#God sometimes I fucking hate writing but I do love it dearly. I’m in a toxic situationship with my wips I feel

[ihhfhonao3]

“Man I wish I had time to write” says the man who has all the time in the world but is simply lacking in motivation

#writeblr #writelr #writer problems #writer things #writing #writing problems #writing humor #writing memes #creative writing #God sometimes I fucking hate writing but I do love it dearly. I’m in a toxic situationship with my wips I feel

[anothermouse]

(vent) when I had maladaptive daydreaming issues, I’d wake up in the morning daydreaming, I’d think about my characters all morning and work on my story playlists, and it wouldn’t stop when I got to school, it was just being one (and sometimes two) foot in my head at all times. I’d go to the kitchen and get stuck pacing lost in my head and wouldn’t eat. I’d lay awake in bed for hours thinking about them. My biggest core hobby was art and I only learned it to draw the characters from my daydreams. I had a serious problem, and I miss it so, so much.

#Fuck man. I miss being in love with something so dearly #I feel empty without it. I have friends now and I get to sleep most nights and I can eat breakfast most mornings #my mental health is better I have new interests and I know myself better! So why do I miss it so bad #I feel like I’ve been locked out of my own home. I loved loved loved my daydreams so much. They were my life my genuine whole life #and I overcame it and I just wish I could have it back sometimes. #I was wrapped in so many layers of dissociation and it wasn’t healthy for me physically or mentally but I was genuinely so happy before #The depression. The daydreaming was a major factor in the depression #It’s not like I don’t daydream at all anymore but it just keeps getting harder and I hate it so much #I miss Hunters223. I miss prodigy and the neighborhood and unspeakable #and peck. God I miss peck aha he used to make me so happy so so happy #My little shining light during depression. #Generations is like a tiny ripple left on my life compared to that glory it used to always hold. I miss the passion so badly #vent #Jay still loves tolverse. Her heart is still in it and it gives me some feeling back to draw things for tolverse knowing how much she’ll #love them. #I’m probably being over dramatic and will get back some daydreaming joy soon enough. Or I won’t. #it’s hard. I spent so long getting good at art only to have to ease up on the daydreams that fueled it for my own wellbeing. #I want to still love art. I still like it but it’s not the same #I have guitar and my friends and school and sort of reading and writing (though that’s more of willows thing I just kind of watch and chime #in on occasion) #It’s 4 am and I haven’t sleep and I didn’t get my antidepressants today (or well yesterday) so don’t worry too much I’m probs just #over emotional but boy howdy. Shit hurts. #Lets not even mention the old life plan. I don’t know if a single thing I wanted to make is going to happen and that’s. Ouch #This is ok to reply to and stuff.

[soundcrusher]

OKAY I’M ALREADY DRAWING, AND I HAD TO STOP EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW BECAUSE NOW I NEED TO KNOW WHY THRILLCHASER LEFT IN REG!PHOENIX’S AU, AND WHAT IT HAD TO DO WITH RODDY, BECAUSE NOW I HAVE ADDITIONAL ANGST FUEL FOR MY BRAIN, ART, COMIC, AND WRITING.

i feel like it might have to do with his perceived failures. and possibly ‘Thunderclash is better anyway’. and if so, oh my god, that is so much fucking angst fuel right there, straight up. and so much possibility for Thunders to go apeshit on his ass. no lies.

WHO SAYS HE EVER WANTED TO LEAVE IN THE REGULAR CONTENUITY!?

The way I like to imagen it, is that in reg/Phoenix's contenuity, Thrillchaser didn't want to leave the family, but he was forced to by his conjunx, because he openly sided with the Autobots. Expressing a wish to join their side, because the Decepticons have clearly lost their way and he didn't want their son being raised in a faction that would only shun him for looking like the prime. All the while Tankcrusher would glare at Thrillchaser and accuse him of treason.

You know, mixing the formula a little bit up and making Thrillchaser a good guy from the start, while Tankcrusher becomes more questionable. She still loves her son, yes, but she's also loyal to the Decepticons. Which is why she made sure reg/Phoenix would go with his former crew and serve the Decepticons who didn't believe the war was over.

And then reg/Phoenix got thrown overboard and ended up on the Lost Light.

(Thrillchaser is still trying to find reg/Phoenix. He wants to reconnect with his son, but he has no idead if he's alive or not. And Tankcrusher won't even tell him what happened to their son either.) (Also, reg/Phoenix doesn't even know that his father loves him. Tankcrusher told him that Thrillchaser left, because he hated them.)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In the 'Birds of a Feather' au, Thrillchaser didn't leave the family. Both he and Tankcrusher are living a happy live and love their sons very dearly.

They're also running Tankcrusher's bakery together and got sparkbroken as they recieved the news of their sons going missing with a high possibility that they're dead.

Hearing that is why caused Thrillchaser to leave Tankcrusher behind on Cybertron. Not because he no-longer loved her or anything, no, he decided to go looking for their sons while Tankcrusher stayed behind in case their sons would make it back to Cybertron.

Thrillchaser, while on his search, calls Tankcrusher regularly or sends her cheesy texts saying how much he loves her. He also keeps her updated on how things are going and how he sometimes finds traces of their sons being still alive.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Sincerely

Soundcrusher

#soundcrusher answers #ut girl666 #transformers ocs #tankcrusher #thrillchaser #reg/phoenix #sg/phoenix #birds of a feather au #also; small side note #while sg/phoenix gets his colors from Tankcrusher; reg/Phoenix gets his colors from Thrillchaser

[soft-fuzzy-communist]

you know what, it is what it is. I can’t really do nothing i got shown something good and shown something right i made a few friends this year, lost some and gained some i got my heart broken, but i was shown how deep love can go i feel sort of okay. I’m hurting a lot, no doubt. I’ve cried for a day or so but i did what was right for me to do in the long run, even if i fucked up a lot in the past I apologized, i took accountability, i tried to get better and you know what? I did! I really, really did. Because I’m bounds and leaps ahead of who I was months ago. But I still can’t control others decisions, and someone I really loved dearly had to let me go. I can’t change anything, I can’t change what happened and I can’t control whatever happens next really but I can control me and how I feel about it I definitely feel lost. I’ve felt distraught and upset. But I have an understanding. And I can’t make excuses for myself anymore, for anything. All I can do is try to enjoy my time now. I’ll be alone for a whole while. and I have BPD, I hate being abandoned and feeling abandoned. Yeah, i feel really fucked up. indubitably. but was I really abandoned or given some much needed reflection time? I broke down at the table this morning thinking to myself “Oh my god, what if I’m biromantic” and I normally only like guys (or so i thought), but I suppose i had suppressed this in for a while? What if I could love a girl? I’m not even fully sure myself. And what about me? Am I happy being fully masc? well....no. I think I’m just comfortable being...me? and, whatever that means. I think I’m nonbinary. I’m asexual. my romantic identity? well, I like guys, but I don’t know yet about anything else. Am I happy with where my life is? well...no. But I’m glad I’m here and not where I used to be: An addict, being abused, becoming the abuser. I’m not that thing anymore. I’m not going to let that bother me or hold me down Who am I? I’m Alex. I’m a queer author and artist. I like editing and graphic design. I like monster cans and the textures of them. I’m autistic. I’ve created my own worlds. I write stories, I love stories. I love to read, i love books. I’m allergic to dairy and I’m gluten intolerant. my favorite color is yellow and I always make my tables at craft shows yellow to show off the kind of warmth I bring. My eyes are a hazel/brown and I like to dye my hair. i do digital and traditional art, but sometimes i mess my words up and say “tradigital”. I love playing games like jackbox and hanging out with my friends. My favorite movie is Larry the Cable Guy Health Inspector. I always try to be kind and caring to everyone I meet even if I’m going through a tough time. Sometimes I procrastinate but I always get a job done. I love animals and pets. My favorite animal is the Kodiak brown bear. Some people think I’m too much to handle and I’m a little off the edge but they don’t know me the way I know me. I’m not the victim even though i’m hurting, but it’s not gonna take my pain away. Only I can decide what to do with it And what i decide to do right now is not to hurt myself or hurt others because of my pain. All I can do is keep going.

[griffintail]

Okay so I'm on an angst kick tonight so here's a fic about how Little bee feels about all her new siblings.

Old news

Bee was hitting her breaking point, ANOTHER new sibling? As if Michael wasn't enough now she had to complete with the literal angel that was Boo. Her step fathers new adopted child. How could her dad do this to her? Bringing in this new 'family' as if their real family wasn't God knows where alone. She missed her cousin and uncle dearly, Little (F/L) was practically her sister at this point and sometimes Tommy was more of a father to her then her own dad. It drove the teen up the wall how quickly her father discarded them.

Now she's supposed to consider these strangers her family? No way in nether.

If anyone wants to expand on this feel free too, I wanted to write an argument but I can't think of good dialog for it.-🦊

Hahaha. Angst that I feel on a personal level. I didn’t add Little boo because I try to keep the characters separate when I write for the Lost Ones kids but there’s most certainly Michael! I really wanted to write this....NON-CANON TO LOST ONES

Old News

Pairing: Parental! Tubbo x F! Teenage! Reader

Part 2

Warnings: Angst, Misread Situations, Feelings of Neglect

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         She sat alone at the docks, looking back to see her father playing with Michael in the upper story window. She huffed angrily as she looked back to the freezing water.

         …They were supposed to go fishing today. But Michael was sad.

         They were supposed to go last week but Ranboo wanted a day together with no kids. So, she had to watch the stupid zombie piglin…

         God, she never thought she’d miss the days when Uncle Tommy would drag her and Tubbo off on dangerous adventures. She never thought she’d miss all his yelling…she never thought she’d miss L’Manberg…With all the good memories that it held inside…

         At this rate, she’d start missing how her father and Tommy fought Dream all the time!

         “Hey.” She jumped, looking up to see Foolish. “You’re shaking kid, you should get inside.”

         Her jacket had long since felt cold. She just didn’t want to go inside and listen to dad talk to Michael though. Not when he hadn’t properly talked to her in months. She looked at the house before looking at Foolish.

         “Is the mansion warm?”

         “Uh, kind of. There should be a few rooms, come on.”

         She got up and followed Foolish inside. She’d go to her actual room later…for now, she just wanted to sit and watch the trees sway without thinking about everything she missed…

         …

         She stirred her mushroom soup as she sat at the dining table inside their home after night fell. Ranboo was out, thank god, but Tubbo was upstairs with Michael again and she had to make and eat dinner for one…

         “Hey, I need to talk to Foolish before he leaves. Watch Michael for a few minutes alright?” Tubbo asked her as he jumped down from the ladder.

         “Ok.” She muttered.

         “Thanks.” He smiled before rushing out.

         She rolled her eyes and kept eating her warm soup. The kid wouldn’t die, he was old enough to be fine. There was no need to make her eat cold soup to watch the stupid zombie piglin. After a few bites though, she heard a loud thud upstairs and she face-palmed before going up the ladder.

         The little zombie piglin was sniffling as a little bit of blood trickled from his forehead.

         “What happened?” She sighed, going over and sitting in front of the zombie piglin, wiping the blood away with her sleeve.

         Michael pointed to the bed and the floor and she shook her head.

         “You jump off the bed?” And he nodded. “Yeah, that hurts like hell. I fell off a lot of crap, mostly because Uncle Tommy dared me but I digress.”

         Michael gave a snort and she gave a small glare with no actual heat behind it.

         “You think that’s funny little shit?” She asked and Michael shrank but she smiled. “I’m just joking. But hey, watch out, I’ve been taught by a lawyer, I’ll sue you next time.”

         She didn’t hate Michael; she just didn’t like how he and Ranboo got all of her father’s attention. Michael was a funny kid and smart when given the chance. She just wanted to avoid him though so she didn’t have to think about what he gets that she can’t.

         “Alright, come on, I think there’s some of those special potions for you downstairs.” She said, standing up.

         The teenager was about to pick him up when Tubbo came into the room.

         “Hey, how—What happened?!” Tubbo exclaimed, rushing to Michael, not a second glance to (Y/N).

         “Oh, he just fell a bit.” (Y/N) said.

         “He fell?! How? Weren’t you watching him?” Tubbo asked her with even looking at her as he carefully looked at the minor cut on Michael’s head.

         “Dad, he’s fine. It’s just a little cut from a fall.” She wasn’t watching him but she also wasn’t going to tell on Michael that he just jumped off the bed.

         “You call this fine?!” He motioned to Michael as he finally looked at her.

         “Yeah, I had a lot worse going on adventures with you and Uncle Tommy.”

         “Yeah! But he’s not you!” Tubbo huffed looking away.

         (Y/N) was taken aback by that. He wasn’t her…No, no Michael wasn’t her. He was better than her, just look. Michael always has her father’s attention. What was she? Just…just a disappointment.

         Tubbo canceled plans with her, Tubbo rarely spoke to her as much, Tubbo barely spared her a glance some days. He had a better family now…

         “You’re right.” She whispered, Michael giving little snorts seeing the tears in the older girl’s eyes. “I’m going to go.”

         “I think that will be best,” Tubbo said, once more not looking at her as he picked Michael up.

         Her lip quivered before nodding as she rushed downstairs. Tears poured down her cheeks as she grabbed a bag and threw her clothes in. Nothing else.

         She left the house, hearing nothing from her father as she walked away from Snowchester.

         It was better for everyone…They could be happy without her bothering them now…

         The darkness surrounded her as she clutched her bag as she crossed the path back towards Dream SMP land. As she got across, she looked up at the well-lit hotel her uncle had finally won back. Without much thought, she dashed up the path to the building. As she got to the door, she hesitated.

         Would it be better for her uncle if she didn’t bother him? Would he be happier?

         “(Y/N)?” She heard behind her and she once more jumped as she looked to see Tommy walking past the gates to the hotel.

         He stopped seeing her red eyes and the tears staining her cheeks, along with the bag by her side. He then rushed over, taking her arms.

         “What happened? Who hurt you? Who the fuck is going to die?”

         At his words, she sobbed. She hadn’t felt this cared about in months…

         Tommy was startled before hugging her tightly. “Hey, it’s ok, kid. I’ll fuck up their shit for you. No need for the waterworks. Let’s get inside.”

         He brought her inside as she cried harder and he didn’t get much of an explanation once she calmed down as she didn’t want to talk about it but he set her up with a room and told her they’d talk about it tomorrow when she got some rest. Yes, Tommy was worried but he knew that he couldn’t just force the kid to tell him everything when she looked exhausted.

         “I don’t know how Tubbo fucked this up, but I’ll fuck up his shit later,” Tommy told her, ruffling her hair. “After I beat the ass of who hurt you. Get some rest.”

         He left the room after that as she held back the tears this time. If only he knew, and lord did it feel so good to feel like someone cared…She had missed Uncle Tommy…

         …

         Tubbo came to (Y/N)’s door later after putting Michael to sleep. Tubbo felt guilty about getting so snippy with his daughter. She was right, kids get hurt. He remembered the clumsy little girl that would fall down all the time or who he’d have to catch after Tommy dared her to jump from various places. It made him feel guiltier when Michael tried to stick up for her, trying to take all the blame.

         He hadn’t been angry; he was just scared. He had fucked up in some areas with (Y/N), he couldn’t fuck up again. Michael wasn’t the same as her, he was more fragile, a different creature entirely, which meant he had to be extra careful. It was better she went to her room though, so he didn’t say something he’d regret. He felt regret though for being so loud with his words.

         “(Y/N).” He knocked on her door.

         She didn’t answer and he sighed.

         “I’m sorry for yelling. I didn’t mean it. I was just scared because Michael isn’t like you or me. He gets hurt a lot easier. And…shit. I forgot about fishing, didn’t I? I’m making a lot of mistakes today. I’m so sorry little lamb. I…I’ll leave Michael with Foolish tomorrow and we’ll have a day all to ourselves, no matter what. We’ll have your favorite breakfast and do whatever you want, ok? Just you and me my special little bee.”

         There was still no answer and he let out another as he nodded.

         “I’m going to stick to it! I promise (Y/N). I love you so much. Good night.”

         And he left without opening the door to see what he’d find out tomorrow…

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #tubbo x reader #dreamsmp x reader

[saintshigaraki]

the sun has not yet fallen

pairing: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k 

excerpt: You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

a/n: me: i hate angst

       also me: writes this fic

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sometimes love requires work 

in case you want to read it on ao3!

Katsuki is in a bad mood. He was uncharacteristically quiet when he walked through the door which is more often than not a sign he was trying his damndest to hold back saying something just a bit too cruel. And you appreciate the effort, truly you do. 

On any other day, you would’ve let him be to work through his shit alone. He usually does that by cooking up something far too elaborate for a weekday night, and then after decompressing for a bit, he tends to slink back into whichever room you’re in and lay his head on your lap so you can work your fingers through his hair. 

You’ve found over the last two years that that is what tends to work best. Giving him space and letting him come to you.  

But today you’re feeling just as raw as he does. You can’t remember the last time you spent quality time together. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t go to bed so exhausted he was out before his head hit the pillow. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel this heavy cloud hanging over your head. You can’t remember a moment where there wasn't a timer counting down and down and down while you do nothing but wait for it to hit zero. You’re not quite sure what will happen when your time is up.

It’s selfish, probably, to want to be with him right now when you know he’s so weary, but you won’t even bother him, is what you tell yourself. You just want to be around him for an hour (or two) you want to stand so close to him you can smell the ever clinging scent of caramel and help him with dinner and think of brighter days. Better days. 

(You want things to go back to the way they were before. You want to cling to him, just for a short while, stuff your face into the crook of his neck while he tells you everything’s okay. That you guys are okay.

But that’s for another day. It has to be.

How many times have you told yourself that?)

You follow him as he stomps towards the kitchen. 

He aggressively grabs the ingredients for whatever he’s making and slams them on the counter, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You stand in the doorway worrying your hands, feeling awkward, and hating that you feel awkward in your own kitchen with your own boyfriend. 

It makes that awful nagging voice in your head grow just a bit louder. 

You approach him slowly while he sets up a pot filled with water and turns on the stove. He’s still grumbling to himself by the time you place your hand softly on his forearm. 

He jerks away immediately and narrows his eyes. You viciously stamp down exactly how awful that makes you feel. How small and unloved. 

“What do you want?” he says bluntly (and a little cruelly but a part of you says just ignore it, maybe if you close your eyes and cover your ears you can pretend that everything is fine, that you guys are fine) . 

That was part of his charm when you two first started dating. You loved that he was blunt, that he got to the point, there was really no guessing what Katsuki was thinking because he’d simply tell you and if it were any other day perhaps his words wouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did now. 

And it’s partly your fault, or maybe even mostly. Because you let it get this bad. You could have told him something was bothering you, that lately, you’ve been feeling a little insecure in this relationship. Katsuki was blunt but very rarely if ever cruel with you or your feelings. He would’ve understood, probably. 

But anytime you thought about broaching the subject with him, he always looked so, so tired. Bone tired. And you thought maybe it was selfish, to want him to comfort you over something this dumb. Over something as frivolous as this. He just needs time. 

(How much time, you wonder. How much more can you take? you ask yourself.)

“Are you fucking braindead or something,” he snaps, dragging you out of your spiraling. 

“I was just wondering if I could help. It’d be nice to cook dinner together.” We use to do it all the time, you almost say. Now you can’t even remember the last time you did. 

“You’re a shit cook,” he says. 

It’s true, and on another day, a brighter day maybe, you would’ve laughed. Or at least smiled. Because it was true. You are an awful cook, a shit one, as he so eloquently put it, especially compared to him. But that never mattered to Katsuki before. 

He always let you cook with him, always wanted you to cook with him, even if the majority of the time you ended up sitting on the counter swinging your legs and watching him do all the work. 

To be fair, afterward, you always cleaned the dishes. It was a lovely, simplistic give and take, one you wish you had again so, so dearly. 

“Yeah, I am,” you agree. You try to smile, but it feels forced. You’re tired, you realize, bone tired. 

You don’t say anything else and he turns away. You know that’s technically a dismissal but you elect to ignore and start unwrapping the vegetables. 

Just as you reach for a knife he grabs your wrist. 

“What the fuck is up with you right now?” he grounds out. 

“I just want to spend some time with you.” 

Your voice sounds frail, even to your own ears. 

And before he even opens his mouth you know what he’s about to say is going to bring all this to a head. And from the look on his face and the awful, gnawing in your gut, you know you’re not going to like it. You know that more likely than not, it’s going to break your heart. 

(A part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe your heart has already been broken. That it’s made up of haphazardly glued together pieces. Perhaps that’s why you feel so fragile. Perhaps the damage is done and you’ve just been waiting for Katsu to bring down the axe. To scatter the pieces. To finish the fucking job.)

“God,” he spits out. And it’s like a dam has been broken and every hateful thing he’s ever thought about you can’t help but come pouring out.  

“You’re so fucking needy, you can’t do a fucking thing by yourself. It’s like all you ever do is breathe down my fucking neck and tell me everything I’m not doing for you.” Distantly, you wonder if that’s true. It might be. Maybe it’s that ugly selfishness you’ve never really been able to hide. You thought you’d done a better job of tucking it away. You were wrong, it seems. 

“So I can’t spend every single fucking second of every single day with you, sue me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, my own problems, or have you forgotten that I have a life outside of you?”

No, you think. I haven’t. Or maybe you have. You’re not really focusing so hard on his words. You tune them out as much as you can. You’re staring at his face, taking in all the details. The deep red of his eyes, the pale blond of his hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slope of his neck, the little scars peppering his face. You used to sit on his lap and kiss each and every one, no matter how faint. 

You’re so weird, he’d say as you did it, but the tightness of his arms around you always spoke a different story. 

You’re going to miss that, you think. Holding him. Loving him. 

It takes you a while to realize he’s still yelling. It’s all hateful and cruel and so sharp. Like he’s taken a knife to your skin to flay you open, exposing every crack, every vein, every shattered piece of heart that makes you. You let it wash over you, like a particularly violent ocean wave.  

“Sometimes,” he says, his voice finally quieting to a bearable level, “I wonder why I’m still with you.” 

The breath you let out is shaky. No matter how ready you thought you were, there’s simply no amount of time that prepares you to hear those words from him. From the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. From the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

The silence between you two is deafening. And heavy. So heavy it feels as though your chest will cave in from the pressure. 

“Yeah,” you say at last, though you have to force the words around the burning iron poker in your throat. And then you laugh, you can’t help it. It’s all so fucked. You hate that it’s come to this bitter monstrous ugliness. 

When had this all started to fester, to rot? you wonder. Is this really all that’s left?

“I can’t help but wonder the same thing.” It comes out more bitter than you'd like. A small jab to try to even out the gaping wound he’s torn open in you. 

But it’s also true. 

You can’t see his reaction through the tears clouding your vision. You don’t really want to anyway. What’s done is done. What’s said is said. 

You grab your phone and keys and walk through the front door, closing it softly behind you. 

He doesn’t say a word.

You think if there was any part of your heart left unbroken, his silence has shattered it to oblivion. 

+

You walk for an hour or two. Until the sun has dipped almost completely below the horizon and it’s surrounded by hazy blood-red waves. 

It’s a good place to think. To set your jumbled thoughts in order. 

It takes a special kind of selflessness to love a hero, you realize. A type you don’t possess, not even nearly. You’ve always been just a little selfish when it came to love. But there’s no room for that when with people like Bakugou Katsuki. 

And that’s okay, you tell yourself. 

It’s a lie. It’s not okay. And the hollow aching in your chest that beats in time with your heart agrees. 

You look down at your phone. 

33 missed calls from Katsu 

You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe. 

It’s not long before you’re biting the inside of your cheek, turning on your heels, and heading home. 

+

You don’t even have your keys fully out of your pocket before the door swings open, with Katuski on the other side looking a bit worse for wear, though you doubt you’re one to talk. 

His eyes are bloodshot and his nose is a bit pink. He’s been crying. You can’t remember the last time you saw him cry. 

(That’s a lie, you realize. You had gotten in the crosshairs of a particularly brutal villain versus hero showdown. The resulting injuries you suffered were severe. You’d apparently been a bit touch and go for a while. When you opened your eyes for the first time after everything, Katsu was right there, looking like hadn’t slept, showered, or eaten for days. Later you found out it’s because he hadn’t left your bedside since you returned from surgery. 

Katsu, you’d croaked out weakly, stretching out a shaking hand toward his face. 

He broke down into sobs so violent they wracked his whole body. It took him over an hour to calm down.)

You got about half a foot through the door before he threw himself at you. Wrapping his arms around you so tight it bordered on painful. He sinks down to the floor. You sink with him. 

He’s sobbing into your shoulder repeating a mantra of, I’m so sorry and I didn’t mean it. Please, please. I didn’t mean it. 

You think about that old saying. What a person says in anger is how they really feel. You don’t necessarily believe that. You yourself have said things out of anger that you in no way meant, that were purely thrown to hurt the person on the other end. 

You want to believe he didn’t mean it, more than anything you do. Because you love him. Because you really do think that Katsu is it for you. That he’s always been it for you. 

You pull away about as far as he’ll let you. 

“Do you love me, Katsuki?” 

The words hang in the air. You feel raw. Like you’re the one who has taken a knife to your own skin and flayed it all open for him. 

You don’t quite know vulnerability until you ask someone if they love you. It’s a different sort of weakness. 

“Yes,” he responds. His voice rough from his tears. “More than anything.”

You watch one last tear fall from his eye.

You hold his face in your hands and wipe it away. Softly. Gently. Lovingly. 

+

You guys are not okay and now that you’ve accepted that you think there’s a chance that one day, you will be. 

#bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #vicwritesbnha #bnha imagine #mha imagine #i’m thinking a shinsou hitoshi fluff drabble next 👀 #vicwrites

[rowanaelinn]

Tease

word count: 1,3k

warning: some mild nsfw

i might write part two of this if you’re interested in it! i wrote this in thirty minutes right before posting it so i’ll be honest i was a bit lazy to write everything, so just tell me if you’d be interested in a part two!

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius knew she was a tease. She had been told so her entire life, and she took great pride in it.

She loved to make jokes about her family, to laugh of her friends whenever she could, and to annoy the shit out of everyone around her when she was in a mood.

But, she wasn’t only that way with people she loved dearly but also with the ones she hated with a passion.

Not a lot of people could fit in that category since she never considered herself a very hateful person, only Rowan Whitethorn could. It wasn’t exactly her fault, she just couldn’t ignore him when he was in the same room as her, she had to pick on him. And he returned the courtesy so she didn’t really feel bad about it.

But after two years of knowing each other, something changed. Aelin didn’t know how their banters went from snarky remarks to angrily making out in closets, but she was willing to admit she didn’t mind.

Not that she had stopped teasing him, but it was funnier now. For the past two months, she couldn’t count how many times her hand had accidentally brushed the top of his thigh, how many times her skirt rode up around him and she just didn’t notice or how many times she had to wipe the side of her mouth as she maintained eye contact with him.

They had made out for hours and they had also sometimes crossed a line, but they were both in silent agreement to never speak about it even when it was only the two of them. So, whenever she could she’d tease him about how bad he kissed (which is the biggest lie that ever came out of her mouth) but she’d never brought up that time they had drunk and he made her scream of pleasure just with two fingers.

And he would tease her on the way she always pulled his hair too roughly, but he’d never spoke about that time she took him so deep in her mouth he came down her throat, chanting her name as he fucked her mouth.

Never had they crossed that final line and Aelin wasn’t sure they would. She didn’t know whether to feel revealed or disappointed. Normal people don’t make out with people they hate, so they’d definitely wouldn’t have sex with them. Maybe she wasn’t normal, she liked the sound of this.

Aelin was having so much fun tonight.

They were all out in a bar to celebrate Fenrys’s birthday and instead of being by her best friend’s side, drinking and partying, she was in a dirty bathroom, her legs around the man she hated’s waist, her hands in his hair, and her tongue playing with his. He was pressing her against the wall, both hands gripping her ass.

“What about ‘never doing this again’?” Aelin asked, pulling back to take back her breath but she didn’t catch a break, Rowan’s lips assaulting her neck. Every time they kissed, one of them promised it was the last time, even if they both knew it was a goddamn lie.

“Shut up,” he groaned, taking back her lips. She just giggled, trying her best not to break the kiss. She was annoying him, she knew it, it’s exactly why she was doing this.

Aelin didn’t know how they ended up here tonight, they had been fighting over what sport was better between football and baseball, and the next second, she heard him lock the door and she was kissing him roughly.

“I’m still right.”

He groaned, pressing his body closer to hers in hopes it would shut her up, but if he really believed this he didn’t know her at all. He went to unbutton her shirt, but she stopped him right there, shaking her head.

He looked at her, a brow arched and Aelin hated how beautiful he looked right now, his long hair in a mess because of her, his lips swollen and eyes darker than his usual shade of green. “Tell me I’m right, then you can take off my clothes.”

“No.”

Aelin smirked, taking her hands off his hair. “Hands off, then.” She smirked but Rowan didn’t let her go. “Come on, three little words. You are right.”

“I’m not going to lie.” He said, his hands massaging her butt. He really was shameless.

“But you’re going home with blue balls.” She winked and used all her strength to push him back, settling on her feet once again. She ignored the ache between her own legs and walked away from him, accentuating the sway of her hips because she knew it’s where he would look.

She sat back with her friends, ordering her second drink of the night as she laughed with Lysandra.

Five minutes later, Rowan sat at the same table, looking normal as if he hadn’t almost fucked someone in the bathroom. He ordered a new drink and spoke with Aedion who was sitting to his left, but not one single time did he look at her, which annoyed her.

She tried to attract his attention by laughing a little loudly, by interrupting his conversation with her cousin because she needed to ask Aedion something or because she was recalling a childhood memory, but nothing worked. Never once his gaze settled on her.

With a smirk on her face, Aelin pulled her phone out of her pocket and quickly found her message app. She took advantage of Lysandra wanting to dance with Fenrys to take the time to scroll into her picture to find what to send.

Happy with her choice, Aelin pressed the “send” button and put her phone on the table, her eyes focused on the silver-haired man at the other side of the table.

He opened his phone the moment he got the notification and she could see the moment he saw her text.

Rowan had just received a very explicit photo of hers truly, she was laying in bed, with lacy red lingerie on and one of her hands disappeared in her underwear, not letting what her fingers were doing to the imagination. She had been thinking of him when she took this, and had felt a little embarrassed about it when she came down from her high, but now she was glad she took the picture.

His knee, which had been shaking since he sat down, she didn't need to see it to know, he did it all the time, tapped the underside of the table, drawing everyone's attention.

His head snapped up toward her, his eyes hard. Aelin grinned like a fiend, proud of herself. She brought her glass to her lips but she before rose it toward him, mouthing “cheers”.

Her phone buzzed, showing a new message. Stop with this attitude before I fuck it out of you.

She bit her lip, fighting the blushing coming on her cheeks. When she looked up, Rowan seemed proud of him as if he knew what she was feeling right now. Maybe he did. They had never spoken about this so outrightly, this was dangerous territory.

Not sure you would be able to handle all of me.

His reply came in immediately. Willing to bet against it?

She was, but she didn’t want him to win her so easily even though she had fantasied about him fucking her for months now. You miss my mouth?

Yes. Oh, good gods help her. She didn’t dare to look up, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. Feeling the same about my fingers?

I don’t know. It wasn’t that memorable.

She looked up to see him frown and she internally smiled at it, finding the image funny. She looked quickly at her phone. Join me in my car in five minutes and allow me to refresh your memory.

Rowan didn’t wait for an answer before excusing himself for the night. She didn’t have to think about it twice, her mind was already made.

————

taglist: @sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @themoonthestarsthesuriel // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin month #rowaelin smut #rowaelinmonth #aelin galathynius

[levisgirll]

oki it me again uWu back with another request because I really enjoyed the first one!!!💗💗 couldn't find the exact words to phrase this but what about aomine (from Kuroko no basuke) as your boyfriend in university. I look forward to what you will write!!

𝐀𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

text: hello again!! thank you so much for reading my posts and the fact that you like them makes me happy c: 💗💗 I'm glad you enjoyed the other request so, I hope you enjoy this! (also, aomine is my second fav in knb ^^ he's just so attractive oml-)

synopsis: aomine daki, the great basketballer player at your university is your boyfriend! how is it like to have aomine as your boyfriend though? and how does he act with you? (get ready for this-)

Once Aomine is your boyfriend, get ready cause this guy will show off and flex a lot when it comes to you. Whenever you stay and watch his practices, he flexes a lot with his back muscle and he would turn around if YOU saw that. You are just sitting there, all blushed while covering your face, "Oh god, this idiot..."

Sometimes, the basketball club would invite student for 'Learning the basics of Basketball' and the first person he wants to invite is, of course, his girlfriend. While he is waiting for her, he would just sit in the bench and lots of people go to him for help, but he would ignore everyone and say he is tired and to leave him alone. But once he sees you, y/n, entering he is all energetic and comes running to you. "Aomine, let me change wait" , "But darling, I was waiting for like 10 minutes...you have to make up for that."

Once everyone leaves and its just you two, he gets all hyped up cause he loves it when you are alone with him. He gets extra clingy towards you and keeps on hugging you and you can feel his tensed muscular body. "Sweetheart, you looked amazing today."

Okay but this guy, would fuck up and beat any guy that even showed any sort of disrespect. He is not standing there with a glare or bumping into them if someone laughs, or says something mean to you. He will go up to that person and hold them up while saying "Okay, you started this. Come here."  You have to stop him before he gets physical towards them, "Aomine! Stop!! They just said to me to move". "Yea, 'Move you', what the fuck is that? Asshole, learn some manners! Do you know who you even spoke to!"

This guy is smart, so he knows all your university spots, so don't be surprised if you see him out of nowhere. "Hey its that guy! He is always following you!" Kagami would yell out, "Fuck, you have some stalker Y/N" Kagami would say while glaring at him, he was your university best friend. "That's my b-boyfriend."

Your man will also buy you a lot of snacks, and if you say you skipped breakfast. He is dragging you to the university café and will force you to eat after he buys you food.

Oh my god, your boyfriend loves to tease you A LOT. Like there wont be a day he wont tease you. If you somehow changed up your hairstyle, he will make a huge scene. "No WAY! Sweetheart, you look so good! Wow, that's my GIRL! You all heard that??!"

Aomine makes you laugh like crazy, and there also wont be a day he wont make you laugh. He just loves it whenever he hears your beautiful laugh and small giggles, he founds it so cute and you really warm his heart whenever he hears that.

He will never forgive himself if he ever made you upset or cry. Aomine will probably think about it the whole day and he will keep spamming you "I'm sorry" multiple times. If you don't reply back, he would come to your lecture hall and he is gonna make a scene. "Y/N I SAID IM SORRY!"

You definitely boost his ego, like crazy. Whenever he feels low before a match he would call you and he just wants to hear his girlfriends voice motivating him. "Aomine, don't worry you got this! Besides, didn't you tell me the only one who can beat you...is you?" "Fuck, you are right. Darling, I'm gonna win this and I'll come and hug u after this match. Wait for 20 minutes" And he actually does it.

This guy sticks with his words, so if you tell him meet up at 2 pm. He is there at 2pm waiting for you. If he says he will do literally anything for you, he fucking will.

Once he got, really upset and emotional and he said to you during a call at midnight. "Y/N, Dont leave me like how everyone does.". You then recalled about him telling you about this past and how his old teammates left him, so you would say "I wont, I'm your girlfriend aren't I?" And he is up on his bed all hyped hearing that, "Can I see you now!" "Aomine it's 2am and I have a quiz tomorrow bye, shutting my phone love you!" But this guy wont leave you and spam you in EVERY social media. "Nice try, but I know you have discord on your laptop. Wait, I see you online I'm calling you now."

One time, he came to your huge lecture hall and he sat right next to you, and he would just turn and look at you, focusing on what you are doing, and play around with your stuff and hair. "Aomine, I am trying to focus!" You say all blushed and can't even write anything on your notebook. "Of course, cause you are focusing on me right? Sweetheart, I know, I know I am great." Now you wanna smack him.

Whenever he sees you, he gives you that hot smirk of his and it gives you butterflies. "Ha! Wow literally everything I do, you love it don't you?" . Y/N then turns to him and gives a small chuckle, "Don't get ahead of yourself, Aomine." He then goes near you and lays his arm on your shoulder, bring you closer and he would whisper to your ear "Why not? your my girl so, I want to impress you."

You both love it whenever you guys hold hands around university, this guy is really tall so you always feel so relaxed and also great when your boyfriend squeezes your hand, and walks you to your lecture. "Okay now try to focus on your lecture and not your mind all about me alright?"

He actually loves it when you cheer for him and that really boost not only his ego but rather his self-confidence. "Y/N! I'm gonna win this match for you!" He would yell out during the match and everyone is looking at you.

He would go for academic help for you sometimes and you guys meet up in the library to study. You are the reason he passed some subjects, don't get me wrong, he is intelligent but super lazy.

His wallpaper is a selfie of you both and he looks at that before every match. He sometimes pecks his phone when he finds a picture of you.

Speaking about his phone, this guy has a folder with just you, all your pictures, screenshots of chats, even screen records of your voice notes and videos. He just loves you dearly, and he gets so fucking mad if someone touches or even goes near that gallery. He protects that with all his life, your pictures are important and he is not the type of guy to show his friends your pictures, in fact he hates that! "My folder, my girl, and no one gets to see that. Go away."

Whenever he is bored or isn't doing nothing, he would open his phone, and check every social media app to see your online status. "Oh OH, I see you online darling! Answer me, wanna go out and get ice cream? Please say yes."

He is actually such a great motivator and brings your mood up whenever you feel like giving up during university. He won't allow that, like never. "What so you will just give up? Stop? After all this time, you let this one test fuck you up? Don't you dare let that bring you down, you idiot." He actually even inspires you.

Before you go for the whole day cause you had to work on your report he would say "Smile for me one last time?"

When he sees you from afar, he would yell out and say "That's my girl! Don't move, I'm coming for you!" And this guy jumps at you with his embraces and sometimes picks you up. "L-Love put me down!!"

He actually loves teasing you like that in public, he wants everyone to know that are are HIS girl and his only.

He messages you during his practices and even would skip practice to see you.

Y/N: Oh you don't have practice today?

Aomine: Nope! And besides, I am the captain so doesn't matter. (He is not the captain- its akashi but lies)

He says that and then goes on how he knows everything about basketball and the team and he keeps doing that till you can compliment him ‘Please Y/N say anything’ he would think and you know that but tease him back not saying anything.

*meanwhile in his basketball groupchat* 

Kise: aomine, WHERE THE HECK ARE YOU?!

Akashi: Probably ran off to see his girl.

Atsushi: Whatever, my chance to leave and eat outside.

Kuroko: Can I join you?

Atsushi: No.

You would treat his injuries and he would just sit there, looking at you with a smirk.

Aomine: "Oh yea, here even hurts darling!"

Y/N: "Love....you are lying aren't you?"

Aomine: "What! No!...Maybe?" 

You let out a sigh "Ah, you are an idiot...stop hurting yourself all the time." He would suddenly lift your chin up and say "You know...that I love you yea? You also better tell me everything and if you need help, just say it" He can be really soft and sweet sometimes, but he gets all cringy and shy about it and he gets up rubbing the back of his head. "I-I mean that's what a boyfriend does right?! Come on, get up I'm taking you out."

Okay, I hope you enjoy this and anyone who did! Aomine is such a dork but a sweetheart and I can see most of this happening :,) 

If anyone enjoyed reading this, please then leave a like or a reblog! It means a lot and have a great day <3

#aomine #aomine fanfiction #aomine headcanons #aomine daiki #aomine x reader #aomine x y/n #knb aomine #aomine knb #knb #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basket aomine #aomine kuroko no basket aomine #kuroko no basket aomine fanfiction #kuroko no basket fanfiction #aomine fluff #aomine imagines #aomine modern au #modern au fanfiction #aomine x kuroko #kagami taiga #fanfic knb #knb fanfic #knb fanfiction #fanfiction knb

[cooloddball]

Someone submitted something in my inbox and they wanted to remain anonymous. Since this is an extremely long essay, I will put it under the cut. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

xxx submitted: hey, i was the one who ask what do you think of Misha and Jensen's current relationship First off all thank you for your answear it means much to me cause im easy to be convice and this person who keep telling me that they are no longer friends can be so convicing, so I'm actully trying to forget what she said 😅 so I'm just writing a few. she said that since they no longer work together, they will forget about each other, and do their common things like the gay jokes, face touches ect. With other people, and neglect each other, don't talk to each other, and then meet new people who will replace the other. And and she talked about the gish thing, she said she sure they didn't talk since the end of the series, because Jensen didn't know where Misha was and Misha didn't know about the Radio Company vol 2 (but i saw people say that, they were just pretending, because Misha liked something about Radio Company Vol 2, before the gish live, so in theory he already knew then or something like that) and She said Misha wrote a poem about Darius not Jensen and now I will write down what she sent me : I saw a post about Jensen's current activities on social media, and I've come to the conclusion the only person he doesn't interact with is mish. Sadly this makes my break up theory even stronger. I feel like this is a goodbye to one of the biggest parts of my life. They've moved on from "uk what I haven't told you today? That i love u"+ from "miss my only jensen" from "i love u misha i mean it from the bottom of my heart" from "jensen has no flaws" from "misha is the funniest thing ever happened to me" from all that love and affection from everything they developed together and now they're apart leaving their lives like nothing happened and call me a dramatic but they both have the same energy now as someone has after a big break up. and Jensen comments on almost every of his friend’s post except Misha’s"+ Jenmish is genuinely the best thing that has ever happened in my entire life. I owe them literally everything. They're the reason i hold on. Unfortunately on this essay i have to start using past tense verbs for them, and i have to continue on that. I don't know for how long y'all been in spn fandom. But even if u joined one year before the show ended you'd know how close and intimate jensen and misha were. Everything about them was unmatched.+ The chemistry and how they just fit eachother. They had always been all over eachother. Like they were holding on eachother for dear life. They completed eachother and were like world's most powerful thing. They were the definition of soulmatism. No matter where, they ALWAYS kept interacting with eachother. Each possible tweet or insta post. On cons that the other wasn't there, the other one would bring up the othere's name for no absolute reason. +The looks and repeated love confessions. How invested they were both into eachother. The family they had built together cuz we know how close dee and mish are (look all the charity work they've been doing together recently). There are youtube videos to proof everything I've said so far.When i say break up, my real intention is that they've grown apart. Everything started in the the third or forth month of pandemic. Before than jensen used to interact +(comment mostly) on almost all of misha's posts. But after a while everything just stopped. At first personally didn't care that much. Bcuz I believed too much in them that I thought not even the gods above could separate them. I told myself maybe they spend long hours chatting or video calling and that's why online public interactions are gone. But as it passed it almost diminished to zero. Except some likes from jackles and eventual ones from misha there weren't anything else.+ We got absolutely no content and the show went off too. We were helpless and were sticking to everything we had Dee had a big social media shot down, so as jensen. Misha was busy with the election. We got some interviews for it with all of them. But we didn't get much.except remember both of them pulling a bff

move. and texted eachother during an online con where everyone else were dead-serious about politics? That flickered something in me. That showed me that+ they can't ever possibly let eachother go. And the times everyone else were talking and these too would just talk random things together (the one jackels had a white hat on with stacy abraham).And then Misha posted that for jensen's bday We really overlooked it. That shit was too intimate. To close. Fav march baby? U just don't go around and called ur bestie baby and when u mean it deeply. Especially not when ur friend is jensen ackles the "I suffered form internalized homophobia my whole life+ but fuck my wife's an angel and i have an angel bf too and another angel which is his wife but I'd rather die than come out cuz my asshole dad pulled a John winchester on me". It doesn't work like that. But uk how mish is. Carefree and open. I believe they got into a fight bcuz of this. He didn't even like the post. AND that was when the tiny bit of interactions we had was gone too. For a while jensen didn't even liked his posts. After a month it started again.What made me finally believe in that they had grown too+ far: I still remember the night misha posted that he and jensen were going to have a con for gish together. I remember how hard I cried. Lile the whole world was given to me. But deep down in my heart I knew that something would definitely happen. It didn't sit right with me and unfortunately my senses never lie to me. Jensen showed up at the wrong time bcuz of misunderstanding the time zones (this was HILARIOUS). That's not even my point.+ I've seen that interview 3 times so far. It always reminds me of when i saw my ex at a party and we were both so thrilled to see eachother and we still loved the other dearly, but we just couldn't work it out. Jensen and Misha's expressions were EXACTLY the same. The genuine smiles and longs pauses were they just stared at eachother. I'm so happy that it was online cuz if they actually gave that looks to eachother standing right next to the other one I would've collapsed. Misha didn't know that jensen's album+ was out. And he got so embarrassed when he found it out. He didn't know that jensen was on set and hadn't been home for 8weeks. Jensen had no idea where misha was. And this means that they hadn't talked in a long long time.When you're that close with someone for more than a decade, i mean THAT close, even if u're separated from eachother you'd at least check on the once a week, or at least once in two weeks. But it was vividly clear that they hadn't. I hate how this world works. They would always be in my heart.+ I would be thankful from them for everything. It hurts, and it won't stop and im so sure I'd be carrying this pain for a long time. They mean too much to a lot of us. Sometimes I think to myself that god i love them so much. Remember in 2019 when we used to get SO many jenmishdee interactions? That was LIT. It was THEE year for us. I hope they're doing good. I really do. I hope we don't get more proofs and I won't have to update this thread. Cuz my heart won't be taking it very+ well.Something i gotta add U may say that Jensen's busy and that's why he doesn't comment. But he comments on a lot of jared and his new costar's posts. So that's no excuse. So yeah that's it. I don't know what am I supposed to think. english isn't my native language, so sorry for the mistakes

Here is my response:

I don't know who this person who has been talking to is but I have to say they seem to be project their previous relationship experience on cockles.

I believe Jensen and Misha are okay and are together. Social media likes and comments don't mean anything. I mean it's not like Jensen or Misha used to comment on each other's posts before. Jensen didn't even wish Dee Happy Mother's Day this year, does that mean they are not together anymore? Nope. He has other best friends he has known for over 20 years like Jason Manns, Steve Carlson etc that he doesn't wish happy birthday, does that mean they are not friends anymore.

Please let's not put value on social media likes. I don't even follow my own family on sm and I don't always like or comment on my bf's or bff's posts on sm. So it doesn't mean anything.

As for the Gish Panel, I have talked about it before, the time Jensen was slotted to attend the panel, he was meant to answer fan questions. I honestly believe they decided to not do it at that time because they knew the questions would be about Destiel and not their new projects. If you watched that panel, Misha knew that Jensen's album was out as I pointed out. He was just trying to promote the album and soldier boy. He knew Jensen had also buffed out. It was all to promote Jensen. Anything else you hear is trolls and antis just being loud. Also don't forget Jensen called him "babe".

If Jensen and Misha weren't okay, he wouldn't have attended or participated all those panels Misha organized especially for Gish. Danneel also posts a lot about RA and likes Misha's posts. I am 100% Misha visited the Ackles when he went to Colorado last month.

Stop listening to trolls and/or antis or just people who are projecting and look at facts.

#submissions #cockles

[anothers-trash-my-treasure]

Take It Out On Me

Happy Smutty Saturday! I seem to like writing things revolving around the pandemic lmaoo I'm sorry, I don't want to make that a habit. This is escapism, after all. Anyways, request from god knows how long ago about angry fucking with our fav gremlin boi

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Reader (Female)

Warnings: 18+. There's some angst, some words exchanged in anger but nothing too crazy. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls don't be dumb) Rough sex, dirty talking, hints of BDSM if you squint, praise kink if you squint.

Word Count: 3K

Tag List: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @gloriousdarkangelsworld @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix

Enjoy!

When the pandemic started, things weren’t so bad. Your job allowed you to simply work from your laptop, you had turned the second bedroom/storage room into a makeshift office and it worked just fine. Merriell, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He had been laid off, and, at first, was incredibly stressed about it. Thankfully though, you made enough money to cover the rent and the government came through with some financial aid that helped Mer pay for the bills. You’d be okay.

In fact, once the financial stresses were taken care of, it was actually kind of nice. You two hadn’t lived together long, but long enough that you had noticed your schedule differences and long enough to know you had missed each other. Gone were the late nights at the shop that left you lonely and missing his touch. Quite the contrary, during the first few months, you had fucked like rabbits. He had taken you in every room of the house like you were christening the damn thing all over again. The kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, hell, he even had you in your ‘office’ at one point. It was fun, being together all the time.

Until it wasn’t.

Eventually, being cooped up in the same goddamn space all the damn time got to both of you. And you loved him dearly but god he was so fucking annoying sometimes. Usually, you could avoid creating tension either by slinking away to your office for a bit or politely asking him to take a walk. But the office door had been a lost cause ever since he fucked you up against it so hard it came right off its hinges and it was raining outside, so he couldn’t leave. You were stuck.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, but the little things that usually didn’t matter had gone unchecked and undiscussed and were beginning to bite at your skin in a way you couldn’t ignore. For you, it had started when you went to the bathroom in the morning, only to discover he had left the toilet seat up and you fell right through. For him it had started when you unconsciously kicked him awake at 6 in the morning on a Saturday. And from there it spiraled. By the time you were ready for coffee, he had drunk the whole pot.

“Thanks for leaving me some.” you had grumbled, and maybe you meant it in good fun, but your sleepy attitude struck a chord, and you knew that because it was met with silence.

So maybe that’s why you didn’t ask him if he wanted some of the eggs you were making for breakfast. And maybe that’s why he decided the be extra loud when he finally made his own breakfast. Pots and pans clanging as he threw them in the sinks, cupboard doors slamming shut and using his fork just a little too violently in a way that set your whole being on edge.

By the end of the day, you had snapped at each other a few times and the tension was so thick that you could barely stand just being next to him. You hated that you were feeling this way, that these stupid lockdowns were driving you away from each other when all you wanted was the opposite. But you couldn’t let go of your anger and annoyance, and it bled through your veins, poisoning any conflict resolution that threatened to act as an antidote to your frustrations.

The last straw came at dinner. He had asked you what you wanted to eat and just the question had you gritting your teeth. So you had replied, telling him that he could make whatever he wanted. That, apparently, was the wrong answer.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he snarled, slamming his hand down onto the kitchen island, “Can you please jus' tell me what the fuck you want?!”

You had done nothing more than glance his way and roll your eyes, not getting a chance to respond before he was launching into a tangent.

“Seriously, what the fuck do ya think I am? Some kinda mind reader?” He asks, one hand gesturing wildly while the other keeps the counter in a white-knuckled grip, “Ya been in this fuckin’ mood all goddamn day and Darlin, I gotta say, ‘m fuckin’ sick of it.”

You bark out a sharp, bitter laugh, “Oh, you’re sick of it?” You stand up from the couch, walking behind it so you can get closer to him, “Like you haven’t been intentionally pissing me off all fucking day.”

His jaw pushes out in annoyance, both hands now gripping the countertop, “I promise you,” and you gotta give the guy credit for trying to regain some composure, “whateva’ I did to make you this goddamn bitchy was not intentional.”

“Oh, so I’m a bitch now?” You counter, folding your arms over your chest.

His eyes close and his chin tucks into his chest, recognizing his mistake but unwilling to apologize for it, “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Tell me.” you insist, stepping closer to him, “Tell me what a bitch I’ve been. Blame all your problems on me. Because that’s just easier, isn’t it?”

It’s not true. You know. He knows it. But right now, all you can focus on is the anger that’s been boiling in the pit of your stomach.

“Y’know what? Maybe this-” he cuts himself off, but his quick gesture between the two of you finishes the rest of his sentence for him. Silence fills the kitchen and now there’s salt added to the wound. Hurt swirls with your anger and you can’t stop yourself from talking even if you tried.

“No, say it.” you encourage bitterly, crossing the line into the kitchen, “Tell me how moving in together was a mistake. Tell me how you can’t fucking stand living with me. Tell me how I’m so bitchy and how sick you are of my shit. Tell me-”

Before you can finish antagonizing him, he’s got you pushed up against the wall, his hands braced on either side of your head. He’s so close to you, you can feel his breath, angry and panting on your skin. You look into his eyes, seeing them hard and cold with his anger but something else lying behind them.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and before you can even begin to be angry about it his lips are on yours and you can’t breathe.

His anger is very apparent, even as he kisses you. It’s rough, bruising, but it’s an outlet for all the negative feelings you’ve been experiencing so you kiss him back just as hard. You reach for him, unsure if you’re working to pull him closer and push him away. It doesn’t really matter though because he doesn’t let you touch him for long. Within seconds both your wrists are taken in one hand and pinned above your head. You fight against his hold, despite knowing it’s futile. In retaliation you bite down hard on his lip, feeling only a little satisfied when he pulls away in shock, his free hand coming up to check for blood. There's not.

You meet his eyes with a defiant smirk. He wants to play dirty? Fine. You can play that way too.

He steps away and for a second you think he’s actually going to walk away. But then-

“Get your ass to the bedroom.”

You almost laugh. If he thinks you’re, in any way, going to be compliant tonight, he’s sadly mistaken. Instead, you cross your arms, falling back to lean against the wall, your eyes never leaving his. He chuckles, an angry smirk crossing his features. He looks away, shaking his head, tongue poking against the side of his cheek in complete disbelief. Before you can think of your next move he’s got you thrown over his shoulder, marching the both of you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. You squirm, trying to push yourself to an angle that would let you fight his grip but it’s no use. By the time you work his hold free, he’s already dropping you on the bed. Although dropping may not be the right word, he all but slams you down, leaving you momentarily breathless.

Even then, he moves quickly. His hands move to his belt, quickly working the clasp back and off so he can slide his jeans off. Despite your anger, you feel heat pool between your legs when the fabric drops to reveal bare skin. It’s nothing new for Merriell, but it never fails to do something to you. He knows it too, a cocky smile gracing his face as he sheds his shirt too. He only lets you look for a second before he’s quickly flipping you onto your stomach. He forces you up onto your knees, hand finding the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you as he climbs onto the mattress behind you.

You put up a bit of a fight, although you’re becoming less and less focused on your anger and frustration and more focused on the feeling on his cock pressing against the back of your jean-clad thigh.

“Always seem to forget how fucking stubborn you are.” He growls into your ear, pressing himself against the line of you body while his free hand starts to unbutton and work off your pants, “Hard headed and difficult.” he continues, biting roughly on your earlobe just to here your intake of breathe and to feel you struggle against his hold, “A fucking brat.” He punctuates the last words by tugging both your jeans and panties down around your thighs roughly. You hiss at the forcefulness of the action, feeling the burn of the fabric against your skin contrasting with cool air against your bare pussy.

You’re completely at his mercy.

His presence is dominating, even though you can’t see him, his hands, one pressing on your neck to keep you still and the other caressing the swell of your ass, let you know exactly who's in charge. You don’t struggle, both of you knowing how much you want him, but you still hold an air of defiance. Your face is turned so you can breathe, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. He tries to draw you out, teasing you by dragging his cock against your wetness. He alternates between taking the tip and rubbing it between your folds and fucking the space between your thighs. He knows what it does to you, can see the way you fight the urge to beg by pressing your lips together.

But you don’t fold.

“C’mon baby,” he taunts, venom laced in his words, “I know you want it.” As he talks the hand on your neck slides up into your hair, “Know you want that attitude fucked outta ya,” He tugs your hair roughly, pulling a gasp from your lips and forcing you to look back at him, “All ya gotta do is ask.”

You breathe heavily for a second, eyes locked with his, “Go fuck yourself.”

He growls, shoving your head back down into the mattress and thrusting into you roughly. Your back arches, eyes rolling back in your head as he begins to fuck you, not allowing you even a second to catch your breath. The second he sees bliss cross your features, he’s insufferable.

He laughs against a moan, “Feisty,” he comments, “but the second my dick’s in ya, you’re putty in my hands.”

You’re desperate to prove him wrong. You force your eyes open, locking them with his and pushing back against his thrusts, the headboard already banging against the wall with the force of both your movements.

“Feel’s good doesn’t it?” He asks, free hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack.

“I’ve had better.” Your voice bounces with each thrust, but you’re determined to keep your composure, despite the pleasure that makes your toes curl.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and he lays another harsh smack to your rear, just to see your body react, “Liar,” he hisses, fingers digging into your skin.

His angle changes ever so slightly so that his cock now drags against your sweet spot with every movement and you can’t force your moan back. His eyes light up, laughing delightedly at the sound, “Had betta’ my ass.” he comments, leaning down to bite roughly on your shoulder, effectively leaving marks all across them, “Ya jus’ can’t help ya’self. You love it. Love the feeling of my cock in you.”

“Who says I’m thinking of you?” You shoot back.

You know it’s not true. Merriell was unlike any lover you had before, you were hopelessly and utterly ruined for anyone else. But that didn’t matter. The comment, however untruthful, hits his possessive streak just like you knew it would. He pulls out of you, flipping you onto your back and nearly ripping the remaining fabric off your body before resuming his brutal pace, this time using your wrists on either side of your head to hold you down. In this position he can ensure that you’re looking at him, leaving no doubt in either of your minds that it’s him that makes you feel like this. Only him.

“Such a fucking brat,” he growls, leaving bite marks all along your skin. By the time you’re done, there won’t be a part of your body that’s not marked by him.

He stops talking for a second, focusing instead on giving you the fucking of your life. He’d never fucked you like this. He’d been possessive, sweet, caring, loving, jealous. But never angry. Not like this. Every ounce of frustration and anger he’d felt was redirected to his hips, the air tense with the hurtful words you’d both said earlier.

“C’mon,” you taunt when he slows for a second, lips turned up in a sneer even as you pant, breathless, “That all you got?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, hoisting your legs up onto his shoulders, releasing your hands so he can move one to your throat, pressing you into the bed that way instead. It’s hard for you to breathe that way, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. And if you thought he was fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to the way he’s fucking you now.

The new angle allows him to trust deeper into you and your stubborn resolve begins to fade a little. Your hands scramble to latch onto his forearm that holds you down, not trying to push him away but just searching for purchase, for support somewhere you’ve always found it. He’s not faring much better, head rolling back onto his shoulders with a groan as he fucks you. You’re both quickly abandoning your anger in favor of the pleasure that you provide each other.

“Merriell,” you mewl, a peace offering without even realizing it.

His head snaps back to look down at you, eyes sparkling at the sound of your name on his lips for the first time tonight, “There she is,” he pants, leaning down to kiss you, open-mouthed and filthy. It’s still harsh, but the anger behind his motions is nearly gone, “My good girl, huh?”

You don’t even need to nod, to voice your confirmation. It’s not even really a question. You both know you’d come to an unspoken agreement.

“Fuck, baby girl.” he moans against your mouth, slowing his trusts just enough so he can really make you feel the drag of his cock inside you, “Oh, you feel so good.”

You love it when he gets like this. When all he can do is fuck into you and voice his pleasure. It’s a sure sign of surrender.

“Yes,” you gasp, back arching up against his as you feel your pleasure begin to reach its peak, “Merriell, I’m close.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, nodding in agreement, “C’mon, baby I gotcha. Let go for me.”

Your eyes lock with his the second you feel yourself slip over the edge. You see the way his eyes watch you, full of love that he had hidden behind his anger earlier. Your nails dig into his arm and your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself as pleasure courses through your whole body. You think that maybe you're shaking, but you’re completely detached from your conscious, knowing only the bliss he’s brought you.

Your senses come back to you just in time to feel him finish inside of you. His head buries into your neck, muffling his moans against your skin. The hand that had previously held you down now cups the back of your neck, the other gripping the back of your thigh with a grip so tight, you’re sure you’ll wear his fingerprints for a week.

He collapses against you, staying buried in your heat but pulling back enough so he can kiss you passionately. You kiss him back, hands tangling in his hair as your emotions begin to rise. When he pulls back your eyes are wet with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing your noses together.

He nods, rubbing your noses together affectionately, “Me too,” he says, just as quiet, “Don’t leave.”

It’s a rare moment of sheer vulnerability, much needed after the heightened tensions throughout the past few days. You both knew, on some levels that the words shared earlier were spoken only out of frustration. But there was always that glimmer of doubt that you both felt. For him, it was always that you could find someone better. And for you, it was always the possibility of him growing sick of you.

You shake your head, kissing his softly, lovingly, “Never.”

After a few more moments of holding each other, he pulls out of you but doesn't move much further. He pulls you tight against his chest, kissing the top of your forehead. You bask in the silence for a handful of moments, just listening to each other breathe, finally feeling the tension between the two of you dissipate.

“Next time, can you just please put the seat down?” You murmur against his chest, a teasing tone to your voice.

He barks out a laugh and you grin against his skin at the sound.

Everything was going to be okay.

#merriell shelton #merriell shelton x reader #merriell shelton / reader #snafu #snafu shelton #snafu x reader #rami malek #rami malek smut #rami malek x reader #smut #angst

[hisfavoritecherry]

right place, right time

summary: harry decides to take a trip to japan in an attempt to take his mind off of some things; that is, until one of the things finds its way back to him. 

warning: sadness, degredation, smut, all that good stuff

word count: 3.2k+

January 6, 2019; Tokyo, Japan. 

Harry would have never expected to find himself here. Well, he did at some points, but the ideas were never conclusive and he had never actually envisioned himself booking a flight, taking the plane, and arriving in the city that one of his most treasured books was based off of. The trip was obviously an irrational decision and after tour, there was no place he would’ve rather been (other than home, but even that didn’t feel like the right choice at the moment). He needed a new area, a new location, a new setting; to put it simply, a new place to miss you. 

You and Harry had broken things off just shortly before he went away for work, explaining that you just couldn’t handle him being away for that long and that maybe, just maybe, it was for the best. You were starting your new job as a journalist for the New York Times and it was a big step in your career for you, and you knew that there should be absolutely nothing that would prevent you from achieving it. Even him. 

He agreed, obviously, as he’s always respected you and your aspirations and he knew that he didn’t want to be the one thing that was holding you back. He’s encouraged you to do everything you can to do what you want to do as you’ve encouraged him to do the same, and even if it broke his heart, you deserved it more than anyone he’s ever known in his twenty-four years of life. You stayed friends and would call every now and then, updating him on gossip in the office or just things happening in your everyday life. You’d ask him about events happening around him as well and he would say the same thing every time. That it’s the same-old, that he’s okay, that he misses you. A smile would creep upon your lips as you knew you felt the same way, but nothing would change, no matter how much you both wanted it to. 

The only remaining problem was that you stayed on his mind the whole time after you had split, and regardless of how many times he tried to stray away from you, the thought of you always spilled back into his mind like ink on paper; you were his familiarity and he was yours.

He would see someone in the crowd who looked like you; there you were. He went on runs when he managed to get days away from the stage and put his playlist on shuffle, hearing the song you both claimed and danced together to in his kitchen that one time; there you were. He visited a random corner cafe and got your order just to see what all the fuss was about but ended up frowning and hating it deeply because it was too sweet; there you were. Every goddamn chance he got, there you were. 

Harry had expected things to change as he disembarked the outing, suggesting that perhaps if he had different people surrounding him, his conceptions would change as well. 

They didn’t. It worsened, in fact, and he ended up seeing you more wherever he went. Every face, every place, every name, it brought him back to you and he eventually accepted that you would never go away, or at least would go away in slivers at a time. So to take his mind off of the idea of you for the meanwhile, he used most of his days and nights to go out with friends and find new individuals to satisfy his cravings for the ghost of you. Not sex, or anything else, he simply just found new things to fill the void and help him ignore the pain he was so evidently feeling.

It’s currently February 1. The day he was dreading, his now second birthday without you next to him. Harry decided to spend today at Sarutahiko Coffee, a cozy cafe just a few blocks down from where he was staying. Partying and going out to karaoke with his friends was fun, hell, sometimes he thought about dropping everything and moving here just to be able to live this lifestyle, but it did get tiring at some points, and there is nothing else he’d rather be doing than perching up against a corner in the shop and reading his book right now.

The work of choice held tightly in his grip is The People Look Like Flowers at Last by Charles Bukowski, reading the poems flowing from the creme-colored pages and writing thoughts in a journal kept close to him about things that stood out the most. 

 “A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.”

What a load of donkey shit, Harry thought to himself. Love was nothing but heavy unfair baggage to him now, and he no longer believed in it. Not if he didn’t get to have you.

He chuckles to himself softly at the notion, jotting it down onto the paper and crossing it out immediately after.

It’s pathetic to Harry. How he was acting this way towards your relationship with him, how looked at the situation so negatively and sourly. He loved you so much that everytime he saw you, his breath hitched and he felt as if his heart would pump out of his chest. That every step you took closer to him, it would land him closer to a casket or his deathbed.

The bell tolls and he doesn’t bother tilting his head to see if it’s a customer coming in or leaving, as it’s been occurring all day and he just doesn’t pay mind to the action anymore. He continues to let his eyes touch every word on the page but abruptly stops when he recognizes a tone of voice. 

“Hi, how are you?”

It’s not her. Can’t be. Wouldn’t be. She’s not even in Tokyo.

Nonetheless, he looks up in the most subtle form of curiosity beaming from his aura. 

There you were. Your head cocking to the side, smiling at the cashier taking your order as you speak broken Japanese in an hasty endeavor to communicate with them. You’re dressed in a flowy white dress covered in tiny pink flowers attached to green leaves, hugging your waist in all the right places and a nude bag clutched around your shoulder. Around your back and arms is the baby pink cardigan Harry gave to you for your twenty-first birthday, the one he was so strangely excited to give to you because secretly, he knew he would be able to take the material off of you once the party was over and everyone had gone home.

He’s stunned and stopped in place now, his eyes wide open as he had no clue what to do at this point.

As if the stars had aligned in place at the perfect time, you’re standing in front of him and it feels like he can’t move.

He had only ever spoken to you through calls, not getting the chance to Facetime because he never had the time to while he was away, and you look different. A good different. Your hair is a little longer than he last saw you and tinted lighter, and it’s apparent that your skin is glowing now. Not a pregnancy glow, he hopes.

He snaps out of his trance as you grab your latte off of the counter, turning to find a seat around the cafe and freezing as you both make eye contact. Your heart stops at the sight of him. Him. The person you missed so goddamn dearly and the person you’ve been yearning for since the day you broke up. The person who’s kissed you when you were nervous, who held you when you were scared. The person you’re still in love with to this day, no matter the lengthy amount of time you’ve spent apart. 

A few seconds pass and you start to make your way to the area he’s sitting alone at. You’re praying in this time that he isn’t here with someone else, but in return, he smiles at you. The kind of smile you love, when his dimple pops out and his pearly brights show through. He’s the sun.

“Harry,” you breathe softly, lips curling into a grin. The sound of his name erupting from your mouth makes your lungs skip a beat as you haven’t said it at all in what? A year now?

“Y/N,” he says in return.

“Mind if I sit?” 

He purses his lips and hastily moves all of his belongings over, making space for your arrival. 

“Be my guest.” 

Your perfume dials into his brain as you sit and he smiles at the easily recognized scent. The silence between the two of you now is deafening and to be frank, annoying. You wish you could hold him in your arms again and tell him you missed him and you love him and that this whole time, all you’ve ever wanted to do was call him and find your way back to him, but you don’t. You can’t. Not here, at least. 

“So-”

“You-” You both start speaking at once.

“Whoops, my bad. You go first,” you say softly, pressing your lips into a line which makes him laugh gently.

“I was going to say, y’ look good, Y/N.” 

Your heart stops once more and everything comes rushing back to you.

The first time he kissed you, the first time he held your hand, the first time you made love, the first time you fucked, the last time you kissed, the last time he held your hand, the last time you made love, the last time you fucked.

“Thank you,” you look down out of pure nervousness as you don’t want to mess it up. “You do too, I’ve missed you.”

A moment of stillness is shared between you two and you instantly regret saying it, God knows if he feels the same way and if he could be missing someone else who isn’t you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, forget I said that, please.”

“No, s’ all good, was just registering into my brain that you actually said that,” he pauses, running his hands through the chestnut locks held atop his head. You never noticed but his hair has grown a large amount, almost touching his neck now. He’s wearing a light brown cardigan around a white tee shirt, sunglasses hanging off of the edge of the material. His eyes are duller and he looks more tired, worrying you, but you don’t want to fuss just yet about why that is.

“I missed you too.”

You both smile and nod together, almost as if in sync and you observe that although it’s awkward now, it’s a comforting kind of awkward and you know that he’s finally here in front of you, with a blatantly inviting heart and the softest smile to grant you access to it. 

“So what are you doing in Tokyo?” he asks, taking a sip from the mug filling to the brim with black coffee that seems like he didn’t bother touching since the moment he arrived. 

“I could ask you the same thing. But I’m here just to visit, work’s been on my ass and I just needed a way to escape. I worked my ass off everyday since my first day on the job and I never slacked. Not once. But it gets tiring, y’ know, so I was like, Japan seems like a cool option. So I used up my savings and booked a flight. Been here for a few days. Weird that we ended up at the same time, though, I guess,” you giggle delicately and it sounds like music to Harry’s ears, a melody he hasn’t heard in what feels like forever. He stays silent in response as he puzzles together in his mind how this could have happened. How you managed to come to the same cafe as him, at the same time, in the same city. Right place, right time, he suggests to himself.

“And you?”

You like that about Harry. You like that you’re able to spill your heart out to him and he would accept all of it with open arms, listening as closely as he possibly can and registering every spoken word into his brain. 

“After tour ended, I was weighing all the possible options on where I could spend the time writing the next record and getting my mind off of some other shit, an’ I guess we had the same idea of randomly choosing Japan.”

“Yeah? Where are you staying?” you ask quietly, tiny hands curling around the cup of your liquid of choice. You realize that maybe it was a bit of a reach to ask, but you’re curious and you’re almost positive he’s the same. 

“I can show you if y’ want,” Harry taps his fingers against the wooden table dividing the two of you and you nod in response, and him mentally breathing out in relief that it didn’t backfire onto him. You had no plans for the rest of today, anyways, other than exploring the city a bit more, and it wouldn’t hurt to check the place out for a few minutes or so. You both grab your belongings, heading towards the exit and smiling at the workers who do the same in return. 

You walk a mere five minutes in silence before arriving at a tall brick-built building. You assume it’s an apartment complex and he unlocks the main entrance, heading towards a set of doors that end up being an elevator. You both pile into the lifting device and he clicks the number 10.

“S’ nice,” you say softly, tugging at the hem of your dress-skirt. He nods in response and folds his arms together. 

Harry’s heart is racing faster than he can think and it feels like time is going slower than usual. It’s never normal for him to be anxious or nervous like this around you, you’re his sense of calmness and the only person he feels like he can totally know himself with.

But he can’t wait any longer. He doesn’t want to lose you again, not like this. 

Harry steps in front of you, eyes peering down and his hands tuck around the back of your neck. Your hands absentmindedly wrap around his waist, and you know what’s going to happen next but honestly, you’re so grateful for it.

“If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it?”

He smiles at you once more before cocking his head to the side and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.” You don’t let another moment pass before eagerly smashing your lips against his, him pressing you up against the elevator wall and wrapping your leg around his middle. He tastes like mint and forgotten love, the sweet tang of the person you’ve missed so fucking much. You can feel him hardening against your center as your lips move together in sync, releasing from each other’s embrace as Harry moves down to your neck and leaves soft pecks around the area. He moves up to the spot right behind your ear that he knows makes you go crazy, which makes your cunt ache for him and only him.

The elevator dings above your frames and he pulls off of you immediately, the both of you moving to the side of one another as an elderly lady enters. You look up to see Harry smirking to himself with his lips pressed into a line and you nudge his side while rolling your eyes, him chuckling in return.

It doesn’t take long before you arrive at his floor, his fingers intertwining with yours as he leads you to the exit and towards his door. He fumbles with his keys for a moment as you lean up to suck the nape of his neck fervidly, leaving marks as you go and him groaning tacitly.

“And don’t think I forgot that it’s your birthday,” you whisper against his ear, giggling and kissing against it as he’s finally able to get it unlocked. He pushes the door open to reveal a large penthouse that you don’t get a second to look around before you’ve dropped down to your knees, trembling as you unbuckle the belt around his waist. You don’t want to admit it but this is the first time you’ve both ever gotten laid since you ended things and you never would have guessed that this would’ve been with each other. Harry throws the stack of books previously held in his clutch onto the couch nearby and helps you tug down his jeans, his black briefs now in vision and erection planted directly in front of you. You stroke him through the material and leave kisses across it, making your way to the tip of it and pulling the briefs down with your teeth. He hisses at the teasing action with glistening eyes and you can’t help but smirk to yourself at the sight of it, grabbing him between your fingers and using them to move down his shaft. You’re looking up at him now and his head is thrown back, moaning at the feeling of pent-up deprivation finally being taken care of. 

You use your tongue to swirl around the tip, catching any of the precum dribbling from his cock in the swells of your mouth and he grabs a handful of your hair to guide you through it.

“Fuck, jus’ like that,” he pauses, using his strength to bob your head up and down but making sure it’s only the amount of him you’re able to take. “I’ve missed you, baby,”

Tears begin to gather at the crease of your eyelids before he releases his grip each time, and it doesn’t take long before he’s picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom. You whine in irritation and make rebuttals for him to put you down and he pats your ass, placing you down softly onto the mattress and continuing to work his way around your heart-shaped lips. He pulls up the material around your body and throws it to the other side of the room to reveal that surprisingly, you aren’t wearing any bra or panties, and his breath hitches before taking a moment to himself and placing his hands onto you once more. It’s obvious that he’s trying to be as delicate as he possibly can with you but to be honest, that is the last thing you want right now.  

“Harry,” you breathe out, cursing to yourself as he kisses tenderly down your torso. He tilts his head in reaction; you’ve always been very vocal with each other about affection and sex and how you wanna go about it so it wouldn’t hurt to be that way now too.

“Please,” you breathe out. “Be rough with me, I need you so much,” you beg, him humming as a silent notion of ‘are you sure?’ and you nod in return. Harry’s finger dips through your soaked folds, digit swirling over your sensitive nub and using his other hand to hold your hips down as they buck up against him. Propping yourself up onto your elbows to watch him work, you whine his name over and over as his mouth is now attached to your heat, him moaning from enjoyment in response as well. He pulls away and you can’t help but want to scream at him for it, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. As much as he wants you, he wants to know that you’re just as needy and eager for his entrance. 

“What do y’ want, princess? Hm?” He taunts, pushing his thumb against your clit harder. 

“I want-” He presses harder, which makes you cry out louder.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” you mumble quietly and he halts his movements completely, making you squirm and wrap your fingers around his arm in a poor attempt to reattach his touch back to you. 

“What was that?” You know he heard you the first time but needs to hear you beg for him once more.

“I want you to fuck me Harry, make me c-cum, please,” you tremble and it doesn’t take another second for him to pull his weight up before wrapping his hand around his cock firmly and hooking his other onto your thigh. He doesn’t give you time to re-adjust before sinking himself into you and letting out a groan, the moan coming from your lips sounding like a symphony to his perception.

“Shit, you’re so wet, all f’ me,” he wants to let you adapt to his length again but instead, decides to start moving himself in and out of you hastily, head dropping to your neck and you use his nape to leave your traces up against. He never expected to end up here, fucking you like this in his bedroom, but that was the last thing on his mind, the first being to make you cum. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Harry,” you plea. “You feel so fucking good,” you cry out for him, sobs being jagged and covered with lust as you move your fingers into his sweat-immersed hair. His face is tinted a bright shade of pink and moisture is leaking down the sides of his face.

“Harder, please, daddy,” the accentuating whines coming from your lips almost mask the nickname you’ve bestowed upon him for the first time since you last made love, but it makes his stomach riddle with butterflies and he follows your request. Harry pushes himself into you harder each time, his fingers trailing down to your center and pinching the skin surrounding your nub. The only noises throughout his whole apartment now is a combination of your moans and the bed softly creaking against the hardwood floor. He knows that you’re close and he is as well, but he wants to make it last longer for your first time together again.

“Y/N,” he groans out, brown curls falling in front of his face. “‘m not going to last long, baby, gonna cum for me? Gonna let me fill you up like the dirty slut you are? Is that what you want?” 

You can only nod in response due to the dryness in your throat from crying out seemingly louder than you ever have and you feel yourself release and clench onto his dick, pinching your eyes shut and seeing fireworks glow against them. A moment passes and Harry loosens the grip from your thigh, stuttering and becoming more sloppy with his thrusts, but soon emptying himself into you and pounding into you one last time, sending chills throughout both of your bodies.

He waits for a while in order to recollect himself and give you a chance to as well, collapsing at your side as you feel his contents spill out of you. You know he’s about to grab something to clean you up with when he begins to move to the edge of the bed but you tug him back, nodding and pouting.

“Don’t leave, not yet,” you say, still out of breath and Harry chuckles quietly before pulling himself back and wrapping his arms around your waist, pecking up against the sweet spot near your neck once more and letting out a sigh. 

“I’m not leaving you ever again, not after what just happened.” You lean over and swat his arm, giggling and pressing your lips against his again. You’re both finally in the place that you’ve been dying to be in for the past year and you realize that maybe the time you spent apart was all worth it if it meant you got to be back here with him, in his arms, in his presence, in his bedroom, in Japan.  

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles #japan harry

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

SEND HELP.

Reyes brothers + Little sister!Reader

Anon asked: Could you write an imagine of how is it being the reyes little sister?

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author Comments: I actually don't know what the hell I did. Is it a headcanon? Is it somekind of short imagine? Enjoy. Gif credit: @angels-reyes .

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Being the little sister is not easy.

“Who you love the most, ah?” Angel says raising his chin proudly, sitting in front of you with Ez by his side.

“Me, of course”.

“I'm the older, shut the fuc' up”.

“Yea', but I'm smarter than you and I used to help her with homeworks”.

“I taught her to punch your shitty fac—”.

“Why we have to do it every week?” You sigh more for you, than for them, rubbing your temples as you shake your head so tired of the same story all the time. “I love you equally”.

Angel clicks his tongue rolling his eyes, getting up of the sofa and hitting EZ's neck. “She loves me more than you”.

Your brothers are so overprotective that they threaten a five years old 'cause he said you were cute. And no Mayan is allowed to breathe close of you.

“Prez, security distance”. Angel says, sitting at the pool table with a beer in his hand.

“I'm sorry, what?” Bishop raised his head at him, placed by yourself, as he was showing you the photos he made the last time he went to Stockton.

“You're too close to my sister”.

You snort heavily, covering your face with both hands.

“Yea', I can't show her my phone at two fuckin' meters away, pendejo”.

“Ignore him”. You beg at the oldest, making a gesture with your hand, so he can continue.

“Why is prez so close to her?” EZ asks, coming from nowhere.

“FOR GOD'S SAKE, I'M NOT GONNA FUCK HER. I JUST WANNA SHOW HER SOME PICS, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS”.

“Send her by email”.

Coco fears for his life whenever he accidentally calls you ‘mami’, 'cause Angel says that's disrespectful.

Not even your father can yell at you in their presence.

But they're also so kind, gentle and lovely with you. Your brothers always take care of you when you get sick. They cook for you, even if you have to order something because they're so useless that is a miracle that the kitchen has not burned yet. They usually stay all night long at home watching Disney movies with you, taking your temperature every five minutes.

“EZ, I'm okay… It's just my period”.

“ANGEL. RED CODE. I REPEAT. RED. CODE”. For some reason he starts to scream out, watching the older running from the kitchen to the living room in two seconds.

“OKAY. KEEP CALM. YOU BUY THE TAMPONS AND THE PILLS AT THE PHARMACY. I'M ON MY WAY FOR THE CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM AND THE FRIED CHIPS FROM MCDONALDS. SEE YOU HERE IN TEN MINUTES. RUN FOR YOUR FUCKIN' LIFE, BROTHER, OUR LITTLE BABY NEEDS US”. They nod pretty convinced of the new mission, disappearing faster than you're allow to notice.

“What the fuck…?”

They made a lot of extra work to pay for your university. Angel says you're the only hope of the Reyes family. But he didn't like that you chose to study law. Till he was arrested.

“See, idiot? She's my lawyer”.

You're dying of shame, with the cop's gaze going from your brother to you.

“Aren't you too young to be lawyer? How many years do you have?”

“HEY, HEY! YO! ARE YOU FUCKIN' TRYIN' TO FLIRT WITH MY LITTLE BABY? I CAN GO OUT FROM JAIL, BUT YOU CAN'T GO OUT FROM A GRAVE, MAN!”

“Excuse me?”

“Sweet Jesus Christ, Angel…”

Whenever they're out from Santo Padre, they always bring you a present. Sometimes it's a book, sometimes it's a collar… And they also call you. A lot. Like a lot. Hiding from the crew 'cause it's not allowed. But fuck the Mayans, you're the little sister.

“Yo! Man! Focus on both of us, not just you”. Ez is complaining because Angel facetimed you and he has the objective pointing only at him.

“You're so fuckin' ugly, man, I don' wan' my camera to break!”

“She's my sister too, moron”. Ez hits Angel's ribs with his elbow, so he can make some space for himself.

“You never get tired of fighting...?” You're laughing, lying at your bed when the night has come.

“For your love? Neva', amor mío”. The oldest say with a goofy look on his face, Ez rolling his eyes.

“We miss you”.

They couldn't even get mad at you those nights you call them being drunk at an illegal party, nor in a pub where they used to serve alcohol to teen girls. Both used to picked you up, and while EZ was making you eat something they bought, Angel were destroying the bar and threatening the owner with a clipped shotgun. After that, you had to run away from the cops.

They're not affective between them, nor with Pops, but with you… They're always hugging you, kissing you, flattering you. All the time. And it's pretty good whenever you wake up feeling some hate about yourself for no reason.

Actually, you're the only one who can ride their motorbikes, even if you don't have the enough confidence to do it. But the promised you that they were going to buy you one when you get graduated. So you can ride together.

But at the end of the day, you're the one who covers your brothers with a blanket, after falling asleep on the sofas at Pops', giving them a dearly kiss on the cheek and telling them how much you love them, and that your life wouldn't have any sense without them.

#mayans mc #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes x reader

[naralanis]

Fic Writer Review!

Thanks @mssirey for the tag! I totally didn't have a crisis with the very last question, not at all bwhahaha

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

41, soon to be 42. ASJKLDBLAHSDSD how. And also why. But mostly, how.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

565,934 EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I was going to check my unpublished works but ya know what. Maybe I've written enough akdjsa

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Technically speaking, I've written and published fics for five fandoms. However, I only have one story for OUAT (and I have @shadowdianne to thank for that... or do I?) and one for Captain Marvel. Mirandy was my first love, Cissamione the second, and Supercorp has burrowed in my brain and just won't let go.

I've also technically written for Xena, Legend of Korra, and Criminal Minds, but since I never published those, we're going to pretend they don't exist!

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Only two are WIPs! YEAH! They're the top two, but WHO CARES, here they are:

1) Perhaps, aka my baby, my child, my darling, the apple of my eye. If I ever had to choose to finish only ONE of my WIPs, this would be the one. This story has grown with me, and I think you can tell when you read. Or maybe not!

2) For the Better. If the former is my baby, this one is like... my moody teenager. I love it dearly, but... it takes a lot out of me. An ode to one of the first fandoms I actively wrote for, it sits unfinished, but nearly, oh so nearly done. I will finish it, damn ittt.

3) The Date. Honestly, this one really surprised me -- it's one of my oldest one-shots, and something I definitely dashed off between lectures back in Scotland, maybe alternating with FtB chapters. It's one of my first attempts at humour, I think.

4) Bits and Pieces. AYY, I wasn't sure Supercorp would make the cut, WOOOT! This one was the second Supercorp fic I ever wrote, and I did it because Lena Is Baby and the idea just wouldn't leave my brain.

And lastly, the fabulous number 5... Perfect. AKA Nara's First (published) Explicit Fic, featuring Praise Kink and an Enchanted Dildo (for... reasons). I'm not gonna lie, I am so HAPPY this one made it, because it has a special place in my heart. It's where Soft Butch Hermione comes to life, and if you don't love Soft Butch Hermione, I'm sorry, we can't be friends. I love her.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Eeermmm... some? I do want to respond, but I'm terrible with keeping up with comments, I really am. For whatever reason, even when I do my best, I don't really love responding directly on AO3. I also turned off all email notifications for AO3 because turns out my brain WILL be distracted by even a single one.

I'm much more responsive on Tumblr, I promise!

6. A fic you've written with the angstiest ending:

Any of my Narlily works, I guess? Like... All Flowers Wither or Carry On.

Unshackled would be another one, though it's Cissamione... but I caved and made a happy(ish) second part for that one.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Nope! Crossovers just don't do it for me, generally speaking (reading or writing).

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

EvEr rEcEIvEd hAtE-- yes. Oh, yes. I've been told my writing is terrible, I've been told my stories were a 'waste of time,' or 'overhyped,' I've had people tell me there was only One Way to write a certain pairing and my way was definitely Not The Way.

The list goes on.

It used to really, really bother me--still does, but in a much smaller way. Delete/Block buttons are my friends.

9. Do you write smut?

I write an absurd amount of smut. I just don't publish any of it because. Fear.

My pretty, pretty pens have created some filthy, filthy things.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

A couple of times -- only once or twice like, straight up attributed to someone else who acted like they were the one writing it. The other times were reposts or translations (without my permission, so still. stolen).

11. Ever had a fic translated?

I've authorized a couple of translations of a few of my DWP works. I'm usually cool with people translating my stuff IF THEY ASK ME FIRST and GIVE ME PROPER CREDIT.

9/10 it's some Brazilian who translates it to Portuguese without my permission and then gets upset when I, another Brazilian, do not endorse it and politely ask them to take the thing down. Thankfully it's been a while. ASK ME, DAMN IT.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Nothing published bwhaha!

13. All-time favourite ship?

Right now SuperCorp is definitely barking a little louder, so to speak, but I don't really have one favourite overall. It depends on the fandom, sometimes! Cissamione is very dear to my heart, because it's just so fucking out there and literally every one in this ship has some of the most fascinating headcanons for this pairing and it's just. So wonderful.

14. WIP you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?

Eeeeuuughhh.... Right now? Probably The Appraisal. I forget what I wanted to do with it, I'm not sure if I'm still feeling the premise... IDK.

I think the same could be said of For the Better, but I PROMISED to finish it, and GOD DAMN IT, I am so close I can't throw in the towel just yet.

15. Writing strengths?

You want ME to say good things about MYSELF? I'm still learning how to do that asldkjbasdn it's a work in progress. But I think I'd say... maybe world-building, at least on my longer works?

I would also like to think I do pretty OK in... IDK, some of the punchy stuff? The 'oh wait a minute' moment? IDK if that makes sense!

16. Writing weaknesses?

Organizing. Plot (HAHA IKR). Consistency. Editing (which is rich from someone who literally edits shit for a living... but go figure). Pacing. Weirdly long sentences? Commas for DAYS.

I could go on.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I am a-OK attempting it in French/Spanish/Portuguese. It may not sound natural, but it will be correct. If I'm trying another language, I'll definitely get help! But I've got no problem with it.

18. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Harry Potter, Dramione specifically, and you'll never find a shred of it. I was like 12, and almost a decade later I figured out Hermione was much better off with Draco's mother.

19. What's your fav fic you've written so far?

DON'T MAKE ME CHOOOSE asdkljasdl I CAAANNN'TTTT

I mean, obviously Perhaps is one of them -- it is my baby, that has been established. I think Little Bumps in the Road is also up there, because it was just a random writing exercise that got out of hand, and honestly? I'm here for it. Andddd.... I GUESS I'll put A Valentine's Evening up there as well, because it was the first time I didn't second guess every word I wrote when posting smut. I just... felt it, went for it, wrote it, and it felt really, really good to release some of that into the world lol

WHEW, this was a long one! I'll be tagging @intheinkpot, @shadowdianne, @delirious-comfort, and @16-pennies because I am a curious bastard. But, as always, feel free to treat this as an open tag. Go nuts!

#tag game #this was illuminating in several ways #aka i need to finish my wips #(though that ain't exactly news) #but more importantly #i've written way more than I think I have #and ya know what #it's OK to be proud of that #i am proud of all my children #and i love them all equally #*side eyes Decisions Decisions Decisions* #even you #nara rambles

[artificialqueens]

Maybe You're My Enemy (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

a/n: hey, hi, hello! welcome to the first canon compliant thing i have written since 2017, i am *~ petrified! ~* . i had to write something to fix these two though after the events of episode 8 because i just love them dearly (and the fact in the subsequent episode Lawrence just dropped in the fact they’d shared a bed didn’t help this at all). thank you so much to @purecamp for reading it over and reassuring me it’s not a heap of shit (so if it turns out that it is then just blame her xo). also the song it’s set to is enemy by Charli XCX in case u want to get the immersive vibes!

fic summary: On one side of Scotland, Lawrence disappears from social media. On the other, Ellie reflects.

***

They say, “Keep your friends close”

But you’re closer, I love when you’re here

I’m so far away sometimes, I’m distant, yeah

The sky is grey. The clouds are grey. The stagnant water of the quay is grey, and so’s the metal rail that Ellie’s holding on to as he narrows his eyes, tries to stop the wind from hitting them and making him tear up.

As if the wind would be the only reason.

He brings his gaze into focus on the HMS Unicorn, sat in the water in front of him like some massive whale that’s been planted in a bathtub. It’s a fucking ugly ship; a glorified tugboat on steroids with a big bowsprit sticking out at the front all out of place, but he likes the little bust of the once-white unicorn that sticks out from under it. Ellie remembers getting brought here for a school trip in Primary 3, pointing to the unicorn all excited and getting laughed at by the boys in his class that he knew were going to grow up to be the ones that gave the teachers lip and got suspended in high school.

He remembers that Bryce made up the fact that one of the boys had “said the f word” in the gift shop later that day, just so Ellie could have the satisfaction of watching them get screamed at by their teacher. Ellie still fucking loves him for that.

Ellie thinks the unicorn is out of place in all this grey. He remembers the time he did his unicorn mix when he opened for Willam, how nervous he’d been and messaging Lawrence about it and getting a “this you coming out to me as a furry?” in return which made him laugh and forget why he’d even been nervous in the first place. He can’t help the smile the memory brings to his face even if he wants to.

And he wants to.

Lawrence always could make him smile, get a laugh from him even when he didn’t feel like it. He remembers with a blow to his heart what Lawrence had said on the show- “you’re not terribly funny? Like you don’t have…zinger-y punchlines?” - and how Tia had laughed and Ellie had wanted so much to bite back but didn’t.

Because he always could draw a laugh out of Lawrence. Granted he was usually laughing at him rather than with him, but Ellie could still put a smile on his face by acting dumb, saying things that Lawrence would subsequently repeat in a screech of disbelief that would always make Ellie laugh harder anyway. He’d always self-impose ridiculous dares on himself in front of him: in Hive, “here, what if I did the entire shot rainbow?”, in Nandos, “d’you think I could do the wing roulette by myself?”, in Glasgow on the Subway on the way to a gig, “dare me to get off at Ibrox and I’ll go to the Louden Tavern dressed like this?”. Ellie had been used to being the class clown for Lawrence, the jester for the queen.

Or maybe just a fool.

Ellie’s always hated the colour grey.

You might help me, intimacy

I’ll admit, I’m scared

Maybe, maybe you can reach me, yeah

His surroundings turn to silver as he shoves his hands in his pockets, heads towards the V&A museum that’s still glinting despite the lack of sunlight. He’s stopped by two teenage girls that are polite and shy and squeaky-voiced as they ask for a photo- he supposes that’s what he gets when he goes out wearing the pink and purple fur coat with the hearts on it. Ellie forces a smile and thanks them for supporting him and they tell him he’s their favourite in return.

After they walk away he thinks they must have been lying, but then he feels the frown etch itself onto his face as he shakes his head. The self-doubt is a hangover from filming that he needs to shake off.

He squints at the museum as he walks past, fleetingly thinks about going in and looking at some of the old fashion to cheer him up. A’whora’s promised to go with him when he’s eventually allowed to come up to visit, and Ellie snorts at the idea of the fashion queen of the London scene in Dundee. The thought of A’whora’s reaction to the Wellgate shopping centre- the Credit Union, the B&M, the Jobcentre Plus- puts the first smile on his face he’s had in days.

Lawrence had gone round the museum with him too, when Ellie had dropped him off at the train station the day after a gig and they’d been killing time. It had been weird to just dick about like that together the first few times. Weird the fact there was no makeup, glue and wigs, no alcohol or gay anthems to yell over. Just two boys walking around a museum together. Like a date.

Ellie makes a face before he even realises. Not this.

The first time they did all of it together was weird. Just like everything Lawrence had written. Nandos, cinema, staying at his. That last one especially. Ellie can still remember the way he’d stared up at the bumpy ceiling from his position on Lawrence’s couch in the pitch dark, street lamps from outside casting shadows through the blinds. The room was too cold and the blanket was too small and he hadn’t slept a wink but he’d still do it all over again.

The first time they’d both lain on Lawrence’s bed the morning after the night before, cracking up at Scottish You Laugh You Lose compilations on Youtube and Ellie being unable to help the tears that streamed down his face at Lawrence imitating “big shoe, big shoeeee!”. The way they’d been close and the way their arms had touched and the way Ellie had felt ridiculous for the way his heart was hammering. Just a friend.

The first time they’d found each other under the dark lights of CCs when they’d both been through in Edinburgh to support Alice by chance. The way Ellie’s heart had lit up like a firework when he saw him. The way they’d laced their fingers together without even having to ask permission first, the way everything just seemed to be as simple as tequila rose shots and pink lights and leaning against the wall as they smoked outside.

The way everything else had just happened so easily.

Ellie squeezes his eyes shut before he can realise what he’s doing. The memories have forced their way in, kicked down a door in his head that he’d been sure he’d bolted shut.

He needs to change the locks.

Maybe you’re my enemy

Now I’ve finally let you come a little close to me,

Maybe you’re my enemy

You’re the only one who knows the way I’m really feelin’

Ellie is in the same Stitch onesie he’s been shrugging on since the last episode aired. It stinks. He’s joked to A'whora that he can probably smell him through the phone, and A'whora’s asked if he just sweats out Mango Loco Monster. Ellie makes some joke about wringing out his clothes into a pint glass if he did, which makes A'whora retch on camera.

He’s glad they made up at least. They didn’t have too much of a choice, to be fair. Apart from the way they get on so well, their bond and their friendship, A'whora’s the only other one who knows what it’s like to be in Ellie’s situation.

Except A'whora never stabbed Tayce in the back.

“You should talk to him,” A'whora insists, bringing the whole sorry situation up in a pause where Ellie must have looked as if he was about to make a vodka bleach mixer.

Ellie looks pointedly back at him through the screen. “I’ve been telling you to talk to Tayce for months.”

He watches A'whora pull an awkward face and he’s satisfied he’s hit a nerve. “That’s different though. You and Lawrence don’t live together.”

“Yeah. Least I wasn’t stupid enough to move in with someone I fancied, how’s that going for you?”

A'whora splutters a laugh that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Ellie feels guilty all over again. He feels like that’s his default these days. “Sorry, chick, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I mean. It’s fine. Just have to act as if I’m not in love with the bitch every time I’m around her, it’s not hard,” A'whora deadpans.

Ellie frowns. “You know Tayce feels the same. Everyone knows it.”

“No I don’t,” A'whora says instantly back to him, shaking his head and dissolving momentarily into pixels. “Besides, even if she did, like…it’s easier if she didn’t, y'know? All this…publicity, every move getting analysed. It’s easier to just…not.”

Ellie narrows his eyes. “You’re doing a smashing job making the case for me and Lawrence.”

“You know what I mean! You don’t get people asking where Lawrence is in every live you do. You don’t get people going through the show fucking…frame by frame and then editing every time you breathe around each other together and setting it to a bloody Little Mix song.”

Ellie bursts out laughing and starts singing Black Magic down the phone to him, which makes A'whora look pointedly at him before clearly being unable to hold it for long and instead laughing with him.

Both their laughter dies down and Ellie watches as A'whora smiles sadly, sincerely. “He’s worth the risk, Els.”

“Oh my God, prison. Who the fuck are you, Nicholas Sparks?”

The reference flies over A'whora's head and Ellie starts explaining the plot of the A Walk to Remember, steering the conversation out of the waters it had become marooned in, the captain of his very own HMS Unicorn.

He feels more like he’s aboard the Titanic with every message that goes unread.

Now it’s really clear to me

You could do a little damage, you could cut me deeper

“It didn’t get you a badge though, was it worth it?”

Ellie’s asked himself that every day since the episode aired. Since he made the decision, pretty much. Financially? Yes it was. It’s pretty well-known at this point in the grand scheme of Drag Race that with each week you’re on the likelihood of securing more bookings is increased, and now with his slot at Drag Fest he feels as if he’s hit the jackpot.

Everything else? Not so much.

Ellie still feels his stomach drop if he thinks enough about that untucked, which he does all the time. Too much, in fact. The aggression in Lawrence’s voice which Ellie knew all too well was a manifestation of hurt on so many levels. The way Lawrence chose the conflict that Ellie wished he could have avoided. The way Lawrence left his feelings bare while Ellie couldn’t trust himself to do the same in case he said something he might regret.

The fact Lawrence had thought Ellie had set him up to fail was maybe what hurt the most, though. Ellie had wanted to ask him how he thought he’d be able to do that after everything they’d been through together. He’d tried to tell him he didn’t think it was possible for him to fail at something he shines at. He’d wanted to grab Lawrence’s pink fucking headpiece and bash him over the head with it until he realised that he’s Lawrence fucking Chaney, he is the Scottish drag queen. Lawrence is the one who will say something at a gig one week and it’ll be common drag parlance across the country by the next. Lawrence is the one getting booked by the BBC Social to make educational videos. Lawrence is the one on posters across Glasgow, for fuck’s sake.

Ellie might not have been thinking about the worst case scenario in that moment, but only because he genuinely didn’t think there could be one.

After all, he’d had his opportunity to sabotage Lawrence. Ellie remembers the first day when the producers had wanted to set up the Scottish queen rivalry, asked for something shady they could use as a soundbite. The way he’d sought out Lawrence on a smoke break and told him about the situation and reassured him that he hadn’t given them anything, and the way Lawrence had just smiled back at him, softly and genuinely, and told Ellie he’d done the same. The way they’d minutely linked pinkies together before breaking them and walking back inside as if they’d barely shared so much as a glance, neither of them wanting to draw any suspicion their way.

And he could’ve been harsher in that untucked if he’d wanted. Could’ve said how for someone that was meant to care so much about friendship and sisterhood, Lawrence had been doing a great job shitting on him from a great height about his lack of challenge wins and his run on the show.  

But he didn’t, because…well. He knows why.

Because the knowledge that he’d hurt Lawrence and lost his trust had done more damage than any joke Lawrence made at his expense could ever do.

Ellie goes live on the Tuesday afternoon. A comment on the chat reads, “are u A’whora and Lawrence still friends???”

“Yeah, me and A’whora are still friends!” Ellie bats the comment away with a fake smile.

He’ll blame his lack of comprehension skills if he’s asked about it.

I feel guilty, I feel nervous, I feel certain now

Maybe, maybe you can reach me

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it.

Maybe it’s when he wakes up on Friday and Lawrence’s Twitter isn’t loading. Maybe it’s when he reads the other Scottish girls condemning the fans, the word fatphobia leaping out, grabbing Ellie’s heart and wrenching it tight.

Surely not this?

Ellie searches Twitter and what he finds makes him feel ill. He doesn’t know what he had expected- he’d known the frantic tweet urging the fans to be kind that he’d typed out before he went to sleep hadn’t exactly been going to create world peace overnight- but he hadn’t expected any of this. Everyone loves Lawrence, surely.

Although perhaps he’s just talking from experience.

Maybe it’s when he shoots Lawrence a message that goes unopened. In all honesty Ellie doesn’t blame him. A flimsy sentiment about hoping he’s okay that clocks in at under 250 characters isn’t going to cut it, and he’s grateful when Bimini, with all their empathy and ability to read a situation as clear as day, texts him and tells him that Lawrence has replied to them and he’s…well, he’s managing.

Maybe it’s when Ellie goes live with A’whora and he manages to mention Lawrence entirely too many times. A cry for attention or an old habit that’s dying hard? He can’t tell. Perhaps it’s both.

It’s definitely got something to do with the Facebook post.

Whatever it is, Ellie finds himself stuffing any old random items of clothing in a backpack and hoping it makes an outfit, shoving the spare key into the soil of the plant pot outside his front door and texting Anne to tell her where it is in case…fuck knows, the flat goes on fire while he’s away or something. He looks up the train times as he’s on his way to the station; a terrible decision, really, as when he’s still fifteen minutes away he discovers there’s one in ten. Somehow he manages to make it to the station with just a minute to spare and his heart lifts to find that the ticket barriers are open, so he dashes through them and hurtles onto the train that’s waiting at the platform. He catches his breath as he slumps into a table seat, having to take his mask off for a couple of seconds just so he can breathe properly. The way his heart is going at the rate the train’s about to isn’t helping.

The chimes of the train announcement cut through his attempts at slowing his heart down, and the little robotic woman’s voice confirms that his ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment decision is actually happening.

“This is Dundee. This train is for Glasgow Queen Street.”

Because this is all so last minute, but he needs to see Lawrence. He’s apologised probably ten times by now but he knows he needs to make it eleven. He knows (he hopes) that Lawrence needs that eleventh time too. He knows that Lawrence needs Ellie’s persistence, knows that it’s all just an attempt at self-preservation. Lawrence’s attempts at shutting Ellie out are just inviting him to bring a battering ram. At least, he hopes. But like A’whora had said…he’s worth the risk.

The train starts moving, and even if he wanted to back out now he couldn’t.

So cold at the surface, I’m scared of nothin’

Underneath, I’m nervous

Can you reach me?  

Ellie waits for the subway at Buchanan Street and his glazed-over eyes focus on a massive poster of Lawrence on the platform opposite. He briefly considers throwing himself under the next train.

The journey down had passed somehow in the blink of an eye and also agonisingly slowly. Too much time to sit and stare out of the window but not enough time to figure out what he’s going to say. He still doesn’t know. He’d said it all those months ago, he’s said it through texts and DMs. This time feels different, though. This time is different. This time there’s no cameras or runners or pink tables, or distance between them or tension at the fact nothing had aired yet.

It’s going to be the pair of them and Lawrence’s flat. Just like it’s been so many times before.

Ellie thinks he’ll probably just open his mouth, say whatever gets there first and hope it hits the right notes; a terrible decision arrived upon as a result of the lack of any other option. His mind is a messed up ball of television static, a knotted yarn of white noise that he can’t find the end of. He feels as if it’s made of the noise the train makes as it screams into the station, metal on metal and the low whoosh of the wind through the tunnel and the rickety shaking of the doors as they slide open and people stream off.

He picks up his bag and sinks down into the horrifically patterned upholstery of the seats, settling himself in for the journey. The little metal tin can of a train doesn’t take long to fire through the seven stops before Govan and with each one that passes Ellie can feel his nerves spiking and his mouth growing dry.

What if Lawrence isn’t even in? What if it’s all got too much and he’s gone back to Helensburgh for the foreseeable? Ellie could get a train up there, he supposes; he’s already on this side of the country, although he doesn’t know if Lawrence would appreciate the gesture or call the police on him.

Ellie concludes it would be worth it anyway.

He emerges from the Subway and the grey seems to hit him all over again, seeping into his clothes and forcing him to fight through the sadness that hits him like a wave. There’s a little beam of sunshine fighting to escape the clouds though, and Ellie hopes it’s some form of pathetic fallacy. Or whatever that one about the weather matching your feelings was. Fucked if he ever paid attention in Nat 5 English.

The streets of red brick tenements feel like pens of hostility as he passes windows that serve as frames for Union Jacks and Red Hand of Ulster flags. Even being raised in a Christian household doesn’t equip him to identify with this form of religion; where the disciples are football players and the gods are flags and the hymns are about killing Catholics. Ellie has always worried about Lawrence living here, told him as much, but he’s always been met with a bark of a laugh back and some comment about how he’s only saying that because he’s lived such a sheltered little life in Dundee and wouldn’t last five minutes trying to inhabit Glasgow and all its cheerful sectarianism. Lawrence has always had a very blythe attitude to the whole thing, and Ellie remembers when he’d held his hand on the way back from the Subway in full drag after a gig like it was nothing, the way some dick in an orange and blue scarf had shouted at them from across the street and Lawrence had just yelled back with an “awrite, babes?” as if he had a death wish.

Which is what makes this whole thing so grim. The Lawrence who drunkenly and sarcastically greets bigots at three in the morning from across the street doesn’t marry up with the Lawrence that’s holed up in his flat in the face of negativity. Ellie supposes that one homophobic Rangers fan is one homophobic Rangers fan, but Twitter can seem like the whole world’s population, and if Lawrence thinks the world hates him just because he’s reacted to something that was Ellie’s fault…

He feels his gut wrench.

Ellie turns into Lawrence’s street and feels ill. He could always go home. Turn and walk back to the Subway, train back to Queen Street, back to Dundee, back to the flat. Like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t even consciously made the decision, like it was all a dream.

He sleepwalks to Lawrence’s close door anyway, just like he knew he would.

His hand shakes as he presses the buzzer too hard, and the panic rises in his throat as the seconds pass agonisingly slowly. When there’s a crackle from the intercom, he freezes in fear.

“Hello?”

It’s Kiko’s voice. Of course his flatmate had to be the one to answer, drag out the humiliation of the whole thing. Ellie can hear the shake to his voice as he replies.

“Hey, it’s Ellie.”

“…Ellie?”

He chooses to ignore the disbelief, acts as if it’s normal for him to have travelled across the country to turn up on Lawrence’s doorstep in the middle of a pandemic when there’s a travel ban in place. He’s considering this essential travel anyway.

“Is Lawrence in at all?”

Kiko, for her part, seems to pick up on the way the whole visit is masquerading as routine. In the split second before she replies, Ellie finds himself holding his breath. He steels himself, prepares for a “no, he’s actually…”, to send him back to Dundee like a crumpled sheet of paper tossed into a bin.

So Ellie feels like his throat’s going to close up when Kiko replies down the intercom. “Yeah, two secs. I’ll buzz you up.”

The dread settles in his gut like a weight as the buzzer rings out into the street, harsh and loud and doing nothing for Ellie’s derailed train of thought. He pushes on the door, takes his first step into the close and the echo seems to hit him deep in his chest. He finds himself wishing Lawrence lives four up but he’s only on the first floor, and as Ellie puts his foot on the first step of the staircase he keeps his eyes trained on the stairs because he knows the moment he looks up he’s going to see somebody standing there holding the door open and even though he’s had hours to prepare himself, weeks even, he’s not ready for that in the slightest.

And when he finally brings his gaze onto the front door with four steps to go, he’s not ready for the way the sight of Lawrence almost knocks him straight back down again. He’s slumped against the doorframe and has very clearly not slept- since when, Ellie couldn’t guess. A black hoodie is swamping him and a pair of navy sweatpants are doing the same, making him seem smaller than he already is. The sight of his hair up in that tiny bun hurts Ellie’s heart because it makes him want to smile, reminds him of the Lawrence he’d dick about in the workroom and the smoking area and the hotel corridors with before it all went so wrong. His arms are folded and he’s looking at the tiles on the landing floor until Ellie reaches the doorway, shifts awkwardly.

“Hi.”

Lawrence doesn’t quite meet his eyes. It’s a minute detail that hurts Ellie more than he would have expected. He doesn’t reply for a second, then seems to relent. “Hey.”

Another pause. The atmosphere makes Ellie wish he’d worn a thicker jacket.

“You’re not meant to be here, you know. Wee Nicky’s probably had snipers trained on you since you got off the train,” Lawrence says, delivering the quip with a bitter, barbed edge that makes Ellie think it’s less of a joke and more wishful thinking.

“Wouldn’t be any less than I deserve, I’m sure,” Ellie smiles sadly, unable to make it meet his eyes. Lawrence’s expression remains unimpressed.

“So why are you here, then,” he not so much as demands an answer but disinterestedly inquires. Ellie bites his bottom lip before he replies, as if he’s forcing himself to make sure his words are perfect.

“I just came down because…well, I wanted to see how you were. I know the past week must have been shit for you.”

Lawrence raises his eyebrows, his eyes growing wide as if to really drive home to Ellie how much of an understatement he already knows he’s made. “Yeah.”

Ellie sighs, wanting desperately to get the next part right. “And I felt like I needed to say I’m sorry. Y’know, in front of you.”

“You said sorry back when we filmed. We’re over it, it’s fine,” Lawrence says flatly, conveying that everything is not fine.

“It’s not fine, though. I wouldn’t have come down if it was fine. Things haven’t been fine since that day, and like…I miss you, Lawrence, I don’t want to lose you as a friend, or as a sister, or as…” Ellie stumbles, looking to the floor as he tries to articulate the other facet of their relationship. “…whatever else we are. Whatever else we were. I’m sorry for fucking everything up.”

There’s a silence in which the pair of them freeze and hold their breath. Time could very well be standing still for all Ellie knows. He immediately regrets bringing up all of…that. He should’ve kept it to friendship, shouldn’t have added anything on. Before he can overthink any more or begin to backtrack, a small sigh from Lawrence makes him look up.

“I thought you hated me,” he says. His voice is small and the words are unexpected. There’s so much Ellie could say in response. He settles on a joke.

“No, I think you’re a cunt. There’s a difference,” Ellie smiles tightly, the joke tentative. The snort it gets from Lawrence makes his smile grow without him being able to help it. “Was that a good one? Thought I was the unfunniest person on the planet?”

“We weren’t talking about your Bake Off improv,” Lawrence raises his eyebrows as he smirks, and Ellie fakes a wounded laugh.

“Shady cow.”

“I’m sorry,” Lawrence says out of nowhere, his smile gone all of a sudden.

Ellie tries to drag the joke out a little longer, hold onto the sparks they’ve just created. “Nah, it was shit, you’re right.”

“No, Ellie…” Lawrence shakes his head, worrying his lip between his teeth a little. “I am sorry.”

Ellie feels the panic wash over him when he clocks the glisten in his eyes. “It’s fine, girl.”

“It’s not fine. I was a dick to you so many times, no fuckin’ wonder I thought you’d set me up. I would too if I had somebody talking down to me like I did to you,” Lawrence says gravely. His gaze is fixed on his floor and just as Ellie is about to speak he catches sight of two tears that fall onto the red carpet, the darkness akin to blood. His horror grows as Lawrence finally snaps his head up, tears shining in his eyes as he sighs helplessly in a shaky voice. “You’re amazing, Ellie, you’re such a talent, and…fuck, I missed you.”

His words mean more to him that Ellie had expected them to. He doesn’t want to let that show, though, because that’s too much, that means too much for the situation just now and he can deal with that realisation at a later date. For now, Ellie points at him in mock-accusation. “Hey listen, I’m the one that got the train down to come and make a big speech to you and say sorry. Buy your own damn train ticket for that.”

Lawrence’s voice is thick with tears as he lets out a short laugh. “Sorry.”

“Wee bitch. Always have to make everything about you,” Ellie rolls his eyes, getting another teary laugh out of Lawrence and raising his hopes that maybe they’ll be okay.

And then the banks break and Lawrence makes a little choked-up noise, a sob that’s not fully a sob. His eyes meet Ellie’s and they’re full of so much sadness and regret that just looking at them creates a crack in Ellie’s heart, one that matches the crack in Lawrence’s voice as he speaks again.

“This has all been shit to do without you.”

Ellie doesn’t think before opening his arms out, shaking his head affectionately. “Don’t be silly. C’mere.”

When Lawrence immediately opens out his own and they meet each other in the middle and hug tightly, Ellie feels like a balloon that’s been let go and is floating up to the sky.

The clouds aren’t grey.

The way they’re holding each other brings back too many memories. Seeing each other at gigs and feeling butterflies take hold of his stomach. Coming off stage after a number and conveying his pride in him without even having to say a word. Saying goodbye at train stations with disappointment lodging itself in his heart. All the nostalgia makes Ellie want to cry, but he can’t start now. Instead, he breaths a shaky sigh, shakes his head before he speaks.

“You’ve always had me, okay? You’ve always got me. We’ve said sorry now, that’s the end of it. Periodt,” Ellie murmurs against his shoulder, adding on his trademark at the end. The laugh he gets muffled against his chest in return makes him feel lighter.

“I’ve not showered. I definitely stink. You don’t have to keep hugging me, you know.”

“You don’t. I want to,” Ellie says back. He means it.

It’s Lawrence that slides out of the hug first but he’s still standing close as he quickly wipes away his tears, looks Ellie up and down with a smirk on his face. “So where’s your Travelodge, hen?”

Ellie’s sheepish when he makes eye contact with him again, shrugs one strap of the rucksack off before replying. “You know damn well I’ve not booked anywhere.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Right, come on,” Lawrence shakes his head affectionately, stepping back into his hallway and letting Ellie finally cross the threshold to drop his bag like an anchor in the flat. It’s the physical manifestation of the burden finally being lifted off of him, the guilt and the regret melting away in favour of the flutter of his heart and a few small sparks that he wants to put in resin. “I get to choose the film later as reparations. Don’t trust you since you made us watch Cat In The Hat.”

Ellie gives a shocked gasp, genuinely offended. “It’s good!”

“Is it fuck. In fact, just for that I’m going to make you sit through something sci-fi and geeky and you’re gonna hate it,” Lawrence smiles with genuine glee, and Ellie can’t even bring himself to be mad about it. As the pair of them walk through to the living room, Lawrence jumps onto the sofa and fixes Ellie with a look that is clearly meant to be serious but that simultaneously Lawrence can’t commit to and Ellie can’t believe. “You’re sleeping here tonight, by the way.”

Ellie raises his eyebrows as he fakes his agreement, going along with the charade Lawrence is beginning. They both know they’ll end up curled up together on the sofa with neither of them having an explanation for how it’s happened, but at the same time knowing they don’t have to explain themselves. They know that Ellie will end up falling asleep slumped against Lawrence and that he’ll have to gently shake him awake, that he’ll wordlessly offer Ellie a hand to drag him off the couch with and that they’ll go through to Lawrence’s room like always. They know that they’ll wake up tangled together like the sheets and that Ellie will be there for him, that he’ll help Lawrence piece himself back together and they’ll go back to the start. Well, maybe not the start. Perhaps somewhere better.

Ellie keeps his friends close, but Lawrence is something a little bit more. Something a little bit closer.

Baby, you’re my enemy.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #ellie x lawrence #a'whora #uk2 #canon compliant #angst #hurt/comfort #song fic #maybe you're my enemy #ortega

[kim-seungmine]

give my heart a chance

title: give my heart a chance

characters: (fem) reader x han jisung of stray kids. 

genres: romance, fluffy as hell (i just want them to kiss so bad!), college au, friends to lovers au, composer/music scorer!jisung, assistant director!reader

word count: 6.9k words

warnings: cursing, a little suggestive i guess? there’s a lot of sexual references but nothing too wild, lots of (attempted) flirting, jisung is whipped as hell, it gets very wordy sometimes IM SORRY.

synopsis: you and jisung have these theories about love, and there’s only one way to prove yourselves right: testing them on each other.

a/n: writing this gave me so much joy, and writing from jisung’s perspective is super fun. lastly, sorry for the lame ass title, but i hope you’ll enjoy! please tell me there aren’t many grammatical/spelling errors i’ve read this over and over again.

Verse 1: “Date me, so I can write love songs about you.”

Han Jisung has a lot of ambitions. Being the world's best composer, buying a whole island for himself, and flexing his Rolex watches are on his list, but for now finishing his demo for the upcoming production meeting will be enough.

Maybe he's not so ambitious after all.

The door clicks open and reveals his roommate Lee Minho, his hair disheveled but eyes twinkling. Jisung raises his eyebrow. "Did you pass out on the street or something? What time is it?"

It's now Minho's turn to raise his eyebrow. "I had this amazing date but to put it simply, your man got laid."

Jisung sighs and knocks his head on the desk. "Lucky you."

"Your time will come, my friend," Minho assures him flatly, lying on the couch with a contented sigh. "What time is the meeting?"

"9 A.M." Jisung yawns, lifting his head to glance at his watch. "Fuck, I'm late."

Jisung doesn't know why he struggles to finish this project. His senior Bang Chan asked him to join his graduation project and help with the scoring. Jisung is willing to do anything that boosts his resume, but so far the project is only causing him headache. He's Han Jisung, the best student in his batch who almost always forgets to finish his assignments but always manages to ace them. He also sings and raps—even freestyling. He's the musical genius. Why is this happening to him?

Minho mumbles a sleepy good luck before passing out. Jisung is about pack his laptop when his phone vibrates. Your name appears on his screen, making him groan.

"Han Jisung you're late," you deadpan before he gets to say hello.

"I'm on my way."

“Get your ass here in 10 minutes or..."

"Or what?"

He can hear you tapping your pen on the table. "...I have nothing to threaten you with."

Jisung chuckles. Do you know how cute you are even over the phone? "I'll be there in 10."

Chan and the rest of the crew are already inside the room when Jisung arrives. He slowly pulls up a chair beside you, trying his best to ignore your glare.

"About the wooden table we wanted last week, have we got it?" Chan asks.

Kim Seungmin, the head of production design team, nods his head. "The color is a bit different from your moodboard because the one you wanted was slightly more expensive than expected, is this still okay?" He pauses to show Chan a picture on his phone. The director examines it before passing Seungmin's phone to you. "What do you think, Y/N?"

"It's a bit different but still fits the overall mood in my opinion. A little bit warmer, but I don't think it will disturb the ambience."

Chan smiles. "Hmm, I agree. Good job, Seungmin. And that's it, everyone! Thank you for coming! We only have 3 more scenes to film so hang in there, okay?"

The whole room lets out sighs of relief, leaving the room one by one.

"Jisung, can I talk to you?"

"Just curse at me. You don't have to be so nice."

Chan laughs. "You know why I asked you to help me, right? I know what you're capable of, so tell me, what's bothering you?"

Jisung pulls out the film script from his backpack, showing Chan the parts he's circled with red marker. "I finished the scoring for other scenes, but I can never seem to think of anything that fits this one scene."

He has played the scene in his head over and over. The man confesses his feelings to the woman he loves dearly, but also says goodbye to her. The woman only nods, lips curling into a small smile, and waves him goodbye.

It doesn’t make sense. Why would they do that? People who love each other stay together unless their parents disagree or someone dies. Or at least, they try to be together until the feelings fade. Why would they say goodbye before even starting anything?

Chan stands up, patting Jisung on his back as he’s making his way to the door. “I don’t want to limit your creativity or make you create music only based on my vision, but here’s something to think about: sometimes it’s not about fate or timing. It’s about choice. See you next week, kids!”

Both of you slump into your chairs the moment he’s out of sight. “I hate it when he’s being cryptic like that. Why can’t he just tell you what he wants? He’s the director anyways, everything has to be according to his vision.” You turn to Jisung who’s scratching his head. “Please tell me you understood what he said.”

“I understand,” Jisung answers. “Well, theoretically. Do you?”

“No one will truly understand it the way Chan does, but I understand the message he wants to tell.”

“Will you just help me then?” Jisung begs. “We don’t have much time left and I’m sure you’ll kill me if I submit the demo a minute late so let’s make our lives easier and help each other out, shall we?”

Jisung does need help—especially since you’ll be extremely critical—but he also wants to spend more time with you. He doesn’t know if Minho going on dates motivates him to do the same, and that’s what he wants to figure out.

“Okay,” you say. “But the moment you annoy me too much I’ll leave you to rot alone”

Jisung smiles so brightly his cheeks hurt. “When do you finish class today?”

It wasn’t love at first sight. The first few weeks working with you was hard that he wanted to take a revenge on you by asking Minho to break your heart. His roommate specializes in breaking people’s hearts, but he figured you would break Minho’s heart instead.

After a while, Jisung would rather you break his heart than anybody else’s.

“I hope you like Americano,” Jisung says. You avert your gaze to two cups of Americano on the table, nodding as you sit in front of him. “Thanks. Is the cheesecake mine too?”

He chuckles, sliding the plate to you. “It’s mine, but you can have it. I wanted to buy you one but I don’t know what you like.”

“You dared to assume that I like Americano but couldn’t decide what cake I would like?”

Jisung wonders whether he should be honest with you.

“I almost did,” he confesses. “But buying you cake feels too personal, isn’t it? This will feel like a date.”

You unexpectedly pout, and Jisung almost has a heart attack. “Stop flirting, you’re so bad at it.”

“Once I start flirting for real, you’ll be madly in love with me in 10 minutes.”

You slide the plate back to him. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation,” you sigh. “Let’s start. You’re the one who wants me to help you get your shit done.”

Jisung opens his laptop to show you his drafts. “I honestly don’t know if this scene is supposed to be sad,” he explains, playing one of them. You listen carefully, glancing at him every few seconds. When the music stops, you close his laptop.

“Do you believe in love, Han Jisung?”

Jisung stops slicing his cheesecake, puts his fork down, and looks into your eyes. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just answer me.”

“Yes? I’ve been in love before, that’s for sure.”

“Do you think the man loves the woman?”

“He does.”

You look satisfied with his answer. For a few minutes, you don’t ask him any other question, just sipping your coffee while examining your surroundings. “That’s it? You asked me all those big questions then just stopped?”

“Your theories are interesting,” you point out. “You believe in love and thinks that the couple needs to be together, but you’re not thinking from their perspective yet.”

“What’s your theory then?” he asks.

“My theories… about love?”

“Yeah. If you don’t mind sharing.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I think it will be fun. Well, this is what I’ve always believed in: boys like you will never be heartbroken.”

“Boys like me?”

“Boys like you, who date just for the sake of dating itself or getting laid.”

Jisung panics, waving his hands in front of your face. “Y/N I’m not some fuckboy I swear to God.”

“I know you’re not,” you clarify. “Boys like you just don’t think too much about anything, don’t really use your feelings. You date you when you want to date, break up when you want to break up, stay single for a while then starting to feel empty and thinking that dating someone is the only solution.”

“Aren’t we all like that?! Tell me you’ve never thought of going on Tinder when you’re lonely!” he protests. “For a film major, you have a lot of time.”

“I have to observe people in order to survive,” you laugh. “Where do you think I get ideas? It’s from other people.”

Jisung is still forming a smart comment in his head when you tilt your head, flashing him a smile so sweet like you didn’t just indirectly diss him. “Your turn. What’s your theory?”

It’s kind of hard to believe, but Jisung has quite a lot of theories about love. He’s not what you’ll call experienced, but he knows enough to come up with his own theories. “Which one hurts more, dumping someone or getting dumped?”

“Getting dumped, of course. That’s not even a theory anymore.”

Jisung wiggles his index finger. “It’s the other way around. Before you break up with someone, you think of hundreds of reasons—whether blaming yourself or the other person. You’ll keep thinking about things you hate about them and shitty experiences with them before coming up with a perfect breakup scenario. And the whole process, Princess, is agonizing.”

“Wow,” you breathe out, amazed. “You’re something else.”

“Jisung-ah!”

Minho jogs to your table, stopping when he realizes that Jisung isn’t alone. “Thank God I found you,” he whispers urgently. “Listen, I know you’re in the middle of a date but this is emergency.”

“What is it?”

“Are you coming home tonight?” Minho asks.

Jisung frowns. “Of course I am. I need to sleep so bad.”

“Are you sure? If so, then…” Minho proceeds to type something on his phone before passing it to Jisung. The latter coughs at the content, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket and handing it to Minho. “If you lose it I’m going to kill you,” he threatens.

“Are you sure you’re coming—”

“Don’t worry, he’s definitely coming home. I’m not sleeping with him if that’s what you’re implying.”

Minho laughs, bowing playfully at you as he backs away. “Good choice!” he yells. “Have fun, you two!”

You giggle while Jisung curses under his breath. “He asked you for a condom, didn’t he?” Once again, you casually smile at him, eyes twinkling. Jisung slowly nods, and you burst into a hearty laugh. “I caught you carrying condoms in your wallet after you insisted that you’re not a fuckboy. Nice move, Han Jisung.”

Jisung groans.

“Are you done?” Jisung asks over the phone. After your “date,” it’s become a routine for him to visit you at the bookstore you work at to discuss the project (while subtly flirting with you because he wants to see you getting all sassy).

“Not yet,” you answer lowly. “My manager is here. You can come inside and wait.”

He forces his legs to walk faster and enters the bookstore. You wave at him from the cashier, gesturing at him to sit on one of the benches. You continue to serve the remaining customers, smiling at Jisung once in a while. He finds himself returning your smile with a bigger one, and he wonders how to convince you that he’s not as bad and shallow as you think.

A crazy idea pops into his mind, causing his palms to sweat. But he wants to do it, to at least try and see how you react. Jisung’s heart races when you say goodbye to your manager and approach him. You nudge his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

You shiver as soon as you open the door. “Where do you want to work?”

Jisung gestures at you to keep walking, giving you his phone and airpods. “You can just listen and give me feedback. I’ll edit once I get home, you must be tired.”

You keep repeating the song throughout the way to the bus station. You turn to Jisung when you’re done, punching his arm lightly. “Well done, this is much better. You can actually show it to Chan.”

“No way. Really?”

You press play once again, bopping your head to the soft beats. “The man tells the woman he loves her after a long time. It’s a happy moment, an achievement. Then he bids her farewell because he knows—both of them know—that the relationship will end badly. It’s sad, but relieving because at least they know what they feel about each other. The music is not sad, but it’s not happy either. It’s hopeful because the characters are going to start another journey, although without each other.”

“But you end it with that little piano sounds, so there’s a tinge of sadness left,” you continue. “And that’s wonderful. I think Chan will like it a lot.”

Jisung lets out the breath he doesn’t know he was holding. “You interpret it better than I ever will,” he mutters. “Thank you. I hope Chan won’t fire me now.”

“He won’t. He loves you and knows you’re talented,” you tell him. “Will you help me for my future projects? We have to create a short film for finals. I haven’t told you this, but I really love your style. I wish I could hear your songs more often.”

“I-I could just, y-you know, write you songs,” Jisung stutters. This is it.  He has to tell you now or he will regret it for the rest of his life.

“Huh?”

“I can write you all the songs you want. I can even write songs about you.”

“What songs? Like diss tracks?”

“I take requests, so I can write you a diss track if you want me to. And I can definitely write love songs about you.”

“How is that possible? You’re unbelievable.”

Jisung stops, clearing his throat before focusing his eyes on you. “Date me,” he enunciates. “Date me, so I can write love songs about you. Maybe later you’ll realize that boys like me aren’t always fuckboys. At least, I’m not. And I’ll give you the privilege to break my heart. I know you can do it.”

You gape at him. “You’re asking me out just to test our theories?”

Great, you think that it’s a stupid idea. Of course it is, why would you want to date him just to—

“Okay,” you add. “I’ll go out with you.”

“Holy shit,” Jisung yelps. “I thought you would beat me up.”

Leaning on the lamppost, you wink at him. “It’ll be fun. But I’ll break all of your bones the moment you start disrespecting me.”

Jisung stands straighter at your tone. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“So, what now? You’re taking me home?” you suggest.

“If you’ll let me.”

You extend your hand, and Jisung quickly takes it before you change your mind. The two of you walk in comfortable silence until you reach your neighborhood. “Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?” Jisung shyly asks, tightening his grip on your hand.

“Sure!” you chirp, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Good night, Jisung.”

“Good night Y/N.”

You give him a small wave, a cheerful smile plastered on your face.

Jisung waves back, unable to erase the stupid grin on his face. Oh, you’re so going to break his heart, and he won’t even try to stop you.

Verse 2: “I just want to be yours, completely yours.”

“You did not just tell me you like horror movies.”

The two of you are currently standing in front of the self-ticket machine, bickering over what movie you should watch. In turns out, your movie taste clash; Jisung lives for horror movies while you despise them. People behind him start snickering, so Jisung pulls you away from the queue.

“While we’re at it, tell me what kind of movies you watch,” he begins, trying to hide his amusement at your frustration. “I love everything, except for horror. But the ones I often watch may put you to sleep.”

“And now, if you don’t want to watch It 2, what do you want to watch?”

“Nothing really interests me,” you express. “It’s fine, let’s just watch this. I’ll pick the movie next time.”

Jisung beams. “My princess is so understanding,” he coos.

You roll your eyes at him, but not pushing him away when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “How do you not cringe everytime you call me that.”

He pokes your cheek. “Because I know you secretly like it, and I’ll do anything that makes you happy.”

“Wow, you sound like you’re really in love with me,” you blurt out, completely unaware of the effect your words have on him. Who knows? Maybe I will, soon.

Three hours later, Jisung figures that you’re already playing with his feelings. During the entire movie, you didn’t flinch nor close your eyes. You didn’t even hold his hand for support (to be very honest, Jisung was quite disappointed at this).

“Y/N.”

You get startled at his voice, automatically stopping on your track. “Now everything startles me.” You clutch your chest in shock. “I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“For someone who doesn’t like horror, you endured everything well inside the theater.”

“Curiosity always gets the best of me.”

“You could’ve chosen another movie, and I would be okay with that. Next time don’t force yourself, okay?”

“It’s something you love,” you explain. “I know you won’t force me to do things I don’t like, and I won’t force you either, but if it’s something that I can still tolerate then I don’t mind. It’s not like we can’t compromise, right?”

There you go, saying thoughtful things that warms Jisung’s heart so nonchalantly. He only hums in response, picking up his pace since you’ve started running. “I’m running late!” you half-yell before sprinting towards the bookstore.

After a few blocks, both of you arrive at the bookstore, almost running out of breath. Jisung fixes your hair in a haste. “I’ll pick you up later? Watch another movie, maybe? A funny one so you’ll be able to sleep?”

You scrunch up your nose. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just call you if Pennywise appears in my room.”

“Oh I’m sure you’re scarier than him, Princess, don’t worry.”

Jisung is prepared for a punch on his shoulder or strings of cussing words from you.

But you reward him with a peck on his cheek instead.

It’s been two hours since your shift was supposed to end, but Jisung hasn’t heard anything from you. His messages are unread and you won’t pick up his call. Minho watches his friend paces back and forth in the living room.

“Dude just pick her up or go to her place, you’re stressing me out!”

“I don’t know if she will like it. She did say I didn’t need to pick her up.”

“Are you really dating her? You’ve never been like this before.”

Jisung plops onto the sofa, massaging his temples. Minho won’t understand, especially since he’s the one who totally fits your “boys like you” criteria. “I am, but the whole thing is different.”

“Like, how?” Minho deadpans.

“We’re dating to test our theories about each other. About love.”

“So you two are just fooling around?”

“No!” Jisung insists. “It’s not like that. We’re dating, but I have to admit that things are getting more serious than I expected.”

Minho rubs his chin. “Isn’t that what you want? You seem to really like her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

The doorbell suddenly rings. Minho opens the door, surprised to see you there. “Y/N?” he gasps. “Are you okay? Are you crying?”

Jisung’s ears perk up at the word crying and he immediately rushes to you. He cradles your face, examining you from head to toe. “I was so worried Y/N. What the hell happened?” he questions. Minho grabs his phone and wallet from the buffet, mouthing that he’ll give the two of you some time alone.

You circle your arms around Jisung’s waist after Minho closes the door, wetting his sweatshirt with your tears. Jisung automatically takes you into his embrace, stroking your hair in the hopes of calming you down. “Some old man tried to make a pass at me,” you sob. “I almost slapped him but my friends stopped me. The owner has banned him from coming.”

Jisung tightens his hold on you, guilt starting to overtake him. He should have come to you, he should have just come to you. Why did he hesitate? “Motherfucker,” he splutters. “God—I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You shake your head. “Why are you saying sorry?” you try to laugh. “I’m fine, Jisung. I’m just… mad. And a little bit scared, but I’m okay. Seriously though, men have no manners.”

“I know,” he replies. “I’m sorry. I hope it won’t ever happen again. I won’t let it happen, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

You snort, pulling away to pinch his cheeks. “Then who’s gonna protect you? I know you watch horror movies well but everything else scares you.”

Jisung’s lips stretch into a loving smile, wiping your tears with his hands. “I’ll try my best. You can trust me,” he says. “Should I take you home now?”

You seem to consider his offer before burying your face in chest again. Jisung hopes you can’t hear his heart beating violently due to the close proximity. “Jisung, you okay?” you hum. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

Of course, he won’t be able to fool you.

“Yeah. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“Can I sleep over?”

Jisung separates you from his body before you can hear his heart jumping out of its ribcage. “All I can think about is Pennywise now,” you sigh, searching for approval in his eyes. Jisung feels his legs weaken, so he squeezes your shoulders. “You sure? Do you feel comfortable sleeping in my room with Minho sleeping next door? Oh fuck it, why am I encouraging you to change your mind? Of course you can sleep over. You can trust me, and you can trust Minho too. And it’s not that I’ll even let him touch a strand of your hair!” he blabbers.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Minho’s name. “Lee Minho is hot, I don’t mind having him around.”

“You go around declaring that men have no manners and boys like me are fuckboys yet you don’t mind having Lee fucking Minho around?!”

Once again, you wrap your arms around his waist, and Jisung wastes no time in returning your hug although his eyes are angry now. “I have you, right? You’re not an asshole, you won’t let anything happen to me.”

Jisung sighs in defeat, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’re impossible.”

After putting you to bed (with much difficulty because you kept commenting at how messy his room is), Jisung finds himself lying on the couch, staring at his room. Minho is already back and is now asleep (but not before he gave his roommate a whole warning to not say anything that can damage Jisung’s reputation).

Are you sleeping well? Are you still sad? Do you really think that Minho is hot or were you just playing with him?

His questions seem to reach your mind because seconds later, you slide the door open. You walk towards him, kneeling down to see him better. “JIsung-ah,” you call out softly. “Are you asleep?”

Jisung blinks, heat rising to his cheeks because you’re staring at him so intensely. “Not yet. What is it? You can’t sleep?”

“You can sleep inside, it’s cold out here,” you whisper. “It’s fine, I can sleep anywhere like a log.” He rubs your hand. “Go back to sleep.”

Jisung sits up when you don’t budge. “What if I also want you to be next to me?” you murmur, but he hears everything loud and clear. He carries you back inside his room with saying a word, hoping that this isn’t just a test he will fail.

He lays you down gently, which surprises himself since he tends to do everything in a rush. Jisung settles himself beside you, ready to finally sleep when you scoot closer and put your arms around his torso. “Thank you for today,” you say.

Jisung turns around to face you, slowly pulling you into his arms. “What did I do?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Being there for me,” you reply. “You didn’t doubt me, you didn’t blame me.”

Jisung lifts your chin so he can look into your eyes. “Why would I blame you? You really should’ve kicked that man’s ass.”

You break into a smile, and Jisung can’t hold himself anymore. The feeling of you in his embrace, your smile, the way you look at him, and the warmth of your words are driving him crazy. Jisung realizes it’s always been like that since the very first time he met you: you’ve always driven him crazy.

“Y/N.” He licks his lips. “I want to start over. I want us to date without thinking about the goddamn theories. I don’t care about them anymore. I just want to be yours, completely yours. I’m not saying this only because I want to date, I only want to date you. And I don’t want to think about breaking up with you once we finish proving those theories. I won’t be able to handle it, I like you too much.”

You blink at him, staring at him long and intense Jisung feels like burning. You cup his face, tilting your head to peck him on the lips. It ends way too soon for his liking, but he already wants to faint.

“Aren’t I your Princess already? That means you’re automatically mine.”

Jisung chuckles, a huge burden is lifted off his chest as you snuggle to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Nice move, Han Jisung. Confessing to me when I’m in your bed and feeling sentimental as hell.”

“Sorry Princess, but you’re too irresistible. I just gotta make you mine right here, right now.”

“Go to sleep.”

“As you wish,” he sighs dreamily, peppering kisses on the top of your head until you fall asleep.

“Where are you? The food is ready.”

Jisung rummages through his pile of clothes on the floor, picking up a random black shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. His phone is on the bed, speaker on so he could actually get ready while you’re hollering at him.

“I’ll be on my way soon, Princess. Please don’t get mad,” he pleads.

“I took a day off from my part-time job for you, Jisung. But you’re acting like my time isn’t precious at all,” you answer, a little softer this time. Jisung chews the inside of his cheek; you’re right. He’s always late although he barely has time to meet you thesedays.

He swears he doesn’t mean to, but whenever he’s about to meet you, misfortunes always happen: his alarm doesn’t go off, he has an appointment he can’t cancel, or he’s too tired to get out of his bed. You get into petty arguments whenever you meet, but you forgive him every single time although Jisung himself knows he’s being stubborn. As he slips on his shirt, Jisung wonders if this is the beginning of the end.

“Okay,” you finally mumble. “Be careful.”

Jisung ends the call, running as fast as he can to your apartment complex. He considers taking the stairs, but remembers that you live on the 20th floor and decides to wait for the elevator. When he finally enters your flat, his eyes brim with tears.

You’re sleeping on the sofa, two portions of jjajjangmyeon along with a bowl of caramel popcorn are on the table. The television is on, ready to play Along with the Gods because Jisung wants to re-watch it tonight.

He’s the luckiest man on Earth yet he keeps disappointing you. It pains him how small mistakes may really destroy both of you.

Jisung crouches down, wiping his tears quickly before planting a kiss on your lips. You stir, opening your eyes.

“Hi,” you yawn. “Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“I missed you,” Jisung rasps. “So much.”

He pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his tense muscles relaxing when you hum knowingly against his skin. “I missed you too. Wanna talk about it?” you offer, patting his back softly.

“About what?”

“You had a bad day.”

“And you’re sleepy,” he retorts. “Let’s just sleep.”

“Not before you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Jisung gives up, deciding to tell you how swamped he is with projects and how everything doesn’t seem to go his way. You listen to him—although through half-lidded eyes—giving him all suggestions and reassurance he doesn’t even know he needs.

Sometimes Jisung still thinks about the theories both of you wanted to prove months ago. He remembers how sure he was that yours was wrong. He was not an insensitive asshole.

Maybe he is now. And you don’t deserve it.

The thing is, Jisung is selfish. Losing you is something he fears the most, and now, surrounded by your warmth and soft caresses, he makes a silent promise to fix everything. To make himself worthy of you and your love again.

“Y/N.” He lifts himself up just enough to see your face, smiling at your sleepy face. “I love you.”

You freeze, eyes boring into his, trying to look for traces of lies. He stays in his position and waits for you to say something, anything, before his heart explodes and breaks into a million pieces.

“You do, now?” you reply, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Jisung waits for you to say it back, but you soon fall asleep in his arms.

Jisung had the best dream ever. He dreamed of going on vacation with you, and you always wore your brightest smile that he loved so much.  But that wasn’t even the best part.

In his dream, you told him that you loved him.

In reality, Jisung wakes up to an empty bed. He checks his phone, relieved to see some messages from you.

princess : hv some cereal before you go, but pls wash the dishes

princess: dont forget to make the bed or ur dead

me: im a slave 4 u, ma’am, dont worry

The tone of your messages doesn’t change, and for now it’s enough to soothe his heart. Jisung makes the bed as you requested before examining your room. He’s seen all his photos you pinned on the wall, but now you’ve written comments underneath some of them.

Jisung’s eyes fall on a photo of him munching on his chocolate. The comment reads, “Please eat more, you’re too skinny.”

Another photo sees him sitting in front of his laptop with his headphones on. “You’re the coolest composer, you know that, right?”

Jisung recognizes the last photo as the one taken during one of your beach dates (in which he dragged Minho to be his designated photographer). You had begged him for a piggy back ride, and he eventually caved. Jisung flaunted his gummy smile as you pressed your lips on his right cheek. Underneath the photo, you wrote, “Jisung-ah, I’m so happy with you. Thank you.”

He wonders why you keep all these thoughts to yourself. These are your love letters for him, they beat all the “Han Jisung, I love you too” scenarios Jisung have inside his head. Why wouldn’t you just tell him that? Is it because he hasn’t been the best boyfriend thesedays?

After taking a photo of your “love shrine” (for blackmail purposes), Jisung leaves his notebooks inside one of your drawers, the ones filled with lyrics he wrote for you and about you. You wrote him the sweetest love letters, and he’s going to fulfill the promise he made when he asked you out.

You deserve to know every little detail of his feelings for you.

“Y/N… about last night… are you mad at me? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stop flicking through channels, dropping the remote to ponder Jisung’s question. “Yeah, I am,” you admit. “But we’ve fought enough. I don’t wanna waste my energy.”

“So you’re going to let me be a jerk?! What if I never snapped out of it? What if I never apologized to you? Or feel guilty?! You have to beat the shit out of me, Y/N. You can’t be this nice!”

You prop your chin on your knees, closing your eyes. “Last night, I planned to break up with you.”

Jisung pales at your confession. “Princess, I’m—”

“Please hear me out first,” you cut him off. “These past few weeks have been tough, I honestly thought you cheated on me. When you were late again last night, I told myself to end things with you. But then I fucking fell asleep, and then as soon as I saw you, I didn’t want to do it anymore. Plus you looked like a mess last night.”

“I kept wondering if we’re trapped in a toxic relationship. And it angered me. I hated myself for keep wanting to forgive you. When you told me that you love me… I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know whether you were being sincere or just caught up in the moment.”

Tears start rolling down your cheeks. “That’s why I didn’t answer. This morning, I decided to give you one last chance.”

“Did I… ruin it?” Jisung asks sheepishly, wiping your tears gently.

You shake your head. “I acted like nothing happened, but you still apologized. And complained about me not telling you about this sooner.”

“So that means…?”

“That means,” you begin. “Your theory is right. Dumping someone feels worse than getting dumped. Yesterday, memories of us fighting flooded my mind as I created a whole speech in my head about how much I hated you. It made me wanna explode, and that was the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. Resentment is tiring, but the moment you stepped into the living room I know I don’t hate you.”

Jisung heaves a sigh of relief, placing his hand on top of yours carefully. “And your theory is wrong. You broke my heart. You truly did. I told you I love you, and when you didn’t say it back… I felt horrible... although I know it’s all my fault. You have me wrapped around your finger, Princess, I hope you know that.”

“Anyways, I saw your lovely comments for me on the photos,” he teases, knowing you meant to keep it a secret.

“Fucking hell!” you yell. “I forgot to hide them!”

“Why don’t you tell me now, then.”

Your lips curl into a teasing smile. “If I tell you I love you now, will you kiss me?”

Before you even properly say it, Jisung is already hovering over you, cupping your face and crashing his lips on yours. It just occurs to him that he’s never kissed you like this; it was always light pecks here and there. Jisung doesn’t know how he survived that, because nothing beats feeling your lips moving against his. Nothing beats the feeling of you tugging his hair, sighing in contentment when he starts exploring your warm mouth. Jisung tries to remember every single sensation; the way you curl your arms around his neck, the way you keep pulling him down to you as if he’s not close enough, the way you squirm as he nibbles your bottom lip gently.

“I love you,” you whisper in between feverish kisses he leaves every now and then. He pauses, finally letting himself breathe. You hold stars in your eyes, and those stars are all for him to see. It’s overwhelming, so all Jisung does is pressing another kiss on your lips. Moments later, when the lack of oxygen forces him to stop, he pulls away.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, trying to stop himself from kissing you again because he needs to tell you this first.

“For…?”

“Loving me.”

Chan’s graduation project has finally been screened, earning a standing ovation from everybody present. He invited all his crew to dinner, which has turned into a congratulatory party for Jisung and you. “You two didn’t disappoint me,” Chan exclaims. “I guess you’re the reason why Jisung finished his demo early, right Y/N?”

You wink cockily at him. “Han Jisung is nothing without me.”

Chan ruffles your hair before raising his hand to get everyone’s attention. “My last few months as a student felt amazing thanks to you guys. I’m sure you all know how thankful I am for each of you, so I won’t bore you with my speech. Now, Seungmin, I believe you have something to say.”

Kim Seungmin stands up, unfolding a piece of paper that sparks mixed reactions from the crowd. “Lee Felix, Hwang Hyunjin, Choi Jisu,” he announces. “Each of you owes ₩20,000 to me, Chan, and Shin Yuna because you guys freaking lost!” He claps, then turning to both of you. “Jisung and Y/N, thank you for making us rich!”

Everyone cheers while you and Jisung look dumbfounded. “All of you bet on us?!” you scream in disbelief. “Whoa I can’t believe you guys! Even you, Chan?”

The senior only chuckles. “Everyone was stressed out at how slow you two were but you guys were so annoyingly cute we couldn’t help ourselves!”

Seungmin collects all the money from the lost participants before distributing it to each of the winners. When he gets to Chan, the latter shakes his head. “Just use the money for round 2, I’ll pay the rest as well.”

The whole room cheers again, quickly getting up from their seats and debating about which place to go. You immediately start interrogating Seungmin, wanting to know what exactly happened during the whole production process.

Jisung taps Chan’s shoulder. “I believe I haven’t thanked you.”

Chan frowns. “For what?”

Jisung slips his hands into his jeans pocket, smiling at you as you turn around to check on him. “For making the whole project happened. For the whole, ‘Sometimes it’s not about fate or timing. It’s about choice.’ It kept me going, even when I thought Y/N and I weren’t meant to be. There are times when we just have to keep trying, aren’t we?”

“Well, thank you for remembering what I said. But it wasn’t me. It happened because you did try, Jisung. All of us have to make choices at some point, but not a lot of people actually have strength and will to do that. You did, so kudos to you. I’m trying to do the same myself, wish me luck, okay?”

Jisung snorts. “This is getting sappy, but thank you. And I will.”

Both boys laugh, exchanging playful slaps on each other’s back until you come up to them.

“Hey Chan, can I borrow Jisung for a sec?”

Chan shoves Jisung towards you. “If I catch you two sneaking out before round 2 is done, I’ll end you!”

You wave at Chan, and Jisung is now glued to your side. “What is it?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulder. “I found your notebooks.”

He grins. “You did? I thought I’d have to tell you about them. They’re nice, right? I’ve recorded some of them, I’ll let you listen later.”

You cross your arms. “The ones in the black notebook are nice. I’m a goddess and I agree. But what are you gonna say about the red notebook?”

Jisung smirks at your question, dropping a quick kiss on your lips. “What about it? You wanna make everything I wrote there come true? I can do that, Princess. Whenever you want,” he whispers seductively.

His original plan was only to leave you the black notebook that contains all the sweetest lyrics he’s ever written. But then he thought it wouldn’t be fair if you only know that side of him. You have every right to know about his sexy thoughts too.

“I just want you to know me. All of me. And everything I feel about you, including the things I really, really want to do to you,” he continues.

You tiptoe to whisper into his ear, “Maybe later.”

“Later?!” Jisung shouts. “Later as in tonight?!”

You shrug, and now Jisung is dragging you to the opposite direction of where his friends are going. “Chan hyung! You can nag us later but we really need to go home right now!”

Everyone whistles, including Chan, so Jisung takes it as a yes and quickens his pace. You, meanwhile, are looking at the snacks stalls along the street.

“I’m still hungry. Let’s stop by to buy hotteok first.”

Groaning in frustration, Jisung knows he has no choice but to follow you. As he watches you enjoying your hotteok, he thinks about the moment when he desperately wanted to prove you wrong.

Jisung has nothing to prove now. You gave his heart a chance. You gave him a chance, and he’ll make sure to cherish you as long as he can.

more a/n: and it’s done! This story seems simple but writing it, I think the theme is a little bit hard to grasp. I hope you guys can understand everything that Jisung feels... 

#stray kids scenarios #stayshub #skzinc #kwritersworldnet #han jisung scenarios #stray kids #stray kids han #stray kids han jisung #stray kids jisung #han jisung #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfics #stray kids imagines #kpop fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #stray kids x reader #reader x stray kids #reader x jisung #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #han x reader #stray kids scenario #jisung stray kids #han stray kids #han scenarios #han scenario #han fanfics

[mlkywaycafe]

If y’all don’t mind I just wanna talk about the relationship chart mentioned on Dia’s reference for like their thoughts on the OM characters

this is mostly just for me for reference I guess but i’m also in a chatty mood

You’ve no doubt noticed that Satan, Simeon, and Diavolo are all yellow with pink and they’re all mutually bffs/crushes that’s mostly just me projecting cause them along with Beel (and Levi) are among my top 5 so I also just love them a lot. But like Beel is the be all end all. I probably won’t end up drawing anything shippy with those three but who knows~

As far as Dia themself goes they’re mostly canon compliant, with the exception of chapter 16 *spoilers for that ahead* cause I truly hate how it was handled.

... anyways

Lucifer They try to keep out of trouble because god forbid they cause Lucifer to sprout more grey hairs. That’s hard considering they keep getting roped into Mammon’s schemes. They like to jokingly tease him about being like a dad though.

Mammon The human that’s totally not his favourite human or anything. He’s head over heels for them but unfortunately they’re head over heels for his younger brother. That doesn’t mean they can’t be friends though! They usually hang out somewhere after classes (as long as they’re paying). Tries to talk Mammon out of doing something that’s gonna get him into trouble and ends up becoming an accomplice instead. 

Leviathan OMG BESTIE!!!! Currently have an ongoing rivalry in mario kart, he is winning by 4 races. They enjoy listening to Levi talk about anything and everything. They think it’s nice that he’s so passionate about the things that he loves. Sometimes all you need is someone to listen to you yanno?

Satan They don’t give him a headache like everyone else does and he appreciates that. Sometimes they just hangout in his room either reading or they ask him a bunch of questions about life in the Devildom.

“hey you guys are like centuries old demons right?”

“yes.”

“why the fuck are you guys in school then like what do you have to learn?”

“...”

Asmo They can’t keep up with his social energy and always politely decline his offers to go clubbing with him cause that is just not their thing. They do however allow him to work his self care magic and they have the occasional spa day.

Beel The love of their life, they would do anything for him, probably even die but don’t that would make him sad. I could probably write an entire post about their relationship (and I might at some point) but i’m trying to keep it simple... He didn’t really pay much attention to them at first. But eventually he started doing little things to look after them like draping a blanket over them if they were napping on the couch and listening to them talk about stars when they discovered the planetarium. It eventually clicked that they shared common interests with Belphie (much to their dismay), and it was almost like he never left (even though he didn’t) but he knew they couldn’t substitute the brother that he loves so dearly. After the events of chapter 6 he tried to stick closer to them and felt bad that they stood up to protect him and luke when it probably should have been the other way around.

Belphie THEY DO NOT LIKE EACH OTHER. They pretend they do however for the sake of Beel. Highkey traumatized after A) he strangled them and B) they watched a version of them literally die in Mammon’s arms. For the longest time if he entered a room they were in they’d immediately make an excuse to leave. Eventually they’ll talk it out and get an actual apology out of him but who knows when that will happen.

Luke Jokingly refers to him as their son. He finds it embarrassing but only tolerates it from them. (Solomon teases him about it though) After the events of chapter 6 he started giving them some sweets he bakes.

Simeon Okay sure he’s an angel but they think that sometimes he’s a little too angelic. They just enjoy being in his presence because he’s such good company and it gives them a break from the constant state of chaos that is the House of Lamentation. 

Solomon Pretty sure they actually died after eating his cooking once. Can’t make heads or tails of anything he does. He’s a strange one that’s for sure.

Barbatos This guy is an enigma to them. Like he’s nice to them sure but at the same time they know literally nothing about him, hello what is going on inside that mind of yours sir?

Diavolo Dia and Diavolo together make the incredible duo of Dia², much to Lucifer’s dismay. Really Diavolo is just happy that he can just be himself around them. (He was excited when they gave him the nickname Dia cause no one has ever given him a nickname before)

#🐑: Dia. #Obey me mc