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azsazz · 11 months

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Between the Shadow and the Soul

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: No thoughts just death god Azriel and goddess of life reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, graphic depictions of violence, a tiny bit of smut.

Word Count: 2,712

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The first time Death meets Life, she’s dying.

Deep within the dense forest now blooming as your power escapes you, he looms.

Azriel knows that something isn’t right. There’s a war raging before him, his favorite scent of death brought to him in plumes, screams of agony ringing deliciously in his ears. He licks his lips, tasting it as he scans the battlefield. His heart vibrates with pleasure in his chest at the sights of bodies being flayed open and falling to the ground.

But the thicket of trees he’s just trailed through are no longer fraying from his dark touch, leaves brittle and bark peeling away from thick trunk like flesh tearing from muscle and bone. It’s flourishing in rich colors, deep greens in the peak of summer, their limbs strong with new growth and reaching towards the sun in prayer.

He frowns, pulling his hood over his head. The fabric is thick, black like the shadows swirling around his feet. The scent of freshly turned earth drowns out that of slaughter, stinging his nostrils, nose scrunching and lip curling away from perfect teeth in disgust.

From the veil of shadows he goes, trailing through the battle as if it’s nothing more than wading through the long grass growing rapidly at his feet. It’s stained crimson, still warm as it traces hair thin lines across his marred palms when he touches it. The twin blades sheathed at his back sing with praise as he releases them, and he twists them around with the skill of a thousand men. They keen, begging to be used, their gleaming metal bathed in gore.

Blood spatters across his face as he cuts down a man atop a horse. The dark hood hiding his identity does little to keep the ichor from splattering on his tanned skin. His eyes glow and he licks his lips, the metallic taste of a life ending sweet on his tongue.

He can kill a man with a single look if he wanted to, but Azriel found himself enjoying a more hands-on approach to killing. It is natural, afterall. There is something different to be found in wielding a death blow himself, the beast encapsulated in his soul growls with pleasure as he watches souls leave bodies, falling to the ground already sodden crimson. An offer to the Mother, returning from the earth they’d been born of.

Azriel cuts his way across the battlefield with ease. More fae charge his way, unleashing their powers, but none make sweat bead Death’s brow. He’s having his fun, but is focused on the task at hand, gliding through the grass towards the forest beaming with new growth like a beacon calling him home.

His blades vibrate in his hands as he swings, slicing through adolescent branches. He wishes he were cutting through skulls and bones, and his weapons do too, screeching as sap sticks to the thin metal, mixing with the red that already stains their surfaces.

Shadows straying ahead, they search for him even though he can feel the pull of death and smell it on the breeze. A glance to the forest floor reveals moss growing where the path has been trodden down to dirt, the plush greenery climbing up trunks of trees whose leaves are growing in so thickly that the light of day grows dark.

The tether of fraying life pulls tighter and tighter the closer he gets. Crowds of trees open into a small clearing, booming with aliveness. The sun shines down into the center of the field where the branches and leaves don’t extend, warm rays shining down on your glowing skin, power leaking from you so thickly it nearly makes him choke.

But what does have Azriel’s breath catching is you. The bright linens of your dress are wet with blood, crimson soaking into the fine fabric from hem to collar. Your chest heaves, breath labored so you lie, eyes shut as you bathe in the sun like you’re not balancing on the cusp of death.

Azriel strides forward. You pry your eyes open at the sound of knives sliding back into sheaths, and glaring through the light in your eyes, you smile softly at the figure approaching. He’s cloaked in rich, dark robes, hood pulled up, revealing only those harrowing eyes. You’ve never met Death, but with the throbbing ache in your chest, you recognize him immediately. You’d heard rumors that if you looked straight into those hollow eyes of his you’d die on the spot, and it warms your quickly freezing body to find that the rumor is false.

The man kneels by your side and you want to laugh at the way that he assesses you, eyes trailing across your body, gaze as serious as the injury to your chest.

Azriel gently moves your hands from where they’re trying to keep the wound closed. He doesn’t need to put much force behind the action at all, your limbs weak from blood loss. He grimaces at the sight, the usual excitement that clings to his very soul upon seeing such a gruesome picture is not there, instead, it feels like claws of ice blooming from his chest, painful and angry.

He can feel the power emanating off of you. The way it surges and buries beneath his own skin, heart picking up in pace. Your eyes are dazed, and the smile you give him has him both wanting to lean further into you and tuck his hood more securely around himself. Life, dying right before his very eyes.

And he can see it in the way your skin shimmers. The grassy knoll beneath you is overcome with life, thick, green grass soft beneath your body as if the earth itself is making you a comfortable spot to rest. A flick of his gaze has Azriel noting the animals peering from the brush, the lively rattle of mice and the uncomfortable stares of deer watching the both of you.

“Have you come to claim me, Death?” you rasp, looking up into his eyes. They’re surprisingly bright, golden like the sun that cradles you, alive with shadows and souls. He hides himself well, you decide, clutching the soft ground as his eyes trail the open wound ripped wide down your sternum as you search his eyes for any sign of himself. But you don’t sound alarmed, if anything being in his presence feels as peaceful as life itself.

“Not yet,” Azriel murmurs, icy fingers brushing down your cheek. He wipes away the speck of red there. When you dare return to where you’ve come from he doesn’t want you catching sight of it in the mirror, noticing how close you’d been to finally being his.

The clash of swords grows louder, shrill cries of bloodshed on the battlefield still ringing in his ears. Many have joined him today, and you should not be out here. Should not be in the middle of a war trying to save fallen soldiers, let alone the winged bastards who’ve done this to you.

He doesn’t remove his hood, doesn’t let you see his face. Something rumbles in his chest, so much like a death rattle but a sweet song all the same. His treacherous heart kicks up a beat, spurring panic in his veins like the vines twisting through the forest floor. Resilient, just like Life.

“Are you scared?” He asks, letting you clutch his hand with both of your own as his fingers slide down your throat to touch the top of your wound, careful not to harm. So small, he notes, so perfect.

“Do you want me to be?” You respond through labored breaths. You watch the way his wings scratch over you, blocking the sun from your eyes. If he’s going to do this, he’ll need the dark.

“No,” Azriel finds himself saying. He doesn’t want Life to fear Death.

His grip is strong, sure, just as death is. You want to watch him as he works but your eyelids are too heavy, and you’re not sure if it’s his shadows creeping into the sides of your vision or if you’re about to pass out from the state you’re in.

Azriel summons his powers, placing both of your tangled hands across your wound. You suck in a sharp breath as a wave of agony drags you from the dark, eyes flaring open only to catch on his again. He whispers something you’re unable to make out, but you feel the icy coldness of his powers seeping into your skin as he draws on them.

They kickstart your own, warm and comforting as they wrap around each other like the shadows and rays of golden light filling the field. The sounds of battle are deafened by whatever he’s doing and your breath catches in your throat. It feels as though you’re burning on the inside, his darkness freezing your soul and your own powers lash out in response.

“Come on,” he urges softly, noting that the wound on your chest is beginning to close. The feeling of your powers mixing with his feels strange. He’s never once felt alive, but now, as waves of warmth burn through his blood, he finds himself wanting to bathe in it.

You gasp as the wound closes fully, eyes shuttering shut as your spine arches off of the ground and your vision explodes with black. The entire clearing goes dark with Death’s shadows before your light bursts out of you in an awakening you’ve never experienced before.

Sitting up in a rush, your head spins. When the light of your powers has died down, you find yourself alone in the forest, Death a whisper in the wind.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Humming an all familiar tune, you stride through the sparse trees to the lively river, a mother and her ducklings trailing happily behind you. You’d found them on your morning walk, feeling the caress of lives tugging on your soul as you went, smile stretching wider and wider as you strolled to find them.

They’d been a little lost, the mother quacking happily as you appeared with a soft demeanor and outstretched hands. You could feel her worry, as she rounded the ducklings up, keeping them close. You giggled as they’d started climbing all over you, scooping up the fluffy beings and cuddling them close to your chest.

The river is alive with life. Fish swimming in the soft current, finally thawed from the harsh winters. The perfect watering ground for many of the animals in the forest, and a nice place to stop on a hot summer's day for the fae of this realm, the perfect setting for the duckling family to rest.

But what you’ve failed to notice is the fox sneaking through the shadows of the trees on silent paws, licking its maw at the sight of its next meal, and Death following closely behind.

He watches with intrigue, though he’s seen the way that this plays out more times than he can count. He doesn’t even need to be around for a death as simple as this; the smallest duckling lagging behind as it trips over an upturned root will be the one to go, and its mother will not even notice until they get where they’re going and her little one is gone.

It’s all a part of life though, and you can’t save them all. He notes the way you hold yourself, the skip in your step and the smile on your lips as you murmur softly to the animals like they can understand you. Your powers unconsciously slip from you, flowers blooming where your feet land as you lead the flock towards the rushing blue waters of the river.

You pause, looking around as if you’ve felt a shift in the air, like the piece of him that you carry in the faint scar across your chest has alerted you to his presence, and Death finds himself ducking behind a tree. But you’ve already caught sight of his dark robes slipping between shadows.

Crouching in a hurry, you collect the ducklings near to you as the fox pounces from its hiding spot. You scowl at the animal, black fur and bright eyes halting at your look. It bows its head sorrowfully, whining softly.

“Trying to play tricks on me, Death?” you raise an eyebrow, heart softening as you shoo the ducklings towards the river in favor of scratching behind the fox’s ears. It keens, leaning into your palm as your warmth consumes it, flipping onto its belly for more of your loving touch.

“Death is no trick, Life.” Azriel responds seriously, untucking himself from the shadows creeping around him. His golden gaze flicks to the animal and where your fingers are buried in its fur and he’s brought back to all of those months ago when it had been his fingers yours were clinging to and keeping warm.

“Life is no ruse either,” you respond, too amused for his liking. You're too cheery, bright eyes burning holes through his skin, scaring off of his shadows. Death is not afraid, and Death is not falling. He’s been seeking you out, secretly, watching you with a keen eye the way you brighten the world little by little, while all he does is sweep darkness in his wake.

He shrugs, as if your statement means nothing to him. Of course it wouldn’t, he is Death. The tree he’s leaning against is proof enough, its leaves shrinking, crumbling as life is sucked out of them, fluttering to the ground like snow.

It doesn’t irk you like it should. No, it’s actually breathtaking, the way that he draws life to him is intoxicating, and you can feel your powers reaching out to him. You’ve never felt such things before, have been thinking about Death more than you’d like to admit, the way he’d made you feel when he saved you.

“Would you like to come by for some tea?” You blurt, cheeks pinking up when his features don’t so much as twitch. The fox nips playfully at your stilled fingers and it skitters away at the disapproving glare Death sends it.

He nods once, hood bobbing with the motion, and you lead him to your home.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Finish me,” you breathe, and it makes Death nearly cum.

It’s not the way that you mean it. You’re not sacrificing yourself, asking him to take your soul, but with the way that he’s buried deep inside of you, you feel as though you’d give anything to him at this moment.

Death likes that.

The words have him groaning, teeth nipping at your shoulder as he jerks into you, cock hot and heavy with arousal. He’d followed you to your home only for the both of you to end up like this: you flat on your back in your soft bed with him driving into you, shadows writhing around his shaking wings.

The vines that hang off of your ceiling pass between life and death as you fuck, blooming with new growth and snaking down the walls when you cum with a shout. You feel like you’re dying, gasping for breath as blackness fields your vision until stars shine beneath squeezed eyelids.

Death is close behind you, pulling you to him and rolling you over, holding you tightly as he pistons his hips up into your writhing body, seeing you through your orgasm. He slips his tongue into your mouth, desperate for a taste of Life as he releases. The plants that line your home droop and fray as he sucks the essence from them.

He feels like he’s finally alive, chest expanding with a first full breath, life pulsating through his body as you cling to him as tightly as he is to you.

It’s utter bliss, the way you two stay tangled up in each other for days, not worrying about the life or death that’s happening outside your quaint cottage. It’s two souls reuniting, the missing parts of each other, finding the balance they’ve so desperately been craving since the cosmos tethered them to this plane of existence.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Death is not a lover.

He’d never let himself love anything.

But this time, when Death sees Life, she’s bringing another into the world.

#azriel x reader #azriel/reader #life/death #azsazz #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel

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sluts-assembled · 4 months

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Your Body is a Shrine, and I am Your God

Dom!Gojo x Fem!Reader

Someone bought me a coffee. That’s why Reader is a bit descriptive.

F/B = Favorite Band

Warnings: NonCon, somnophilia, thigh fucking, noncon punishment spanking, Gojo is an asshole

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What the fuck? What in the actual fuck? You can’t help but question the small and circular indigo bruises on the inside of your thighs. They’re spread out so unevenly. You don’t remember anyone grabbing you in this area during training yesterday. Did you do this to yourself in your sleep? This has been going on for months now, five if you remember correctly. As you lift your sleep shirt from your body, you reveal even more of those small bruises running along your hips. Blushing, you quickly get dressed so that you can get going to class.

You can’t help feeling a little on edge throughout the day. Waking up with bruising on your body that you can’t figure out what the cause was will unnerve a person. You try to take deep breaths, but you just can’t help but feel like someone is out there watching you closely.

And then, not too long after your classes start, you see Gojo. Oh, thank God for Gojo. He listens to you, really listens. You go to him, wanting to talk about how nervous you are.

“I just don’t understand, Sensei. I keep waking up with all these bruises all over me. I just don’t know where they’re from.” You lift the hem of your skirt a little bit just until you can show him enough of the bruises without revealing too much.

Oh, but Gojo wishes you would reveal more. Come on. Your thighs are just so plush and doughy. He just wants to grab and jiggle the fatty meat that makes his eyes sparkle like he’s looking at wagyu. He silently tries to override your will, begging you just to lift your skirt a bit more. Let him see what color panties you have on today. Let him see if you made a little wet patch on them yet. It’s all he can think about. He’s just about ready to rip your skirt off and stick his finger in the waistband of your tiny little panties if you don’t give him a peek.

But…where’s the fun in any of that? This is kind of like a little game to Gojo. He can always just look at your cute little wrapped up cunt later when he comes to visit you in your dorm room tonight. He never needs a key, not when he can just teleport inside. You never seem to notice with how much of a heavy sleeper you are. Your soft little snores are so delicious to Gojo as you breathe in and out of his ear so steadily. Sometimes, he’ll even get you to whimper as he sticks two fingers in knuckle deep as your pussy sucks on his digits.

He would never fuck you though. He’s…too…decent for that? No, he has no respect for you, not really. But it’s the fun of the game to Gojo that gets him so riled up, so unbelievably riled up. Who would have thought that little ol’ you sleeping could make his cock so hard? Who would have thought that his tongue flicks with excitement when he gropes your buxom chest? Who would have thought that Gojo simply sticks to ramming his dick between your breasts and thighs? Who would have thought that he wants to stay and watch over you to gauge your reaction in the morning when you notice your buzzing clit?

Do you masturbate to deal with it? Do you even have enough time before classes start? Or are you such a bad girl that you place your sexual needs before your education? Gojo might have to give you a stern talking to and a punishment if it’s the latter, but he’ll save that possibility for his fantasies later tonight when he comes to visit you.

For now, though, he smiles as he watches you poke the bruise on your thigh with a furrowed brow and a slightly pouty lip.

“You know, you should try setting up a camera in your room. That way, tomorrow, you can watch it and find out if you’re doing that to yourself.”

Oh, but Gojo isn’t saying that for your benefit. No, he never does anything for just your benefit, not even when he fucks your thighs and tits instead of your dripping little pussy.

“That’s a great idea, Sensei!” You exclaim as you hug him tightly. “Thanks for the idea. I would have never thought to do something like that. Oh, wait…I only have my phone, and I don’t think my alarm will go off if I leave it on record all night. Plus, it’ll just take up space on my phone and probably cut off midway through the night.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that your sensei has too many cameras to even know what to do with. I even have a tripod you can borrow.”

“You really are the best, Sensei.”

“Yeah, I know.” What he wouldn’t give to put a hand on your cheek and pull you in closely by your hair right now. “I’ll give you the stuff at the end of the day.”

The day goes by smoothly. You train, learn a few things, and get the camera and tripod at the end of the day. You set them up right by your bed so that when it’s time for sleep, you’re all good to go. After changing into your pajamas, you climb into bed and close your eyes.

And thus starts the game.

Gojo teleports into your room after he’s sure that you’ll be asleep. It always takes two hours for you to settle into a deep sleep. He’s learned this from experience. Gojo walks over to your bed and looks down at you. You always wear that F/B shirt to sleep. It’s always so cute on you, clinging to you in all the right ways, enhancing those tits just enough to where your hardened nipples poke out at him in such a friendly and inviting way.

“Well, how could I resist?” He chuckles to himself.

Satoru sits down on the bed, simply petting your hair before letting his fingers trail down towards your shapely breasts. He massages them gently over your shirt, taking his time. There’s really no rush. There never is any rush with you when you’re like this. Hell, you’ve never woken up even once, not even for water or a late-night snack.

Your head stays in the same place on the pillow, nice and relaxed, just how Sensei likes it. He rides up your shirt a bit, just enough to expose your belly button. He trails kisses along your stomach, all the way up and up until he arrives at the treasure he’s been waiting to get his hands on. He paws at you, gently, light caresses which elicit a deep sigh from you as you lie there for him. Just for him. Always for him.

So precious, his golden student who listens to him like his word is absolute. You have no idea just how much he loves it all. The way you write down everything he says whether it’s a lecture or not because you think you might find something philosophical in his words, something that might pertain to life advice.

“And you do it because stupid little you can’t think for herself,” he whispers into your ear. “No, you need Sensei to think for you, to tell you what to do and when to do it. That’s what you need. Stupid little girls like you just have such a hard time with life. Poor thing. So weak and helpless.”

Gojo places one last kiss on your nipple as his tongue darts out and licks it, flicks it with his fingers to see if he can get your nipple to harden just a tad bit more. “There we go. That’s a good girl.”

Gojo rids himself of his own shirt, simply burying his white hair in the depths of your chest as he unbuttons and unzips his designer pants. Everything about Gojo screams luxury, except for his taste in broke students who sleep in slutty band t-shirts.

No, Satoru has more than enough to give, and he’s willing to give it all to a certain sleeping beauty. He breathes into you, feeling you as he shucks off his clothes, shoes and socks included, leaving him in those devastatingly tight boxer briefs. His cock creates a tent that he just needs to satiate right now.

He leaves kisses all along your jaw line, his lips dancing down your neck like the light feet of a fairy. The ends of his soft hair tickling against your skin do nothing to jolt you from your sleep. You don’t even move from the position you’re in as Satoru lowers your sleep shorts, finally getting the chance to see what kind of panties you have on.

“Aw, blue…cute.” He gives you a predatory smile as he uses his teeth to take off your underwear, dragging them down your legs like a dog.

There’s nothing else on his mind but you. He wants you, has to have you, needs to have you. Your body is a shrine, and Gojo is your god. You may not know it, but your body is an offering to him whether you know it or not.

Satoru finally gets your underwear off and lets them fall from his mouth to the floor. He returns to you, now taking your all too revealing band shirt and tugging it gently over your head.

How pathetic. You’re too exhausted to even feel him jostling your body this way and that.

“You know, I wish you fell asleep in class like this. Give me all kinds of excuses to punish such a naughty little girl like you. Do you know what I would do if you fell asleep in class? I’d have to make an example out of you. Maybe fuck your mouth while you drool in front of the other students. I’m sure that wouldn’t be enough to wake you up.”

He spreads your thighs and rubs your milky slit. “You like the thought of that, don’t you? Yeah, look at how wet you are. My little golden student likes the thought of me coming down her throat while she’s knocked out.”

Gojo sticks two fingers in and opens them in a V shape. He explores with his tongue to get a quick taste of what you have to offer, letting it swirl around inside of you as he indulges like one would with ice cream.

How you’re so pathetically vulnerable right now for him. Just like a true gift, a toy for him to do as he pleases. Satoru is blessed to have such a sweet and innocently docile thing like you to ravage. And he’s getting it all on camera too.

Gojo rids himself of his boxer briefs, the final thing keeping himself from fully being with you. He spreads your thighs apart about to fuck them when all of a sudden, he hears a tiny little whimper coming from you.

Your eyes lock with his galactical blue ones, and you can’t help but ask with fear and confusion lacing your voice, “Sensei? What are you doing?”

“After all that, this is what wakes you up?” He responds with a slightly sarcastic tone.

He has no qualms with proceeding, however. You being awake doesn’t make a damn difference to Gojo. He sticks his hardened cock between the insides of your thighs and clamps them shut. The little bit of sweat from the heat between your bodies helping him glide his dick along as he fucks you sweetly.

But you don’t think it’s that sweet. This draws you out of your sleepy state entirely. You sit up and put a hand out to stop him. “Gojo-Sensei, what are you doing?!”

You watch the pink bulb of his thick member appear as he thrusts forward.

“For my star student, you sure are a bit dense. This is called sex, sweetheart. I know, I know. We haven’t covered that topic in class yet. Why don’t I give you a private lesson on it now?”

He grips your hair and forces you to lie back down. “What I’m doing now is fucking your plush thighs. You see, that’s where all of those bruises came from. Don’t worry, I haven’t gone all the way with you yet. Although, I’m tempted to now that you’re up.”

Gojo reaches a hand down at the apex of your legs and feels for how wet you are. “There are many ways a Sensei can fuck his dumb little student.” He grabs you by the jaw with your creamy juices still clinging to his fingers, your lips puffing out in a pout as he squeezes your cheeks gently. “In the mouth. In the cunt. Whichever he feels like doing that day, and if you’re a good little student for your sensei, he might be kind enough to give you a reward. Would you like that, Y/N? Do you want your sensei to reward you for your good behavior?”

You can’t help it as tears fill your eyes. He’s talking about rewards while his slickened length appears and withdraws from between your thighs again and again.

“Or Sensei could always punish your naughty bottom with a good spanking. Misbehaving students need a teacher’s discipline. What will it be? Reward or punishment? Either way, you’ll still get your soaking pussy filled with my come.”

You whine and wriggle your hips as you take in everything he’s saying. “Okay, Sensei…I’ll behave…”

He squeezes your cheeks just a tad bit. “Promise?”

“…I promise.”

He withdraws his cock completely from between your thighs and hovers above you as he lets go of your chin. “That’s a good girl. Now, why don’t you just- “

You immediately push Gojo away from you as you scramble out from under him. Completely naked, you have no choice but to make a run for the attached bathroom. Maybe, if you can lock yourself in there if-

But Gojo doesn’t give you the chance to finish that thought as he appears in front of you. He walks you down, backing you up so much that the pit of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You buckle and fall back with the slightest push from your sensei. He crawls over your body in an instant, pinning you down in all the right ways. His large paws on your weak little wrists, his legs right in between yours so that you have no chance of kneeing him.

“I didn’t think you’d actually be dumb enough to think you could get away from me. What a ballsy little bitch.”

Sensei takes both of your wrists, so delicately supple, right in one hand as he pins them above your head.

“I guess I’m going to have to punish my star student now. What a shame. Maybe, if you’re a good girl during your punishment, I’ll give you that reward I was talking about.”

He immediately shifts you onto your stomach. He sits down beside you, placing you over his knee as you kick and scream for someone to help you.

“Ah, not the observant type apparently, and here I thought I trained you better than that. Look around at your new environment. Can you guess where we are?”

He’s right. You’re no longer in your dorm room at Jujutsu Tech. You’re in a bedroom that’s too elaborate to be anything you could ever dream of owning. Your hands spread across the puffy comforter of the new bed you are on, and you know you’ve never seen this room before.

“Playing silent, huh? That’s alright. I’ll get you screaming again.”

Gojo’s large palm comes down across your bare bottom, spanking you with an unnatural force. You immediately lift your head and cry out from the pain. He strikes you again and again, the slaps coming down erratically. There’s no specific rhythm, and you can’t even begin to try and guess a pattern. Suddenly, his hand comes down across the sensitive undercurve of your ass, and you let out another sharp cry at the hit.

“Sensei, stop it!” you plead with him, begging him to end this horrible nightmare. “Please?!”

“Aw, is someone feeling sorry for disobeying her Sensei?”

You know what the correct thing to say is in this situation. You don’t really have any other choice but to respond the way he wants you to if you want this to end.

“Yes, Sensei…I’m sorry.” You can’t help but hang your head, feeling oh so ashamed of yourself for giving in so easily. Your ass is a throbbing and stinging mess, mixtures of pink and red shades swelling together from the constant strikes of his heavy palm.

Satoru caresses your hair, his fingertips gently scratching against your scalp as he attempts to soothe you. “That’s a good girl now.” He spreads your legs wide while you’re still bent over his lap, and he delivers a final spank to your wet pussy.

You jolt over his knee and scream from the sensation. Everything was hit somehow, clit included.

Gojo manhandles you onto your hands and knees on the bed. He lines himself up behind you, his cock nestling into your precious little cunt. He takes his time easing into your wet cavern, slow and steady with no rush to get anywhere. He wants to savor the delicacy of this wonder. So tight like a glove, like it was made just for him and only him.

“Yeah, that’s a good girl, take it. Don’t tense up. Just relax.”

You hear him guide you on what to do with your body as you’re bent over for him yet again. He fills you up all the way. You can feel his hips settling in against your sore ass only moments before he begins thrusting in and out of your weeping lips. You look over your shoulder at him, and all he does is dip his mouth into the nook of your shoulder, lips sloppily dragging over your skin as he hugs you closely to him with an arm wrapped underneath you.

His teeth bite into your back, gentle nibbles at first before canines truly sink in. You yelp as he presses his long length deeper and deeper inside of you, bucking his hips as he goes. It’s like he can’t help it. It’s as if you alone drew out the feral animal buried deep inside of Satoru Gojo.

Gojo doesn’t hold back as he drags his erection along your weeping walls. His hand hugging you tightly around your waist travels up to grope at your large tits. He refuses to let up on the biting, and you burry your face into the pillow as you sob.

Why couldn’t I have just stayed asleep? Why did I have to wake up? you can’t help but think.

You never in a million years thought your favorite teacher would do something so violating to you. There hasn’t ever been any indication from him that he could be so vicious towards you.

Sensei grips you by the hair and pulls your head up from the pillow.

“Come on, sweetheart, if you’re going to cry, I want to hear it.” He pulls on your hair even harder. “You can do it. Let it all out. Cry for Sensei.”

And you do. Full on, heart-wrenching, mind-throbbing wails escape past your lips from the depths of your core. Your screams echo off of the walls of his room, but it all sounds like music to your teacher’s ears. It eggs him on to go faster and harder, slower and deeper, changing the pace to make sure you don’t get used to anything. Gojo simply can’t help himself as he slams into you from behind like a powerful stallion.

You arch your back, allowing him to travel and locate that sensitive little spot that causes your pussy to gush and squelch. Your pussy pulsates with a familiar feeling as you come all over your teacher’s cock.

He laughs into your ear and whispers. “That’s right. I never told you where we are. You just came in my room, on my bed, on my dick.”

He finally releases your tousled locks as he rails into you with such ferocity, like a manic beast. You can feel the muscles in his arms and thighs tense up as he holds you closer to him. Finally, he spills his semen inside of you. He pauses for a few moments, just letting himself rest as he leans on your back before he finds the strength to sit up on his knees. He takes two fingers and dips them in the come spilling from your puffy pussy before stuffing his digits inside of up, far up and up.

“There. That’s better. I think you deserve some rest now after all that. I don’t want you to be too exhausted for classes tomorrow. You can sleep here, and I’ll take you back to your dorm room tomorrow.”

Gojo lays down on the bed next to you, pulling you into his side so that you can rest on his chest. Before you nod off, your eyes land on a camera set up on a tripod.

Just how many cameras does he have?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo

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onlyswan · 2 years

Text

summary: in which jungkook kisses you for the first time.

> fluff, lowkey suggestive ig / wc: 1.5k

> warnings: kissing <3 ?

note: something short and sweet. but also think i had like three heart attacks writing this.

—

“i’m bored now. do you want to kiss?”

power interruption at midnight. too small of a kitchen. your chair at the end of the table, infront of the fridge. jungkook on your left, behind him- the sink. a laptop that died in the middle of a ‘the good place’ episode you had downloaded the night prior, few inches away from the candle light illuminating your wide eyes looking at him innocently.

you dip the popsticle stick in the jar of honey yet again, smearing the sweetness across your lips. it seaps in between the crack, and you swallow it down unwittingly, your tongue almost numb from the past fifteen minutes of dipping the stick and sucking the honey from it.

jungkook is rendered speechless, following your seemingly sinless actions with an awe-struck expression on his face. his breath hitches when your thumb swipes under your bottom lip and you suck on it as you feign naivety.

but boy, does he know better.

you frown at him in impatience, tapping your cold foot against the leg of your chair. “mkay. guess not. no hard feelings.”

the more time jungkook spent with you, the bigger of a fascinating enigma you became. your tongue rises without much ado to speak out whatever’s on your mind, and you ask him if he wants to kiss the same way one asks another about the weather. you make either the corniest or dirtiest jokes then hit him on the arm or thigh before hiding your face. you never not cry when watching a pixar movie, and you bawled your eyes out once over the phone ranting about the bad day you had and its correlation to murphy’s law.

at the same time, it doesn’t take much to make you smile. cat videos. tulips. remembering that your favorite flower is tulips. tteokbokki. chewy boba balls. good morning and good night texts. butterfly-shaped things. cloudy sky. holding hands. touching his hair. his voice. nostalgia-inducing songs. the show he’s been watching with you for the past week— the good place.

oh my god. he hasn’t kissed you yet. he knows all these things, and he hasn’t kissed you yet. how does he know you’re ticklish above the curves of your waist but not the feeling of your lips against his?

cracks form on your little facade of nonchalance when you lose feeling in your hands all the way to your fingertips, the jar of honey slipping away from your weakened grip. it doesn’t break but rolls on the ground, a steady stream of the sticky liquid spreads on the oak flooring, saturating its rather light color.

because you learn that jungkook is the type to hold your neck when he’s kissing you, and his hand moves to back of your head to grip your hair when he starts using tongue, almost as if he knows you’ll need to be tugged back into reality because oh my god, you can feel yourself drowning in him. you’ve always known he is a passionate lover, he has to be, but all the nights you spent imagining your first kiss did not prepare you for this. not rushed or slow, but addictingly sensual and sweet. coaxing you to fall deeply in love, to make him the center of the universe.

good heavens, his lips are so soft.

there is no oxygen in your lungs or coherent thoughts in your head. jungkook and honey. the only two things that make sense. the only two things you perceive.

but you will yourself to lean back, pushing away his shoulders lightly. his drunk eyes meet yours, tongue darting out to lick off the remaining honey on his cherry pink lips. he can only taste and smell honey. in fact, he even feels it seaping past the heels of his feet. uncomfortable. wet. sticky. but he can’t give two fucks because if he doesn’t taste more of it from your tongue he’s convinced he will die from the yearning of a broken heart.

“no, more. c’mere.” he murmurs in a daze, bending over to your level with his head tilted to the side, desperate to satiate his thirst, but you lean back again to avoid his lips.

“no ‘more’. the next person to kiss me has to be my boyfrie-”

you’re rudely interrupted by his voracity. he stubbornly cages your face in his big hands and connects his lips with yours. your hands close into fists, and you punch your thigh in frustration because you don’t have the strength it takes to pull away for the second time. not when you’re enjoying it this much.

it feels far too real to be a dream, but you’d hate to deprive yourself of an experience that feels as raw and heavenly.

he leaves a tender peck on your lips before completely pulling away, shaky and breathless as his heart races inside his chest. he anchors each of his hand on your chair and the table, leaving you trapped with nowhere to go. you look up at him with glossy eyes as you try and process what the fuck just happened.

this man made of dreams, tan skin kissed by the warm glow of a flickering flame, has made it his mission to mess with your head and to make a home in your heart.

“i am your boyfriend, baby.”

the pet name forces you to bite back a foolish smile, but god, you want to run laps across the street and scream at the edge of a cliff because why does it sound so sweet and loving coming from him?

fuck it being cliche. to you, he invented it.

you roll your eyes, unable to hide the giddy smile growing on your face. “well, you kissed me again so you have to take responsibility. i don’t just let anyone kiss me as much as they want, you know?”

jungkook chuckles in amusement. you never fail to sound so convincing. if you endorsed a rag as a luxury item, he would definitely buy it.

he actually needs one to clean off the spilled honey all over your kitchen floor. where do you keep those again?

he turns your chin to his direction, greeting you with a playful grin. “then that means i’m allowed to kiss you all i want from now on, right?”

—

“jungkook! the light is green!”

your familiar voice and the continuous honking from behind snaps out your boyfriend from watching the flashbacks of your first kiss playing inside his head like a movie scene. his car finally starts moving forward, and he glances at you briefly with a wince.

“you need to stop daydreaming on the road! what if i wasn’t here?” you scold him with a whine, the angry honking of the car from earlier still ringing in your ears.

this is why driving isn’t for you.

“sorry, baby. i swear it doesn’t happen often.”

you frown, glaring at him from the passenger seat. “better not. can’t have you in a car accident or i’ll go insane.”

jungkook smiles guiltily. “don’t worry. can’t have you going insane either.”

you don’t respond anymore, sinking back on your seat as you entertain yourself with watching the terrifyingly tall buildings of seoul fall behind you like dominoes.

that’s until your gaze falls on jungkook’s hand intertwined with yours on top of your thigh.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.” you reply softly, pressing a small kiss on the back of his hand.

meanwhile, jungkook finds himself oddly disappointed to see that the bee on his sideview mirror has flown away. when did his little winged friend leave?

as soon as he stops at another red light, he hastily removes his seatbelt to reach over for you. you watch in bewilderment as he almost hits his face with it.

“baby, may i have a kiss?”

you giggle, amused with your man pleading for you with his wide doe eyes. what kind of daydreaming was he so invested in back there, huh?

“you need it that bad?”

he nods eagerly.

you grant him a sweet smack, but he knows what he wants, and he gets it for himself. he pulls you back in by the neck for a deep kiss, slower than usual, almost as if he’s memorizing the feeling, burning it into memory. you get swayed by the intimate communication of his affection, and your nails unconsciously dig in on his forearm. he swallows down a hiss.

every kiss shared with you since four years ago tastes the same to jungkook. the honey lingers in his memory, in his mouth. and still, he finds himself craving more of it in his every waking moment. you truly did something life-changing back then, coating your lips with a lifetime’s worth of a love spell.

he settles down on the driver’s seat with a satisfied smirk painted across his face. you squint at him suspiciously as he fastens his seatbelt back on.

“what’s that smile for?”

“nothing.”

the cheeky raise of his eyebrow says otherwise, however. you got yourself a bratty boyfriend, you think to yourself with a sigh.

“yah, what’s that sigh for?!”

you teasingly exaggerate the shrug of your shoulders as you scrunch your nose.

“nothing.”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut #jungkook angst

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 1 year

Text

Eddie's Too Late ... ?

It's about pining Eddie!! And he wants so badly to ask out Steve. Robin even might have given him an encouraging little talk about it. And he finally works up the courage to do so, and comes to family video, and he brings fucking flowers with him cuz he's a goddamn sap.

But he walks in , already smiling at Steve like always, but he's talking to some guy at the counter. Some punk lookin dude. And Eddie freezes in the door, hears the guy flirting and hears Steve laugh, flustered. And then the guy literally asks him out, and writes his number on Steve's hand when he shrugs and nods, and goes bright red.

And Eddie just, god he wants to cry. So he turns, walks back out and leaves, his chest fucking aching. Cuz he was a fucking idiot who waited too goddamn long.

And Steve hears the door clink shut, sees Eddie's back as he's leaving, sees him toss something in the trash outside. And he waits for punk guy, Jake, to leave. He's a regular. He's nice. If a little pushy for Steve's liking.

He told Steve he'd pick him up on friday. Didn't ask. And Steve had been so flustered when the guy grabbed his hand he just sort of... agreed.... maybe hoping he would leave faster.

So he waits for him to leave and then runs outside, digs in the trash and finds the flowers. And they're all yellow flowers, sunflowers mixed with daisies, and Steve even sees a couple dandelions stuck in, his eyes crinkling in a smile cuz he and Eddie had gotten into a huge fight with Robin and Nancy about whether they were weeds or flowers, Eddie and Steve on the side of flowers, of course.

And his heart flutters cuz Eddie had told him about a month ago, when he handed him this weird little yellow figurine, and Steve had asked why he was always giving him yellow stuff. Eddie had shrugged and said,

"it just reminds me of you I guess." Steve had immediately reconsidered his favorite color choice.

But Steve's heart drops because... Eddie had thrown this away... in the trash... right after he'd seen Steve with Jake. Steve feels like he's gonna puke, but he takes the flowers inside, sits them in the breakroom until its time for him to leave.

He calls Jake right before close. Wanted to wait til he was hopefully at home. Tells him he can't go out with him. Not friday. Or any other day. That he has someone.. hopefully. Jake sounds disappointed but doesn't push, thankfully. Steve grabs the flowers on his way out and drives to Eddie's.

He stops by Melvald's on the way, asks Joyce for help. They have some flowers, but nothing that says "Eddie." Joyce grabs a simple red rose and then a box of chocolate covered cherries. Steve's brow furrows and she just smiles at him and says,

"I've seen that boy buy six boxes of these at once. His sweet tooth is... a little bit alarming... actually. But it'll get the job done." She winks at him and Steve's never felt more greatful that Joyce pays attention to people, and works at the store, and is nosy like he is. He hugs her, grabs the rose and the chocolates, and runs to his car.

Eddie isn't home when he gets there. His van is there. But he's not at the trailer and Steve feels like he's gonna cry, his chest tight as Wayne tells him he left a few hours ago. Steve nods, his brow furrowing and he's about to leave when Wayne's hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Ya know the creek over off McAlpine street?" He asks, Steve nods, confused.

"He was headed that way. Likes to go there to be alone." Wayne gives him this soft encouraging smile, pats him on the back, and watches as Steve runs to his car.

He parks on the side of the road, as close to the creek as he can get. And then he runs.

He finds the creek but no Eddie at first, so he starts walking along the creekside, he rounds a bend and finally sees him.

He's crouched on the creek side, toes of his shoes just barley out of reach of the water. He's holding a stick, Steve squints and sees a small turtle walking across it, toward a big rock in the middle of the water. Eddie's crying. Silently. Tears slowly falling.

He wipes at his face every now and then with his free hand, eyes on the turtle. He smiles softly when the little thing reaches the rock. Steve smiles too. His heart thumping as he watches Eddie help this tiny creature. He takes a few more steps and then clears his throat when Eddie doesn't hear him. Eddie scrambles to his feet, startled, holding the stick out in front of him like a weapon, wiping at his face with the crook of his elbow.

"What are you doing here?" And it makes Steve shiver, so reminiscent of the boat house, when they'd found him terrified. Steve would have held his hands up in surrender, but they were a little full. Eddie’s yellow bundle of flowers on one, the rose and candy in the other.

"I found your flowers." He says, holding them up a bit and then letting them swing back by his side. Eddie doesn't say anything. Just looks away. Moves back to the edge of the creek, crouches back down, hugs his knees to his chest. Steve sighs, moves closer.

"I'm not going out with Jake." Steve says, because he needs Eddie to know. Needs him to stop hurting as soon as possible. Eddie sniffles, doesn't look at him.

"Jake." Is all he says. And Steve laughs at how he says it, he sounds so annoyed. Steve bumps his shoulder, Eddie scowls, bumps him back, harder.

"But you wanted too. You said yes." Eddie picks up another stick, pokes it into the mud.

"I only said yes cuz it took me by suprise, and he grabbed my hand and I got flustered. I didn't- he's not really my type." Steve says, leaning against Eddie as he sits, the ground is cold, and he can feel the damp soaking into his jeans a bit. Eddie glances at him. And s

Steve can see his guard coming down, just a bit.

"Oh yeah. Why not?" Eddie asks, and steve smiles. Crinkles his nose.

"Me? Dating a punk? Come on. Not a chance." Steve teases, bites his lip.

"Especially since there's this metal head that's kinda got me in a choke hold." Steve sighs, looks at Eddie. He finally turns to look at Steve, blinking slowly.

"Really?" Eddie asks, his fingers tugging at the hole in the knee of his jeans. Steve nods.

"Really. Can't seem to get him outta my head." Steve smiles, holds the rose and candy out to Eddie, Eddie just stares again. Steve wiggles the box of chocolates.

"C'mon. I know you like 'em. Joyce gave you up." Steve wiggles the box more aggressively and Eddie snatches it, then gently takes the rose, he sets the chocolates in his lap, whispering a quiet "traitor" that makes Steve smile.

"Thank you for the flowers. I love... them." Steve stumbles over that bit. Swallowing hard when Eddie’s eyes snap to him.

"You're welcome." Eddie shurgs.

"Just thought you might like some flowers. You seem like a flowers type of guy." Steve smiles, rests his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"The dandelions are my favorite." He whispers, moves and presses a kiss to Eddie's shoulder, and hears Eddie's breathing falter.

"I um... I love... my flower, too..... so thanks." He stumbles over the words the way Steve did, but on purpose, leaning away from Steve so he can look at him, a sly little smile on his face. But Steve's face is somber, his hands twitch in his lap.

"It's- I mean you don't have to sa-"

"I love you." Eddie cuts him off. Says it bluntly. And it makes Steve's chest hurt. He shakes his head, brow furrowed.

"I do though. I have for awhile. I'm just an idiot with terrible timing." Eddie bumps their shoulders, leans heavily into Steve. Steve takes a deep, shaky breath.

"I don't want you to say it just because you think I want to hear it." Steve says, his teeth worrying into his lip.

"That's not why I said it."

Steve looks at him.

"No? You didn't say it to me cuz I just like... really obviously almost said it to you?" He looks back into his lap, frowning.

"No. Although that was adorable." Eddie smiles, it makes Steve want to smile too.

"Hey." Eddie voice is soft, he reaches out, cups Steve's cheek and makes him look at him.

"Have you ever known me to say something just cuz it's something someone wants to hear?" He asks, Steve scoffs, shakes his head, looking shy.

"Okay then. I didn't say it because of that. I said it," he takes a deep breath, lets it out, drops his hands back into his lap.

"Because I saw you with that guy today-"

"Jake." Steve interrupts, smirk on his lips. Eddie pauses.

"Don't push it Harrington. I'm trying to be... serious... or something." His brow furrows, Steve reaches out, his face softening.

"Sorry. Go ahead."

Eddie huffs.

"I saw you with Jake, and it hurt. Like a lot. And I thought I lost you, ya know? Just cuz I was too fuckin scared to tell you how I feel. Cuz I love you. Cuz your GOOD. and I thought I lost it. And then you walked up looking all sad and apologetic and you didn't even DO anything." Eddie huffs again, his hands flailing.

"I hurt you." Steve mutters, Eddie makes a sound in his throat.

"Not on purpose! You didn't know! Cuz I didn't say! Jesus. All I do is talk, all of the fucking time, but I couldn't say the most important thing. And then Jake was writing his fucking number on your hand it was too late." Eddie shakes head, sighs deeply, and then turns to Steve with a smile that looks like it's half a grimace of pain. Steve nods.

"But here I am."

Eddie bites his lip, nods back.

"Here you are." Eddie says.

"Not with Jake." Steve says. Eddie rolls his eyes. Steve snorts.

"Can we never say that name again. I already hate it." Eddie grumbles.

"Fine with me. He is a regular though." Steve says, shrugs, pulls some grass out of the ground and drops it on Eddie's thigh. Eddie watches him move it around with his finger, pushing it into a pile on his leg.

"I'll burn his house down." Eddie whispers, still watching Steve. Steve barks a laugh and brushes the grass off Eddie's leg.

"Very dramatic." He says, fondly.

"Too strong? I could just steal his VCR. Don't need to rent movies if you don't have a VCR." Eddie says, his fingers moving to settling on Steve's wrist. Steve chuckles again, shakes his head, then stares at Eddie.

"I honestly can't tell if you're joking, so please don't steal anything from him." Steve moves his hand, turns it and slides it up into Eddie's, their fingers wrapping around each other, Eddie makes a weird little face, holds their hands up into Steve sightline, and then he's smiling.

"Looks like I already did." He shrugs, and Steve is about to laugh again, or roll his eyes, when Eddie presses a kiss to the back of his hand. It sort of takes Steve's breath away.

"I said I love you because that's how I feel. Okay? You believe me?" Eddie asks, his brow furrowed as he stares at Steve. And Steve remembers telling him about what happened with Nancy, remembers how Eddie had hugged him. Wonders if he loved him them. Or before that? Or after. But it doesn't really matter, because he loves him now. And Steve watches Eddie's thumb move soothingly over his hand, and knows Eddie means it. Feels that he does. So he nods, drags Eddie's own hand to his lips and kisses it, like Eddie had done.

"I love you too." Steve whispers into his skin. Eddie's free hand is at his chin then, tilting his head just so,

"I know." Breathed against his mouth, and then the softest press of lips before Eddie is leaning away just enough to breathe between them.

"Now look away, cuz I'm about to inhale this entire box of chocolate covered cherries." He whispers, his lips brushing Steve's again as he laughs into Eddie's mouth.

He does actually eat the whole box. Well, almost the whole box. He lets Steve have one, sinks his teeth into it as he holds it in his mouth and dares Steve to take it. And Steve's never been one to turn down a dare. Especially if it's sweet.

And Steve is quickly learning, there's nothing quite as sweet as candy covered Eddie kisses.

#Fates Endless Inkwell #fei #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie blurb #steddie ficlet #my writing #mine #my fic

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catsrulesworld · 11 months

Text

Headcanons for Miles(s)

An: I kinda went overboard but that's okay 🤗 I appreciate all the love and kind words on the posts so again can never thank you enough but pls send requests I need to get more ideas anyway enjoys these head canons about these silly gooses

Miles 1610

He sometimes shocks himself when he sneezes

His dad cuts his hair

Hobie pierced his ears

He was a cat person before the whole cat thing during the chase

His love language is physical touch

He's super clingy

Makes tons of drawings of you from every angle in different outfits and everything

He definitely forget he was Spiderman one time and came to your house through your window in his outfit it was a little like this

You:“OH MY GOD ITS SPIDERMAN”

Miles looks around: “NO WAY WHERE”

He doesn't cover his mouth when yawning

Always texts you even if he's swinging around the city

Mi corazón ❤️: Miles are you on the way I'm worried

Spidey boy: I'm almostytgere

Spidey boy: Fivemotemuns

Spidey boy: Mins*

Mi corazón ❤️: Okay love you

Spidey boy: Live you more 🥰

Hobie has tried to teach him a little guitar but Miles gets mad so he doesn't do it

He makes playlists of your favorite songs and plays if he misses you

He used Photomath or Brainly even though he doesn't need it

Science and math is his strong suit but English and social studies aren't

He's good at sports he just doesn't like them

His favorite food his mom makes is Arroz con gandules, Asopao de pollo, and Arroz con dulce

During family BBQs his favorite dance is the cupid shuffle

Only knows how to do a few dances but when he does he's incredible at it

His favorite season is summer because everyone is outside having fun

If you play sports/instruments he's at your concerts or games and if he can't go he drowns you in apologies and kisses

He's overthinker so if you don't respond in the next ten minutes he starts to think the worst

Spidey boy: Hi my love! Do you want to come over soon?

Spidey boy: My love are you okay

Spidey boy: Are you mad at me

Spidey boy: I'm sorry if you are

Spidey boy: Please talk to me

Mi corazón: I'm sorry Miles I was asleep yes I'm fine I'm not mad at you ill come over to your house after school tomorrow make sure you save me some of your mom's food 🤤i love you bb 💋

He's a big family guy so he wants to drag you to every family event that happens

Mama Rio saves you plates if you can't come and if you do she gives you tons and tons of food ( and you have to eat it all it or else)

Remembers all your favorite things meals, flowers, movies, shows, colors etc anything and everything

When he's nervous he bounces his legs or picked at his nails

Helps you pick out outfits

During class, he draws little doodles of you on his paper plus he draws you guys as little stick figures holding hands with hearts and passes it to you

Helps stray animals like cats and dogs he feeds them and pets them

Has a mural for you

If he can't sleep because he missed you he facetimes you so he can sleep

When he does face time you, the call last forever

Loves it when you hold him holding his face while you place kisses all over him, while you draw lines with his freckles

His freckles come out a lot more in the summer because of the sun he has them all over his back

Loves hugs

Likes to walk with you to simple places like the park or to an ice cream place

He's the singer in the spider band

He's tenderheaded so he never has his hair in braids

He has like a million pictures of you

He's a picky eater

Miles 42

He spoils the crap out of you if you even glance at something in the store he's already ready to buy it

Worker: I'm sorry sir but the wine glasses are not for sale

Miles: If she likes the wine glass I'm getting her the wine glass.

Worker: sir why can't you understand these are not for sale

Miles: why can't you understand that I'm getting the glasses

He got the glasses thirty minutes later

He does your hair in whatever braids you want because his mom taught him

He knows how to dance but he only does it with you

His love language is gift giving

He buys matching stuff for you guys necklaces, bracelets, plushies etc

He draws but not super often but when he does it's beautiful

He sometime listens to his dad favorite songs when he misses him

Sees Uncle Aaron as his semi father figure

His favorite game is uno even when Uncle Aaron gets mad and almost punches Miles

Helps his mom cook

His favorite season is winter because he loves the memories it brings of his dad

Lays down flowers and talks to his dads grave

He's a dry texter but he does text you

Knows you better than yourself he can always tell when somethings up

He's a cuddlebug even if he doesn't show it

He loves kisses he doesn't use chapstick but if you're wearing some he’ll kiss it off you

Face times you while he plays his games or is spray painting

Knows all the cool secret abandoned spots

Hates pictures of himself loves them of you tho

He's good at every subject in school

Helps with homework if you need it

Mama Rio loves you because ever since you came into his life he started being more happy after his dads death

Has nightmares of his dads death

He hates the morning

Loves to stargaze with you (knows all constalations)

His favorite food his mom makes is Caldo Santo, Empanadillas, Flan de Queso

Loves all food not picky what so ever

Has a sweet tooth

He passes notes to you in class

He will literally do anything for you

Wears contacts because he hates his glasses

When you date him you get scary dog privileges

Will scare anyone away if they even glance at you but he's a sweetheart deep down

Doesn't know how to explain his emotions

Cats lowkey scare him but he likes them because they're more chill

His favorite gum is Polar Ice

Always completing you

“You look beautiful ma”

“My pretty girl”

“I love that dress on you Mami”

“Estás preciosa”

Loves to go shopping with you

Holds your bags

Helps you pick out clothes

“Miles do you think this looks good on me?”

“Yes mami get that one”

“What about this one? I think it looks a little weird in the back but I don't know”

“Oh lord I'm about to act up”

“Miles!”

His mom loves when you come over for dinner she loves the extra guests

Mama Rio shows embarrassing pictures of him from when he was a baby

“And this is when my beautiful baby got mud on him so he had to take a warm bubble bath with his favorite ducks!”

“Ma, please.”

Your biggest supporter in everything

Okay I can't think of anything else I love them there so silly goose

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vxiphoid · 11 months

Text

PIXELATED ZEN

❨ summary ❩ genshin › genshin men playing minecraft with you ((ft. alhaitham, itto, cyno, diluc, kazuha, kaeya, heizou, & xiao))

tags ✧ modern au, drabble, fluff, chaotic energy, not proofread, cursing, ooc(?), established relationship, gn!reader, kaeya sets a forest on fire, alhaitham does not appreciate bees, mentions of pixelated deaths

amanuensis’ message ⊹ IM NOT TRYING TO KILL MY OTHER FANDOMS I SWEAR… im gonna back up from twst for a bit (im literally posting scarabia soon.) you can clearly tell who my favorites are… this unlocked a whole different part of my brain holy shit im deceased

⌜200+ e/chara ⌟

♫ blossom - t. shan

genshin masterlist

ALHAITHAM

╰┈➤ tbh he thinks minecraft is stupid, i mean, why not read a book instead of burning the images of pixels into your eye sockets😒 yeah, he’d just rather books. its a game about blocks, what could possibly be so interesting? he will admit the music is… nice. its nostalgic even though he’s never heard the track before. his favorite animals are the axolotl idk they’re his little pookies. its their little stick arms, they look so silly… as soon as haitham found out that you could color things its over, he make some sweet things like putting a sign on top of your shared house with both initials with colored dye. he’s so happy, just not very vocal about it, but he has the smallest of smiles. he definitely has headphones with the crochet sprout on it omg😭 alhaitham does not like bees whatsoever, they stung him for trying to get food. he just wanted honey :[

“look, the dog’s collar is blue. and the sign’s letters are green and then if you add a glow squid’s ink, it lights up.”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

ARATAKI ITTO

╰┈➤ he has waited YEARS for someone to play minecraft with him omfg. certified snack hoarder for times like these. you both literally hit each other to show love, you’ve accidentally killed him once bc he didn’t tell you that he had like half a heart… itto likes the water, hates the guardians because who do you think you are attacking him out of nowhere??? gets one shotted by the elder guardian while trying to fight it with a stick and then blames it on magma blocks pulling him down. GAMING WITH HIM IS NEVER CALM GODS💀 you cannot lay on him or anything bc as soon as those cave sounds or disc 13 start playing, he’s already done sprung out of his seat. his screams are actually really funny though, you got him a cat from how much he’s been assaulted by creepers. when you introduced him to shaders, he was so in awe. “babe i have a shadow!” type of excitement JAKEJEJDMnda.

“the cat’s name is sir arataki the third, you are now my loyal guard cat. who’s an adorable little guy?”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

CYNO

╰┈➤ look at this nerd (affectionate), ofc he plays cubecraft. loved it so much that when he didn’t have the actual game, he would play the really bad knockoffs💀 plays on console so you can sit between his legs, lean back, and game with him. cyno hate the split screen because he always gets confused on what side he’s on so he lets you use his switch, that way you’re both still comfortable. he’s more of an explorer if you do get mod packs for him, likes the horror ones the most. there’s nothing like hitting the enemy or shit talking the thing that could potentially one shot you with your s/o‼️ yall crouch a lot, its like a little dance. he really likes the disc “far” it itches his brain in the right way. definitely downloads the little raccoon mobs but then regrets it because he gives up all his berries to them, look at their little begging arms, literally how can you say no to that?? AND THEY WASH THE BERRIES. you both fall asleep to the ambience and to each others breathing all cuddled up ‘n warm. cyno absentmindedly sings the music while chopping wood or mining that shit has you SLUMPED. he kisses your head when you fall asleep, smiling like a silly goober.

“do-do-do-do do-do-do-do do, neow neow neow nneow neeeowwww… huh? oh, i’m almost done then we can go to bed, yeah? i’ll charge the switch too, don’t worry. just rest.”

(he’s singing that one part in danny lmfao)

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

DILUC

╰┈➤ diluc does not understand the concept of minecraft but its okay, he’s just happy to be here. he also doesn’t call it minecraft but “cave game”, the original name, he did his research though it is rare that he actually calls it minecraft. found out that you could breed animals and accidentally made a pack of wolves. diluc is really good with redstone its actually insane😭 he’s the type to protect you the whole time while you’re getting flowers for the house, boyfriend bodyguard. diluc doesn’t play much because of his job but when he does, he’s prepared to sit for hours and spend time with you :(. these are the times where he’s most affectionate, randomly kissing your cheek, getting water for the both of you before you play, etc. luc loves the mod pack “industrial”, he can build machines, how neat is that??? also it has way more OMFP with the added features it has yk? he likes the trains :D

“is the water running…? the water’s running, they have moving windmills!”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

╰┈➤ kazuha has the most expensive equipment yet doesn’t use this shit half of the time unless he’s streaming with heizou??? like im talking msi infinite rs pc, multiple monitors, a graphic drawing tablet, headphones with immaculate sound quality AND!!! the ear cups have fucking cyberpunk 3d wing guards on them. but anyways, minecraft, yes, he plays. in fact, kaedehara has about 10 beaten hardcore worlds every time a new update comes out, he must beat the game again. he rarely plays minecraft without his shaders so when you want to play the original og minecraft, he doesn’t mind, he actually enjoys the nostalgia. so much so the music is actually his background music when he’s just lazing around. words cannot express how much he dislikes (hates) wardens omg. he’ll protect you from them but if there were diamonds behind a warden, ig he’s going somewhere else😭 kazuha gives you random shit, weather that be something really sweet or questionable…

“love, do you want my rotten flesh? here<3 oh! and, i also got you some steak, you’re low on hearts…”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

KAEYA

╰┈➤ he’s heard of it, watched people play, just never played it. but when he does… he’s a menace. kaeya got his hands on flint and steel and set an entire jungle on fire… but he can be sweet sometimes! you’re the one protecting his ass while he walks around at night UNARMED to gather blue flowers for you. like you’re cute, but take a shield or something😭 he’s jumped off of a tall building before and landed on half a heart for a stack of bread you didn’t want. he’s rather oblivious to the mobs around him, he once thought shulkers were friends because they were just “silly little guys in little boxes” yk until they almost killed him. you bought him his own skin and introduced him to parrots and now its his favorite animal, he looks like a pirate!!! kaeya is chaotically sweet.

“yes, you almost died protecting me but how could you resist my everlasting love plus pixelated blue flowers?”

(has a cat unironically named ice spice LMFAO)

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

╰┈➤ your boyfriend is good at literally anything else BUT minecraft. its the way this game constantly has it out for him too like what did bro do??🙁 heizou stream’s with kazuha every now and again and on those, he still doesn’t know what to do… he’d rather play on the servers, bedwars in particular. extremely good at bw, you’d rather NOT be his enemy😭😭 wins almost every single game even when he carries, rank 98 in the server. yet when it comes to a casual server between you and him, the chats are filled with his deaths and his hashtagged rages💀 heizou despises silverfish which is also why he hates going into strongholds, they could get stomped on for all he cares! >:( he has texture packs with really beautiful skies and then a picnic mod so he can stargaze with you and eats minecraft cake :(<3

“oh. babe, green is heading for our bed, no pressure or anything. i loovveee youuu😚”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

XIAO

╰┈➤ xiao has the MOST downloaded mod packs, shaders, and worlds. not very expensive mod packs most of the time but when they are, they’re always good. spends his time fighting off mobs at night, #1 totem holder. he even has his own custom skin!!! he’s kinda been waiting for you to ask so when you do play mc together, you already have your own room, but when you voluntarily move your bed into his room to sleep… he melts. xiao loves cuddling while the two of you play, he’d rather your arms around him than the other way around, feels more intimate. you have matching hoodies for occasions like this. he has the dragon mod pack and has his own golden and orange dragon named ‘li’. he doesn’t talk while gaming, curses silently when he gets hit, but other than that doesn’t talk. if you want to talk, he’ll listen, he likes hearing about your day :].

“no, keep talking. i’m listening. see, li’s listening too.”

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jackiepackiee · 4 months

Text

“May I have this dance?”

Chuuya x reader

(ft. The Flags)

Warnings - none

Type - Fluff

Word Count - 798

A song for you by Donny Hathaway. The slow jazz filled every inch of the old world pool hall, seducing the ears of every resident that found themselves inside. There were only seven, but that's how it always was. Every other night, when no missions were to be had. Albatross, drinking some fruit-based cocktail while teasing Chuuya. The latter gritting his teeth at his friend, although any passersby would think he hates him. Iceman enjoyed the music, as well as Doc as he both sipped on some heavy whisky. Pianoman and Lippmann were in a very intense game of pool, tied the entire run. Then, you. Changing the record to some more up beat jazz.

“We should dance! Doesn’t that sound fun?” You had always been rather energetic with a bit of alcohol in your system. It’s not like this place had a limit or carded anyone.

Lippmann looked up at you, a bit surprised. “Dance? Since when did you dance?”

“Since forever! Come on~ I love dancing, it’s only natural.” She explained.

On the other end of the hall Albatross teased Chuuya’s hair, before whispering into his ear.

“Go dance with her, you know you wanna~”

You didn’t realize this teasing, thinking Chuuya’s red cheeks were only from some overly expensive wine. Little did you know he hadn’t had a sip all night.

“No way! Anyways she’s talking to Lippmann, I don’t wanna bother her.” Chuuya said, pushing away Albatross. Not enough to hurt him of course.

Lippmann was having the same idea, no way he’d pass the opportunity up to play matchmaker.

“Very well then. Hmm, I’m not sure… you shouldn’t dance with Doc, wouldn’t wanna knock over his IV.”

Pianoman joined in, putting his pool stick down.

“And not Iceman, he’s a whole lot bigger than you with all that muscle.”

Pianoman said, easily concealing his playfulness.

Doc leaned into the trio of you, Lippmann, and Pianoman.

“And not Albatross, I’d bet he has two left feet.”

You.. you were not understanding what this was leading to. But still giggled at Doc’s little joke. Luckily Albatross couldn’t hear.

“Well, then who? You, Lippmann?”

Did she have to be so dense?

“No! I mean uh- I’m not very good at dancing, and neither is Pianoman!” Lippmann tried to turn it on Chuuya.

“But Pianoman, I’ve seen you dance on a mission before?” She spoke, curious as to why it was said he couldn’t dance. He shook his head, lying for a good cause.

Albatross walked over before she could ask any more questions, Chuuya in tow.

“You know, Chuuya could dance with you! Isn’t that right?”

She perked up, happy someone would dance with her. She smiled, and he melted. How could he ever say no to her?

“Sure… will you dance with me?”

He asked, gentlemanly as he always was with her.

Iceman, quiet as he always was, was still listening. He picked a record, it was from New Orleans. Jazzy and fast pace, probably from the 1930’s. He knew she loved this style. Swing dancing… Chuuya was in for an absolute treat, as well as the rest of the flags. Since they knew damn well he’d be faking it till he made it.

“Of course I’ll dance with you! Let’s go!”

She took his gloved hand in hers. It was surprisingly soft leather, though the real hand would be much nicer to hold and feel. Even if neither would admit it.

“You ready, Chuu?” God, his heart would give out if she called him that nickname ever again. But, he wouldn’t complain. What a lovely way to die that would be. Damn it, he got distracted.

“Chuuya? Ready?”

She was so patient.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Umm.. what do I do?”

She laughed, not in a mean way. It was cute, that’s what he thought anyway.

“Sorry sorry.. we can start with the basics. Okay, hands in mine.”

He took her hands. Unbeknownst to her, the flags gave him grins and thumbs up. “Your nails… They are painted red. That’s my favorite color, they’re lovely.”

“It is? Well isn’t that perfect, and thank you.”

She started to sway to the music. He followed suit, thanking his past self for learning how to keep rhythm.

“Can I spin you?”

She agreed, spinning while holding his hand. She was smiling, eyes beaming while looking into his. Was she?… she had her doubts before, but she definitely loved him.

Iceman, with his knowledge of records, changed the music to play a slower song. Meaning Chuuya could hold her close. He did not need five wingmen.

He pulled her closer by the waist.

“The music slowed down, so we should too.”

“Since when did you know about dance?~”

He made a faux annoyed expression.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Part two?

#chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya stormbringer #bsd stormbringer #16!chuuya #albatrossxreader #iceman x reader #doc x reader #lippmannxreader #pianomanxreader #bungou stray dogs stormbringer

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archangeldyke-all · 5 months

Note

butch dad!Sevika and her little one going to the first day of kindergarten, and Vika is dazzled by her kid’s teacher & develops a lil crush 😣🫶🏾🫶🏾

omg imagine one day Vika’s dropping her kid off then when she sees reader, her kiddo just jumps and tells reader about Vika’s feelings toward her 😭😭😭

i love butch dad sevika, but i'm gonna change this just a bit and make it butch god-father sev, because kids are really hard for me to write, but i already know how to write for jinx haha

men and minors dni

there are always parents crying on the first day of school.

this year, the most endearing by far was the skinny man who just couldn't seem to let go of his daughter, who was vibrating with excitement at the sight of all the toys in your classroom. she kept trying to squirm out of his arms, and he kept pulling her back into his chest and kissing her head.

once she finally broke free, you approached the man, handing him a tissue to blow his nose and sop up his tears.

"i'm sorry, i'm usually not this emotional." he laughs at himself. you smile.

"it's really okay. i find that the parents who cry the most tend to have the best kids." you say. this brings a smile out of him.

"well, jinx is certainly the best." he says. "though, i should tell you, she has a bit of a destructive streak. i usually distract her with a coloring book." he warns. you smile.

silco cries every other day that week, and the two of you form a friendly report as you hand him tissues every morning and give him a breakdown of jinx's behavior every night.

jinx is a great kid. she's full of energy and eager to learn, friendly with others, and funny as shit. you're not supposed to have favorites as a teacher, but jinx is definitely your favorite this year.

the next monday, when she shows up with a woman (a tall, broad, devastatingly handsome woman), you greet jinx with your usual exploding fist bump then approach the woman.

"is silco okay?" you ask. she nods.

"he was a mess at work last week so i decided to take over on drop off duty. can't have him crying in all his meetings." she responds. you laugh.

"well, you must be jinx's mom then?" you ask. the woman laughs. jinx laughs. you blink.

"oh, god no." she grunts out. "no. not her mom." she says, wiping a tear away from her eyes. you blink.

"step-mom?" you ask. this just makes the woman laugh harder. jinx has been distracted by a few kids playing house in the play corner, and she runs off, leaving you and the woman alone.

when she finally catches her breath, she stands back up and introduces herself.

"i'm sevika. jinx's godmother. silco's my best friend." she explains. you shake her hand.

"oh, it's nice to meet you." you say with a smile. "sorry for assuming." you mumble. sevika laughs.

"i don't get mistaken as straight often, it was a good laugh." she says with a shrug.

something inside your stomach flips over.

she is pretty butch, in a power suit and a silk button up underneath. she's got a few chains around her neck, and her chin length hair has been gelled back to stay off her face. she's handsome. and she's staring at you with a sparkle in her eye.

sevika continues to do pick up and drop off for the rest of the year.

each time, she walks into the classroom jinx runs out of her hold to play with her friends, barely waving goodbye to her godmother. sevika lingers, though, hanging out by the door and waiting for you to get a free moment to talk with you.

one day, around halloween, she asks you your coffee order. you find the question odd until the next day, she shows up with a cup of your order for you.

she brings you coffee every day after that, too.

right before winter break, jinx comes in with a mischievous look on her face, and for the first time, sevika doesn't stick around to talk to you. she leaves your coffee on your desk, and bolts. you try to pretend you don't miss her, but your energy is low all day.

jinx seems to notice.

"are you okay miss?" she asks. you sigh and nod.

"i'm fine jinx, how are you?" you ask, as you color with the girl, waiting for sevika to pick you up.

"you don't seem okay. you seem sad." she says. you chuckle and ruffle the girl's hair.

"i'll be okay, don't worry about me." you say. jinx hums, and returns to her drawing.

as she colors in the sun in the corner of her page, she speaks again, not looking at you. "y'know aunt sevika's got a crush on you?" she asks.

you nearly fall out of the toddler-sized chair you're crouching in.

"what!?" you ask. jinx shrugs.

"she keeps askin' me about you. tells me she thinks you're pretty and cool and stuff. she asked me if you were gay, i told her probably." jinx says matter of factly. you choke on your tongue.

"what?!" you ask again. jinx shrugs again.

"you wear a lot of flannel." she says simply.

when sevika arrives to pick jinx up, you can't look her in the eye. she seems to notice.

"fuck, she said something to you didn't she?" sevika groans. you look over at her and bite your lip.

"i, uh. she said something but... i don't think she knows what she's talking about." you whisper, scratching the back of your neck.

sevika groans. "c'mon, when has jinx ever not known what she was talking about?" she grumbles. you chuckle.

"so... it's true?" you ask. sevika gulps. "is that why you ran away this morning?" you ask. sevika sighs.

"i told jinx i'd ask you out before the end of the semester. today's the last day, and i was gonna ask you this morning but... i chickened out." she says. "i guess jinx wasn't having it." she mumbles. you giggle.

"so..." you start. sevika bites her lip.

"i can make silco take over pick up and drop off duty again, if you want." she says, avoiding your eye. you blink.

"what? why?" you ask. sevika shrugs.

"'cause... i got a crush on you?" she says. you nod.

"so?" you ask. sevika blinks. "y'know asking someone out means seeing them more, right?"

"wha-- you-- what?" sevika asks, blinking rapidly. you grin.

"oh my god, adults are so stupid!" jinx screams. "she'll take you out to dinner on friday, okay? c'mon aunt sev, i wanna go home and play roblox already." jinx says. you bite your lip and look back at sevika.

"i'm free friday." you say with a smile. sevika blinks, and grins.

"c-cool. awesome. let me just give you my number." she says as she quickly grabs a student's notebook and marker, scrawling her number down on a piece of paper and tearing it out before shoving it in your hands. you grin.

"see you friday." you say.

jinx is dragging sevika out of the classroom by her hand, but sevika's still got a dopey smile on her face as she stumbles behind the girl.

"see you friday!" she calls from down the hall.

by the end of the year, you and sevika are planning your wedding.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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dropsofletters · 1 year

Text

how to unsubscribe to dating

SUMMARY: on april 18th, hansol likes his favorite youtuber’s instagram picture. not because of her content—though, he finds himself laughing at all of her weekly videos—but because he thinks she’s gorgeous. that is how it ends. just a like on a picture that no one will see.

three years later and after a tough break-up, the internet hates her and a misstep has hansol dragged into the drama. now, everyone thinks they are dating and what a better way to gain subscribers and have millions on views on their videos? just let them think it’s real and work on a whole season of dare videos for the world to enjoy.

only that it is not so easy, one can subscribe to a youtube channel but not really unsubscribe to falling in love.

TITLE: how to unsubscribe to dating.

PAIRING: chwe hansol x reader

GENRE: youtuber!au ; fake dating-ish!au ; youtube drama!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; idiots in love!au

WORD COUNT: 14,014 words

GENRE: fluff ; humor ; drama ; angst if you squint ; suggestive

NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want me to write anything, you can go over there and request something from me.

The secret to color theory is that there are primary colors, and the rest are just blend-able shades that would not exist without bases, foundations and ‘trials-and-errors’. In some sense, we correlate the color of our lives to that primary stance—we are red, we are yellow…the intensity that we want to be. How we want to counterpart in a main role that, inherently, sometimes won’t be settled upon us. The saddening truth of being a purple, or a lime green.

She would have never imagined herself to be anything more than a yellow. She said, when she was younger, that her voice would be so high that the annoying tone that came with her made her stand out in any crowd. Yellow. And then came heartbreak, teenage years, the blending with a pure gray or a black undertone that could never get her to darken her soul. It was more like a mustard yellow. Lulled. Not as bright. Just wishing upon standing out again, blending nicely with everyone, but always sticking out like a sore thumb. Hard to look in the eyes.

For the past two months, she felt like she was back to her bright yellow. To smiles with all teeth, shared with Jay as he wrapped his arms around her shoulder; to late-night talks with the phone screen glaring across her vision as she whispered small ‘I don’t want to go’s. Relatively, that comes to a stop. Because, in the eyes of a man that she dated with the dumbfounded hope to finally meet the love of her life, she was never yellow. God, he’d cringe at the mere sound of the Coldplay song. She was brown.

As in shitty brown.

Jay should be better than this. In actuality, after how everything fell down with a break-up text that he never really responded to, she doesn’t think he’s better, but hey, common sense is a thing still, isn’t it? As a YouTuber, quite like her, who shared the same interests and niche with a commentary channel based on pop-culture, one would think that he would not incorporate their ‘not-that-talked-about’ relationship in a Tweet. Though, maybe she had seen him as a bright blue, when he’s nothing but—at best—a plum or a dark gray.

You know, like having concrete between your teeth. Not that pleasurable, neither something she wants to try again.

@notthatjay_lee: how does that song go? a, b, c, d, e, f…thank you for wasting my motherfucking time.

She chuckles. Actually, full-on laughs when sitting on the counter at her kitchen, trying or supposedly about to edit her newest video commenting on Disney’s old shows and how she binge-watched them on a brim. Not that the viewers should know that she watched the entirety of Hannah Montana in a week because she was going through a break-up and crying for the asshole that Jay Lee is, but she needed to update after being a month away.

She continues scrolling, watching the thread that has formed in the tweet and the hundreds of comments that tag her. They weren’t precisely out as a relationship, but it was known. They went to conventions together, appeared in pictures with fans tagged together. It wasn’t hidden under the rug, but it was also not blasted out of proportion like Jay is doing right now.

He responded to a fan.

@jaysassissick: We are here for you, Jay! I can’t believe what some bitches can do for fame.

@notthatjay_lee: imagine getting cheated on by someone who can’t even reach a million subscribers. lol. can sadly relate.

“You just didn’t…” She mutters to herself, standing up and closing her laptop with a bang. More notifications pop up, from all social media that she could muster. Pictures tagged of the two of them together coming up with headlines that read commentary-channel YouTubers feuding. Cheating. Cheater, out of all things.

And that’s the thing about women. If they are not colors that blend well with the primary ones, like men expect to be, they are tarnished and burned to ashes to stay in the ground. That was her case, in which her silence was the ignition of a chain of events that now are out of her reach. None of those people that keep harassing her online can know that Jay had been distant the past month; that he’d spend more of his days running away from her than actually trying to put effort into the relationship.

That it’d be more looking through social media to see him commenting on pictures of his supposed ‘friends’ wearing bikinis and his phone hidden with his face down whenever they were together. It was not confirmed, of course, she didn’t have enough proximity with him, neither did they live together for her to confirm that her suppositions were true, but something she knows. Jay is not a saint, neither is she for the rage that builds within her like a Lego house that burns with the unsatiable need of revenge.

She almost believes that the best way to go about this is making it as public as he is. However, she knows she’s better. Yellow, bright, shining, as she has always been, just shadowed by someone who was envious of how burning her colors could be. Hence, she puts her phone down after turning it off, quite like he did whenever a fight ensued between the two and he would play the victim card with a pout to his lips. She thinks about it—the video she is supposed to edit, the pictures on her phone she has yet to delete and the revival, that word that speaks about new beginnings and definitely, a smirk that tells the past that she’s doing much better.

For now, she’s just alone in her apartment. With a bowl of noodles that has gone cold and a heart that is palpitating far too fast, for heartbreak isn’t easy, much less when it’s this open, but she can think of ways of getting back to Jay, whether the public knows it’s directly thrown his way or not.

She owes this man nothing.

“Jeonghan, I need you recording my shit. Not looking at your phone.”

With a hand quipping closed as if asking for Hansol’s lips to remain shut, Jeonghan remains as relaxed as he had been when they started recording this weekly’s recap. Though, while Hansol had been stumbling over his lines—as per usual on a Saturday morning, that’s the only time they could meet up because Seungcheol was going on a trip this weekend for his cousin’s wedding—, Jeonghan had frankly lost his mind to whatever is showcased in his phone. So far in the text he’s reading, which Hansol is certain is not a book, that he leaned back on one of the love seats in Hansol’s office, propped his knees to his chest in fetal position and lurked through whatever caught his interest like a lion looking for his prey.

“The moment you can get a word out without stuttering is the moment we start recording.” Jeonghan runs a hand through his black hair, covering the rudeness of his words with a soft smile. Hansol knows better than to take Jeonghan’s words close to heart, but still.

“I just needed some more coffee.”

Seungcheol enters the room then, with a new Starbucks drink since Hansol decided to steal his. “You drank my macchiato.” With a slap on the back of Hansol’s head, the man takes a seat on the other empty love-seat, as if there is not a whole video to be recorded and posted on Monday. “But Hansol’s not wrong. I have to get on that plane at four and it’s nine in the morning. We can get through this video if we just start recording it.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond and Hansol takes this time to sigh deeply and toss his head back. Things were easier when posting a YouTube video wasn’t so…meticulous. At the beginning, just over eight years ago, Hansol had posted a video on social media that had gotten quite visibly viral. He had over a million views in just fourteen hours, breaking records somehow, making it to meme accounts and Vine compilations. Stupid as it could get, it was a video of Hansol wearing a swimming hat and those aesthetic sunglasses that resembled John Lennon’s style, with Jeonghan zooming in on the frame and him saying: ‘bitch’ before the video came to an end.

It had literally no context, but he made a living out of it.

That’s how he launched his career, changed the name and created an online persona. He called himself Zach, sporting bright and quite frankly unfitting outfits and making meme weekly recaps. He spoke about what was new on the Internet, made fun of some videos, never quite made it to the commentary channel spectrum but became a voice that over ten million people had subscribed to. No one knew that his real name was Hansol, or that he wasn’t as outspoken as he was in his videos. Never an opinion that breaks or makes a room.

Jeonghan grabs the coffee mug from Seungcheol’s hold, ignoring the man’s complaints to take a sip. “I think I have a topic we need to add to this week’s review.” He finally pulls away from his original position, biting down on his lip like he does when he has an idea that he can’t keep on the depths of his chest. “Have you heard about the newest drama with Jay Lee?”

Hansol crosses his arms across his chest, sitting on the edge of the desk that holds his computer, always in front of him in his videos. “Jay…Lee? Doesn’t ring a bell for me.”

“You know, the TikTok guy who makes POV’s videos.” Jeonghan urges on, tossing a glance towards Seungcheol who finally snatches his drink before giving a curt nod.

“Even I remember who he is.”

“How many guys don’t make ridiculous videos on TikTok?” Hansol prompts, only to have Jeonghan sighing.

“He was known on YouTube for his music videos and parodies. You know how that went a little bit downhill lately, so his niche has changed. Makes videos every once in a while.” Jeonghan includes in his narrative, turning his phone around to show a picture of a man he now recognizes. Damn, even in his beginnings as a YouTuber, Jay Lee already had a bunch of people under his name. With long, tossed back black hair, tattoos that scatter across a slim, tall body and a pair of glasses that always rest on the brim of his straight nose. He was of interest for a bunch of people on the Internet, even to this day.

“What about him?” Hansol questions, only to have Jeonghan clapping his hands once.

“He’s burning the Internet with his latest allegations. He was dating a commentary channel YouTuber, though they never accepted it, but he’s making the allegations that she cheated on him and has announced that he’s releasing a diss track to explain everything.” He’ll never understand how the world revolves around drama, but Jeonghan gives more explanation by saying her name and giving him the phone once again.

The picture shows a couple together with a fan, and he recognizes her with far more ease. He remembers last summer, when he would spend most of his afternoons laughing about her videos with the graphics she made. Very rarely does her face show on her videos, but she draws a little character that speaks, through her commentary, about the topic at hand. Always a show. A video. A meme. Hell, he thinks that she once talked about him on a video years ago.

Jay is much taller than her, with his arm wrapped around her shoulder, squishing their cheeks together as they hold peace signs, her hand interlocked with the young fan’s. They didn’t look necessarily in love, but close enough to it. Like the beginning of a love that had just started to flourish.

“What has he said?” Seungcheol questions, now interested in the topic.

“What hasn’t he said? He has spent the past three days creating a YouTube war. He has even dropped her name a few times, tagging her, asking her to be upfront because she has escaped the internet. MIA and all.”

Hansol can’t imagine how tough it is to go through a break-up where the other person is trying to plot everyone against her. Sure, he’s not certain if she cheated, but he takes his own phone to look through Twitter, seeing him post pictures of the two of them together—clearly personal, never seen by anyone but them—, adding thread after thread of how in love he was with her and how badly she broke his heart. It seemed like he was bleeding through a wound that was never quite as open as he made it out to be.

“What an asshole.” He mutters, getting closer to the computer and writing something down on his script. “I think we can add it to this week’s episode. The last bit. Just for a few clicks and because…he’s really getting out of control.”

“And everyone is supporting him.” Jeonghan adds, shrugging his shoulders. “Would be nice to give an opinion that isn’t sided one way or the other.”

“…That’s putting Hansol against a man that has just about the same following as him. Including him in the war isn’t going to do the channel any good.”

Hansol looks up at that moment, raising his eyebrows and weighting the options. Seungcheol isn’t wrong, but he knows this is a topic that needs to be talked about. Break ups on the internet. Where some people post videos crying and hugging for the last time, while others take their following to side with them as if it was a parent going through divorce.

“Yes, but this whole Zach character is about that. Speaking about what I think is wrong, right or funny…and these tweets? Stupid, borderline funny, over-line worrying.”

Seungcheol takes a sip of his macchiato, bringing a shoulder up in nonchalance. “I’ll have to take care of the mess after, but if that’s what’s going to bring the views, go for it.”

Is he really doing it for views, though? Or maybe, he just thinks it’s inherently wrong to destroy someone’s career that way, until they are too afraid to go on the internet because of hate. Jay Lee will have to learn a lesson about being made fun of.

@notthatjay_lee: glad to know the mystery’s resolved. @chwethatzach you’ve cleared the rumors up. song coming in three days!

Hyeji had said it seven months ago when she started liking Jay, as she flipped on tarot decks, spread them neatly on the coffee table between them, speaking through a cloud caused by the blunt between her lips. Jay Lee’s an imbecile, he’ll break your heart. She didn’t listen, because in her mind all men go through a phase of being overly-confident and, quite frankly, assholes. She opted to believe that Jay was willing to change and talk, venturing into a friendship and then, into whatever kind of relationship they had held that now is a complete disaster.

Her best friend, Moon Hyeji, runs her fingers through her dirty hair after showing her the tweet that Jay had just posted. Tagging her after, nonetheless. Hyeji, as wild as she is, with long locks of wavy hair and a rose tattoo on the column of her neck, had called Jay just a day ago, telling him to back off before she took legal actions. Taking it from the woman who is the daughter of one of the richest men in the country, a businessman nonetheless, Jay should have taken it a little bit more seriously. Hence, he doesn’t.

“What the fuck do I even have to do with that dude?” She questions, finally standing up from her position on Hyeji’s lap. Ever since this issue went to absolute hell, with the diss track incoming and a handful of people making drama videos about the timeline of their very short-lived relationship, Hyeji had travelled all the way from London to get here and eat piles of ice cream while bad-mouthing Jay. Only that it didn’t help her the slightest.

She wants to talk, but she doesn’t know how to go on about the issue. Fueling the problem even more if just going to have his fans speaking with more fervor, and just like how he doesn’t have proof of her cheating, she also doesn’t have anything to defend herself with about not cheating.

“There’s a video, apparently…” Hyeji roams through her phone with long nails before she displays her screen on the TV in front of them. The image that loads is of the start of a video of someone she knows somewhat well, for she really likes Zach Chwe’s videos, or at least, she can catch up on them every once in a while.

Zach has always been a little different than most. He feels like a true friend that one can talk with as he launches in that green chair of his, always wearing clothes that leave everything to the imagination and would have everyone talking about him. He’s wearing a tie-dye hoodie, as per usual in some of his videos, with an apron on top of it that reads ‘the chef’s dead’ and a pair of sunglasses that rest on top of his brown hair. His soft eyebrows move with each of his words, firstly greeting his audience, then speaking about the newest memes found on the internet.

“He must have spoken about your issue with Jay.”

“How so? He never talks about drama.” She asks, getting a look from Hyeji who clears her throat soon after.

“People believe he’s the one guy Jay is saying you cheated with.” Her best friend whispers, moving through the video, getting fast glimpses of Zach laughing, tossing his head back, speaking through slim lips and using his ring-cladded hands to express his points. Only three minutes before the video ends does the image of Jay with her and a fan comes on the screen, earning Hyeji a few taps on her shoulder.

“There! There! Stop the video there!”

The darkness of her room, reeking the smell of orange chicken and diet soda, is bathed in the light of Zach Chwe as he rolls on his chair and says: “There’s a reason us men are called assholes and I think it’s because Jay Lee exists. Okay, I’m not anyone to be putting my opinion here and I usually stay away from these things, so I’m not sure if she cheated or not…but isn’t it, at least, the best thing you can do to spell correctly as you’re dissing your ex?”

Then, the screen shows screenshots of Jay’s tweets, bathed in hate, writing in the worst possible way and yet, with a few errors.

She hadn’t noticed that as she got drowned into the drama that he had created, so she smiles for what feels like the first time this week.

“You don’t even spell that well, Zach!” Someone shouts from the background, and she knows Zach Chwe normally has his friends putting in some words for spice on his videos, but she actually laughs along with him.

“More of a reason to critique, I guess.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But hey, remember those Facebook videos we talked about a few weeks ago? If you haven’t checked it out, I’ll leave the link to that video on the description, but we were making fun about those mom videos where they make their daughters fearful of sending nudes because some creep will post them on their Facebook page. I thought men like that didn’t exist, until I figured out this whole Jay Lee thing. He’s a hair away from posting a picture of her feet, I tell you so.”

The video doesn’t last much long after that, with Zach making fun of Jay’s tweets and then, the camera zooming in on his face for an outro recalling his beginnings online. However, Hyeji has fallen silent, with her knees propped under her chin, using her free hand to caress the column of her ear, as always, seeking for a way of making her feel better through touch.

“This sounds…like the internet is going insane.” Hyeji then reaches for her phone, shaking in the air. “Come on, unlock it and turn on your notifications again!”

“What? Why?” She is not sure she’s ready to lurk through social media once again, Hyeji has been doing that for her instead, like her little manager, blocking the hate that gets real and personal.

“Jay is playing it off as if Zach Chwe is the one that you’re dating, or the one you cheated on him with.”

“I didn’t cheat on him—

“I know, but he’s trying to get views and I need to know if Zach’s team contacted you, so open that phone and get a pair of balls for what we’re about to face.”

A pair of balls would be little to what she needs once she opens Twitter and Instagram.

On Instagram, she has been tagged on a bunch of pictures. Headlines that include her profile picture on YouTube and Zach Chwe’s picture. Titles that go on the rampant lie of ‘YouTube Stars Zach Chwe and OfDrawingsAndWords on a relationship!’ scattering across her vision on every platform she comes across of.

“I’m doomed. Jay keeps winning no matter what I do—”

“Because you haven’t said anything. You’re protecting him even when he’s trying to destroy you.” Hyeji advices, pushing on her Instagram notifications until she sees it, a direct message from the YouTuber who is implicated on this drama with her, nonetheless. “So, you either take the reigns right here, right now or Jay Lee is going to drown your career before it even reached the shore.”

Shaking fingertips reach for the Instagram message, closing her eyes tightly until she opens it.

“Read it.”

“Come on…” Hyeji trails, clasping the phone in her hands. “I know it’s been tough, but I don’t need you hiding away.”

“I’m scared! This guy has nothing to do with me!” She screeches, slapping her hand on her shoulder only to have Hyeji looking at her. With that softness that characterizes her under all her strength.

“Alright…” Hyeji whispers, soon after reading out loud. “Hey, it’s Zach Chwe. I’m sorry that my comments involved us in a mess bigger than what you already had going on and my team and I want to make mends on the issue I just created. Do you mind talking about it, in person or with my PR team getting in contact with you? Sorry for the inconvenience once again.”

Hyeji takes in a deep breath before tossing herself onto the half-done bed.

“We’re talking about it in person.”

“…Uh, we’re not.” She finalizes, trying to snatch her phone back but Hyeji isn’t relenting. Though, she’s not as rude as one would imagine, she still consenting by looking her way and expecting her to change her mind. “Hyeji, I don’t want to see anyone right now. Jay’s blowing everything out of proportion—”

“Reason as to why you shouldn’t hide. Zach Chwe can be a great person to have on your side right now. The internet loves him, and now they’re not as cruel. You have to see the comments, people are torn just because he is involved.”

That makes her ponder, inspecting every portion of Hyeji’s face to find some fun or joke in her features, but she’s full-on serious. Not a drop of insecurity in those quirked eyebrows. She sighs deeply, taking the phone in her hands and seeing the sign that reads ‘you follow each other’. Why is it that people naturally gravitate towards what a man can say or not, even when she has been expecting to be trusted by anyone online and no one seemed to be by her side?

No one but him and a few people. Even the friends that she had collaborated with several times had taken his side.

Hence, she starts typing, not caring about the consequences of fueling the fire a little bit more, because she’s already getting burned, but she won’t relent without a fight.

“I’m down with meeting up so we can sort out how we will go on about this. You select the place and the time. Thank you for getting in contact, by the way!”

Hyeji places a kiss on top of her head, squishing her slim cheek against her scalp.

“We will get past this, love. I swear we will.”

She doesn’t think this unreasonable love war is anywhere near over, however.

“I sure hope we will.”

Hansol thinks making ramen is an art form. He does it when he’s nervous instead of nibbling on his bottom lip or tugging his black beanie down his ears for the umpteenth time. Only he would think it was a great idea to meet with one of his favorite social media creators on a fucking convenience store, but he feels protected by the quietness and the sweet buzzing of the microwave as he wishes upon a start that the stacks of cheese that he poured on his flaming hot noodles becomes a puddle at the bottom that relishes its exquisiteness.

So, maybe, he’s a bit nervous. Reason as to why he had lost his grip a bit when pouring the cheese on the ramen basket.

It passes him how she has been able to spend weeks receiving the messages she does, but the moment he posted that video, the narrative took another turn. Hell, he even thinks he has seen some edited videos of the two of them as a supposed ‘couple’. The song has been released, heard by thousands, even more news coming up about them and he’s…surprised. About the sheltering that came from his pseudonym and how the world is torn. Now, Jay shines as a real villain and people ponder if leaving him for Hansol was the right choice.

How in the hell he got in this situation is misunderstood by him?

However, he rubs on his eye after grabbing the ramen noodles and plopping them on the nearest table, he hears the bells by the door ringing, the worker too occupied in organizing the strawberry milks to even care about her, but he does. None of her pictures online would ever compare to how she looks in real life. With a gray turtleneck for the weather, face ridden of any makeup, sweater half-tucked into her pants and yet, as her sunglasses rest on the brim of her head, she looks like a whole…dream.

She reminds him of the warmth that comes from a gust of breath on top of freezing hands when winter drops around. They are just barely reaching fall, but the weather has fallen significantly. She stands in front of him, looking away from her phone before a small smile reaches the corner of her eyes, not adding a small ‘hi’ as he does with a wave of his hand, but something to the air between them nonetheless.

“You look different when you’re not mumbling ‘bitch’ into the camera.”

Breaking the ice, warming the air, significant matters that only she can do and does in the brink of a second. Hansol plops the two bowls of ramen on the table, watching as she scrunches her nose at the cheese to stir it within the mixture, but he tries not to think too much about his decision. Maybe, she’s just not fond of cheese.

“I take that as a good thing. I don’t call anyone ‘bitch’ unless I get a really good check out of it.” Hansol jokes around, soon after widening his eyes when she quirks an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth barely lifting in a smirk. “Not that I’d call you anything of the like. Gosh, I’m being stupid. Uh…hi, I’m Hansol.”

“You’ve already said hi.” She prompts, picking up some of the noodles and unlike him, who has already burned the bridge of his mouth, she twirls them on the chopsticks, blows on them and munches on the cheesy treat. “But I didn’t know you were called Hansol. I would’ve sworn on my life that your real name was Zach.”

He shakes his head. “I want my real life nicely divided from who I am as a person online. Not that I am much different, but Hansol’s the name that I have on my ID and that I use for personal matters, so I don’t want to mix the two.” He shrugs his shoulders soon after, saying her name and earning a nod from her. “Okay, so, uh…to the matter at hand, right?”

“Straight to the point.” She clears her throat, giving him a smile before reaching for the diet soda Hansol had brought. “So, half the internet thinks we are dating…and that you’re that supposed side guy that I had while dating Jay.”

He shouldn’t ask. Shit, this is Jeonghan speaking in his brain, telling him to fucking ask, but he’s curious. He heard the nonsensical beat that Jay released in the form of a diss track that now has fifteen million views, so… “Did you really cheat on him or is he taking everything out of context?”

She spreads her hands across her chest, defending herself. “Here’s the thing, I am a woman. Me breaking up with a guy just because I was unhappy in a relationship directly has to mean I cheated on him. For starters, I didn’t. I liked Jay even after the break-up, obviously until the moment he decided to blow everything out of proportion.” She explains, sighing deeply after. “I didn’t, for instance. I’m sorry that you got involved.”

“No, I am the one that should be sorry.” Hansol shakes his head, rubbing his eyebrow as if something was bothering him. “It’s just—No, I’m sorry but I don’t regret it. I had to talk about it. Part of it was because obviously, it’s a trending topic, but also because…no one deserves to get the hate you’re getting right now.”

She remains silent, playing with the straw in between strawberry lips. Not an ounce of makeup and yet, the inside looks as if they were bitten to utter perfection. Hansol’s embarrassed that he has liked every picture of hers on social media ever since they started following each other.

Things that the public had sadly taken account of and had completely used against them to prove a supposed relationship.

“I don’t regret it either. That you did that, I mean.” She counterparts. “Sure, I shouldn’t be thinking about revenge, but Jay has been so distraught and the public has turned against him, while also not being on my side. They are just on your side.” With a mellowness that, somehow, he thinks should never belong to her, for the twist of her lips on a downwards motion is a terrible contrast to the smile he saw earlier. “Reason as to why my friend got in contact with one of the people from your team. I don’t have a team myself—”

“I’m surprised I even have a team, so I don’t judge you.” Hansol’s eyes twinkle, remembering the words he had shared with Seungcheol earlier. After all, he’s the manager and the one—technically, for Hansol still has his input—in charge of what is posted on his channel or not. “Seungcheol, my manager, talked to me about what your friend and mine talked about.”

Seungcheol was not that happy about the exposure that Hansol got, but after a while, Jeonghan weighted the options and became a mastermind for what the internet was aiming to see. They wanted to learn the other side of the story, just because it would be told by one of the most liked characters in YouTube as of now. Zach Chwe, venturing into the world of a person that no one would have ever thought he’d be compatible with. To break all the rumors with a show, a mini web-series for the world to gnaw at while both teams earned money.

“For the record, I know it’s a difficult thing to think about. I wasn’t in for it at first.” Hansol explains, and he’s not sure he’s ready to have a different light casted on his channel, but Jeonghan was clear to say that he wasn’t intending on a dating show or a couple’s channel. Instead, he wanted something…vague. “They just want us to work on a challenge mini-series. We’d do stuff like go to haunted houses or anything of the like. To make people wonder if we really did date or we were just in it for the show. They’d give us views, hoping to find something or any clues, and we’d leave with a good paycheck and a big question mark after what we were.”

She continues eating, pondering with fluttering eyelashes and a sigh that gets trapped on her throat. “Yeah…I’m okay with it. I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” She responds, and Hansol thinks the deal is almost over, but she continues: “You’ll have to keep in mind that while there may be a huge wave of people loving our series together, you might also get a lot of hate. Jay did a great job at—”

“I don’t care.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll come to learn I don’t care about a lot of stuff. Hate? I don’t care.” Hansol explains, giving her a soft smile. “A wanking old man can tell me I’m the worst YouTuber he has ever seen, and I won’t take it to heart. I’m not a plate to be enjoyed by all.”

“Whoa…” She whispers, plucking a lot of noodles up to show it to him. “Not only are you the antonym of a lactose intolerant person, but you’re also awfully wise.”

“You’re welcome for the visit to the bathroom later.” Hansol comments, earning well-heard laughter by her. She tosses her head back and the laugh comes out in spurts. Odd and yet, cute.

“I’ll have to get used to those comments, Z—Hansol.”

“We’ll get used to each other. We have a whole season to plan, after all.”

WE VISITED A HAUNTED HOSPITAL? | EP. 1 S1 | ZACH CHWE

She’d kill Hansol for thinking of visiting a haunted hospital as the first topic of their new show, but she’s too scared to actually want to murder him right now. What if he came back as one of those ghosts who were supposedly here? She can’t risk it.

Drops of petrichor build on forgotten walls, where once were supposedly patients that needed help but were abandoned to a beckoning fire. Hansol said on the way here that he truly doubted the events happened. If the hospital was burned down to its core, why was it still standing and why were tickets sold for people to go through it like tourists in Sydney? She doesn’t have a clue. All that she knows is that they were placed on opposite ends of the hospital, bound to meet through clues, but she hasn’t been able to move from her position under a table.

She was aware that Hansol’s team and hers, which only includes Hyejin, had insisted on having jump-scares all around. One of those jump-scares could be Jeonghan in a clown uniform, but the moment she saw it, the moment she sprinted away. Now, she has been seated there for more than thirty minutes, ignoring her next mission and the door in front of her, with a beating heart and her knees pressed to her chest.

Great, she’s about to ruin their first episode.

Beheld with destiny, she thinks she’s about to shit her pants the moment she hears that old, wooden door creak under the weight of someone entering. Caught, she’s imagined to be, unable to discern between the group of people there to add spice to the video and the actual ghosts that are supposedly in this hospital. However, the first thing she sees are a pair of converses in light green and soon after, someone is kneeling in front of her.

Hansol’s long hair is clouded by a hoodie so thick his earlobes are red, or so she thinks that’s the reason, because his hand pats on the expanded leg of her jeans. Bell jeans were in once again, and she had opted to have them on her outfit. However, Hansol’s high cheekbones lift in a smile when he counterparts:

“If you’re really trying to hide from ghosts, having half of your leg out from underneath the table is not the way to go.” Hansol spares a look at the corner of the room, perhaps pinpointing where the camera is, before she shakes her head at him. She’s still a little shaken, letting out in a trembling tone what must be the most pathetic thing he’s ever heard.

“What if this place is actually haunted?”

“I don’t know percentages, but I am sure someone has died in every possible place on earth. Here, if it’s haunted, or anywhere.” Hansol drags himself under the table, sitting down next to her and taking up the same position she has, though he presses his cheek to the upper portion of his knees. “So, as a matter of fact, every place should be haunted.”

“You’re not helping.” She adds, turning her face to look at him and my God, is Chwe Hansol actually very handsome. He’s different from Jay, with higher cheeks, rounded eyebrows, and a color that resembles honey on tea in his irises. She should look away, not feed into the idea that people have of them being together, but they were meant to act as natural as possible for this show, and looking away has never been more difficult.

“…Said my mom as I helped with the dishes, and my sister after I met her first boyfriend. Helping is not really my biggest forte, but I try.” Hansol shows a full row of teeth when he smiles, like he does it without a care in this world. He probably does. Something about Hansol tells her that he doesn’t really care what people think of him. “But I found you, so I think that’s us winning the game, isn’t it?”

“Is this a park ride for you or something? You’re all smiley and shit.” She tells him, mimicking his smile though hers is a bit more crooked, like she’s trying to push it away so it doesn’t reach him as the most dumbfounded, surprised expression.

“I like this place.”

She feigns a ringing cellphone with a purr of her lips, folding her hand to mimic a phone only to be caught in between his digits, pressed to his ear as if he’s picking it up.

“Yes, hello?” He asks, fluttering eyelashes in between sweetened laughter. One would think that someone like Chwe Hansol was a punch of pink lemonade, but knowing he’s more like a very sweetened soda is a new occurrence.

“It’s your psychologist. He’s asking for another appointment.”

Hansol chuckles at her words, putting down her hand and yet, leaving her with a tingle that awakens in the pit of her stomach and blossoms like butterfly wings across her chest, filling her in with a breath so profound that every single one of her ribs expands with glee.

“They should.” With that, he stands up,extending a slim hand that wavers its fingers for her to grab. Once she does, she’s up her feet, chest to chest with a man who looks at her with pink lips closed together, hiding the row of teeth that she had grown so fond of in just minutes, for how beautiful and calming his smile could be. “I think we should get out and get to the exit—”

What they don’t expect is for the door to bang open, irrupting on their fort and creating a tense atmosphere when they come face to face with a clown, much of the like of what It could look like. And while Hansol laughs from the moment he sees it, she doesn’t. A shout trips from the back of her throat, much like herself, as she jumps onto Hansol’s back and feels his hands contracting against her thighs, catching her just in time. Her eyes, hidden by his neck, are barely touched by the long hairs on his nape that don’t get to be trapped in his beanie, and when she mumbles for them to leave, Hansol starts sprinting like his life depends on it.

Never does he stop laughing, though, as whoever is dressed on the clown outfit follows after them. He’s secure, for some reason, even when they don’t know each other very well, something about Hansol makes her feel as though she is protected. Sheltered from a world that had always been so tough, but with him is just a tiny bit more complex. And for Hansol, that’s okay.

Something tells her that Hansol doesn’t push himself to understand the majority of things. The reason why the world goes around the sun, or why so many people choose heartbreak. He knows he’s a particle, a mere second in a clock, a reason to laugh or a momentum to flee. While she lives through memories, Hansol relishes on breaths. On moments that are here and now, enjoyable and yet, somehow dreamy in the way that they go by so fast.

She doesn’t know him much, but when they reach the exit and the sun bathes them through peaks in between gray clouds, he is still holding her. Even when Seungcheol points Hansol’s camera at them and he’s talking, he still doesn’t let go of her. She hears a faint joke, a reason to part from his neck, but lord does she wish she would not have looked away.

For his face is too close and that mole on his temple is right there, valuable enough to catch her attention.

So, she drops herself to the floor, falling on her knees and raising her hands in the air before shouting to the camera:

“Good fucking Lord, we made it!”

And Hansol laughs, like he does in these situations, but how she wishes that laugh would not feel precisely like home should feel like.

Thirteen million views and just the third episode of the series has been posted. Now, that is breaking records.

She would have never believed the world would become a big number for her. Flop or not valued by the amount of people seeing you; regardless of interest or not. She seeks for that validation—much more after the break-up—. From people who don’t really know her, but love to give conspiracies about how Hansol and she met. They say they are together, and they don’t really deny it. The closer they get through episodes, the more people seem interested in it, and while she’s in the thrive for more—fame, success, whatever the fuck it is that is sedating her, Hansol stays…the same.

He invited her over to his place. So unorganized, just like his thoughts. He leaves his coats hanging on his poor couch, picking them up per demand, with splashes of coffee on the coffee table from early this morning still forgotten. Tonight, on this Saturday night, Hansol has brought soju with himself, licking off the remaining bits of his black bean noodles from his chopsticks. She still has a bit left on her place, but she has opted to sit with her head hanging from the sofa, looking at him from upside down, maybe a bit boozed because of the alcohol he had prepositioned for ‘idea organization’.

“What if we ate noodles on a rollercoaster?” They have planned up to episode ten. The end of the season, after all. But people have been asking for another season, and while it’s not confirmed, a company had ventured into the hardships of wanting to promote them for a second season and that meant giving them ideas on a silver platter in hopes of them liking it enough to support it monetarily.

“You want a POV of us vomiting on a camera. Got it.” She drags, inspecting the way his cheeks turn maroon and how he puts his bottle of soju down, giving her a smile that, if she had to describe, would call it extremely dumb.

“When you put it that way, sounds incredibly hot.”

“Ew, Hansol.” She has gotten used to calling him that name now, a month into their venture and almost four episodes in. Her head starts thumping and with four bottles of soju, she can’t stop thinking. Hansol has almost been like a bubble; he lets her see on the outside and still, protects her in some way. She knows that the death threads are still there, as well as the ongoing rumors with Jay that include her in a love triangle, but with him, recording and a new group of people around them, she has managed to lose herself a bit more. “I can’t think straight at this moment.”

“Probably because you’re losing blood flow.” Hansol drags himself closer to her, never lifting his butt of the ground, twisting her hair in a bun that falls the moment she sits up straight. Not because he told her so, or because she was afraid of losing oxygen in her brain, but rather the reason behind it was that Hansol was a little too close to her. Enough for her to see those beautiful speckles in her eyes.

Yes, so that’s the thing…Hansol is extremely pretty.

Awfully so.

In a drunken state, that’s multiplied by a hundred.

“What if we made a ‘Show Me The Money’ parody?”

Hansol shrugs. “I’d eat you up.”

“You think so?” She slurs, pressing her cheek to the edge of the couch and almost twitching when Hansol reaches for the corner of her joggers, pulling them down where they had bunched at her ankles. That’s when his skin comes in contact with hers, wrapping entirely around that portion of her leg and letting his thumb caress the joint behind it. “Mm, don’t do that.”

“S—Sorry.” And Hansol pulls away at that moment, cheeks even more flushed with the alcohol, eyes widened. “I—I didn’t…”

“It just feels nice.” She tells him in a whisper, dozing off and letting her eyes close as the only thing she can hear in the background is the faint sound of Drake’s latest record and, of course, his calm breathing. “…And I don’t like getting used to it. You don’t know how many times I’ve gotten used to things only for them to hurt me…after…”

It’s the alcohol talking and the sleepiness losing her, because she doesn’t remember what else she had said or why she falls asleep so fast. What she does remember is what she dreams. She sees Jay in dreams, remembering the way his palm fit so snugly around her knee, and how he’d trace the underside of it with how big his hand was. Now, she sees it in third person, in some cramped-up party of the like of those he went to, with his lips spread around another woman’s, doing the same thing he did to her, and somehow breaking apart the little threads left in her heart. Because that’s what men have always done to her—hurt her until she couldn’t recognize herself.

She awakens with sweat pooling at her neckline and breaths unarranged in a manner that has her clasping the first thing she feels. Hansol has turned down the lights, his back pressed to the edge of the couch, head lulled back in a way that will probably have him aching in the morning. His brown hair spreads on top of his forehead like vices, eyelashes straight and long, jaw squared yet somehow relaxed as his lips part. He’s snoring softly, barely audibly, laying there like he wouldn’t move even if the world ended.

So, she drags her hand across his forearm, feeling every bump and mountain of slim muscle until she reaches his knuckles and touches them, shaking his hand in hopes of getting him to open his eyes.

He doesn’t, but he does hum at the mention of his name.

“Hansol…I had a nightmare.” She has them often. Each time, she looks into the shadows of the night hoping for the real monsters to appear. Not the ones that make their guest appearance in horror movies, but the ones that actually hurt her. People that tarnished her heart in ways that now has it stopping from time to time. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but could…could you please hold me? When I’m held, I can fall back asleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” He rasps out, dragging himself towards the couch as she makes him some space. He doesn’t talk about his room or taking up the bed, because he’s probably too sleepy to even care, when he places an arm under her head and lets him square a leg in between his just to make room for the two.

“I’m sorry for getting so close.”

He drags her until her face rests on his collarbone, humming what she can imagine is a ‘no’. “You’re not doing it for anything bad. It’s okay.” He whispers. “Is this tight enough?”

She looks up at him, eyes still closed. So naturally peaceful and yet, somehow blaring war noises inside her head. Ready to flee away just in case her stomach drops to the ground at the mere sight of him. “It’s perfect.”

Hansol shouldn’t feel perfect. Not if season two is ever going to happen.

Usually, the one with the cruel ideas is Jeonghan. Hyejin has finally met up to that standard. Her friend, not his, and that’s surprising. Hansol has to give her some props for the idea of the ninth episode.

‘Never Have I Ever’. He doesn’t think he has played the game since that one moment he joined college. Only recently did he get his degree, and the engineering degree normally doesn’t get invited to the kind of parties that have drinking games, but Hansol was friends with a bunch of people who would take any kind of game as a reason to drink. This one doesn’t include drinking, but it’s either eating something really nasty, laid in front of them on a picnic cloth—there are testicles in there, as far as he knows—or answering.

Hansol should be concentrated on making her eat the five meals that are meant to be eaten by her, but he is tranced by her. Has been since two weeks ago, when he decided that sharing a couch with her was a good idea. Not only did he have to walk away before she noticed that he had accidentally wrapped a hand around her waist while asleep, but he also had to fight off the thoughts that ventured into his head. He didn’t want to be the rebound, but that’s precisely what he would be if he tried to get with her. If he played the cards he does sometimes, when life is a little simpler, of rubbing the back of his neck and buying someone’s favorite Pokémon cards.

It doesn’t help that she has decided to look absolutely gorgeous while they sat on a bench, in a secluded park that Seungcheol had found fitting for filming. Roses scatter around them in the same color of red that splashes on her dress. A loving heart neckline that has him looking down and—fuck, Hansol, don’t be stupid. She’s way out of your league—

“Never have I ever…” She drags her voice while reaching into the hat that was placed nearby for them. He looks at the shape of her mouth, the length of her eyeliner and he wants to punch himself for a second. For staring with that intent, even with cameras around them. For feeling a bit protected in front of them just because everyone thinks they are dating. Or so. “Eaten or tasted earwax.”

“Do I have the face of a man that has tasted earwax?”

“Yes.” She responds, chuckling at him only to have him scrunching up his nose. He looks down at the plate that is served in front of him, this round’s beverage for anyone to enjoy. “Hansol, don’t tell me you have.”

“I’m not sure, but I was a weird kid! May have!” He tells her, picking up his chopsticks and biting into the testicles that he had repulsed from the moment the game started. She throws her head back, laughing like the child in her had awakened at his response, before she’s shaking her head and tossing the card to the side.

“You’re so nasty.”

“Tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Just because I am sure I did it as a kid as well, I’ll help you out with those testicles.” She picks up the chopsticks from his hands, giving it the slightest of bites before sticking out her tongue and dropping it to the ground. “Gross! Jeonghan, where the fuck did you find this stuff?”

“It was Cheol!”

The game continues, with the two of them a point away from either losing or winning. She has her legs spread in front of her, crossed by the ankles, waiting for him to read the card that he’s just opening when his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Oh, this wasn’t Seungcheol. This has Hyejin’s name written all over it. He knows it because she has been wriggling her eyebrows whenever he makes his way past her, opting to tease him about the ‘obvious crush’ he has on her best friend.

“Never have I ever liked the person across from me.”

Hansol doesn’t move, and he should be drinking the broccoli lemonade that the team prepared, but she moves with a little more precision, as if her anatomy was made to act in cue. His heart stops when she grabs the glass and brings it up to those lips that had been burgundy red at the start of the recording to drink. She closes her eyes, tosses her head back, and gags at the taste, but Hansol is far too lost.

…She had liked him? Then? Now? When?

“Confessions, confessions. Always coming up from these videos.” She is more of a natural in front of the camera, taking his hand and bringing it up in the air as per a champion from a boxing fight. She has won him over, if only if she knew. “We’ve got ourselves a winner. Give a round of applause for Zach Chwe, everyone!”

Hansol can’t even smile. He’s dumbfounded, staring at her profile and seeing her grin in such an easy going way. Though, the moment they say their goodbyes from the video, she pulls away from him, clearing her throat and looking at him as if she expects an answer. One that never comes and leaves him just to stand up, excuse himself out of the park and lock himself in the nearest bathroom.

Being the rebound is not what he wants, but God, would he be lying to himself if he didn’t accept he has liked her for longer than he’d want to admit.

Two months pass by. The first season becomes a success and still, not a word has been uttered about that episode. The subscribers’ favorite episode, but the forgotten episode for those who were involved.

No one asks questions when they come together for VidCon. It feels natural, actually. She doesn’t think she would have been able to just go on her own anymore. As some kind of way the world had planned it, Hansol feels like her counterpart in whatever this is right now. Friendship, work, whatever they have garnered together that people seem to love enough to have a panel for them, where they speak to fans and take pictures together. She notices then that she’s not the only person awestruck by Hansol’s beauty, even when that’s obvious at this point. He looks like a daydream in his black t-shirt, rounded glasses and skinny jeans, smiling in pictures and even joking around with fans.

Sometimes, she just looks at him from the side and blames him for it. For letting things slide so smoothly in between the two after that forbidden episode. He never said a word, neither did he try to clear her head with a kiss to her lips or even a strict ‘no’ that would have her moving on. It’s his fault for being likeable; for giving her a necklace with her initial as a celebration when their first season became a success. For him to receive her with a bowl of noodles for every recording they had each week. For him to tag her on stupid memes on Twitter, not giving a care what anyone could say.

The venue is packed and Hansol gets a little too lost on conversations with a fan that is talking about his beginnings as a gamer—that wasn’t really good to start with—when she feels someone tapping her on the shoulder. Her hips move from the edge of their table, where an enormous poster of the publicity image for the first season of their show spreads in the background, to turn around and respond to the subscriber that was trying to get her attention. Nonetheless, like a clashing thunder in a summer day, Jay stands there looking like the oddest thing she has seen in the past three months.

Because she’s not used to him anymore. Neither has she felt like she was truly comfortable with the idea of him. He’s a few heads taller than her, with his black hair pushed back and the sleeves of his shirt dragged up to showcase his tattoos. He’s smiling when he greets her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and hugging her briefly before he pulls away. They are lucky that is not peak hour and most people have scattered to look at the music presentation that was taking place.

“Jay?” She questions, only to have him smiling proudly, like he would do whenever he got recognized in public.

“The one and only. I had to pass by when I heard you were making it to this year’s convention.” His dark brown eyes splay across the poster behind them, trailing after every detail of the image of Hansol wrapping an arm around her shoulder, both smiling at the camera as they spread their hands in peace signs, smiling gleefully. “Haven’t watched a season of the show, but I might start. It’s fucking everywhere.”

She should not talk to him, but she scoffs at his words, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest to portray just how closed she is to him, but she doesn’t miss her sarcastic smile. Not an ounce of hate is within her chest anymore, but she recalls the wounds he opened just to make bigger ones. “…Mhm, it’s not the type of show you’d watch. Too much of a big brainer.”

“Oh, come on, you know I’m smarter than I look.”

For the way he plotted the entire internet against her, she knows for a fact Jay could very much be a lawyer or an astronaut if he wanted to. Misspells or not. “I’m certain. I’ve never doubted you’re a cunning, smart little shit.”

“I like that. Might make it my new motto.” Before Jay could venture into more of a conversation, her waist is grounded by a pair of thin arms wrapping around them. Soft skin connecting with her through the fabric of her pink hoodie has her looking back to see that Hansol is hugging her from behind, hiding his hands on the pockets of her hoodie and pressing his chin to her shoulder before whispering into her ear.

“We’ve got stuff to do, remember? Like organizing our things at the hotel and sign some posters for tomorrow…” He never rushes with those things, but at the presence of Jay, Hansol’s a bit more masculine and selfish with time. When she tries to answer him, far too lost in the beauty of him now that he has pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, pulling the strands of his hair back, his golden eyes have settled on Jay, not even sparing him a grin out of courtesy. “I’ll have to snatch her away from you.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Jay adds, aiming to hurt and taint, but Hansol doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls her by the strings of her hoodie, interlocking their hands together before speaking closely to her face.

“So, are we going?”

It’s not a doubt that she says ‘yes’. After all, if her heart had grown a bond for Hansol without him touching her that way, having a glimpse of what it could be like to be with him has her brain going feverish.

Hansol is certain about many things. That he likes the color green. He loves tie dye hoodies. That he would die in a beanie if he could. He enjoys weird scary shows, and he would marathon the entirety of Scream in a minute. He is also certain that he doesn’t want to talk to her, as they sit across from each other in his hotel room. Not just because, but for the matter that she was talking to the ex that had done anything in his willpower to push her to be absolutely nothing.

He sits on a brown leather couch, working diligently on signing posters while she has opted not to do so. For the past ten minutes, she has ventured into all the possible conversation topics in order to get him to look up, even smile, but while Hansol likes living his life in tranquility, he also has his angered moments. His blood felt like it had rushed to his knuckles from how tight he was holding them closed when he saw Jay. He couldn’t bear but admit to himself that, while he had opted not to think about her in that light, the idea of her going back to Jay and not with him infuriated him. Sure, she wasn’t his—neither was she anybody’s, for that matter—but if someone had to have her as the person by their side, it had to be him. Right?

Anyone but fucking Jay Lee.

But preferably him.

Yet, she knows how to get the world to look at her with eyes that had been rose-colored by her voice and eyes alone. After ten minutes, she knows that he won’t talk to her and when the beads of silence surround the cream-colored room, he almost imagines that she has left. Only that he gets to see her jean-cladded thighs standing in front of his knees, his eyes darting to her face for a fraction of a second until he sees her. The closeness, the little smile that splays in the corner of her mouth, and that wave to her eyebrows that tells him that she’s a bit confused, amused, but also a tad annoyed.

“Why are you angry at me? I haven’t done anything to get the silent treatment.” God, she’s one of the smartest women he has met. With the way she can think of matters in the spot and make a drawing on the screen the most interesting thing in the world. He knows her commentaries on movies are the most precise, intelligent words that could be said, and yet, he wishes she could wake up and realize that he has been here, all along, for three months and even a bit more, liking her like a complete fool. “Hansol, you either talk to me or you talk to me. I’m not giving you another option.”

“That man was…okay, I’ll talk to you.” Hansol stops himself when he hears just how mortified he sounds when he starts talking, putting the poster he was signing to the side, laying on the table next to him with the other pile of posters. Soon after, he’s spreading his hands on the armrest, leaning back on the couch. “Jay has done nothing but make your life an absolute hell and there you go, just being nice to him, letting him hug you and talk to you—”

“Hold up,” She interrupts him, spreading a hand on her waist. “If I just ignore him or treat him like shit, I’m giving him even more of a reason to talk. I’ll be the first to admit to say that the stuff Jay put me through wounded me in ways that will take more than a few months to work through, but I also don’t want to give him the benefit of being aware of how much he hurt me.”

Hansol can understand that, but he also knows what men like Jay think. He runs his fingers through his hair, groaning through half-parted lips. “He probably thinks he still has you on the palm of his hand.”

“He doesn’t.” She shrugs. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to see you with him. That is the problem.” Hansol says, standing up and staring at her, face-to-face. “I know you won’t go back to him but it makes me angry to think you ever thought of being with him. Not only doesn’t he match up with you on looks, but he never deserved you. You could put him on a pan and drop an entire bag of salt on him and Jay Lee would still be flavorless. The biggest mistake you could ever make, and the thought alone of him wanting to be with you—”

“I don’t want to be with him.”

“Yes, but…” You also don’t want to be with me, he completes for himself. Sure, she had once said she liked him, but what reassures him that it wasn’t just for the camera?

“You’re making a big deal out of it!”

“I fucking know!” He exclaims, widening his eyes.

“Then?”

“I will make everything that happens to you a big deal because I care for you. I’ve liked you for God-knows how long. Sorry for getting jealous, but I don’t regret it one—”

She interrupts him before he could say anything else, with her lips spreading across his, savoring the tremor of his mouth before he opens it to the granting touch of her tongue. His bottom lip fits between hers as if they were made for her, her hands gravitating to his waist and pulling him closer, though the fact that she was the one to make the first move did not stop Hansol from adding his own motions. His hands spread on the back of her neck, thumbs coming in contact on the column of her throat and dragging a sweet stripe down, rising goosebumps all over her skin. Hansol tilts his head to the side, a cloud of humidity building from the breath he lets out before kissing her lazily, albeit strongly, like he knows he doesn’t have to do much to do it right.

She would like to punch him, ask him why he never did anything when she confessed to liking him in that video, but Hansol has seated back on the chair, hands landing on her hips as he continues to kiss her, and her thighs part to settle comfortably on his lap. When she pulls away from him, lips tainted in that romantic shade of pink that he leaves everywhere he goes, she traces the outline of his mouth with a peck before she goes down to his neck, hiding in there for a second.

“You had me guessing for so long, Hansol. That’s what assholes do.”

Hansol’s hands rub at her hips, one of the portions she’s more insecure about, but with him it just feels right. “I don’t want to be your rebound.” He tells her, grabbing her by her chin before pushing their lips together once again. He keeps his eyes closed when he speaks against her mouth, just minutes after biting on her bottom lip. “Please, don’t let me be a rebound. If I am, stop me now.”

She’d be crazy to stop him. Not when his mouth looks like a rose petal and her heart feels the more at ease she has felt in a while. Sure, this is always the start of every romance. She knows that men feel comfortable before they destroy her heart even worse than the last time, but something tells her that this is not the case with Hansol. She closes her eyes, venturing into the shape of his mouth to trace it like the map she should have followed a long time ago.

For now, she’ll get lost in him, in the way he makes her feel like she’s the newest star in the sky and he’s drawing it himself. Calling her something that goes unnamed for now.

The word ‘for now’ is so funny. It prolongs in time, so much that three months turn into six, and then, an entire year.

She had said that Hansol’s idea was a ‘for now’. That him, as a person, was temporary as it gets, but the clock was making fun of her as she rushes to his car, holding onto the coldest coffee she could get at this hour of the morning. Some people feel comfortable, not because they are colored certain way or how they make you feel, but what you two make together. Blue and green are colors on their own, but together they make something different. The creation of new matters is what makes the world a little bit more interesting.

Hansol doesn’t enjoy mornings, not after a short night of sleep, and that may be her fault, but with the way he smiles at her when she opens the car’s door, she’s sure he has forgiven her. For how great they felt last night, she’s sure that there were no grudges held. A camera is pointed her way, though she knows that the second season of their show is still being published on her channel and, no way in hell, he would ever post the videos he takes of her. Little vlogs to remember what it was like here, now, forever. God, forever sounds amazing with Hansol.

“Here we have a whole coffee addict, making her way to my sick Porsche.”

“It’s a Toyota, Hansol. Sit the fuck down.” She completes, entering the car and pushing her hair over her shoulder, leaning over the seat to let him taste the coffee. That makes the camera a little too close to her face, laughing and pushing it to the side the slightest. “I’m sure I don’t look that good in that angle.”

“You don’t, but real love will make me say you do.” He completes, sipping a few more times into her coffee before giving it back to her. He has the hood of his shirt all the way over his dark hair, turning off the camera and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he starts the car.

Talking about their relationship in public was forbidden, for she doesn’t want to blur the line in between the faux relationship and what became real. In fact, it happened with its bumps along the road. She can’t say that everything has been easy, that sometimes her nightmares don’t wake her up with the idea of Hansol leaving one day, or not precisely leaving her, but stomping on her heart before he flees away, but that idea alone is pushed away with a served kiss and a few words that save her from doubting. Hansol is not much of a talker and yet, when he opens those lips of his, he always seems to say the right thing.

So, while the subscribers have never gotten a real video of them admitting to their relationship, it’s almost public notice. She sips on her drink, looking at his profile and the tranquility of him before asking.

“So, I saw a Tweet not too long ago. As I was waiting for coffee, actually.”

“From who?” His voice grows serious, expecting to hear anything from Jay or anyone else on the internet, but she calms him down by interlocking their fingers together, tracing the small promise ring on his finger with her thumb.

“From a subscriber that wanted to point out our supposed beginnings.” She likes looking at those conspiracies from time to time. They are so ridiculous that she can’t help but be amused by how close and obsessed people can get from someone they saw on the internet. Well, as long as it’s kept like a good momentum on someone’s life, and they know not to blur the line, she’s sure it’s okay. “The first picture you liked of me was on April 18th, three years ago. It was a picture of me on my desk, looking down at my I-Pad as I drew, working on my next video.”

Hansol twists his head to the side, laughing to himself a bit before nodding. “I remember that picture.”

“You do?”

“I do.” He looks at her for a fraction of a second before bringing their interlocked hands up, giving it a soft kiss. “Your hair was shorter then. Way shorter. I thought you were pretty.”

“Sometimes, I wish I had met you earlier.”

“Huh, earlier wasn’t our time, I guess.” Hansol responds, letting go of her hand to grab her coffee.

Holding her breath, she looks at his sleepy profile. At him as a person. It has been so long and yet, the words don’t weight on her mouth when she opts to mumble it for the first time:

“I love you, Hansol.”

His eyes twinkle when she says those words, spreading a smile into his face that show all his teeth before he gnaws at his bottom lip.

“I love you, too.”

#vernon scenarios #vernon x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #kpop scenarios #seventeen #vernon #writing #vernon au #vernon fluff #vernon angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen au

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starsandhughes · 6 months

Text

Penalty Box Series— Trevor Zegras Edition (Eight)

23-24 Season Masterlist

previous: seven

next: nine

this is so short i’m sorry! i’m still playing catch up

NOVEMBER 1, 2023

yourusername

liked by tterry19, trevorzegras, and 19,723 others

yourusername welcome back to my postgame penalty box update show: my boyfriend might be moving into the penalty box edition!

after sitting for part of leason's penalty in the first (because my mans is the default criminal), trevor got his own penalty bestowed to him for slashing travis dermott in the third! my poor baby didn't even know he did it :( but alas, he did the crime, and he did the time

scared of watching a game loss? never fear! the duckies are here! my boys got their fifth straight win tonight in overtime against the coyotes! the best part about this? MY DAD, TROY TERRY, SCORED HIS SECOND CAREER HAT TRICK TONIGHT! it was completed in overtime where he scored the game winning goal after scoring the first two, and he's the first duck EVER to score a hat trick in overtime! i’m so proud of you, dad! i love you! @/tterry19

AND FRANKIE! FRANKIE TANKIE! THANK YOU FOR FIGHTING! YOU SINGLE HANDEDLY BECAME MY GOD FOR THE NIGHT! MWAH! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! STAY CRAZY!

and to my sweet boy, i'm sorry you've got a pointless drought, but you're playing great! it's the beginning of the season, you'll pop off soon enough! i love you, always🧡

p.s. LEO, MY SON! YOU BROUGHT US INTO OVERTIME AND I'M SO PROUD OF YOU FOR THAT! I LOVE YOU!

tagged trevorzegras and frank_vatrano

view all 133 comments

trevorzegras i love you, forever, my favorite personal cheerleader🧡

yourusername coachy cro doesn't call me the ducks's human mascot for nothing! but i’ll always be your cheerleader first🫶

trevorzegras aww, you sap

yourusername for you? always

trevorzegras that's three times you've said always! that's a love hatty

yourusername i'd call something different a love hatty, but i’ll take it! go me!

trevorzegras you're thinking of a horny hatty

yourusername ah yes, how could i get them confused?

trevorzegras silly girl!

jamie.drysdale oh my god make it stop

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale jealous much?

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale green is not a good color on you

jamie.drysdale i quit

yourusername maybe the twins will split into three and we can have a baby hatty!

trevorzegras that's so many babies

yourusername and we would love them all!

trevorzegras yes we would, sweet girl

jamie.drysdale oh so NOW you decide to be cute

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale we have depth

user7 okay but that fight was hot as fuck and suddenly... i’m on my knees for vatrano

user33 DEFAULT CRIMINAL HA

_quinnhughes how does it feel to be below me on the penalty totem pole, zegras?

trevorzegras you're at two games

_quinnhughes and you have 8 penalty minutes 10 games into the season

yourusername laideez, laideez, save the animosity for november 28th!

trevorzegras @/yourusername you have a "we can't fuck with each other" rule

_quinnhughes @/yourusername you're sending mixed signals, sissy

yourusername @/trevorzegras @_quinnhughes trip him

trevorzegras @/yourusername who was that for??

yourusername @/trevorzegras yes

user6 "my poor baby didn't even know he crimed" and it's not even the first time😭

yourusername @/trevorzegras yeah, BABE! don't touch kivi's stick!! and apparently don't do that other thing!!

trevorzegras @/yourusername IT DIDN'T USED TO BE A RULE

yourusername @/trevorzegras SO YOU SHOULD'VE TESTED IT OUT AGAINST NOT THE STARS

trevorzegras @/yourusername you're right, i’m sorry

user39 i need to know what vatrano and durzi were saying to get z's jaw to drop

jamie.drysdale our boy is trying to defenseman that's why he's not rallying up those points obviously

yourusername damn and i thought he was trying to become a goalie

jamie.drysdale you're not very observant, my ex dear

yourusername bite me, my ex husband

yourusername psa to everyone: I'M WITH HIM AND HE ACTUALLY BIT ME

jamie.drysdale psa to everyone: she bit me back and whacked me

yourusername psa to everyone: i also bit mason just for funzies

masonmctavish23 i gotta stop hanging out with you three after games

yourusername @/masonmctavish23 but then you'd be lame

jamie.drysdale @/masonmctavish23 don't be lame

masonmctavish23 is this a cult? it feel like a cult

trevorzegras @/masonmctavish probably

user20 the ducks: ceo of comebacks this season

leocarlssoon i love you, too, mom! i scored just for you!

yourusername you're such a good son🧡

trevorzegras it wasn't for... ya know... the team?

yourusername @/trevorzegras not everything is about you, trevor

leocarlssoon @/trevorzegras shhh what she doesn't know won't hurt her

trevorzegras @/leocarlssoon you really are a good son!

user16 BEAUTIFUL, ANXIETY INDUCING, GAME!

tterry19 thank you! i love you, too

yourusername AHHHHHHH

trevorzegras and she means that

tterry19 you crazy, kids😂

jackhughes @/trevorzegras this isn't very sissy's fiancé of you

trevorzegras listen, i'm trying

yourusername he's making passes!! the other guys just aren't scoring either!!

jackhughes @/trevorzegras do you always make your girl fight your battles?

trevorzegras @/jackhughes i’ve seen you jump over the couch screaming because she started lunging at you

jackhughes @/trevorzegras unimportant

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes we used to call her scary sissy

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 also unimportant

yourusername @/jackhughes don't get all cocky just because i’m pregnant and can't jump you. i remember everything. i have other ways to attack you.

jackhughes @/yourusername please don't

trevorzegras @/yourusername that's my girl!

user44 sissy is feeling a lil ratty tonight i see

frank_vatrano your god for tonight?😂 i'll accept that! i love you, too!

yourusername as you should!

trevorzegras @/yourusername i can't believe you're hoeing stromer like this

yourusername @/trevorzegras he's my HERO not my god! i can't believe you think i’d do that to my stromer

frank_vatrano @/yourusername then who's normally your god?

yourusername @/frank_vatrano me

frank_vatrano @/yourusername that's taking god complex to a whole new level

trevorzegras @/frank_vatrano she is next level

yourusername @/trevorzegras SIMP

trevorzegras @/yourusername for you? forever🧡

#penalty box series #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras fanfic #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras au #trevor zegras insta edit #quinn hughes #jack hughes #jamie drysdale #luke hughes #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #jamie drysdale imagine #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #mason mctavish

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rainbowmothed · 3 months

Text

a collection of angsty quotes that reminded me of vaggie. inspired by @ lookinginsidemymind on tiktok.

“i think i was born to sting,”

but i don't mean to.”

“im not a violent dog. i dont know why i bite”

“how the absence of someone can feel like the absence of myself.”

“wish you were here. you could tell me what to do.”

“i am angry, i am unlovable. i am mostly afraid those things are true.”

“please stop yelling at me please scratch my back please stick up for me in a conversation i am listening to from the top of the stairs. you are my girlfriend, act like it”

“i wear the army's anger like a hand-me-down. the hotel says it does not look good on me”

“i do not know how to love something without sinking my teeth into it”

“i am the girl screaming. i am also the girl begging to not be screamed at.”

“what if i become angry like my past self. what if i already have?”

“i would do anything to become someone worth keeping around”

“why are you running away?”

“i must search every corner of the world to search for the girl i once was. to get rid of her, once and for all”

“i am so adam's top girl it hurts. can you tell?”

“i love you.”

“sometimes, i think love and violence are the same”

“if my past was a tooth, id tie a string around it and slam the door on those memories.”

“but it is not. i cannot.”

“i am flying way too close to the sun and id like to say the heat burning my skin makes me feel alive but i really just want the blisters to prove ive been hurt”

“i am messy. everything i let go of has claw marks. i am stubborn. i have never met a hill i wouldn't die on”

“i've been holding onto this grief so long it feels as familiar as the turns into my neighborhood when i've fallen asleep in the car.”

“i want to wake up now. i want to let it go”

“how could i forget? does the tree forget the axe?”

“i stuffed myself into this cocoon. now i beg for transformation”

“thank you for putting flowers in my messy room im sorry for making you mad at me i didn't mean to but unfortunately there's something wrong with me”

“im trying my best im trying my best that's all i can do”

“sometimes this girl's best is judging everyone else to distract herself from the fact that she hates herself more than she could ever hate anything else”

“i love like a dog. not in the cute, fluffy way; in the discarded, disgusting mutt way. i whine for any scraps of affection i am given”

“sometimes, you are so accustomed to hate you cannot fathom love. you reject it.”

“i don't think my creator knows my favorite color. or my birthday.”

“i wish i could look at myself in the mirror without crying”

“i love you with what in me is unfinished; i love you with what in me is still changing”

“someday i will sail away from the shame i carry. for now, i am merely a passenger”

“you're holding onto something that doesn't exist anymore”

“unclench your fists.”

“this grief isnt tangible but oh god how i can feel it”

“this is an automated message, please don't reply. we are calling in regard to your father”

“we mean your creator. we mean the man that raised you. we mean the man that said he raised you.”

“sorry, we dont know what we mean, because you don't know what we mean”

“we apologize for any miswording. we apologize the way they will never apologize. when will you accept that?”

“sometimes i dont want to get better just to show you how bad it was”

“i am afraid that if i open myself i will not be able to stop pouring. why do i fear becoming a river? what mountain gave me such shame?”

“you keep asking if i would die for you. i keep asking why you want me dead”

“good enough to grab. they always put me back, though. 🐟”

“im sorry for saying sorry”

#vaggie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin angst #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #hellaverse #lesbian #chaggie #chaggie angst??#fallenwings #lute x vaggie but they're exes #vaggie angst #sad thoughts #poetry #hazbin poetry #moth's hazbin poetry

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passivenovember · 9 months

Text

"Hey, isn't that Steve?"

Billy almost drops the vase in hand. It's about a hundred and thirty fucking degrees out anyway and it's not even noon so his palms are tiny oil slicks, but he's done good, so far.

He's been careful. Happy to finally unveil his fall collection to the hundreds of Instagram follower's who've been on his ass since July--

But Heather opens her mouth and says, "Shit, Bill, I think that is Steve," peering over Billy's shoulder with these comically large brown eyes, and usually it would be kinda funny.

But the thing is, Heather's working his last fucking never in the way only a best friend can.

She had to be dragged out of their apartment this morning, kicking and screaming until Billy forked out ten bucks to get a starbucks coffee in her even though they already agreed to split today's profits 90/10 because he needed help with the maker's fair.

Billy didn't even get a coffee himself, they were running so late, and by the time the Camaro screeched down Millwork street, kicking up a cloud of dust as Billy frantically searched for the vendor entrance, it was almost 10:00 am. The bitchy volunteer at the gate almost refused to give him the tent he shelled out $200 for because check-in was at 8:00 am and it's almost 10:00, now.

Like Billy can't tell time. So.

He's not in the mood for games or jokes or teasing. Really not in the mood, like. He might drop the cashier lock box in Heather's hands and vanish, all, take your 10% and shove it in your ass, not in the mood.

But Heather trips around the folding table, dropping Billy's favorite plaid table linen in the dirt to clutch and grab at his shoulder like a scared kid.

"Heather," Billy snaps, stooping to save it from the dust with his free hand, "Holloway, I swear to fucking God--"

"Look," Heather spats. Her nails dig into his armpit when she spins him around, and.

Steve's there.

Huh.

He's wearing a volunteer t-shirt. And a fanny pack. And his extra-strength 50 SPF sunscreen hasn't been rubbed into his cheeks all the way so they look like sugar glazed apples where he sits in his little folding chair, two tents over at Robin's candle booth. Laughing.

And. Billy hasn't heard that laugh in what feels like a lifetime.

His bones ache with it, rebuilding around the loss he never really processed but has grown to ignore out of survival's sake. Steve's laugh, it. It's Billy's favorite sound in the entire world.

They haven't spoken in three months.

Not since Steve was inside of him, pumping slow and hard with his hands behind Billy's knees, folding him in half as he mouthed sweetness into Billy's throat.

You're so beautiful, tongue lavish against Billy's fluttering heartbeat, You're mine, baby. I want you to be mine. I love--

Behind them, Milk & Marigold's assistant drops something heavy and it shatters. Hundreds of eyes turn in their direction, dozens of frazzled vendors and their teams alarmed at the sudden stillness, and.

Robin, who grins widely at Heather, and. Steve. Locking eyes with Billy as all the color drains from his face.

"Holy shit," Heather's nails press deeper into Billy's arm, somehow, and Billy thinks, distantly, that she might draw blood.

He doesn't care.

Steve's looking at him. For the first time in months, the world is right and Billy can breathe again and about a trillion and thirty things rush through head, rapid firing so he doesn't have the mental space to register the way plot seventeen aches to topple to the parking-lot under foot.

Somewhere, back on Earth, Milk & Marigold's assistant gets his ass handed to him for being so reckless, and slowly. Shyly. Steve lifts a hand and waves.

Billy's going to drop plot seventeen. He grips its amber neck, instead, carless of the rippling clay under his fingertips. "Very funny," Billy says, turning on his heel. He sticks the vase between plots sixteen and eighteen, his jaw so tense it could hack and slash the sky. "I can't believe this. This is such a fucking joke--"

"--Shit--"

"--I can't believe I thought I wouldn't see him here, I mean. Robin's got a business too, right? A side hustle?"

"Candles, or something. Yeah."

"Of course she'd be here. And if she's here then. Fuck, I should've thought about this more," Billy says, tugging all ten fingers through his hair, "God, I should've just launched the fall collection online, like a normal--"

"Billy?"

Billy stands ramrod straight. All the air rushes from his lungs, his hair standing on end as if the tent overhead has grown lips and is talking to Billy in his father's voice.

It's not that.

Steve could never be that because he's better. Holy.

Steve's so much more real, up close. His hair is longer than the last time Billy saw him, his cheeks and jaw dusted with a prickly 5'oclock that gives way to a mustache up top.

It's incredibly sexy.

Billy hates it, on site, because Steve's moles are hidden like a secret. A sun-ripe memory of the first thing Billy ever loved about him.

"Wow. I didn't think I'd see you here, today," Steve says. His eyes hunt over Billy's face, warm and familiar and so, so soft despite all the shit that Billy said the last time they saw each other.

It hangs in the air, stuck like a wedge between them.

"Billy," Steve says again, soft and full of wonder and ready to scale the enormity of their past. Billy forgot how his name holds weight, when Steve says it. Extra syllables and consonants, worth their stake in gold.

Billy clears his throat. Longs for a glass of water, "Hey," He says, when really he means, I'm sorry, and, please never go away again. I'm a bad man and I was afraid but if you give me another chance, I promise I won't push you away, because I love--

Heather clears her throat.

Billy jerks his head in her direction, dizzy as the world fades back into focus. "Sorry," He says, weary, "I'm an asshole. Steve, this is--"

"Heather," Steve shakes her hand, smile gorgeous and winning, "I know, we met, I think. Once or twice when I was on my way out of the apartment."

Billy's going to pass out.

He's dizzy and sick to his stomach, and then. Steve looks at him, and his gaze settles like a warm, solid weight over Billy so he can't float away. "It's a nice apartment," Steve says shyly, "Felt like home."

Billy wasn't expecting this. To see Steve, let alone talk about the apartment, and--

"Billy," Heather says, clapping her hands together once, "How about I go and see if Robin has any extra tent weights?"

"Sure," Billy says, and Steve smiles at him, and then Billy smiles because Steve's always had that effect on people.

Heather scampers off and Steve shrugs, his hands slipping into his pockets. "You look good," Steve says.

Billy's palms are sweating. "So do you."

"Thanks. I feel like shit. I didn't realize you'd be here, even though I could've guessed, if I had a moment to rest with my own thoughts. Robin's working on her fall collection--"

"--Right--"

"--and I guess you are, too. Well," Steve tugs a hand through his hair and it poofs up big like fresh whipped cream, and Billy has missed him so desperately that his ribs rack and break, "That's a lie. I don't have to guess. I know for a fact you're fixing to launch your fall collection."

Billy frowns, "How do you know that?"

"I follow you on Instagram," Steve says, like he's expecting to get told off.

But.

It does something, to the atmosphere. Shifts things. Billy thought he'd blocked Steve on everything, after the first drunken voicemail, but.

Apparently not.

"Yeah, well. The suburban moms love my shit," Billy crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly freezing.

Steve's gaze gets caught on the swell of Billy's arms. "Billy," He starts.

"Look, it's almost noon," Billy says, heartbroken.

Steve doesn't seem to get it. But then his eyes get big and watery, like Heathers, and Billy wants to wrap him in a blanket. "Right," Steve says, "Market's opening soon."

"Right."

"Sorry, I know you still have to set up."

"No sweat."

"Look, Billy--"

"It was good to see you, Steve."

It presses down on them. Everything.

Steve's eyes close like doors. "Sure," He says, and then he's gone.

Apparently, word gets around for events like this.

For the first few hours Billy doesn't have time to mull over his interaction with Steve, because they're slammed with wave after wave of eager Saturday Morning buyers.

Billy's feet ache by noon as Heather works the cash box and he makes laps around the tent, restocking and catching up with repeat buyers.

The event volunteers swing by every thirty minutes or so to make sure they have everything they need, dropping off bottled water and drink tickets, and by two Billy's happy he won't be going home with a trunk full of merchandise.

He counts the cash box, whooping when he realizes that their 90/10 won't shake out too badly. "We did pretty damn good, Heath, and it's only 2:00."

Heather's already used her drink tickets on a couple of Bloody Mary's. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"I heard there's a fried hotdog thing on a stick down by the food trucks," Heather says, and she giggles like any sort of weenie could pique her interest. "That doesn't sound good to you?"

"Eh," Billy says, leaning back in his chair, "I've been trying this intermittent fasting thing. I eat a big fuckin' breakfast of mostly protein, and then a light lunch around 3:00, and a small dinner--"

"That's so fucking stupid."

Billy frowns, "Gotta keep in shape."

"For who?" Heather demands. "It's not like you're whoring yourself out anymore, and you're not gonna let one of your old flings back into the apartment., much less your heart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Heather's cheeks are red, as if she's been sitting in the sun all morning. Billy knows her well enough to get that she probably doesn't mean any harm by it, but her words sting, anyway.

"There are other guys in New York, Heather."

"You don't want to get to know other guys, Billy."

"Bullshit. I know you're a nosy lesbian with too much attitude wedged in her a-cup bra to notice, but some of us aren't looking for love. Some of us would rather fuck random losers."

"That's so not you."

"It's a good distraction. I could use one of those."

"It's kinda hilarious," Heather rolls her eyes, "Even you don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about protecting people."

"People like Steve?"

Billy snaps the cash box shut. "You're so bad at conversation Segway's."

"Fuck you, I'm really clever and stealthy."

"Did you talk to Robin about this," Billy demands, watching slack-jawed and furious as pink floods Heather's cheeks. "My thing with Steve isn't any of your business, and it's not interesting enough to warrant all your fucking medaling."

"I just think--"

"I don't care what you think."

"Why would you react like that when you saw each other?" Heather sits flush to the edge of her lawn chair, shoulders squared for a fight. "If what happened between you meant nothing and you'd really rather skip the greasy market-food for some imaginary sex pot you can blow and dump on Cornelia Street the second you're through with him, why would your heart stop beating when--"

Billy shakes his head. "I don't care what you and Robin have to say, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a piece of shit, alright?" Billy snaps. "What happened with Steve, it. It was inevitable, okay? He said he loved me, and I loved him and I still do but that doesn't fucking matter because he's Steve and I'm Billy and I could never be half good enough, alright? Happy?"

When Heather doesn't say anything, Billy shoves back from the table.

"Where are you going?" Heather asks, voice small and awful.

"I'm having my two drinks," Billy says, padding quickly onto the already crowded street.

As far as Billy's concerned, calories don't exist when it comes to alcohol.

He finds the nearest bar cart and orders two shots of dark liquor, even though it usually makes his stomach go on strike, and shells out seven dollars of his own single-person salary for a French 75.

Then he starts walking.

And walking.

At another bar cart, Billy can't stop thinking about the first time he ever saw Steve, pulsing like a brand new heart under club lights, pretty with the kind of looks that made Billy mentally ill. So he shells out another $20 on a girly pink drink with a paper mâché umbrella.

It tastes like strawberries and Steve used to taste like strawberries in the summertime. Billy can't remember what he was so upset about, before.

He feels good. In control.

But then he gets lost somewhere near Broadway and just as he figures out how to get back to his tent, where Heater is likely up to her eyeballs in impatient customers and guilt about being endlessly right in all things, Billy spots Steve balancing a funnel cake on one arm.

His nose is red. Strawberry dappled, which means he's drunk, and he's got a cup of pale ale pinched between his teeth as he figures out how to hold his market load.

The only problem is, Steve's gorgeous and so, so fucking stupid he can't figure out that he's got two hands.

It makes Billy's heartache, thumping a little harder to the left, and he can't remember why he ever left Steve rumpled in a hotel room that night, half-hard and brokenhearted, so Billy takes the rest of his drink like a shooter, and marches up to Steve and says, "You really should be locked up somewhere."

It's meant to hurt. And bruise.

But Steve's whole face lights up and he drops the ale down the front of his volunteer shirt. "Billy," he says, sounding way too bright and happy. Soaked through.

"Shit, your uniform--"

"It's okay, thing's almost over anyway."

"Stop being so nice."

"Okay," Steve says easily, "You're an asshole, and you broke my heart, and now I'm all wet."

"Well, since we're being honest."

Steve frowns. "I dreamed about seeing you again, you know? How you'd. Have too many drinks and look at me and say you haven't been able to get it up since we split.

"I can always get it up," Billy tires flatly, and Steve smirks. It's small and barely there, but. Billy swallows thickly, "I am an asshole. You're right. A drunk asshole."

"Me too. I know."

"I was worried about hurting you," Billy admits in a rush, "I didn't want to disappoint you. I thought I wasn't ready for what we had to be more than just sex, but it already was."

"--Okay--"

"I never bottomed before," Billy blurts out. "I can get it up. You make me pop too quick, you're just. You're perfect and you're kind. You're every wet dream I ever had rolled into one, Steve." The sidewalk is waving, a little. Steve looks like he wants to touch Billy, to reach out and steady him, but he's already holding a funnel cake.

Steve nods.

Encouraging and soft and kind as ever, and Billy's never felt safe with anyone, like this. So, Billy says, choking a little, "I never let another person touch me, like that. My body or anything else. I never did. You're so good, Steve. So I let you touch me and it changed me and I don't know how to be anything else than a drunk, whining asshole. But we happened and I never ached for it before, it fucking. Knocked me on my ass, Steve. You came in and you knocked me on my ass, and--"

"Billy--"

"God, I love it when you say my name," Billy says. He wonders, distantly, what kind of mojo they put in that girly little cocktail because he can't stop talking.

Steve doesn't seem to mind, but he says, "You really hurt me," Picking at the golden crisp of his funnel cake. "Seriously, Bill, I didn't think I was gonna survive it."

Billy's knees almost give out, he's. Hot all over. Burning up with feverish grief. "I'm sorry," he says. He's a hole in the center of the universe.

"I know."

"I was afraid."

"I get that," Steve says. He shuffled the funnel cake in his hands, and Billy wonders how the bottom's not soggy yet, damaged and ready to fall out. Steve puts it on the ground. "Shit's gross."

"Yeah."

"Do you wanna," Steve says, frowning, "We could walk. And talk about it, more."

"Sure."

"I'm not saying we can get back together yet--"

"--Yet--"

"I missed you," Steve says, and he's bright as the sun.

Billy's been freezing to death his whole life, so. He draws close. Takes Steve's hand, "I missed you, too," He says. "Maybe we should get you a dry shirt?"

#harringrove #guys this truly is just word vomit #anyway!#hope you liked it lol #because i didn't do any editing #lol #love ya!

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