in his veins. He felt so good, it was all he could think about. The feeling of you, hot and a mess under him, was pushing him further and further to the peak of pleasure already.
“I’m close,” he pants, “are you close?”
“Mhm, I’m so close…” you hold onto him tighter, feeling each other.
His hold on you suddenly tightens before his hips stutter against yours, burying himself to the hilt as the pleasure takes over both of you, your orgasm hitting you right where you needed.
“Fuck,” he heaves, eyes searching yours, “are you okay?”
“Ye- hahh, yeah, are you?” your pupils dilate, your body shaking
“Yes, yes, I’m…” he trails off, slumping against you. Mind too dazed for anything else, you close your eyes, letting the exhaustion catch up to you.
You wake up the next day that Saturday, surprisingly in your bed, in fresh clothes and unsurprisingly sore. You sit up in bed, recalling the previous night when you hear a knock on your door.
“Yeah?”
“I made breakfast, get up, sleepyhead.” Scaramouche opens the door, and his eyes soften seeing you in bed
“You good?”
“I’m sore, you dumbass.” You groan with a smile
“You weren’t complaining yesterday.” He scoffs, walking into your room and pulling you up, helping you
“Don’t be so dramatic, my god.” you both laugh, and you hit his shoulder, making him scowl playfully.
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lcriedlastnight · 1 year ago
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Shy reader and Lando who absolutely loves taking pictures of her
yes yes yes! thanks, lovely!
tw: fem!reader, swears, a little rushed me thinks, lmk if you want me to add anything else.
w/c: 1.7k
it was like lando wanted to embarrass you or something. he knew how shy you were yet here he was, snapping away at you with his camera mumbling about how good this would look on his jpg account on instagram.
of course you are very quick to remind him that you would sooner set your shared kitchen on fire than stumble across a picture of you on his, very famous and very popular instagram account.
"c'mon baby. just one photoshoot. you're too pretty to not take pictures of." lando begs, the camera's wide lens sticking in your face as you cover it with your hands. lando seriously considers fighting you then gluing you to the bed to he could take pictures of you until his heart was content.
"no, lando. i know you'll end up posting them and i won't like how i look in them and it'll be this whole big thing." you complain from behind your hands.
lando understands where you are coming from he swears, it makes total sense. of course it does it had come from your brain. he just did not think he could ever wrap his head around the fact that he had the prettiest girl sitting right next to him and he was not allowed to immortalise you so he could always remember that day when you had both decided to stay at home and have a day for yourself. lando was one hundred percent one of those people who feared that his memory would just disappear one day, he was sure that was why he loved taking pictures all the time. the boy was desperate not to forget anything, especially the times he treasured the most.
that was why is was so difficult for him to keep his camera out of sight and- well out of your face really, any time you were together. the driver never wanted to forget what you looked like, the prettiest girl in the entire world to him.
"i won't i promise. please, you just look too pretty not to!" lando pleads for what feels like the hundredth time today. you roll your eyes from behind your hands, knowing he was laying it on thick just to get you to agree.
"i've just woken up, lando! no way!" you protest. lando ends up giving up that day, he knows the day where he gets you to agree is right around the corner he just has to play his cards right.
lando had taken you with him to australia for the up coming race at the weekend and because it was lando, he had forced you to go sight-seeing so he could get pictures for that beloved instagram account he barely even posts on now anyways.
you remind him that you don't want any pictures taken of you and he agrees without much pushing from you, which surprises you to say the least but you do not even bother to comment on it as you worried it would make him snap out of whatever mindset he was in that made him so agreeing with you.
you were walking ahead of your boyfriend as, unbeknown to you, he was snapping away. his pictures consisting of gorgeous skylines, arty graffiti on the walls along the streets you both walked along and finally, you. they were only pictures of your back but lando thought they were wonderful and had to contain the urge to tell you to spin around so he could get some of your sunkissed, pretty face.
as you were both laying in the hotel bed that night, lando scrolled through the pictures he had taken on his camera that day and spoke your name softly to grab your attention when the pictures of you had popped up.
"i know you don't like it when i take your picture but i think this looks great." lando says, a little nervous that he had just started a fight with you but your eyes looked calm as they scanned over the computer screen that showed your silhouette as you walked through the bustling streets of melbourne. the city had quickly raced through the places to take the number two spot for your favourite cities that you gone visited with lando.
you are quiet for a minute or two (which seems like an eternity for your boyfriend) before you approve.
"yeah, i guess you made me look quite good here, lan." you compliment the picture. the praise settling in his stomach as it was very high coming from you.
"thanks honey but that's all you. didn't even have to get you to pose or anything. i think despite what you say and think, you're a natural in front of my camera." lando instead compliments you as his arm swings over your shoulder bringing you close into his side with a cheesy smile that makes those butterflies in your stomach flutter around like crazy.
you disagree and after lando moves his electronics out of the way and you two have play fought for way too long, you both settle down in the massive hotel bed. you tangle yourself in to lando's side and he sneakily grabs his phone to snap a picture before brain storming ways to get you to agree to him taking at least one picture and posting it on his well loved instagram account.
he had tried saying "you could revive the account, love. i've hardly posted this year because i'm waiting on my model of a girlfriend to agree to a one picture photo shoot." but that had just resulted in the driver getting hit in the face with the new throw pillows you had bought to decorate his bed with.
he can never really convince you to agree to getting your picture taken to he had to result in sneakily taken phone pictures and blurry, hand over the face, back of the head camera pictures. lando guess that it was batter than nothing at this point. you were pretty sure that if you let him he would cover the entire room with pictures of you and turn it into a shrine.
your birthday came along but with what you had told your sweet boyfriend it had felt like his own.
"you can post any pictures you have of me." you had granted your permission so he got to work. he knew he could only pick ten pictures for his actual instagram post and he certainly knew he could not spam the shit out of his story with all the pictures of you that he wanted to, no matter how much he wanted to. so he raked through the minute amount of pictures he had to find the ones he hoped you would love.
the first was the one on his lockscreen, a picture from miami, his first win. you were in lando's favourite dress of yours, although you could barely see it because the picture, taken by oscar, was of lando laying directly on top of you on the floor, your arms wrapped around his torso while his head was hiding in the crook of your neck. lando still donned those papaya fireproofs around his waist but all he remebers is that in that moment he had to get his hands on you.
the second is that silhouette picture from melbourne. it is easily one of lando's favourites just because he knew it was probably one of, if not the first, picture he had taken of you that you actually liked.
the third was a mirror picture of you both in your bedroom mirror, the phone covering your face as lando drapes himself over you. he liked this picture because your outfit was pretty but he was the only one who got to see how pretty your face was that night and how well your rosy cheeks went with the pink skirt.
the forth was a facetime screenshot. it must have been from the start of the season. you had a peel off sheet mask on your face and your hair was tied back into a bun as you had a hair mask in. your hands were mid air as you explained the plot to the book you were reading. lando had only screenshotted because of how cute he thought you looked but you and all of lando's fans had noticed lando's face in the corner, eyes crinkled with the power of the smile gracing his lips. the boy looked exactly like what he was, smitten.
the fifth was a picture of you in the paddock from getty images, the water mark still being present on the picture. the bright papaya headphones sitting on your head as you watch along with a worried expression. neither you or lando knew which race it was, lando just loved the picture.
the sixth, seventh and eighth were tied in together. the sixth had shown you on the floor, trying to assemble tony starks tower out of lego with a happy smile on your face. the seventh was a video of you from the next room. all you could hear was your shouting and cursing about how stupid lego was and how this was all lando's fault for letting you buy the stupid thing in the first place. the video then showed the ceiling moving as lando appeared in the room you were and and you beg him to come help you. the eighth is a picture of you standing next to the finished product in different clothes with shorter hair.
the ninth was a baby picture that lando adored of you and your brother. you were playing with his buzzlightyear and your brother stood to the side, crying his heart out. "menace from the start." lando had joked.
the tenth was the picture he had taken of you wrapped up in his arms the night of the melbourne picture. the memory behind it meant more than anything to the boy. the driver would never admit it but when he was sleeping alone in hotel beds, with you sometimes on the other side of the world, he would stare at the picture and pretend he was wrapped up in the duvet with you and everything was right in the world.
the caption for his post was something sweet and simple but you were overwhelmed with love for your boyfriend you did not even bother to read it.
"happy birthday, honey. i love you more and more every day." lando and whispered to you as you lay in each others arms that night.
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tenebrius-excellium · 6 months ago
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I was just looking at your reverse Httyd AU, and I LOVE IT!!! I have a few questions:
Would Toothless still be named toothless, despite by the whole “biting off hiccup’s leg” thing?
How would Stoic find out he was alive?
Will Stoic ever find hiccup?
Does hiccup stay on Berk forever or eventually take off with Toothless?
What happens to the red death? Do the raids continue?
What’s the general conflict?
I seriously adore this take on Httyd, and I’d love to hear more about it!
Dude you assume I have thought this out??? T_T hahahaaha
No anyway hiiiii and thank you so much for these questions!!! They are fantastic! So the general idea was just that Hiccup and Toothless would switch injuries during the first movie (Hiccup loses his leg at the start, Toothless his tail at the end) and I haven't had the time to really dive into how that would change the entire dynamic of the film. Your questions are a great way to explore that, I believe, so let's get into it!?
1. Yeah Toothless would still be named Toothless. I'd like it to remain sort of ambiguous how Hiccup lost the leg - we don't know whether Toothless ripped it off or if it happened through some other traumatic force, like a fall, or if it was crushed by a rock. All I know is that Hiccup and Toothless VIOLENTLY collide in the woods. And you know the number that Toothless' killing blasts can do on a landscape. I assume the same indirect fault level that Hiccup had with Toothless' tail - Toothless wanted to eliminate the threat and thought he killed his enemy, or at least he scared Hiccup off enough to never come back, if he survived... only to discover that yes, the boy did in fact survive, with a heavy injury that will still end him if left untreated, and Toothless must come to terms with his role in the pain and suffering he caused. Hiccup must move from the role of a direct combat enemy to a wounded kid who needs support. Hiccup will need a fire to cauterize his leg, and to keep warm since I imagine there is a lot of rain on Berk. That will be Toothless' first chance to offer some help. But to approach Hiccup, he must drop his weapons first (like Hiccup had to drop his knife) and one of the things the Night Fury can do to show that he is not trying to be a threat anymore is to retract his teeth.
2. + 3. + 4. + 5. Yeah Stoick would find out that his son is alive. I'm not yet sure if Hiccup stays in the cove the entire time. I don't believe he would. Let's say he stays there for the duration that there are edible fish in the cove's little pond. But he can't climb out of the hole by himself, and he'll run out of food down there. So it's up to Toothless to help him move. Toothless might bring him fish from the sea at first, but it'll become too dangerous to openly fly around the island of Berk without being spotted by human sentries. So it will be Toothless who, seeing Hiccup's desire to leave, will grab him one day and move him to a remote cliff or something that's closer to the ocean, so he can catch fish and feed Hiccup there. This is where their friendship will blossom - Hiccup will learn to train Terrible Terrors, and Toothless and him will develop a closer physical bond while Hiccup heals. Toothless can't return Hiccup to the village himself, else he will be killed. Hiccup understands that, but he still thinks about how he can regain mobility and go back. He'll build a prosthetic leg for himself, tying it with straps of his clothing, and one day, while he is chilling on Toothless' back, Toothless will just walk off the cliff and show Hiccup the joys of flight.
Without Berk's resources, it will take Hiccup longer to master staying on Toothless' back. But eventually, he'll learn about the patterns of the dragon raids. Returning to the cove to perhaps grab something that he left behind there, Astrid will find him. The romantic flight and the discovery of the dragons' nest follow. Astrid promises not to give Toothcup's location away. Given that it's HER who won at dragon training in Hiccup's absence though, she is now expected to kill the Monstrous Nightmare in the kill ring finale. And knowing what she knows, she can't go through with it, prompting the discovery of Hiccup and Toothless. Toothless gives himself up willingly so that Hiccup can return home.
After that, the movie is basically "back to normal": Stoick uses Toothless to lead him to the dragon nest, Hiccup follows with the gang and they take down the Red Death. Toothless assumes the main part, since he is not limited by his tail. He can protect Hiccup better and outsmart the Red Death. After the fall, it's Hiccup who first gains consciousness before Toothless, and insists on taking him back to Berk so he can build him a prosthetic tail. Dragons come to live on Berk, and it's the same happy ending overall.
6. The general conflict would be slightly different having Hiccup's and Toothless' roles reversed. Some of the main differences are:
Toothless isn't part of a community in the way Hiccup is. Remember how no other dragon came to look for tailless Toothless. Toothless was abandoned because he was a lone cat, whereas Stoick would launch multiple search parties for Hiccup. So that would definitely create a different dynamic for the story.
It would be difficult to write this as a story where Toothless doesn't create the impression of keeping Hiccup "captive". There needs to be an immediate attempt to return Hiccup to the village but either Hiccup is still too sick to travel or it'll be too dangerous for Toothless, so it has to be impossible for a time. A quick Google search reveals that a below-the-knee amputation takes at least a month or two to heal. Prior to that, Hiccup cannot possibly think to put weight on a home-made prosthetic. So it'll take him an entire summer to learn how to walk again, just like it took several weeks for Toothcup to perfect their flying. Toothless isn't as physically integral to Hiccup's recovery as Hiccup was to the dragon's... Hiccup will build his own walking aid, and Toothless will "only" be there to provide food, shelter, and comfort. But on the other hand, this will give a better opportunity to gain some fascinating insight into the social order of dragons, as Hiccup will only be interacting with animals for a time.
It would be Toothless taking responsibility for the raids originating from his own nest. In the og movie, it's Hiccup who calls his father out for "killing thousands of them", and it's Stoick who sails out to end the conflict once and for all. In the reversed version, Toothless would have to decide to confront his own for "killing hundreds of them" and defeat the unrepentant and greedy dragon queen.
It would be harder to facilitate Hiccup's "discovery" without laying the blame on Astrid specifically. Perhaps Toothless finally brings Hiccup home after all, knowing fully well that he is walking into a death trap for himself.
The other themes, like of interspecies prejudices and unrelenting friendship betwee unlikely characters, could stay the same.
So, this isn't a hard outline, and there are lots of other ways that this idea can be played. If anyone feels inspired or has a better idea, PLEASE SHARE IT WITH ME; I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR ABOUT IT.
I wanna make sure that this stays a movie that feels as much like og Httyd without losing any of the beautiful message. This is not an AU where Hiccup leaves indefinitely or becomes a dragon hermit like Valka... it's not supposed to be about becoming a hero or about revenge or about proving someone wrong, but about dragons and humans overcoming their differences. It's not the vigilante AU and not Damsel (2024) with Millie Bobbie Brown. The attempt is to tell the exact same Httyd story with the same morals, but reversed roles. Since Hiccup and Toothless have different traits and personalities though, it's interesting to think about what could replace what.
Feel free to hit me up with more ideas or headcanons, seriously.
Thank you for the ask!
Cheers
Reddie
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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago
Text
End of the World V
Katie McCabe x Child!Reader
Caitlin Foord x Child!Reader
Summary: The last day in Australia
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On the last day of your trip to Australia, you go to the zoo.
It's a whole day activity because it's a night flight.
It had been Caitlin's idea actually and she's why you sit in your pram. You don't usually get put into the pram now that you're not a baby but there's meant to be lots of walking today so Mammy had rented one out for you.
You're glad though because Australia is hot and you don't like hot because it makes you sweat a lot and then your clothes cling to you.
You don't like that at all.
So, you are glad for the pram because it's perfect to be pushed around in and still being able to see all the animals.
Mammy pushes you but Caitlin's the one who points out everything to you, crouching next to your pram and explaining things from the placards that are just out of sight from you.
"Elephant," Caitlin says to you, pointing out the animal.
"Lelephant."
"Elephant," She says again.
"Lelephant."
She smiles. "Close enough. Elephants have big trunks. They use it to pick up branches to eat. See?"
She points and you follow her finger to where the elephant is chewing on some leaves.
"It's big."
"It is."
You think for a moment.
The elephant is very big, massive even. It's got a big trunk and big feet and big tusks. It's very scary and you whine a little when it wanders closer to where you and the others are watching it.
You squeeze your eyes shut quickly. "I don't like the lelephants, Caitlin!"
"Okay, okay. Let's move on." She flips through the brochure and shows it to you. "Where do you want to go?"
"Erm...er..." Your eyes glance over the pictures before focusing on the little animal with red and white fur. "That one."
"You want to see the red pandas?" Caitlin asks and you nod.
"Yes, please, Caitlin."
Mammy laughs and starts wheeling you away.
You think the red pandas aren't as big as the elephants and giraffes and aren't as scary as the lions and rhinos. The red pandas look soft and sweet like Coopurr back home.
You're right. They do look soft and sweet and you tug a little bit at the straps keeping you in your pram.
Caitlin notices and she smiles. "Do you want to get out, kiddo?"
You freeze slightly at being addressed before you cautiously nod your head. You're unclipped and up in Caitlin's arms within seconds.
At first, you feel stiff and awkward in them but it's just Caitlin. It's not like she's a stranger so you relax into her, hands on her shoulder so you can push yourself a bit further away to see the red pandas clumsily wander around their enclosure.
"Do you like them, kiddo?" Mammy asks and you nod.
"They're cute and little."
"That's right. They are."
You don't know how long you stay waiting at the red pandas but it must be a while. You don't know why you like them but it must be because they look so huggable.
At home, Coopurr only tolerates hug for a little while before he's wiggling away to go do Coopurr things that you don't understand.
Red pandas seem a little clumsy though and one of them stays snoozing in the sun the entire time you're there. They must give good cuddles.
You don't really want to leave them but you still have to get to the airport so you have to leave.
Mammy goes off to the toilet before you leave while you sit in Caitlin's arms as she wanders around the giftshop.
"Hey, kiddo," She says," Do you want this?"
She's holding a doll.
You like dolls.
It's a doll with a little red panda on its arms and red panda themed clothes. It's very cute and you bite at your lip.
"We have to go," You whisper," If we're not ready when Mammy comes back, she might get annoyed."
"Katie won't get annoyed," Caitlin assures you," Do you want it?"
You bob your heads up and down. "Yes, please, Caitlin."
When Mammy comes out of the toilet, you've got your new doll and she easily takes you from Caitlin so she can fawn over it.
She coos over it and asks questions all the way back to the airport and all the way through boarding.
She's planning on fawning over it until you settle but your ears pop without warning and you shriek.
Pulling your hands away from your ears, you find that they haven't gone back to normal. They're all blocked and weird and they hurt.
So you start sobbing, tears spilling over your cheeks.
"Shh, shh," Katie says," It's okay. It's okay. Come here."
She unclips you and you crawl over to her, burying your face into her chest.
"Here," Caitlin says, passing over the blanket she was going to use for the flight," Use this."
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httpskuzuu · 8 months ago
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It can't hurt you now
I wrote this while in spain we were in red alert for rain.
Yandere!Chuuya x Reader
I don't now english, let me cry
summary: it's a stormy night and you couldn't be more scared.
tw: idk rain¿ kidnapping, panic attack (maybe)
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The rain was pouring down heavily, drowning out the noise of the television. By now you couldn't hear what the announcer of that cheap program was saying.
In spite of everything, you decided to just focus on the images that appeared on the screen, trying to forget what was happening outside. A storm. You felt like a bit of an idiot for being afraid of something like that, not that it could do anything to you, at most, in some cases, flood the streets, but you “live” in Chuuya's attic, so that's not really a problem.
Just this once you are grateful to be locked up here, in a safe place.
A particularly loud clap of thunder completely broke your attention to anything else. You were scared and you couldn't help it, your brain refusing to pay any attention to the TV even though you begged it to. You covered your ears with your hands, trembling as if this was the end of the world, but what if it is?
Slight sobs came from your lips, thanks to them you realized that you had been crying. You don't quite know what you should do, how to stop crying or shaking, until you hear a door opening.
From here Chuuya appears, with an expression still asleep. He makes you look up with a strange gleam in your eyes, was it fear? happiness? You are not sure, although you prefer it to remain unknown. You have enough guilt for the fact that you don't hate him.
Apparently he finally noticed you leaving the bed at midnight, replacing your figure in his arms with a pillow. The feeling of fear settles in your stomach, you didn't want him to be angry, your intention was not to disobey by doing that act. If he took away your earned privileges now, like the TV, the books, your sketchbook, what would you do? This whole week is forecast in heavy rains and storms, no distractions and with a punishment you swear you will die.
“What are you doing here?” his tone conveyed weariness. You remove your hands from your head and look at him with teary eyes. You're supposed to tell him the truth, but you don't really feel like going through the humiliation of saying you're afraid of a little (a lot) of rain.
“Nothing, I couldn't sleep.” It wasn't entirely a lie, the reason for your insomnia that night was the loud noises outside. You thought that if you slept maybe the rain might kill you or some shit like that. Now, come to think of it, that idea was pretty stupid.
A clap of thunder, without warning, fell loudly, causing you to flinch like a frightened animal. A trembling sob escaped your lips, as you tried with all your might to relax and wipe away your tears.
“Hey baby, what's wrong?” Now Chuuya looks wide awake, coming up to you to hold your face in his hands. They were so warm, contrasting with your icy cheeks, you couldn't control the fact that you leaned on them almost unconsciously.
A little comfort now wouldn't hurt, especially in your near panic-stricken state.
The rain intensified even more, as did the trembling in your limbs and your uncontrolled tears. Without much thought, you threw yourself towards Chuuya, embracing him as if your life depended on it. Actually, in your frightened mind, it did.
“So you're afraid of storms, huh?” you were inwardly glad that Chuuya didn't seem annoyed by your stay in the living room, nor mocked by your fear.
Chuuya was always understanding despite his tough temperament, he was especially so with you, giving you all his patience and love even though you rejected him. This is like an opportunity for him to show you that he really loves you more than anyone else will. In spite of that, he hesitates a bit whether to comfort you or leave you lying in panic. Did you deserve his sympathy when you kept walking away from his side? Chuuya decided to ignore that little voice in his mind, he only had to listen to your stifled crying to feel guilty for thinking that.
A soft kiss is placed on the crown of your head. Chuuya strokes your back affectionately and says things to relax you. Finally, just like the rain, your tears stop, and you can lift your head from the man's chest without so much embarrassment.
Now, as you look into his sympathetic eyes, you feel humiliated. You've just let your kidnapper comfort you, plus it was out of a senseless fear. If your fear had been founded, maybe you wouldn't feel so bad. Still, there is a grateful feeling, hidden deep inside you, but there it is.
“Better?” You nod, avoiding her gaze like the plague. “Then let's go back to bed, okay, baby?”
You didn't put up any impediments when Chuuya guided you to the room, the truth is that all that panic exhausted you like never before. You didn't understand why crying was so tiring, but when you lay down on the bed you almost fell asleep in a second if it wasn't for Chuuya.
He gets your attention by putting some earplugs in your ears, carefully so as not to hurt you. Sometimes you didn't understand how he could be so sweet to you in spite of everything, but you were happy about it, you really were.
“Thank you.” Your voice sounds smaller than you'd like, but Chuuya smiles at your words. It's not a smirk or a wicked smile, it seems simply… warm, loving.
You feel strange about your feelings, especially when you feel your cheeks burning. Chuuya kisses your already dry cheek and lies down next to you on the bed, hugging you from behind and stroking your hair.
You could get used to this.
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sunrisecaminus · 4 months ago
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Hallo hallo, tfp Soundwave enjoyer here, is a cybertronian reader x Soundwave acceptable? ;
Where the reader mentions wanting to be a carrier within Sounders hearing vacinity[cameras n' whatnot around the Nemesis or just whenever reader knows he's nearby] maybe even teasing him about wanting to be one but soon as the reader is confronted they are just too flustered.[take this info in either sfw or nsfw, I just think it'd be mad funny if the reader was being a little shit up until they are confronted and they just fold immediately] - 🎐✨
Message - This is adorably funny, but I don't think I wrote this one well. I apologize for the writing if something is bad.
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Soundwave x Cybertronian Reader NSFW
Summary - Cybertronian conjunx wants sparklings and teases Soundwave so badly that he goes to shut her ass up (sensually).
Warning - NSFW, Brat Tamer?
It's work hours, and right now you wanted that to change. Being able to being conjunx with Soundwave was such a privilege, being able to not be harassed by soldiers all the time. Soundwave saw you as an important soldier and took you under his wing to teach you how to be a better combatant. After realizing he can trust you with work, Soundwave started to see you more as a friend than an employee. It flourished to love, and now both of you work with each other well and have became very feared in the Decepticon ranks. Megatron thought of you as nothing more than a replacement and didn't want to get attached to you, but Soundwave forced him to, not wanting there to ever be a moment where Megatron can just sacrifice you without hesitation. Soundwave is smart to understand that if Megatron likes someone, the person will ultimately be able to lie longer in the war. He wanted to make sure his conjunx would have a nice relationship with his leader to make sure you were safe, but honestly he kind of regrets it now. You and Megatron are the bratty duo and will never leave him alone about things. Both of you make excuses for each other's messes…it makes Soundwave want to just walk out every time. It was no joke that he was the reason this entire war kept going and the Decepticons not in the grave right now.
You knew it would be a good time to play another trick on Soundwave, but this time, it would be more sensual. It has been well known to you that you have been wanting sparklings for a while. It makes you upset whenever the war keeps going on, knowing that if you had a kid now, it would be very dangerous. After some thinking you were able to plan out a safe way to take care of the baby, but now it is time to tempt the second in command to help him understand you want to make the next generation. It's rumored that Soundwave checks camera's almost 24/7. Is it true? Yeah it is, sometimes you have to drag him away from the computer to have him catch a break from working too hard. Looking around, you see a security camera in your office area, the lens focusing on you with a red light on the top of it, showing Soundwave was actively watching you, or at least has the footage on his computer. You smirk at the camera and rubbed your arms a bit, slowly going over around your frame. Rubbing around your chassis, all the way down to your thighs; You give him half lid optics to try and tease him. Soundwave was checking all his tabs when it cuts to the security camera in your office. He sees you posing for the camera and realized what you were doing. He stares at the screen, thinking to himself 'what is this little shit doing?'.
Getting up on your desk, you slowly spread your legs and rub your servos around your upper legs. You had to think of another way to grab more attention, but you didn't want to give him your whole valve. Laying on the desk, you arch your back to be in a more sexier position and spread your legs open more to show your whole body. You don't know if he is even looking from his computer; What if you were doing this all for nothing? Either way, you looked great doing these and you were going to enjoy yourself looking fabulous on a table. You roll onto your stomach and pull out a drawer for the front of the desk, pulling out your energon cube for lunch. As you drink your energon, your butt was right in the camera's vision and your legs were slowly kicking in the air. Thank goodness you locked your door, the only other person knowing your code to enter in is Soundwave.
Speaking of which, you hear the door clicking a bit from the other side, meaning that someone is punching in the code to come it. You sit up at the edge of the desk and wait to see if it opens, which to your luck it does. Soundwave's figure is there, staring at you with a unemotional face like he always has. Funny enough, after knowing him for so long, you can kind of tell what he feels even when you can't see his face. Something is telling you right now he is giving you the 'The hell is wrong with you?' look under that mask. Giggling from his entrance, you cross your legs and smile. "Hi baby! Had fun?" He didn't move, thinking about what to do with your gremlin ass. The evil smirk you are giving him makes him feel like he needs to fix it. His tendrils come out, which automatically made you nervous and timid about what he was about to do. You surrender your arms in the air and give him some nervous laughter. "H-hey now! I was just teasing y- Ah!" You scream from him forcefully grabbing you by the arms, throwing you back onto the desk and shutting the door. You didn't think he could be so rough with you, but honestly he has needed to tame you and stop this bad behavior from the start~
Tendrils are wrapped around your legs to force them open, making you blush madly and try to get them closed out of embarrassment. "Wait! D-Don't be so rough!" You playfully complain about his new change, but honestly it was quite hot to see him so aggressive. He takes his servo and opens your panel, making you feel the air hit your sensitive areas. Moaning from the new touching, you grind on Soundwave's servo to show you wanted more from him; He understands your intentions and doesn't give you what you want. His servo doesn't move, not giving you the pleasure that you thought you would receive. You whine from the horrible feeling and kept grinding, trying to stare at him with your pleading eyes. Soundwave waits until you kiss one of his tendrils to show him you meant nothing, but love. Soundwave doesn't want to give you pleasure if you were going to keep the attitude going. Feeling his digits enter inside you, makes you look up at the ceiling of the room and moan out his name. It felt so good, but your mind was going to other places…like sparklings. All he knows is that you wanted to interface, but maybe the mood would change if you told him how you really felt in this moment. Looking at him again to try to catch his attention, which you did, motioning something is wrong. Soundwave stopped what he was doing and went back to mother mode, pressing his servo on your chassis. His screen gives a question mark to show that he was listening. Sighing out of nervousness, you stutter trying to tell him your wish. "I th-thought maybe we could try something n-new? I have been thinking about being able to take care of…little ones." Soundwave perks at the two words you spoke out to him and he thinks about it. You know he is still there by him rubbing his digits on you chest.
After sometime you feel him grabbing you again, but with a little more gentle in touch. Soundwave caresses your thigh and drags you a big closure to his body. His tendrils tie themselves around your arms to pull them above your head and start to press his crotch plate into your valve. Gasping from the pleasure, you smile knowing he agree with wanting children and is being more romantic in his approach. Soundwave releases his plating and drags his spike in between your folds. Your mind was a daze, not understanding why you were feeling so much while also receiving so little. If this is how much it takes to get you into a mess, then how is it going to be when Soundwave pounds inside you? His tendrils play with your digits as he inserts himself inside of your walls. Your back arches as he starts to smoothly go in and out of you repeatedly. "Ah! Soundwave! Oh baby!" Your optics were so blurry, only thinking about what was happening to you now. It had to be the best feeling you had in years. Wanting nothing but him, you wrap your legs around his body and kiss his head. You have already cum from your sensitivity, feeling the sweet bliss of Soundwave slamming inside of you deep. He takes a bit more, but after a while he thrusts one more time and fills you up to make sure every inch of your insides were full to the brim. He watches as your body goes limp, capping you and secretly taking you to his room without anyone finding y'all. He sets you on his birth and turns the air conditioning on. Cleaning your frame before slipping in the sheets, Soundwave wraps an arm around your body and nuzzles his helm with yours.
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from-a-farther-room · 8 days ago
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After literal years of solely lurking here and never talking to anyone outside of comments on my own or others' fics on ao3, the tog sequel came out and it turns out I have a lot of feelings that cannot be sufficiently exorcised through fic-writing alone, so, uh, hi? 👋
I've been seeing a lot of discussion over the gayness, or lack thereof, in the sequel, running the gamut from, roughly, "where did all the gay go???" to "it's fine, we don't have to see them bang on screen to know they're in love" and I don't think either of those are entirely wrong, but, but, but. Behind the cut (why yes I am An Old who still speaks livejournal) for length & spoilers:
Starting with Joe & Nicky: I don't agree with the claims that they made them just bros. What happened here didn't take anything away from what we already know about their relationship. Leaving aside how I feel about some plot-related choices (which is a whole other discussion), I don't have any problem with what they did show here - the playfulness in the heist and the extremely old-married banter at the dinner table are delightful; the awkward goodbye in the port scene makes sense given that Joe is lying to Nicky and clearly not good at or comfortable with it; the emotion on both sides in the Paris fight scene is delicious; the forehead nuzzling without a kiss in the cliffs of Moher scene works because that moment is primarily about comfort and reassurance, not sex or romance. We know they're in love and can understand all of these as different manifestations of that love, and it's great to see some aspects of them that we didn't see (at least not as clearly) before.
But I do think it's very valid to criticise that these specific aspects are all that was shown, particularly in contrast to the first film. One of the things that was so striking to many of us about the first one was that we had these two men in a more-or-less mainstream action flick who were shown to be tough and competent and badass, and also soft and tender and deeply in love - explicitly, undeniably, romantic love - with each other.
Now I know Joe & Nicky are secondary characters, and I was never expecting a massive amount of screen time or something as big and bold as the van speech in this one, but their relationship in the first one isn't just the van speech. It's also all the other smaller moments, including the very brief stuff that appears in scenes that aren't otherwise about them or their relationship - the two instances of sleep-cuddling, the always looking to each other first and checking in after one or both are wounded or killed, 'the love of my life', the conversation in the lab.
It would not have taken much to include more of the same sorts of things in the sequel, without cutting back on anything else:
-Instead of just that long-distance shot of them coming out of the water after the car crash, we could have stayed there for a couple of seconds of them checking in with each other and trading some kind of innuendo (alla 'THAT time in Malta') before they go off to find the others. -We could have followed them for a few seconds after they leave the dinner table to see them kissing before the focus comes back to Andy & Nile at the table (Nicky: 'stanotte zitto' Joe: 'why don't you make me' Nicky: *kisses him*, done, back to the ladies). -Instead of just Nicky walking off after Booker's "I guess you don't", we could have had a few seconds of Joe following him into another room and some quick hint at making up after their fight (Joe: 'I'm sorry. I love you.' Nicky, softening: 'I know.' *they hold each other for a moment and then sit down to talk*, done, on to the next scene). -They could've shown Andy & Nile getting back from Rome early in the morning or late at night and included a shot of Joe & Nicky cuddled together in bed and waking up when Nicky hears the car. Or panned past them asleep together in Seoul as Booker is coming from the library to talk to Andy. Or literally any interaction at all between the two of them in the ~35 minutes between Andy coming back with Tuah and the cliffs of Moher scene. Similarly, I loved the intimacy we did see at the end between Andy and Quynh, and I think it's reasonable to say that they're not at a point now where a kiss would necessarily fit, but why couldn't we see them kiss in a flashback? They filmed the scene where Quynh gives Andy the necklace, they could very easily have taken a couple more seconds for a kiss there, if nothing else.
I don't think it's purely an accident of lazy writing or messy editing that none of the above made it into the film, that Nicky's 'ti amo' and Joe's 'caro' aren't subtitled in the default English version, that both the Joe/Nicky and Andy/Quynh interactions we do see could plausibly be read as platonic by the portion of the audience that isn't paying that much attention because they didn't spend the last five years deeply invested in these relationships and only half-remember the first film as 'that one where Charlize Theron has an axe'.
The gay is absolutely still there if you're willing to see it, but the first time around, Joe and Nicky were damn well kissing each other on the mouth whether anyone wanted to see it or not, and I think it's very fair to be disappointed and/or angry that the sequel didn't continue in that same unashamed and undeniable vein.
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blorbocedes · 4 months ago
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Lando is on top of the world, lounging on AirMax, heading into summer break as the championship leader.
The team had hoped he'd be leading the championship by a clear margin by now, allowing them to institute a 1-2 and bring home both the championships. But Oscar was still close enough that that made it insulting, to play second driver when you're one DNF away from leading the championship yourself. Lando was fine challenging Oscar on merit, and he'd done so far, innit?
Although the way the media spun it... let's just say he's glad the focus is on Max potentially leaving RedBull now, after he was spotted speaking with Toto in Mercedes hospitality.
The RedBull's kind of been a shit show. Max has been clawing at that distant P3 but only barely, and the behind the scenes internal drama, the struggling second seat -- he does not envy Max getting grilled about that every weekend.
"So, is it true?" Lando asks, raising an eyebrow. "You and Toto sitting on a tree?"
Max sips on his gin&tonic, with an air of 'you know I can't say that.'
"Come onnnn," Lando persists. Max hands him his drink and he takes a huge gulp, washing out the champagne flavour from his mouth.
Max turns to him, completely serious. He picks his words carefully. "Sometimes you can spend your whole life with a team, right? And the partnership is good. But if they do something that makes it intolerable, it's better to walk out. If they break your trust."
Lando nods quickly, taken aback by Max's seriousness. Things internally at RedBull must be worse than reported. "Course. You can be loyal to a team but you're also a driver at the end of the day, you have weigh your options and your future." Max is father now, after all, which is still surreal to think about. His lockscreen is the baby girl.
Max softens. "First one's always the best. Enjoy it, Lando. I know I did."
"It's not over til it's over." Lando says, but crosses his fingers.
What hurt the most is that it really was out of the blue for him. He'd never ever ever expect it.
Zak pulling him aside, telling him they're willing to pay out his whole contract and then more. That he'll always be a part of the papaya family. Their first world champion after Lewis in 08.
It was an out of body experience, like wading through water, the words washing over him. He kept repeating, "I don't understand."
"Kid, it was out of my hands. Once it was official Verstappen showed interest, I had to report it to the board -- and Bahrain." Zak tried to soften the blow, hiding that he had been the one aggressively courting Max. Showing him confidential information of their projections of the new car.
None of it made sense. Lando's entire world was coming to a crash. The 2026 car was a gamble, they and Mercedes were neck and neck, they were powered by them after all, but '27 was supposed to return to form for McLaren with the new regulations.
"Believe me, you and Oscar were the dream pairing." Zak always emphasized the R in Oscar in his harsh American accent.
"Oscar." Lando said faintly. Oscar who came second to him, who he beat all 3 years they've been teammates. Why? Why him? Hadn't he proven himself, hadn't he won the title, hadn't he been with the team through fucking everything when the car barely worked? Andrea's comment vaguely echoes in his head, Lando is our present, Oscar is our future.
"You don't put two big dogs in the same team. You're a big dog now, Lan." Zak had his hand on Lando's shoulder like that was supposed to make it better. Lando is McLaren's World Champion and they still chose Max Verstappen.
"Why?" Why kicking him out and not Oscar — it's an unfair thought but he was better. There's a searing, heavy, visceral pain in his chest making it heart to breathe.
"Their reasoning was --" Zak hesitates, "It would've been a McLaren driver winning this year either way. But we don't know how 26 is gonna pan out just yet. And, I guess they were really impressed with how Max won it in '24 when that wasn't the best car, so when he came knocking..."
Zak said more words after that but it all got tuned out. After that his lawyers handled the rest. When the news dropped of Verstappen and McLaren after the season ended, Lando turned his phone off, packed his bags, and headed to Finland with Max Fewtrell.
The 'no thanks' to RedBull was easy. He had no interest in going to Milton Keynes and seeing Max's face, his trophies, his legacy everywhere.
He didn't even ask who he was replacing when the offer from Ferrari came. It's racing, after all.
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106alibi · 5 months ago
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good graces ; use me
w.c: ~1.1k (I TRIED TO CUT WORDS ALREADY IM SORRRRYYYYY)
note: text portion at the bottom!
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the drive back to your condominium was silent, with the rumble of the engine and the tapping of jeno’s fingers against the wheel the only sounds filling the air.
jeno wasn't stupid. he could tell something was up, especially when you, the one who invited him to the party, suddenly requested to leave early without an explanation. though curiosity was eating him up on the inside, he held his lips tight and stepped on the pedal.
the car rolled slowly into the lot, coming to a halt once the back tires hit the wheel stop. he unbuckled his seat belt, stealing glances at you in an attempt to read you, but all you did was stare straight ahead, your eyes in a daze and your mind clearly anywhere but the car the two of you were in. you were only snapped out of your thoughts when your seat belt had come undone with a click. you looked up at jeno, who had undone your seat belt for you and was now propping his weight off the frame of the door with one arm, the other hand outstretched.
you looked up at his outstretched palm and the sweet smile that hung on his crescent eyes. he doesn’t deserve this. you took his palm in yours and exited the vehicle.
the elevator arrived at the top floor of the condominium with a ‘ding’. jeno gestured for you to enter the unit, his hands shoved into his pockets as his hair fell just above his pretty eyes. you stared at his face, preparing yourself for what's about to come. he cocked an eyebrow at your lack of movement.
“do you want to come in?”
you kicked off your shoes at the entrance and brisk-walked to your couch, plopping down on it, sending a signal to jeno that he should follow suit. you chewed on your bottom lip as you watched him make his way to the couch, wondering how you should bring up the issue.
“hey! I don't actually like you! I've been using you to get back at my ex-boyfriend this entire time!”
no. you thought that perhaps you should start from the beginning.
“you know the guy we bumped into earlier?”
“oh, your friend jake?”
you visibly cringed at the word ‘friend’.
“he isn't actually my friend. he's my ex.”
if jeno was shocked, he didn't show it. his kind eyes and silence only prompted you to elaborate further.
but you found the words lodged in your throat as you tried to recall why and when jake had became an ex. it was just so…humiliating. to have to admit to someone else that your own boyfriend left you for another girl; that you weren't good enough, pretty enough, understanding enough. and that above all, you weren’t smart enough to have picked up on all the clues he had laid out perfectly for you. you swallowed thickly.
“he…cheated on me. with that girl, natty."
you lowered your eyes to the rings in your fingers, trying to blink away the layer of sheen and silently wishing that jeno wouldn't notice the hurt that glazed over your eyes. jeno’s warm hand engulfed your cold fingers gingerly as he took it into his own lap and scooted closer to you.
“you don't have to say anything. I'll be here until you feel better.”
you almost scoffed. not at him, but at the situation. here jeno was, naively rubbing comforting circles in the back of your hand with his thumb trying to comfort you, thinking you were someone worth comforting, not knowing that he had been a victim this whole time of your stupid revenge plan.
you liked jeno, you really did. he was a great friend, easy to talk to, always kind to you. eventually, he made you forget that you were just use him.
but a moment’s forgetfulness didn't excuse the fact that you did, that you were that low, that pathetic.
sure, confirming that jake never really loved you was a stab to the chest, but for some reason, knowing that you were about to hurt jeno pushed the knife deeper.
you pulled your hand away from jeno’s grasp and willed yourself to look him in the eye, your heart turning to mush as a pout unknowingly formed on his lips. you took a deep breath.
“i wanted to get back at jake. i wanted him to know that i could pull someone better than him. someone better than him in his eyes. and, if he didn’t tell you earlier, you’re his favourite boxer.”
you watched as jeno’s eyebrows knitted, trying to piece everything together.
“i’m sorry, i….” you squeaked out, the hot tears breaking the dam of your lash line. you covered your face with your free hand, not wanting jeno to see the state you were in as you willed your lungs to push out the last of your confession.
“i was using you.” your voice shook. you bit your lips shut, feeling undeserving of the sob that threatened to escape your throat.
“i was using you to make jake jealous, but guess what? it didn’t even work.” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling even if you wanted to. “i’m so sorry, jeno. for leading you on.” your heart squeezed at your own outburst. your palm soaked in your own salty tears to not only prevent jeno from seeing you in such a pathetic state, but to shield yourself from his reaction too.
this was the end. this would be the end of your revenge plan, a plan that shouldn't have been born in the first place. this would be the end of your relationship with jeno.
“just…let me ask you something.”
you pursed your lips and nodded for him to go on.
“when you were with me," you heard him gulp, "were you happy? genuinely?”
you didn't have to think twice. you nodded vigorously, still hiding behind your hand as you sniffled loudly, not wanting to see the hurt in jeno’s eyes.
a warm arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you in, and suddenly you found your head resting on jeno’s shoulder. he made gentle, large strokes down your back, the other arm wrapped firmly around your waist as he rested his cheek on the top of your head. you bunched his blazer between your fingers, your knuckles turning white as you sobbed into his shoulder.
you wanted jeno to hate you. he should have. so why in the world was lee jeno comforting you right now, when you were the one who hurt him?
jeno gently pulled you away to look at your damp cheeks once you had calmed down a little, wiping away the stray tears with his thumb as his palm cupped the flesh of your cheeks warmly.
“i'll allow it.”
his voice came out as a whisper in the cold air, a soft laugh following as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, a touch as light as feather.
"what?" you blinked through blurry eyes.
“if it makes you happy, then use me.”
because at this point, jeno had fallen too deep to lose you.
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a/n: I can point out 39372928 things that are wrong with how things are unfolding but I'll keep my mouth zipped if not I'll spiral and start to hate everything
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monimccoythings · 3 months ago
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Small!Bunnymund Headcanons
Watched Rise of the Guardians again last night. So good, very underrated movie, yet I think it's for the best, otherwise DreamWorks would have found a way to overexploit it and fuck it up. Might re-read the books later. I remember really liking Pitch Black and Toothiana (she's so pretty!) when I was younger, but now... Oh now, hearing Hugh Jackman out of a rabbit...
This is also a personal reminder that I WANT A PET RABBIT, but my apartment doesn't allow pets.
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Tags: gn! reader, fun size Bunnymund, mostly platonic, but if you want to interpret it as some cute first meeting pre-relationship go for it.
You actually found him in an alleyway at night. You had been out partying with your friends and heard some calls for help.
When you got there with a broken pipe ready to beat the shit out of the assaulter, you didn't expect to find that some trapped rabbit was actually the one calling for help.
He warns you to stay back and something something about being fierce and well trained in all martial arts, meanwhile you were wondering if you didn't have too much to drink because holy shit that rabbit is actually talking and you understand him.
When he realizes that you are dumbly nodding to all he's saying he's stunned too because yeah, you're an adult and you cannot only see him but also hear him.
It doesn't take long to convince him to let you take him to your home. It's cold, it's dark, and the streets are a dangerous place for a little bunny. He's still wary of you, though.
When you wake up the next morning, and find him flopped on a pillow you start selectively remembering some things about the night before. And then he talks. And sober you freaks out.
So, yeah, now you live with a talking rabbit who says he's the Easter Bunny. And you believe him without questioning. He's a talking rabbit who are you to argue with him.
He's not sure what got him shrunk to that size, since children still believe in him. But he senses that there may be some external force that keeps blocking him from accessing his powers.
During the day, while you go to work, he stays home. From the very beginning you try to give him as much a accomodations as someone his size could need.
You are not sure what to feed him, tbh. On one hand, he's a magical being; on the other, he is a rabbit, and rabbits are known for their very delicate digestive systems.
Bunnymund looks at the pellets as if they were a crime against God. "Ain't eating that, mate". You know you can't just give him a carrot for each meal in that state. Too sugary and dangerous, so you manage to bargain with him to eat the pellets and have some carrot for dessert.
He's toilet trained THANK GOD. You don't need to make this more weird than it already is. But you decide to keep the litterbox just in case...
He likes to keep himself busy and in shape while you're away. He trains his speed, endurance and hopping prowess around your studio. Just because he's smaller now doesn't mean Easter has been canceled, he needs to step up his game. (From your security cameras' point of view he's just binkying and zooming around the room lol)
Occasionally you take him out for walks, you feel guilty about having him cooped up inside your apartment for most of the day, he deserves to have some fresh air from time to time.
You live in a big city and big cities are dangerous for little bunnies, too many dogs, cars, and people. When you two go out, you carry him in a bag strapped to your chest. He finds the whole ordeal embarrassing and won't hesitate to complain the entire trip. Hey, if he has a better idea, you're dying to hear him out.
Very reluctant to being scratched, he is the bloody Easter Bunny for God's sake, not some domestic rabbit. But when you absentmindedly pet him, he allows it, though he tries very hard to not show how much he's enjoying it.
Teeth. Purrs. He makes them. He'll argue that he doesn't but you know you aren't imagining things. Not with the way he's flopped against your side.
Late night talks. If you didn't have to work the next day you could spend the entire night talking to each other. As you two soon found out, nobody else could understand Bunnymund like you did, unless they were, of course, children.
He tells you all about his species, the pookas. How they vanished one day, no, how Pitch Black, the actual and very real Boogeyman, exterminated them, leaving him the sole survivor of his race. Sometimes you think you hear some pain and sorrow in his voice, but you don't press further.
You talk about your life, your job, your family and friends; about how after so many years of hard work you came to live here. And he listens, he is actually a good listener and converser.
You don't know how fate managed to string you together, but you're grateful. It makes your days less lonely. And you are very determined to help him get back his powers and return back to normal.
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snoopyhughes · 2 months ago
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to be loved is to be known: Joe burrow
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hello and welcome to the next installment of to be loved is to be known. Sweet Joey just makes my heart happy. He is like Quinn a bit to me, not the best with words but will do just about anything to show you just how much he loves you. Apologies for the delay and if this seems choppy, I've been writing this since January LOL. I really wanted to get something out, it's briefly edited but I hope you all love it. 1.1k words, a few mentions of this being a fem!reader
to be loved is to be known...
Joey to me seems like someone who has no idea what to do with all the money he has (i.e. the Batmobile). In his eyes, he has everything he could ever want. Having you and loving you is the only thing he has ever wanted. This means that all he ever wants do is spend his money on YOU. There is absolutely nothing he could ever want more than making you happy. And yes, he knows that money does not buy happiness, but to see the beam in your eyes, the look on your face when he comes home with a new necklace, a pair of shoes you were eyeing, a restock of your favorite perfume, anything to make you happy, he is buying it for you.
You insist that you don't need anything extravagant. That just like him, you have all you could ever want with being able to love him and be with him. Unfortunately, Joe struggles with taking no for an answer when it comes to spoiling you. You technically have a rule that he can only buy you one gift a month because he has the tendency to buy you a gift every time he leaves the house. He doesn't always honor it, but it eases some of the guilt you feel that he probably spends your entire year's salary on gifts for you. Speaking of salaries...
to be loved is to be known...
As mentioned previously, Joe loves to spoil you. When you two had been together for a while and had moved in together, Joe didn't understand why you wanted to continue to work. He was naive and ignorant at the start, and sometimes lacked common sense. However, Joe would never dream of suggesting you quit your job anymore. He knows how much you value your sense of independence and pride as a strong woman and he loves that about you. Whatever you do for work, Joe supports you whole heartedly, through every good day and every bad day.
If you want to start a new business venture, Joe is throwing money at anything you talk about wanting. If you are a teacher, Joe comes in as much as he can to help out with your class, put things up in your classroom, leave treats and flowers in the teachers lounge, and absolutely loves sitting with you on your lunch break. You'd even have a reward called "Lunch with Mrs. and Mr. Burrow" where students can cash in their positive points for a lunch with the two of you. It is without a doubt your most popular prize.
And if you work in the medical field, Joe is constantly praising your hard work and helping you out at home however he can. Joe obviously can't scrub into surgery or help you take vitals, but he can make sure your life at home is as perfect as possible when you get back from a long day. And if the hospital or doctor's office you work at happens to get a large donation from an anonymous donor to build a renovated wing in the department you work in, well Joe is none the wiser.
to be loved is to be known...
I feel like Joe's main love language is quality time. As someone who is away a lot, I feel like he would never take the quality time for granted. Watching movies on the couch, making dinner together, building legos together on a rainy day, reading books side by side and annotating the margins for when you switch books when you're both done. Joe values quality time at home more than he values flashy gifts, and words of affirmation, and even physical touch, although I do think he can be a very touchy lover.
Joe is protective as a lion, but doesn't want to overwhelm you or think he doesn't trust you. He is protective in the subtle ways: walking on the side closest to the street, always holding your purse and being the one to get your drinks at the bar, keeping a soft hand on you at all times to keep you grounded and ensure that you are safe, both physically and emotionally when he is around, especially on nights with the team or at the crowded sporting events he loves. Speaking of...
to be loved is to be known...
Don't even get me started on Joe being with a sporty girl. You could be the most unathletic person on planet Earth, but if you love sports as much as he does, he will fall 100x harder. We all know how much Joe loves football, wrestling, car riding, etc. But if you loved a sport that Joe doesn't know much about, he would take it upon himself to learn every rule, every player on your favorite team, etc. And he doesn't care if that favorite team is in Cincinnati or if it's in California, you will have season tickets and go to as many games as you want. (That's what he has the private jet for, of course.)
to be loved is to be known...
Not to make this all about money and gifts (although Joe has the most money of any athlete I've ever followed lol), but I know Joe truly is a laidback person who values quality time and quality relationships more than any flashy car or thousand dollar outfit. He just wants to make you happy, however that may be. Neither of you need expensive gifts, or lavish date nights. All that matters to both of you is that you get to spend quality time together.
While he can be a flashy person, I think Joe also loves in a quiet way. Washing the sheets for you and making the bed because he knows you hate it, having food made for you when you get home from work on his off day, keeping your gas tank filled at all times and having his card linked to all of your shopping and food apps, making sure you are the most comfortable as you can be at his games, even if that means watching at home, wrapped up on the couch with the dog. Joe's life has become flashy, one for the cameras and spotlight, but none of that matters to him at the end of the day. What matters most to him is making you happy and seeing you smile everyday. I truly believe when he finds the person he loves the most in this world, he would give up anything if it meant he could make them happy. Joe is a fierce lover who would do anything for his loved ones, and I don't think that would stop at all when it comes to a partner, I think it would intensify.
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delewlew · 1 year ago
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coke with lemon: oscar piastri x hijabi black fem! reader
request: hi there I would love a make an request for Oscar and an hijabi reader where Oscar is a simp for her and Lando loves to be near her to annoy Oscar. Thank you. @animeandf1lover
warnings: none
authors note: thank you so much for the request! this is my first time writing for a hijabi reader so i hope i portrayed this respectfully. i did a bit of homework to make sure i was doing your request justice so i hope you enjoy it. if there's anything that is incorrect, offensive, disrespectful, etc please let me know immediately and i'll be more than willing to fix it. lastly, comments and messages are always appreciated and encouraged!
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you were a friend of lando's and he'd told you about this guy he knew called oscar. every time lando brought this oscar up in conversation you were quick to shut it down, insisting that you didn't want to date anyone and your friend needed to stop trying to set you up. little did you know, oscar was the one asking for a chance to meet you.
you'd crossed paths at a party and you noticed him staring at you then looking away when he was caught. part of you thought it was creepy but then again why would lando invite a creep to his birthday party? so you approached him to see what his deal was.
rather quickly you came to the realization that he was the oscar lando had told you about- tall, brown hair with a side bang, kinda awkward, and australian.
you liked the way his eyes met yours then darted elsewhere every now and again when you spoke to him. the way his ears turned red and a smile fought its way onto his face when you laughed.
he'd asked if you wanted something to drink and you absentmindedly agreed without specifying what you wanted. so you just watched him from a distance and mentally prepared yourself for having to turn something away.
but then you noticed the bartender handed him two glasses and he handed you one, "it's just coke with lemon, is that alright?"
and when lando found you both talking he was quick to make it known that he'd been trying to make this happen for months. oscar was quick to shoo him off, "i think i see one of your lady friends looking for you over there. how about you go see if she's alright."
months passed and you and oscar had gone on a few dates, alternating between who picked the place.
he might be a little awkward but you both always end up having meaningful conversations without any problem.
he showed genuine interest in you and everything about you, asking you about your favorite things and committing them to memory.
you didn't know too much about f1, but you'd known some from being friends with lando. however, you became an expert within a week because you were just that interested in oscar.
he asked you to be his girlfriend one night after you'd texted him that you couldn't sleep so he came over and you went on a walk before he walked you back home.
lando took credit for orchestrating the entire thing the minute he found out and you and oscar just let him have it.
you noticed the the ways oscar showed his affection towards you like walking on the outside of the sidewalk, listening to you go on rants about that show you watch that he doesn't understand, opening doors for you especially in the car, giving you small gifts here and there just because.
he made the mistake of buying you flowers when he was out with lando once. he'd seen this bunch of pink and orange tulips and he grabbed them for you. lando assumed it was for a specific holiday or something but instead oscar reasoned that he was getting them because 'they reminded him of you'.
so when you received them lando was sitting there with a stupidly big smile and whispering to him, "why don't you tell y/n why you got her these lovely tulips."
oscar's face was beet red as he exhaled and admitted, "i thought they were beautiful which reminded me of you."
you found the whole thing adorable but oscar found it as a reason to avoid lando when he was doing anything for or with you.
complements aren't exclusive to 'you look beautiful' he tends to bring up things you wouldn't think someone would notice. like when he was asked about you by a host during a podcast and he highlighted that you were hardworking, determined, genuine, selfless, and that he loved your outlook on life.
lando was there for that one too....yes he was quick to send you a voice note mimicking oscar's accent and reciting word for word everything he said.
oscar tended to be very focused on race weekends but the second you let the nickname "ozzie" slip he was done for. absoultely anything you wanted or asked for was going to be given, all you had to do was bat your pretty little eyes and smile.
lando absolutely loved to bring it up, claiming that if you asked him to jump off a cliff that he'd do it. oscar couldn't deny it either all he could say was "why would she ask me to do that?"
the first time you held his hand he smiled the entire day, and yes it was a race day and yes it did in fact go viral, and yes lando didn't let him hear the end of it.
every single weekend the first thing you did was tell him how proud you were of his performance during the race.
it was evident when you'd seen him before press and when you hadn't because he was only ever smiley after seeing you.
and of course lando teased the hell out of him for it, insisting you stay by his side all the time to keep him in a constant good mood.
but he couldn't help it, he was in love and you were too.
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darkstarofchaos · 1 year ago
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Okay. While we're talking about EarthSpark S1 problems that have been made worse by S2. Why is Megatron special?
One of the weakest parts of EarthSpark for me has always been the fact that Megatron is the only Decepticon known to have defected. Later on, Cons like Breakdown, Tarantulas, and even Starscream added some nuance by showing them willing to risk themselves for non-Decepticons, though understandably, none of them were willing to defect at that point. But even though such Cons clearly existed, none of them defected along with Megatron, or at any other point during the war.
And Megatron's own defection was just... It's painfully obvious that he was developed to be a Good Guy and didn't have a lot of thought put into what he was like as a Decepticon. By his own admission and Starscream's assessment, he was a violent leader who ruled with fear, but all it took to make him change sides was... Seeing a human care more about his side than he did? That's it? And if that is why he changed sides, he clearly took the wrong lesson away from that, because he still doesn't care about what used to be his side. Instead of trying to do better by them, he abandons them. And then all he has to do to make Optimus trust him is... Scan an Earth altmode. Really.
It all feels very weak to me, and doesn't adequately explain anything. Did Megatron make any attempt to be a kinder leader, or did he just defect immediately after seeing the Error Of His Ways? How did we get from "damn, I don't care about my guys enough" to "my whole cause is corrupt, I'mma go now"? Did he ever try to use his position as leader of the freaking Decepticons to end the war peacefully or steer them onto a better path, or did he just wash his hands of them the moment he considered himself morally superior to them? If he did try to use his influence before bailing, how did he change so much so fast that none of his officers wanted to follow him anymore? Why did he give up on his entire faction and not bring any of the more open-minded Decepticons with him?
There are so many questions that either aren't answered or only get vague suggestions of what might have happened, and the answers we do get aren't enough for me to buy Megatron's redemption. It all feels too fast and too easy, and I do not understand why he could defect from the faction he led but less committed Decepticons just didn't.
And now all of these issues are worse than ever, because all the nuance the other Decepticons had is gone. Now it's just "Y'know, Decepticons. They're evil." Apparently not all of them, because Megatron is still hanging out with the Autobots, Con insignia and all! I ask again, why is Megatron special? Why does he get to change but all the others have to be flat and evil?
The real-world answer, of course, is that he never changed. He was conceived as a good person and ally to the Autobots, and that's how he's going to stay. But you cannot have a "Cons are just evil" story while the ex-leader of the Cons is walking freely in the Autobot base. Megatron's entire character is only possible with the assumption that Decepticons are capable of changing, and trying to revert to Cons Evil makes his redemption weaker than ever. Because it's so painfully obvious that he was written to be a good person and his dark history doesn't actually matter.
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