#there i go posting an AU piece before the other AU piece i expected to do first

[etfrin]

⤷❝ The Quiet Gift | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | squirting, Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, possessiveness, fingering (f. receiving), bathroom sex, mirror sex, semi-public sex (there was a gala), pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), dumbfication if you squint, dom sub undertones, degradation, ownership kink, breath play with a twist | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: continuation of the arranged marriage au, this is your one year anniversary with him with a gala held in place to celebrate, you get insecure because of some bitches and Coryo fucks you in the bathroom with sprinkles of your daily life with him.

⇢☾Request: this is a request (idk if i’m writing it in the write place im new to tumblr i usually use wattpad) young coriolanus snow bathroom mirror sex like him making u watch ur self come undone in the mirror

⇢☾A/N: enjoy everyone! And to one who requested, hope you like this! :) this might be my last post of this theme btw, i am getting sick of the blue :/

arranged marriage au: the study, mine to love

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

A year had passed of your marriage, a bond between two souls which wasn't much of a lie as before. Things with Coryo were better than you could ever expect. You thought he would isolate himself from you after your confession but so much had changed. He had gotten softer but more possessive. His edges are sharp yet he makes sure it's a shield for you, not something that would make you bleed.

Among his actions include changing your entire wardrobe (not without your opinion first), a library that connects to his office (his office is something you have access to at all times now), his room was now yours both (your favorite change), and last but not least a poison taster was included so that no attempts of assassination at the First Lady could be taken.

At first, you thought it to be extra, but knowing that it would put his paranoid mind at peace you allow it without much to say. He picked out your outfit every day, and sometimes you did the same for Coriolanus. He would frown as you decide what to wear or not for him for the day, knowing that some of the pieces don't match his style but when he sees your smile as you pick out the clothes. He smooths his frown and takes whatever horrible fashion statement you created for him and wears it with pride.

If anyone dared to speak up about it, he proudly said that his wife picked it out and everyone knew better than to speak a single ill word of the unspoken Queen of Panem.

Today was one of those days when you decided to pick his outfit. Today was something special after all. One year had passed since you had become Mrs. Snow, and a gala was to be held tonight to celebrate the union.

So yes, you were going to pick his outfit. You had even woken up early because of it. You giggled as you opened your eyes, your arm around Coryo whose hair looked impossibly messy, sticking out everywhere. It made him look years younger than he was. You chuckled at the sight, your heart clenching with the love you have for this man. You lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. You whispered, not expecting him to wake up until his alarm rang, “Good morning, Coryo”

You quietly slipped away from the bed and tiptoeed to the closet. The closet you both shared now. One side carrying every single piece of your clothing and the other side his. You wanted to pick out something different for your husband once, sick of seeing him in his white shirts and black vest. That's how you picked out a black suit with a white vest and a red silk shirt. You could imagine unbuttoning this off of him tonight and the thought made your body heat up and a giggle escaped your lips.

“What are you laughing about, doll?” A voice, his deep sleepy voice startling you. “Nothing!” You quickly said, turning to look at Snow, your breath hitching as his eyes were half closed and his hair turned into a mess of curls. Sometimes you wonder if this was all a fever dream and if you truly have the privilege of seeing him like this. You placed the clothes into a corner and went to him.

You pulled him down, your hand on his nape and another on his cheek as you guided him to your lips. Morning breath be damned. His actions were reflexive with how his arms pulled you in closer as his lips pressed into yours. He smiles against your lips and soon both of your tongues tangle in an uncoordinated sleepy manner and you whimper into his mouth.

This was real. This was your reality and you would do everything to keep it as it is. You pulled back and he whispered, “What was that for, doll?”

“Just needed to make sure this was real,” you answered him. Your words make him crack a real smile, something even you saw rarely and it would only be possible in moments like this. Moments when you have shocked the man with your actions and words and made him fall harder for you.

“Well it is,” he grins. Before his expression clears up he focuses on the clothes you have set aside. “Outfit for today?” He asked. You nod and smile at him, gesturing at the clothes. “You would look handsome in them,” you said. “Don't I always look handsome?” He smirks, you laugh, “I am not falling for that trap, dear husband. I'll be in the shower, choose something for me.” You press a kiss on his cheek before leaving the closet.

After showering and wearing the red dress he had decided, both of you go on for your respective duties. The gala would start early in the day and there were a few hours left before it formally started as guests were already coming in.

The mansion was set up beautifully, no words could have possibly explained the amount of work and dedication to make this the event of the year, valued higher than the Hunger Games itself. In another universe, it may not have been possible, in this one however you somehow managed to crack into his heart and made yourself a higher priority.

You were doing finishing touches of your makeup when Corio came in, his hair slicked back but his body tense, his eyes unable to hide the shakiness in them. You don't say anything, letting the man have his moment of vulnerability. You knew you would mess him up even more if you pointed it out, so you continued your task.

You didn't pay him any attention despite the itch to turn to him. You force yourself to stare straight into the mirror, applying your lipstick for the night. That was until he came behind you, his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest, his head propped on your shoulder as you felt him take deep breaths.

You don't ask if anything is wrong, accepting the rare form of intimacy he initiated. Usually, you're the ones for the hugs, the genuine ones anyway. You knew despite everything you were like a math equation to Snow. His mind figured out the formulas to keep you to him forever, you doubted if he saw anyone as his equal but you were perhaps the closest thing to it.

You had accepted it long before, but moments like this when Coriolanus allowed himself to be a human meant everything to you. You fell for every version of him, the one that is an untouchable deity who could kill you without guilt, and the human he was, obsession filling in veins making you the sole objective of his mind as he already achieved Panem.

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths with him. In the end, you were human too and you broke. “What's wrong?” You asked, as softly as possible yet breaking the bubble that had formed.

He smirks through the mirror, his eyes meeting yours, a sense of superiority in the blue hues. “Nothing’s wrong, my doll,” he whispered to you, pressing a ghost-like kiss to your bare shoulder. His arms cage you tighter, making a small gasp on your lips. “Okay,” you smile at him.

“Ready to start the gala then?” You asked, “Snows are born ready,” he replied, his tone smug.

One of his arms was kept wrapped around his waist while the other opened a drawer to take out a small box. “For you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your neck. You opened the box, and in it was a gold necklace with the initial ‘S’. You blush, and leave it to Corio to give you a necklace with his initials for an anniversary gift. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your head turning back and you gave him the brightest smile. “Help me wear it?” You mumbled as you handed him the box.

And so he did, and now a necklace was on your neck, the letter ‘S’ sitting perfectly on your skin. It scratched an innate itch for Snow to see you wear this. A part of him had expected you to fight, and be disgusted by this action, his mind thinking of several ways to make (force) you to wear the necklace. But as always you surprised him with your acceptance, as if you knew that wearing this would help him with his possessiveness. You were truly the right woman for him.

With his arm around your waist, you walk into the celebration. Countless people, the top elites of the Capitol were attending the gala. Everything had to be perfect.

Alas, fate is nothing but fickle.

The rumors didn't catch your ears at first before slowly the whispers caught up to you. Too busy with your life in the mansion and with Coriolanus, you rarely were social. You never had many friends from the capitols' elites. And those who knew were merely allies for the future. So the gossip never reached your ears.

Gossip you knew better to believe. Words change when they travel mouth to mouth. It can be easily manipulated too, your husband was a living proof of that. The snake tongue of all of Panem. But when the words seemed to get louder and louder, you couldn't help but feel maybe it's tinged with truth.

Snow was busy talking to diplomats while you were politely having a conversation with the ladies. That's when the questions began about some things they had heard about Snow. Each worse than the other but nothing you didn't already know. You make sure to change their perspective whenever something new comes up. Coriolanus was still new at this position, anything could snatch the power away if either of you weren't careful.

Feeling like you have finished the job, you begin to move away, only to stop when you hear, “...even wearing a pendant with his initial, she's nothing more than a whore who was pushed up to play the role of the First Lady. A woman of her standing would never deserve such a title.”

It was true, when Snow asked you to marry you, it was sudden and he gained nothing from it. Nothing, no money, power, and just a few connections you had but he had already impressed them all beforehand so there was no need for you. Your history in the academy wasn't all that great either, you were never the best but wholly average. A man like Snow deserved the best.

Insecurity claws at your heart and even so with recent events you knew their words were wrong. Tears burned your eyes. Your hand goes to the necklace you had on, your fingers twirling the pendant. Meanwhile, despite Coriolanus' focus being mainly on talking sweet to the guests and gathering sponsors, his eyes were on you, your every moment, and each person you spoke to. He notices you walking away from the gala and into the hallways. He followed you.

You were in one of the many bathrooms the manor had to offer. You stared at the mirror, the necklace you were wearing, and your hands traveled to the back ready to take it off. That's when Coriolanus enters the bathroom, his footsteps stopping midtrack as you freeze too.

“Coryo,” you begin to speak, your hand at your side now. “I was just-” “Why were you going to take it off?” He interrupted you, his face twisted in a glare you never thought would be directed at you. You shrugged, trying to play casual, “It doesn't feel appropriate.” “Why?” He questioned his tone icy calm, spreading chills down your spine. “Because-” because you didn't feel worthy of it. “Because you're ashamed of me,” he scoffs, walking closer to you. His eyes now fully glaring at you.

You frown, “What? Coryo, no-” He tilts your chin up, as he leans in, his expression twisted in fury, “Then what? There's no other appropriate reason for you to take it off then.” In truth, something was getting lost in translation, the women you were talking to earlier were going to be accused of treason in a few days. The cause? The rumors (some truth mixed in as well) they had spread about Snow. They were invited out of courtesy and after this, they had signed their death certificate.

“It's nothing like-” “Then what?” He hissed, “Did you finally come to your senses? Did they tell you how much of a horrible monster I am? And a horrible president?” You knew some sort of major miscommunication had happened but you had no idea how to deal with it. Not when Snow pressed a harsh, hard kiss to your lips, teeth clashing and his tongue seemingly fighting with yours for dominance that you easily gave over.

“You can't escape me, doll. No matter how horrible you realize I am. Think about running away and it's your dead body that will be leaving this mansion.” he whispered against your lips, his hands on your waist, your body flushed against his as your back hit the counter.

You chuckled at his words, knowing that would never be your end. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and it makes you giggle even further. “Dove, I am not joking,” he said, looking straight in your eyes. “I know,” you smile at him, “You…” you shake your head, smiling, you were surely crazier than him. You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Those women said something… mean and it made me realize I may not be worthy of this necklace…” you begin to explain, hoping the explanation would calm him down.

You thought wrong. “You don't think I can decide who deserves to be my property, pet. Whom I let to be my queen,” he said, his tone deeper than before. He whispered, “I decided it's you. It's been a year since that decision and I haven't regretted it once.”

He manovaroued you so you were facing the mirror. He was right behind you, his eyes hard. “The woman you're looking at right now is mine. My pet. My wife. How dare you try to take off a mark of my ownership, doll?” You opened your mouth to apologize, but a moan escaped instead as he bit into your shoulder. He begins to press you against the counter, your body bending over as he continues to press wet kisses on your nape.

“You need a reminder about whom you belong to,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin making you shiver, heat spreading to your body as his hands unzipped your dress from behind, letting the fabric fall on the floor. “I am yours,” you moan to him as his palms knead your breasts through the bra. “Then you should have known better, my stupid bird.”

“You look away from the mirror even once…,” he said, his hands squeezing your breasts roughly, his head propped up to your shoulder, his face set in a smirk, “and that group of women dies.” They were going to die either way but you didn't know that.

You gasp, “Snow- '' His hands squeeze your breasts harder, bordering on pain. “It’s Coryo for you, dove,” he said, slowly yet firmly as if talking to a child. His hands move downwards, one moves to your hip, and for the other, his fingers slip inside your panties. You whimper when his fingertip touches your clit. At any other time, he would have been slow, and gentle when he was rubbing the bud but now? His touch was fast and unconcerned, his sole goal was to inflict punishment with pleasure.

He rubbed at your clit relentlessly, making you soak your panties with your juices. His other hand squeezes your hips. You whine, your eyes closing and he pinches your clit making you moan louder than you should, your eyes opening immediately to meet his gaze.

“Only warning, pet,” he whispered, his finger now playing with the clit even more relentlessly. Back and forth, up and down with no mercy, making the bud swollen and your pussy clench around nothing. “Yes, Coryo,” you gasp.

“My dumb pet can learn after all,” he whispered to your ear and then his lips kissed the clasp of your necklace. His fingers abandon your clit to swipe at your folds to gather your wetness. He chuckles as he continues to tease you like this, his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Coryo,” you whispered and your eyes connected with his and you knew his fingers could feel the flex of your cunt around nothing. “That's it. Look at me, doll.”

He slipped his fingers one by one into your slit, the stretch making you gasp. “It's too much,” you managed to get out, your voice shaky. “You can take it,” he tuts. His fingers begin to message your wall, hitting every crook and canny you never knew existed. He twisted his fingers thrusting right at your g-spot making you moan loudly, your body was now completely bent over in front of the mirror and your hands gripped the counter for life. Snow continues to playfully stretch you out, scissoring your pussy with his long fingers.

When he finally deemed you loose enough, he pulled his fingers out without a warning making you whimper. He pulls down your panties around your knees, and then his hand unzipped his pant to take his cock out. Something in you liked how he was composed and fully clothed while having you like this, primal and debauched. It showcased Coriolanus perfectly, no matter how prim and proper the man was outside in the end he was as much of a mess.

His impatient was clear with his clenched jaw, one of his hands traveling upwards your body to grip your breast like a handle as his free hand guides his leaking, hard cock into your entrance. “I was going to fuck you good tonight, on a bed properly like a wife deserves,” he begins to say as he pushed in with a single stroke. Your mouth lets out a small scream as your pussy adjusts to his dick. “Instead I have to treat you like a whore, bending your ass over a counter and fuck you while there are people all over the mansion.” He shakes his head disappointed, he meets your gaze, “I expected better, doll.”

“Then why keep a disappointment around,” you snapped at him, making him raise his eyebrows at your tone, his cock twitching inside your walls. “I wonder that myself too,” he grunts, his face buried in your shoulder, his tongue licking your salty skin. “You’re my everything,” he whispered, “Don't you forget that, dove.”

It was a confession that made you turn your back and made you catch his lips. He groans into your mouth as both of your tongues play with each other, expressing words the others cannot say. His free hand went to grip your necklace chain, making you gasp as he fisted the chain and pulled at it, knocking at your breath in one go.

His hips had begun to pound into you, short, hard thrusts that made his cockhead press against your g-spot while his remaining length messaged your walls perfectly. “You don't have to think, doll. I am here to think for you. You don't have to think about deserving me, or Panem. You don't have to think at all, just be my bird. My bird only,” he grunts.

Your eyes had begun to see spots from the lack of air, he hadn't seemed to care as your pussy keeps squeezing around him because of it. He lets go of the chain, making you gasp and you take the air you desperately need as his thrusts begin to get sloppier. Coryo was too impatient, too worked up, too mad at you to care about your pleasure. You were a pet getting used and you loved every second of it.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, and he groaned in response, as his thrusts got slower. He was edging himself to last longer, for this not to end. He bites your nape, not hard as he does usually to make sure the mark fades in a few seconds. His hips continue to rock into you, both of his hands now kneading at your clothed breast. He makes your round flesh spill from the bra and cups them with a groan escaping his lips.

“You’re mine,” he said as he pressed wet kisses all over your neck and shoulders, “Mine.” Your pussy clenched around him, making his pace get even slower, frustration begins to claw your mind as your body tethers to the edge. “Yours,” you agreed. “Fuck me faster,” you plead.

He lets out a laugh, “No. You'll take what I'll give.” “Coryo, my love please!” You begged. His hips stutter, making you feel confused, before realizing why he had stopped. You hadn't called him that since that night and you realized you had leverage on the man.

“My love, please! Fuck me harder,” you spill, “Baby, please!” He clenched his jaw trying so hard not to give in to the instinct of rutting into you like an animal. Knowing that he was near the edge, you continue, “Cum in me and make me walk around the gala with your cum inside, please. Please, mark me!”

That did the trick rather perfectly. His hand wraps around your throat, not choking you but staying there as a comforting presence that shouldn't have been comforting at all. “My dumb pet has ways with words. Gotta fuck that out of you, my dove,” he smirked.

His hips begin to roll into you again, making you gasp and squeeze his dick with your slick walls. The start of it was slow and cautious before Coriolanus decided to throw it all in the wind. He takes half of his length out before slamming it back to you. The sound of hips snapping echoed into the air along with his grunts and your moans. He kept fucking into you, with no care about anything.

Both of your sights were obscene in the mirror and it turned you not to end. Your body had begun to heat, your pussy aching to cum after being played with for so long. The tension in your body was close to snapping, and he knew it too. Knew it the way your cunt kept sucking his cock in so well. His head was on your shoulder, his mouth breathing out hot air onto your skin.

“Look at me,” you whispered, and his eyes snap at you and not even a second later he spills into your cunt, fucking his cum into you as he lets out a whine for the first time. You gasp, feeling your build-up fading without snapping but Snow was never to disappoint. He pulled his cock out, just to stuff you with his fingers. You whimper, your sensitive walls twitching around his fingers, so close to breaking.

Coriolanus doesn't waste a second to thrust into your sopping cunt, your folds covered in his cum, and fucking that into you with his fingers. He crooks his fingers perfectly, hitting your g-spot and making you black out for a second as his fingers keep assaulting your insides without a care.

You gasp, your body starting to give up. Snow has to wrap an arm around you to help you stay balanced. “That's it, doll. Cum on my fingers. I will make you cum on my cock later,” he promised to you. You cry out as his fingers continue their fast pace of thrusting. And finally, finally, your orgasm builds up again. A single graze from his fingertip onto your spongy spot has you not only cumming but squirting too.

Even Coriolanus eyes widen in surprise as you spill your juices onto the floor, ruining your dress and everything. You begin to feel ashamed of losing control in such a manner, but Coryo curses, “Fuck, doll. Fuck, that was…” He couldn't even finish the sentence.

You close your eyes, feeling yourself close to losing balance, only for Snow to swipe your legs from the floor and carry you to the bathtub.

“I’ll take care of you, doll,” he said, “I’ll bring in a new set of clothes, wait.” “What about the gala?” You asked. He kissed your temple before he replied, “I told everyone to leave the moment you walked away. Told everyone you were sick and as your husband, I shall be taking care of you.”

You let out a raspy chuckle, it was rather amazing how Coriolanus Snow always turned everything in his favor. Even this would help his image of being a president who took such good care of his wife and would surely take the country to great lengths.

“Snow lands on top,” you whispered to him with a smile.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy

#character x reader #x you #x reader #x female reader #fem reader #oneshot #scenario #smut #x reader smut #x you smut #Coriolanus Snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #corio snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas x you #tbosas smut #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #thg x reader #thg fanfiction #arranged marriage

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn��t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

#osaemu #streamer!gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

[lyneylover]

Yandere! Lyney royalty Au♡

Synopsis: lyney is a street magician that you seen 3 weeks before your birthday. After your dad sees you mesmerized by his magic show he decides to buy lyney and his siblings to be your personal magicians. Little did your dad know that this would be the biggest mistake he ever made.

Word count: 569

So picture this!

Originally lyney was just a street performer with his twin sister and sometimes his little brother as well.

But that all changed as soon as you came to one of his magic shows.

You were amazed by his tricks and enjoyed watching them. Genuinely having a good time watching his show.

It wasn't everyday that the princess of the l/n family actually seemed extremely impressed by magicians. Many have tried but failed since you were always able to tell what illusion they used.

But there was something about lyney and his sister lynette's magic that made you hypnotized.

By the time the show was officially over you seemed disappointed.

Noticing your disappointment your dad has the brilliant idea to buy the 3 magicians for your upcoming birthday as a surprise.

After that magic show everything seemed so boring but 3 weeks later you got the biggest surprise of your life.

The day of your 18th birthday arrived.

Like any other birthday you had there were lots of gifts.

But something was different this time. This time your dad presented you with something you'd never expect.

There stood the three magicians.

Standing right in front of you was lyney, lynette, and freminet.

In that moment you were frozen and bubbling with excitement. You quickly ran over to your dad hugging him and thanking.

But little did you know that lyney was smitten by you.

The second he saw you at his magic show he felt you stole his heart away. The twinkle in your eyes when he made something disappear and reappear or how he drew the exact same card that a person showed the crowd.

Usually lyney wouldn't let anyone buy him and his siblings so when your dad asked him he was going to say no but then realized that the same man he was going to decline was your father.

Lyney uses this as a way to get closer to you knowing that he's only a mere magician and you're a princess. So he automatically yes not wanting to leave his siblings he told the king that he would only go if he bought all three of them for $100 a piece.

When lyney saw you he felt giddy inside. He was mesmerized by your beautiful features your pretty eyes, your soft looking hair, your plump lips everything about you made him blush.

This didn't go unnoticed by Lynette and freminet though.

After a month of being your personal magician he finally tells his siblings about his feelings for you hoping that they would help him with the master plan he thought up.

When Lynette and freminet finally agree lyney is ecstatic.

A week later they put Lyney's plan in motion.

At dinner lynette slips something in everyone's drink that'll make them tired.

When everyone is finally asleep lyney sneaks into your room covering your mouth before waiting for freminet to appear.

When freminet gets there they all quietly bring you to the escape carriage they had prepared earlier.

They all quickly run back inside to trash your room and their rooms to make it look like a kidnapping. With the money they had gotten from the king they took you far across fontaine where he would never find you.

The next day the king was furious. He thought someone kidnapped his magicians and his precious only daughter.

The king looked for them for months but not a trace of them was ever found.

Lyney could finally be with the love of his life.

I hope you guys enjoyed this! Sorry I haven't been posting I've had writers block but I'm finally back on track! And I'm currently completing my first hotaru haganezuka request but I thought I would post my little brainrot for you guys<3 Also should i post a part two with yan! personal detective Heizou looking for reader?

#akanes bakery #bakery #brainrot #yandere lyney #lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x y/n #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin au #Akane's genshin royalty Au #yandere genshin x reader #yandere lyney x reader #genshin x reader

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙i like shiny things 🧁 | LS2˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: logan sargeant x faceless y/n reader (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: nothing but fluff plz ignore the dates on the tweets it's nearly 1am 💀

summary: in which logan soft launches his new baker gf but everyone puts the puzzle pieces together faster than expected

song

my masterlist

part 2!!! (yourbff x DR3)

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, danielricciardo, and 4,738 others

yourusername life lately 🥐

view all 1,054 comments

user1 omg crumpets is growing so big

liked by yourusername

yourbff are u trying to soft launch

yourbff y/n are u soft launching without telling me

yourusername i am doing no such thing

yourbff answer ur phone

user2 the f1 drivers in the likes r suspicious

user3 right?? like have we missed something

user4 the bakery looks so amazing y/n i cant wait for the opening 🫶

liked by yourusername

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 68,857 others

logansargeant spending the break from racing wisely (i think)

view all 7,328 comments

oscarpiastri oh hello

user5 what do u know

user6 does he have a gf??

user7 a girl? is this new information

alex_albon interesting 🧐

liked by logansargeant and yourusername

yourbff hi logan

logansargeant hello

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, yourbff and 11,938 others

yourusername my bakery is officially open 🧁 thank u to everyone who came down today & to my friends nd family who helped out .. i cant believe this is my life i am so grateful

tagged: yourbff

view all 7,012 comments

logansargeant ❤️

liked by yourusername

user8 so proud of u y/n <3

liked by yourusername

user9 wow i need to visit

alex_albon was smuggled a cupcake

yourusername thoughts?

alex_albon we will be back tomorrow

yourusername 🥰🥰

user10 what is going on here

yourbff never been so proud in my life 😢🩷

liked by yourusername

twitter ->

instagram ->

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 87,381 others

logansargeant third wheelin

view all 13,176 comments

user13 HEAR ME OUT

alex_albon those cupcakes are for me

logansargeant go away

liked by yourusername

user14 waittt oomf might've been onto something bc that dog looks exactly like crumpets 💀

user15 THAT IS CRUMPETS

oscarpiastri i never make it onto these posts

alex_albon me neither mate

oscarpiastri are we not friends anymore

logansargeant you are clingy

oscarpiastri what happened to bros before hoes

yourusername excuse me

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon and 8,721 others

yourusername another day another bake 🍒

view all 3,675 comments

user13 y/n we know

user16 we know

user17 i think we know

alex_albon well u tried

yourusername i warned him

logansargeant cat's out the bag

yourusername you mean dog?

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon and oscarpiastri

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 78,042 others

logansargeant her ❤️

tagged: yourusername

view all 32,657 comments

user13 thank you everyone

liked by yourusername

yourusername 🩷🧁

liked by logansargeant

yourbff FINALLY

yourbff NOW GET ME IN THAT PADDOCK

liked by yourusername, logansargeant and danielricciardo

user18 everybody say sorry user13

twitter ->

whatsapp ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, yourbff and 23,839 others

yourusername i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings 🩷🪽

tagged: logansargeant

view all 13,847 comments

logansargeant i love you

yourusername i love you 🍰

user13 they r so personal to me

user19 parents

yourbff this could be me & daniel ricciardo but u insist on keeping us apart for some reason

danielricciardo are we being cock blocked?

yourbff AM I BEING PRANKED RIGHT NOW

logansargeant you're welcome

THE END 🩷

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #logan sargeant #ls2 #smau #f1 smau #oscar piastri #alex albon #daniel ricciardo #maddie's smau

[palajae]

on my mind.

PAIRING... skater!niki x skater!reader | GENRE… figure skating! au, romance, angst, fluff, unconditional love.? | WC... 0.6k | “please, let me know what’s wrong.”

you don’t care that niki spends a lot more time with his girlfriend. 

you don’t care that all of your fans are in denial and still ship the two of you together. 

you don’t care that haerin posts even more of her and niki online in response to said fans. 

what you do care about is the change. the change in your practices, your dynamic, your relationship with niki. 

you can’t just hug him whenever you want. you can’t borrow any of his clothes when you forget your own. you can’t be truly yourself around him anymore, constantly holding yourself back. 

you knew your relationship wasn’t exactly normal, but it worked. it’s what gave you guys years of success and what you thought would last. 

but you miss his playful pranks, his sweet hugs, and most of all, the look of pure affection in his eyes. it’s not that he wouldn’t, that he didn’t want to. niki would do anything you asked in a heartbeat. but you knew with his girlfriend and being in a relationship, it couldn’t be the same. 

you missed your friend. both on and off the ice.

so much to the point where you actually stalked the two of you online. for the first time, you let outside influence get to you. 

you were surprised by the amount of support for the two of you (and the most random ship names and edits).

all the photos, videos of your performances, and the old comments niki used to post on your posted photos— always borderline romantic but something you two always brushed off as platonic—it all came back. 

if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two of you were madly in love as well.

but you did. and the two of you probably never would be. 

so you call it a day and make a promise to never look up your name with his again. 

you surely kept that promise, until the next morning pre-practice you couldn’t help but see your phone blow up. 

all the links and posts people were tagging you in didn’t help. 

even worse was seeing articles online stating that nishimura riki was reportedly leaving you to partner up with his current girlfriend, kang haerin. 

your coach greets you with a smile, clapping her hands. “let’s get to work! where’s niki?”

you shrug, right as you hear scuffling onto the ice. 

“sorry i’m late,” niki’s breathless voice makes you swallow. “lost track of the time.” 

you (clearly) already knew what he was doing and who he was with. 

still, you avoid his gaze. during warm up you barely speak to him, and of course he notes it. 

after an awkward and silent practice, your coach leaves the two of you alone. almost like she knew there was something going on with the tension between you. 

after every performance—most practices even—niki would hug you and press a kiss to your temple. it was a habit, a good luck charm and a warm goodbye until the next day. 

but this time you start to leave before he even gets the chance to. niki catches up to you, taking your hand. 

“hey, what’s going on?” you dislike how concerned he sounds.

“i don’t know, shouldn’t you know?” you coolly respond to your partner. 

“i don’t. could you please tell me dear?”

you ignore him—his term of affection was not going to work on you this time.

niki was so stubborn. and so were you. ever since the first day you guys were assigned partners and were obviously not happy, he was stubborn. it took a long time to get the both of you to warm up to each other. 

so he takes your other hand, grip tight so you’re forced to face him. 

he calls out your name. “please, let me know what’s wrong.” 

you sigh. why was seeing him everyday, always having to act like this, so tiring now? 

you let go of his hands, looking down at the ice as your blade scrapes up bits and pieces.

“niki, we need to talk.”

a/n ▸ i did not expect this much love and support on this miniseries so thank you guys 😭😭insert are you ready for this in wendy’s voice during zimzalabim intro

part 2/4 | previous. | next.

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @kynrki @heesterical @jungwonize @rerequire @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii @love-4-keum @nyanggk @luvhyun3 @dimplewonie @yjjungwon @who-tf-soddhi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

@kflixnet

series tag list ▸ @en-chantedtomeetyou @czlluvriki @berry-and-kkami @jungsunkiggfhffr @wzy3ka @fakeuwus @k1ttylvr @beomsbeanie @geraldsmochi @ohsjy @jend3uki @enhalovie @sweet-kisses-and-bloody-screams @haechansbbg @mini-garden-won @enhastolemyheart @seyoran @kyanmeai @june-pop

@jayhoonvroom @tomomorin @hrts4riki @abcancanc @ionlyreadforfanfics @sunoodior @ivshypen07

@paleegggoopstatesman @contyynishimura

#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #niki fluff #niki scenarios #enhypen niki #niki imagines

[nburkhardt]

Every Time You Shine, I’ll Shine For You.

Soooo this was originally going to be full one shot, but I’ve decided since it’s been sitting in my drafts for months, that I’m just going to post it as either an unfinished piece for now. I might try to come up with a second half but for now enjoy this soulmate au ✨

Having a soulmark wasn’t necessary for Steve. Sure, seeing the word- the nickname his soulmate will eventually call him is nice. But it’s not needed, not in his eyes at least.

At the age of five years old, everyone in the world gets a nickname on their wrist. It’s fate telling you your perfect match, that the other half of your soul is out there for you. It’s the ultimate fairytale growing up, that it burns when you hear the nickname said by your soulmate and there’s an instant spark, instant connection. It’s the bedtime story, the ultimate love story and something to wish for.

It’s a wish everyone wants but Steve Harrington.

He has a very good reason to not like the idea of having a “perfect match” out there for you. While he heard the stories and sees the potential in it, he grew up watching his parents be in love without being actual soulmates. Hears stories of their love and ideas of finding love on your own, deciding to show the world that they don’t need fate’s help.

It’s beautiful and he wants that. Wants to make his own story, find his own match. There’s no need for fate to help him.

On his fifth birthday, he watched ‘Dingus’ appear on his wrist, it made him pout while his parents laughed and kiss his head, told him not to worry. That he doesn’t have to be with whoever fate picked for him and joked about only being five.

It eases his five year old mind.

His parents aren’t surprised to watch him grow up to be a true romantic, isn’t surprised to see his love in everything and how having a soul mark doesn’t stop him from having crushes or falling in love.

Life goes on but after some failed relationships and the disaster of a relationship with Nancy; seeing the nickname give him some hope that somewhere out there, there is someone for him. Someone who fate decided is his match, which growing up he hated it.

At eighteen, he really thought he’d already be with the person he’d love forever (and who would love him). But instead of that, he’s single and not at all close to figuring out why fate’s pick for him would call him “dingus” of all things. To top it all of he’s stuck working at the new Scoops Ahoy until he hears back from the colleges he applied too.

The uniform is lame, it’s in the middle of the brand new mall and it’s leaning towards being too cold in the shop and he doesn’t even know his coworker yet, hopefully they’re not expecting him to be some big shot like he was in high school.

Those days are long gone, he’d rather be his lame and hopeless romantic self instead of the asshole keg king he was.

His first week of working is spent being laughed at by ex-teammates, being ignored by his only coworker and failing to get at least a date with someone. It’s not his longest week, but it’s real close.

After a total of three weeks of getting ignored and laughed at by people he flirts with, his coworker, Robin decides enough is enough and- “maybe with this you’ll try harder”

Glancing behind him, she’s standing there with the whiteboard from the back but instead of the random doodles she drew, it looks like a score board with You Rule/You Suck on it.

There’s already three tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and he can’t figure out if it makes him want to laugh or cry, maybe both.

Definitely both.

“At least I’m trying here, you could find your soulmate with flirting!”

Robin rolls her eyes and hangs the board up behind her, “I’d rather suck on a lemon than flirt with guys”

It surprises him for all of three seconds before he rolls his eyes, whatever, he thinks. If she wants to miss the opportunity to find a soulmate, so be it. He’ll continue trying to find love, he doesn’t need whoever fate picked.

The board is definitely mocking him, he thinks several days later. Currently there’s five tally marks under ‘You Suck’ and a big fat nothing under ‘You Rule’. Robin thinks it’s the funniest thing on the planet.

He doesn’t find it funny, he finds it embarrassing and stupid, actually. Really embarrassing, especially when she brings it out when another girl their age walks in. It’s like she’s doing it on purpose.

Which is confusing, she told him explicitly that she does not like him and will only ever tolerate him. So, her practically chasing people away doesn’t make sense.

Her loud crackle of a laugh starts as his head nearly hits the counter, “That’s another one for the you suck column! Zero for the you rule, popeye!”

Standing up he turns around with a glare, “yeah I can read!”

“You sure about that one, Dingus?”

His wrist burns and he can’t stop his eyes from going wide. There’s no way, absolutely no way. This is a fluke, she must have seen his mark one day. That’s why his soulmate mate, fate’s pick, is his co-worker.

His disbelief and discomfort most show on his face because Robin shifts on her feet, “I’m uh, sorry. If I took that too far, really-uh I don’t think that way about you and, and- this is was” she looks uncomfortable now, tripping over her words.

Opening his mouth to calm her down, he find that his words are gone. The disbelief stopping him. He quickly shuts it and looks away from her. The shop is completely empty. When did that happen?

“Steve- I really didn’t mean to be well, mean.”

All he can do is nod back, “no, uh, I get it. Really- uh. It’s fine.”

How exactly is he supposed to do this? He’s never once called her a nickname! Unless she was his but he isn’t hers? He doesn’t know. Either way he’s still a little disappointed.

“You sure? Because uh, you’re looking a little pale there”

A laugh bubbles up and before he realizes it he’s on the ground with his back against the counter and tears on his face, “ye-yeah. Sorry.”

He hears her move around and then there’s a foot bumping his, he moves his head to look at her.

“We’re currently low on everything, did you know that? It’s unbelievable, just wiped clean.” Robin explains with amusement dancing on her face, “Scoops Ahoy is officially closed for the day”

That surprises a laugh out of him as tries to loosen the tension that built up, moving his arms he puts his chin on his knee, Robin copies him. They’re just looking at each other, comfortable in this silence.

“Sooo”

“Look-”

Their eyes meet and both burst out laughing. This feels different, at least for Steve. There’s something soothing coursing through him now, he never felt on edge with Robin but he wasn’t always this comfortable either. A smile spreading on his face, he didn’t know about this feeling when you meet your soulmate.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorts, “they might be worth more, Birdie”

Robin gasps and he looks at her, but her eyes are wide and locked on her wrist. He follows her look and he can’t exactly see what she’s looking at but he knows it’s her soul mark.

They really are soulmates.

This is where I’d put the continuation… if I had the idea for it! (Said in that fairlyodd parents meme)

Anyway! If this brought you some inspiration, you can totally take whatever piece you want and write something! But please know I had this ending up as Steddie with side of Rockie (Vickie&Robin)

Permanent taglist: @spectrum-spectre @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @bookworm0690 @strangersteddierthings

#platonic stobin #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #nburkhardt writes #stranger things #stranger things fic #soulmate au #Steve has good parents as a bonus btw #it’s open ended to give me the chance to add more #if you see any typos no you don’t

[edgeray]

Vixen

(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb)

A/N: Last Arlecchino post before I go back to classes. 😿This is a hybrid au! blurb from my poll, and it's likely I won't make a oneshot out of this idea. It's still a really cute concept, so maybe I'll make another blurb of this concept or another hybrid au! idea. concept. Shoutout to @megistusdiary for this adorable idea of Artic Fox Arlecchino! (Love you CEO of Arlecchino!) For those of you guys that weren't entirely... pleased with my 'Arlecchino is not a person' blurb I offer this piece in favor of having my life spared. Future Edit: I call this a blurb, and then proceeds to write 1.4k last night from like 11pm-2am ._. I'll just dub this as a oneshot now. So literally disregard the second paragraph. Not my usual quality, but since it's long enough, it's a oneshot. Content Warning: Pretty OOC for Arlecchino, mentioned but not graphic injury, 2.2k words

Arlecchino is as beautiful as snow.

It's the first thing you've noticed when your eyes laid upon the hybrid Harbinger. Beneath the silky snow-white fur and graceful, cordial appearance, you recognize that a predator laid underneath her exterior; a feral fox ready to lash at anything that so much as touches what was deemed hers. You don't let her sleek, fluffy coat distract you from her red-crossed eyes or her black claws.

Still, it is futile to deny her beauty.

You recall your first meeting with her in Snezhnaya, trudging through its frosty forests in nearly knee-deep snow. You don't quite remember what your purpose for being there was, though you ventured out to the wilderness behind your home often with no real purpose. Snow crunching underneath your boots, you admire the pristine, white landscape that no other place in Teyvat could display.

Here, your sight is met with a frost-covered plane, a frozen river cutting between you and a forest, the silhouette of a grand mountain behind the conifers. The sun hangs low, just above the peaks of the mountain, painting the sky as a gradient of topaz oranges and honey yellows. The only noise that fills the air is the whispers of the occasional winter breeze, blowing through your hair and making you shiver. Captivated by this picturesque scene, you simply stand and observe what's around you, your stare unbreaking.

That is until your ears pick up on a noise, a soft whine in the distance. You can tell it's not human-like, more like a cry that a puppy would make, but nonetheless, you're curious. There's another similar sound, this one more faint, but you let your ears guide you to the source of the noise until you near the edge of another wooded area of the wilderness.

What your eyes set on shocks you. A relatively large white blob sits amongst red patches of snow around. Is that blood? Approaching closer, you realize it's a rather large animal with white fur, and you assume that it's a Snezhnayan Snow Wolf from its size, though it's hard to tell with its back turned away. It's struggling to stand up fully; one of its hind legs appears to be injured given how it's not putting as much weight on it when it limps through the snow. You watch it struggle a little, wary of approaching a wild animal especially one of that size before you witness it collapse. Not intent on just observing the poor creature, you walks towards it, making your presence known so as to not startle it abruptly.

It whips its head and locks eyes with you. It is then, you chillingly discern, that this is no ordinary Teyvat creature. It's bigger than what wolves can grow up to, and its ears and tails don't match that of a wolf. Its ears are shorter in height and more triangular and its tail is much thicker than the average wolf's. Notably, on its legs, the fur darkens from white to pitch black, the color encompassing its feet entirely. This is something unseen in any snow creature you've come across. But most striking of all is its gaze. Red pupils with ebony eyes matching its feet, it watches you calculatingly.

You expect it to growl or snarl or make any sort of noise a wild, cornered creature would, but you get nothing besides continued staring. It's unsettling, but it should be a good thing that it hasn't perceived you as a threat yet, right. Regardless though, you still try to verbally communicate with it.

"Hey, I'm just here to help okay? I won't hurt you. If I do, you can, I don't know, bite my face off or something?" You awkwardly reassure it as you kneel beside the animal. It simply tilts its head to lock eye contact, and you half-expect it to bite you without warning.

Although it feels pointless to talk to a wild animal, you ask, "Can I touch you?" Expectedly, there's no response, but you take it as permission. You place a tentative hand over its fur, brushing your hand through its fur. It's incredibly soft, almost like how you'd imagine what touching a cloud feels like. It's a light and immaculate coat. But you didn't come here just to pet it.

"You have a really pretty coat," you compliment the fox(? Let's stick with that for now), before your fingers trail down to where the blood originated. It's a clean, deep laceration across the length of its back leg. What could have injured it like this? There's no other marks on the leg, so it can't be a claw from another animal. This was a precise cut, something that only a human can do.

"Did someone do this to you?" You wonder out loud in a sorrowful tone. What kind of human could harm such a beautiful creature? Unbeknownst to you, its ears twitched in response.

You get to work treating the wound with the emergency equipment you always carried when you ventured. There's no resistance or protest from canine, and you question if this is really an animal you're treating. How it hadn't budged one bit as you cleaned its wound, you're not sure, but you're just glad it hasn't shown one sign of aggression towards you. If you clean it and allow the skin to heal, the cut will likely heal independently. Once you've wrapped the final bandage around its leg, you glance at the fox's eyes again.

Not even once did it stop watching you.

You try to comfort yourself from the disturbing fact by observing how cute it is and imagining what it would be like to snuggle with it. It's when you notice the sun was setting, and dusk is approaching quickly. This typically wouldn't be a problem, but as you increasingly grew worried, a distinct problem struck out. You're lost.

"Well, shit."

Guess you have to set up camp. You hate the thought of having to spend the night out here, but you have no choice. You won't be able to make out anything soon from how dark this place gets. It's not your first time doing so, but you hate it still. With the remaining minutes of sun you have left, you gather as many sticks and branches as possible before you light them with a match, creating a campfire. You lay a little close to the fox, which seems to have also decided to make the campfire its resting place for now.

You cocoon yourself with a thick blanket.

"You'll keep me safe, right...?" You ask of the fox. No response. How very assuring.

Despite the bundles of fabric purposed for helping with extreme temperatures, you find yourself still shivering. You're cold, not to the point of frostbite, but your form can't stop trembling, your teeth chattering.

"It's too fucking cold for this shit," you groan, hugging yourself for extra warmth and curling into a fetal position. As you curse yourself for getting lost, you hear a shuffle, and the crunch of snow. Before you can even search for the origins of the sound, you feel a warm, large weight against your back--it's something soft. You look over your shoulder to see white fur and then look back to where the fox was originally: it's no longer there. Instead, it's pressed against you, sharing its body warmth with you.

"Mmm... good kit," you tiredly drawl as you absorb its heat greedily, enjoying the texture of its coat. It makes falling asleep easy.

Before you drift to sleep, you swore you heard a human, feminine voice purr from behind you.

"Annoying little vixen."

When you wake up, you expect to be met with white--white snow and fur. You are only met with one of those. Your eyes adjust to the pricking sunlight that stab into your vision. Surprisingly, you're warm even with the chill that you feel cascade against your cheeks. Memories of the night prior start piecing together. You still feel the fox's presence, though, strangely, the weight behind you doesn't seem nearly as soft or large as you remember. And something is draped around your midsection. You look down, expecting to a fur-covered limb.

Instead, it's a human arm that is wraps around your form, holding flushed against a person and your heart skids to a stop. The forearm is black with gold and ebony markings on its surface, but the dark color fades into pale skin. Is this person even human? A humanoid? A hybrid? With your rising panic, you become increasingly more aware of the presence that has you encaged in their embrace. You can't turn to look who is behind you in fear of waking them up--you don't know what they'll do to you once they're awake.

The soft snoring behind your ear and the warm breath brushing against your nape makes you shiver. However, what you do notice is how warm their body is; they exude a body heat that's abnormal. Do they produce their own heat from within? You know of very little creatures that can do that, let alone humans. Maybe an external source? Like a vision?

Then a sudden thought comes to you. Has this person been... sleeping with you to keep you warm? Is this person somehow the fox you helped? Deciding to risk it, you twist your head to look over your shoulder.

Red-crossed pupils glare back at you and your entire form freezes. Faced with perhaps the most gorgeous woman ever, a pale, unblemished face framed by ivory hair and some ebony strands appear before you.

"You're awake," her gruff voice comes out and the tips of your ears burn from being caught awake.

"Y-yes," you stammer out, still trying to recover from the shock. "Thank you for keeping me warm."

She hums in response before unfurling her arm from your body and standing up. Immediately, your body misses her warmth and you shudder, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. You sit up with her and it's then that you realize that she is indeed a hybrid. The same ears from the fox last night matches those on her head, and there's a tail that swishes lightly from behind her.

You take the time to admire her clothes, the question of where she got them slipping from your mind. She dons a marble white and slate gray jacket over a corset-type shirt with black and a matching gray and wears black pants. Her outfit reminds you of similar attire to Snezynayan nobles. What is someone of her status out here? Something about her seems vaguely familiar, though you don't quite know why.

"You're the... fox from last night," you dumbly state.

"Correct."

"But you're a human now."

"Astute observation," she huffed with a bit of mockery in her voice and you chuck snow in her direction.

"I've never seen a hybrid before, cut me some slack!" You snap back in faux anger. You let out a sigh, before you flick your attention to her leg. You can't see the wound because of her leggings, but you presume that it's still there.

"Who hurt you before?" You rasp out, corner eminent in your words and expression.

"That's not of your concern," she answers in a curt manner, making you wince.

You bite your bottom lip, a bit frustrated from the quick shut refusal, but you know she shouldn't pry. For as beautiful as she is, both in her human and fox form, you know just from the unsettling... sensation she emitted that she was dangerous, not to be disturbed or poked to much. You figure you should probing her on what led to this situation.

"Can I know who you are?" You question instead.

The fox hybrid steeps in silence for a few moments. Her facial muscles softening just the bit, the red flare in her eyes glowing. Then, a crack in her hardened expression, a small smile graces her lips.

"Arlecchino."

Bonus (Content Warning: VERY Suggestive. Like the closest thing to a smut I'll get.)

"Arlecchino."

"Mmh?"

"I need to get up."

"Just a little longer, kit."

"Arle, I love you, but I will kick you."

"With what functioning legs?"

"Is this why you wanted to dick me down? So you can harass me with no consequences?"

"Exactly."

You grit your teeth, trying to peel her arms off of your bare form, but the fox hybrid persists, keeping you glued to her as she nibbles gently on the skin of your nape. To emphasize her hold, her tail curls around one of your legs, its grasp tight and ensuring you can't go anywhere.

"Annoying little vixen," you groan, pulling the covers off of the two of you.

Arlecchino purrs into your shoulder, and her hands trail from your midsection down to your hips. Her tail caresses your inner thigh and you shudder.

"Again?" You gasp in dulled surprise as you feel her rise and she flips your body over to be beneath her. One blackened claw hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with hers and pressing your hand into the mattress behind you. The other hooks underneath one of your legs, raising the leg over her shoulder.

"Of course. After all, I need to ensure you take my kits."

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fic #arlecchino smut #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino #edgeray.writes #edgeray.blog

[littlerosette]

everlark/thg fic recs!

i just wanted to share some love with the fics that i find myself continuously going back to and enjoying <3

on the threshold by ghtlovesthg: by far my one of favorite “i know this would have happened anyway” fics. katniss and peeta’s relationship is adorable, and i really enjoy this author’s portrayal of smitten!katniss. it’s exactly how i imagine her and it’s adorable. they just like each other so much.

the heartrender by juniebugg: helnik!everlark au. i have a weakness for enemies to lovers and this more than hits the spot. the ending is gorgeous. stunning piece of writing.

the unrecorded hours by hollycomb: this fic has been praised to death but i am deeply obsessed with it. katniss and peeta felt very appropriately prickly and messy with each other, which i think fit considering where they’re at mentally post-mj. the ending was also so quintessentially Them.

which of your lives is this? by writingforhugs: this fic has way too few kudos for what a masterpiece it is. it’s katniss traveling through italy with peeta, and it’s pure, unadulterated escapism. the detail is so rich that it actually feels like you’re on the journey with them, and the chemistry is impeccable and so sexy. i adore this story.

hero of the story by atetheresmind: first of all, i love everything from this author. second of all, this story is amazing. “no games” fics are probably my favorite everlark fic subgenre and this one is written to perfection. katniss and peeta have an affair on their spouses and have to deal with the consequences when their relationship is discovered. the characterization is amazing and i love how the author handled the fallout. gorgeous story.

blowout by annieoakley1: age gap everlark fic and probably my favorite one. this story is so sexy and i love love love peeta and katniss’s relationship in it. katniss is so predictably Herself that it’s fun to watch her navigate a relationship she knows she’s gonna get shit for being in.

our little fires by brimay: a new fic and stunningly gorgeous. katniss and peeta fall in love before the reaping and their entire experience in the games is changed because of this. i adored the recurring theme where their love was the real rebellious act, their “little fire,” which i think struck so true to the heart of the actual trilogy. this story is amazing.

the project by ronja: unfinished but stellar. katniss and peeta’s bond is so sweet and their chemistry is amazing. it also helps that katniss is in a relationship with gale for a majority of the story, which lets you see how much she truly likes peeta compared to him. it was adorable to see them in a fake marriage scenario and they both relish in every bit of it. this story is “ivy” by taylor swift personified.

the hanging tree series by sparebitofparchment: this a peeta’s pov retelling. right now it’s on catching fire, but the writing is so so stellar. it’s perfectly angsty and beautiful, and flowery enough compared to katniss’s pov that it feels like you’re seeing everything through peeta’s eyes. gorgeous series.

and many graces by encroix: this is kind of exactly what i’m talking about when i say messy!everlark post mj. peeta and katniss are so desperate for each other but also so flawed and uncommunicative in their expectations that they end up hurting each other repeatedly. it’s beautiful and i love it. i cried multiple times reading it.

my heart is yours, and yours is mine by songbirdheart: the most enchanting, folksy, almost fairytale adjacent series ever. it truly is written with so much magic that it feels like a collection of short stories that you’d find in an old folktale book. every story is wonderful but i also have a particular fondness for the gadge one shot. it’s adorable and i love the way all the characters are written.

thg fic/non-everlark

where soul meets body by ellizablue: annie x finnick love story from her games to the aftermath of his death. wretchedly beautiful story. the writing is amazing and i cried several times reading this. it’s one of my absolute favorite fan fictions of all time and i reread it very frequently.

i’m yours to keep and i’m yours to lose by fkevin073: a modern snowbaird au where lucy gray and coryo are toxic exes who can’t leave each other the fuck alone. their mutual obsession and dysfunction was so fun to read and the pure, twisted soulmatery between them honestly was like a drug to me. i Love unhinged romantic leads.

the end of the world by fernwithy: this whole series is amazing but i was especially in love with this first installment. it’s a retelling of haymitch’s games and it’s amazingly done. haymitch feels appropriately brilliant, and watching him navigate the arena was gripping. i was unexpectedly touched by the relationship he develops with maysilee during this story. beautiful, gut-wrenching story.

#the hunger games #fic rec #everlark #odesta #gadge #snowbaird #among others

[carmyboobear]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 1: onions, weed, and pizza

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 2 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it. 

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love. 

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, cursing, yearning, repression, SO MUCH REPRESSION, angst, mental illness, canon-typical imagery, unresolved tension, for now, virgin carmy, use of weed, alcohol, all that good stuff, carmy character study, eventual smut, gender neutral reader, nonbinary reader, up to you

A/N: HI I've never posted fic on tumblr before but i deeply love Carmy...please enjoy!!!

CHAPTER 1: onions, weed, and pizza

It always stays the same. 

This is the thought that Carmy has when he wakes up, gasping for a chance to just catch his breath and keep it. It’s a kitchen knife twisting like a lock and key in his chest. It fits just right, as all awful and familiar things seem to do.

No matter how many times he wakes up, he’s never anywhere different. That drowning feeling suffocates him in his sleep and follows dutifully into his waking hours. He can’t remember when that haunting started, only that it’s always been with him.

He hates feeling like a drifter, like he’s lost (even though he is both of those things), so he picks a goal and runs after it like a monster. He’s an animal, hunting and working and bleeding until he fucking makes it work , because that’s who he is, and that’s who he’s always been. He can’t not make it work. Because if he can’t do it, then…then what was it all for? 

What is he even for?

These are the thrilling thoughts that serve as the background music to the swirl of his cheap morning coffee, oils rotating in a slow circle. He thinks about getting a nicer brand next time he goes grocery shopping. But that would mean change. That would mean less money on the restaurant, too.

Yeah, so it tastes like shit, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it mattered once. Less and less matters to him these days.

Mornings in Chicago are not technically quiet by definition, but when compared to other times of day, they are. Especially when most of his day is spent in the kitchen wringing out his throat. It isn’t bad to have a quiet morning by normal means, but for him…

The quiet is dangerous.

It’s not silent, but it’s not enough. There’s distant beeping of impatient cars. The whirring sound of the old AC unit. He tries to listen to them, but his rampant thoughts nonetheless rise above them all, buzzing everywhere with nowhere to land. 

A brief analysis of his thoughts reads as such:

Beef sandwiches eggs flour shipment Michael cigarettes smoking sore throat late shipment so tired not sleeping Michael Sugar Mom coffee tastes bad it’s too early my stomach hurts Michael fucking hates you Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael you piece of shit you fucking ki—

“Mornin’, Carmy.”

Until his roommate wakes up, that is. 

When he moved back to Chicago, there was a fact, plain, simple, and unchanging. He wasn’t gonna make rent on his own, not with the restaurant. Not with everything. So maybe he didn’t need to deal with a new roommate, but it’s not like there was a choice. It seemed bearable, survivable enough.

He keeps waiting for the thing that’ll make him grit his teeth, make him regret not getting a place on his own, but it never comes. They’re easy to live with. It’s so easy, as a matter of fact, that it feels strange. The difficulty that he was so certainly expecting just isn’t there. 

If anything, he looks forward to being at home. For someone who lives at work, that feeling is completely foreign.  

They don’t steal his food (not that there’s much). Instead, they cook him food, leaving heated leftovers on the stove on late nights. In Carmy’s case, that’s most nights. They don’t bring over obnoxious company and keep him up with the noise. Rather, he basks in their company, and they make a ruckus between their laughter. Their presence doesn’t stifle him, it soothes him, just like the candle they leave lit in the kitchen for him when he comes home.  They’re not just easy to live with, they’re good to live with, and that’s…

That’s been a hard adjustment, Carmy would say. It’s too much of a good thing that he’s not sure what to do with himself.

On those late nights, they’re usually fast asleep by the time he’s home. But as he sits and eats the leftovers they’ve kept for him, he wants to say something. Something about how a long time ago, there was once a Carmy who cooked for himself, who looked after himself, but that he’s not that Carmy anymore. That it doesn’t matter that he’s a five star chef and they’re just some guy in the kitchen, as they would put it, because he’s…

He’s grateful. Incredibly so.

And yet, the words will never come out. He feels the words tingling on his lips, but it feels scary. He can thank them as many times as he likes (which he does) but it will never capture what he’s really trying to say when he says thank you . There’s too many words, and it just can’t…it just can’t—

It always stays the same. 

“You’re up early,” he says to them when they enter the room. It’s a rare sight to see them up at the early hours he frequents. He sees the morning drowsiness in their mussed hair and big t-shirt stained with hair dye. They yawn back at him, nose scrunching.

Cute , he thinks, and he stamps it down as soon as it flashes through his mind. 

“Randomly woke up.” They fall into the empty seat next to him on the couch, and they rub at the crust around their eyes. “About to head off to work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replies. There’s a certain sentiment that lies on the tip of his tongue, something about how he wishes he could have a slow morning with them instead. Of course, he can’t voice it. He can’t even come close.

“The plague of the working man,” they sigh. “Well, I got an idea that might cheer you up.”

“...And that would be?”

“Let me paint you a beautiful picture,” they start. They clear their throat and gesture widely with their hands. He notices their chipped nail polish, the writing callus on their middle finger. “Imagine this—you come home from work, tired. You need to relax —something you need to do more often,” they add with a pointed look.  No comment. “And I have dinner ready. Some sort of soup, pasta maybe. I need to check the fridge.” They pause with a yawn. “And before we eat, we smoke a big, fat joint.”

He snorts as they finish, unable to hold back a laugh. 

“That’s a nice picture,” he admits. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling. “Y’know, I was wondering when the joint was gonna pop in.” 

“You fucking know me, man,” they reply, blooming with his interest, his smile. Not that he can perceive that. “So? Thoughts? Haven’t done that in a while, right?”

“Right, right,” he echoes faintly. His mind is already sorting through the pile of tasks on the schedule. “Well, I gotta go over this new recipe with Marcus, today,” he mutters, partially under his breath. “But before that, ingredient orders. And those invoices before the end of the day—and that, that toilet guy was supposed to come today…I think?”

“Dude, I do like, one task, and the day’s over for me,” they say sympathetically, and the look on their face is so serious that Carmy struggles to hide his smile. “You’re crazy.”

“I, I’ve seen you do tasks,” he argues. 

“Name one,” they argue back.

“You did two loads of laundry and did the dishes all before lunch time once,” he says, the memory clear and instant. “And when I woke up, you were vacuuming the whole place.” The immediacy surprises him, and it seems to surprise them, too. 

“Damn, I said name one , but I guess I’m just that good!” They laugh, a breathy, exasperated sort of thing. “Well, point taken. Anyway, it sounds like you’re not gonna be home early tonight.” 

“It is a Friday,” he says, “but…”

“But.”

“Can’t make promises I can’t keep,” he sighs, and shame melts over him like butter on a stainless steel pain. This isn’t anything new. 

“I know, I know,” they say, gracious as ever. “It’s okay. Such is the life of a business owner, yeah?” He searches for some thinly veiled shred of disappointment, frustration in their expression, but he doesn’t. No matter how many times he lets them down, the explosion he’s waiting for never comes. They remain patient, collected through it all. 

Says more about him than them, he supposes. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, “such is the life.” 

“C’est la fucking vie,” they say, and he laughs with a shake of his head. 

It can feel strange to laugh. He worries that the lightness in his chest will expand like a balloon, and he’ll float away. It’s uncontrollable, foreign. It should be scary, how his emotions lead him when he’s around them, not the other way around, but it’s not. 

It’s not scary to loosen up around them, and that’s the scary part. There are no words to describe why. All he can see is that the fear exists, stubborn and persistent. That fear is what makes him snap out of it, makes him look at the clock. He holds back a sigh. 

“Time to go,” he mutters, and they nod.

“And time for me to go back to bed.” They salute him. “Best of luck with your day, brave soldier. And just shoot me a text if you do end up coming back early, ok?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. And, thanks. You, you too,” he gets out. He stands up, readjusting the waistband of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“See you,” they say through a yawn, waving at him from where they’re lying down. They’ve taken his spot, sprawled across the couch, tangled hair flayed out on the pillows. 

Cute , he thinks again, and hearing the thought in his brain makes him wanna panic. 

He doesn’t wanna panic, doesn’t wanna think about it at all, so he nods, shuts the door, and heads out to work with a cigarette hastily lit in his mouth. 

By the time it’s Carmy’s lunch break, he swears his vocal cords must have snapped by how tight he was wringing them. 

The soreness has never stopped him from lighting a cig, though. As he stands outside in the back, finally forced to go on his 30, he smokes rather than eating. There’s a sandwich in his pocket, one that was bearing the brunt of test ingredients. He can feel the aluminum wrapping at his fingertips. 

Eventually, he does eat, though, because he sees the way his hands are shaking when he flicks his lighter. He doesn’t wanna shake when he uses a knife, so he eats. He tastes it, but he doesn’t really taste it.

In truth, he wasn’t even planning on taking his lunch break at all. Most days, he forgets about it. The kitchen’s always busy, there’s always something missing, there’s always something that hasn’t been prepped that’s ruining everything, the lights in the hallways keep flickering because they need to fixed, Fak’s supposed to fix them, but he can’t, because Richie’s still out getting the replacement bulbs, the pile of papers on his desk are bigger than he remembers, he doesn’t have enough fucking time—

But then he’s in the middle of chopping an onion, and the cutting board slips. The half-chopped onion and its sliced offspring scatter on the floor with the cutting board. The sound of its fall draws Sydney in like a whip. 

“You okay? Need a bandaid?” Sydney’s already kneeling by him, helping him pick the onions off the floor. 

“I, I’m fine, didn’t drop the knife,” he explains, and it feels like an ocean current is rushing by his ears. “Fucking, I just—such a stupid fucking—” He sucks in a breath and goes silent. 

His entire body feels tight, wound like a spring. He can barely fucking breathe. 

“Hey.” Carmy turns his intense stare from the onions to Sydney, and when he sees her searching expression, he remembers himself. “Maybe you should go take your lunch break.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats, and he feels like he’s heard this before. From someone else. He can’t remember. Who was it? “The onions—we’re behind on onions—”

“I can handle onions for 30 minutes,” she interrupts, decisive and firm. “Seriously.”

Carmy’s about to say something, but then he’s looking at the onion half in his hand. His hand is shaking. 

“Okay,” he sighs after a beat. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. For fucking up.”

“It happens. We all have our moments.” She shrugs. When he keeps standing there, she makes this shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go on. Take your 30!”

So here he is, taking his lunch break a whole hour later than he’s supposed to. Although it’s better than most days where he doesn’t take it at all.

She wouldn’t have had to tell you to take a break if you didn’t fuck it all up, he thinks to himself, eyebrows knitted together. When the last time I’ve fucked up something so fucking easy?

He thinks about his dream from last night. A familiar sight of red fire and flames up to the ceiling, crackling so loud it sounded like screaming. The only good part is that when he woke up, he wasn’t at the stove burning his place down. It hasn’t happened at this apartment yet. Carmy hopes it never happens. 

Just get it together, he thinks. He aggressively taps the ash out onto the decrepit ash tray they have in the back. It’s full. You’re supposed to be at this shit. So just be good.

“Cousin.” Carmy snaps his head up, and Richie’s at the door, stepping out. His presence yanks him out of his inner whirlpool, a quickly descending spiral. “Gimme one.”

Wordlessly, Carmy hands him a cigarette. Richie plucks it out of his hand like a flower.

“You had a lighter, but no cigarette?” Carmy comments, squinting at Richie pulling a busted up red lighter from his jean pocket. 

“Shut up,” Richie mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Got the wrong damn light bulbs,” he explains unprompted. 

“Alright,” Carmy sighs. He has so little energy that the frustration bypasses him completely, diving instantly into deflated acceptance. “Just return ‘em.”

“Can’t,” Richie says, and when Carmy gives him a look, he elaborates, “no receipt.” 

“ Dude .” Carmy opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. It’s just not worth it. “Thanks anyway, cousin. We’ll get it done.”

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, you asshole. I didn’t do shit.” Richie nudges him, but like before, it’s not an angry thing. “Also, toilet guy’s not comin’ today.”

“The fuck? Why ?”

“Canceled,” he replies simply. 

“Fucking hell,” Carmy mutters under his breath. “Did he say when he could reschedule?”

“Not yet.”

“Great.”

“Yep.” Richie tilts his head up, blowing out a slow stream of gray cigarette smoke. “Might as well wait for Fak to get his ass back in town at this rate.”

“I guess.” Carmy sighs. He thinks about all the things he still needs to do. “I dropped this onion I was chopping, earlier,” he mentions out of nowhere. 

“Okay.” Richie gives him a look. “And? You bitches chop those things up faster than I could cut one in half.” 

“I dropped it on the floor,” Carmy tries again, but Richie’s expression remains unchanged. “I never do shit like that.”

“Well, cousin, you did.” Carmy feels something in him deflate. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nevermind,” he replies, because he’s a coward. “Just—just forget it.”

Silence. The spark of a lighter. 

“I’m gonna leave early,” Richie says, like he can just do that. Which…he can, Carmy supposes. “If no one’s gonna show up, what’s the point?” He slaps Carmy’s back, and Carmy doesn’t watch him as he heads back inside. 

Guess all I need to do later is get rid of those papers on the desk , Carmy thinks to himself, idly moving the shortening cigarette between his lips. Then that’ll be it, I guess.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone home early. It’s hard to even imagine what he does on days like those. Sleeping, probably.  There’s nothing much else for him to do, not with how tired he is—

Shoot me a text, okay?  

He hears them in the back of his head all of a sudden, and he remembers. 

Oh, he remembers, hands moving to take out his phone. Almost forgot.

“Sorry to bother you, chef.” Carmy’s not sure how he didn’t hear the door opening. Marcus’ head pops out, nose covered in flour. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re gonna need more flour for tomorrow.”

“Order’s not gonna come for a couple days. I thought we had an extra bag left,” Carmy tries, but the guilty look on Marcus’ face explains it all. 

“Dropped it,” Marcus grimaces, and Carmy’s already fucking over it. 

“We’re all fucking up today, chef,” Carmy replies, and the day goes on. 

. . . . .

It’s a strange, delightful miracle, but he manages to get out of the restaurant before the sun sets.

Considering their collective track record, the fact everyone was able to leave early was cosmic intervention. It helps that the toilet guy didn’t come, in an unfortunate way, but still. Standing outside of the restaurant in the evening like this feels…weird. 

It’s not that Carmy’s complaining about a nice thing, it’s just that he wasn’t prepared to have anything good today.

Shower, dinner, and weed, he thinks absentmindedly on the way home. He juggles the three around in his brain. Just the thought of it feels like relaxing. A little.

With company , his brain helpfully adds, and his stomach squirms. 

Self control, he thinks. He needs more self-control. He can’t just keep thinking of them so indulgently. He’s not allowed to think of them that way, because it’s not fair to them. Even if no matter how many times he chastises himself, it never works. Even if they remain in his brain like sun-spots in his vision. Even if it’s not his fault that he just can’t help it.

The thing is, though, it always is. Even when it’s not his fault, it actually is. Always.

You dropped that fucking onion , his brain helpfully adds for no particular reason. Fucking loser.

Fuck off , he thinks back as he approaches his front door. Predictably, it does not stop.

Just as his fingers search for his keys in all of his pockets, he hears something that makes him pause, hands stopped on his waist. It’s music, distant and muffled. They’re probably listening to music in the kitchen. He stands, trying to place the song, but he doesn’t recognize it. 

He does recognize the voice that’s singing over the music, though.

Oh, he realizes. That’s them.

The way their voice clumsily layers over the music shouldn’t make him pause like this. He shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the doorway and listening rather than opening the door. The keys are in his hand. This, this is a breach of privacy, he tells himself, feeling a little dizzy with distress, he just needs to just—

There’s an abrupt, loud clang, and he shoves the door open.

Concern is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies there. The source of the noise lays face-down on the floor—a pan sitting in what seems to be tomato sauce. The matter next to it is what makes the words evaporate from his lips, like they were never there at all. 

They’re kneeled down next to the pan, paper towels in hand, but all they’re wearing is an apron. 

His mind blanks. He thinks he stops breathing. He’s never seen so much of their skin at once. He needs to look away, he thinks, but his eyes keep traveling, traveling, and traveling. It just happens so quickly. He doesn’t mean to look, he doesn’t, but they’re right there and he can see right down their—

“No, I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were coming back early!” They exclaim, quickly crossing their arms over their chest, and that’s what makes him tear his eyes away. 

“I—I thought I texted you,” he says quickly, hot face turned to the side, “on my lunch—...“ He stops there, the memory reconstructing itself. 

He forgot.

“It’s fine, I just feel bad about dinner, and, uh—okay, I’m just gonna change real quick, and then I’ll clean this up,” they reply, words rushing out. In the corner of his vision, he sees their bare legs dart to their room.

It seems wrong to just stand here staring at the tomato sauce slowly expand outwards on the floor, so he cleans it up. A couple paper towels later, he’s gotten most of it, and they’ve returned with a change of clothes.

“Sorry,” Carmy starts right as they also go “I’m sorry”. He pauses, meeting their eyes. It’s a lot easier now that they’re wearing leggings and a t-shirt as opposed to, well, nothing. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the leggings. 

“Sorry you had to see me like that,” they sigh. “I don’t—I don’t usually walk around the place naked, I just—I didn’t think you’d be back—“

“I should’ve texted,” he interrupts. He struggles to not think about them walking around the living room naked. “I forgot. But it, it’s fine. You’re fine. Really. Sorry for not texting.”

“Okay. Cool.” They exhale, a tired noise. “And it’s okay. It happens.” They look at the floor and make a sound of surprise. “Did you clean this up?” The look they give him has far too much gratitude, and it feels like a searing hot iron.

“Yeah, uh.” His hands are moving like he’s trying to explain something, but no words crop up. “Felt weird not to.”

“Well.” They smile, grateful. “Thank you. That was gonna be dinner, but…” They trail off, looking at the floor with a sour expression. “I fucked up.”

“It’s just that sort of day today,” Carmy mutters.

“Shitty day for you, too?” 

“Yeah. Lots of shit went wrong.” Especially me, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “You?”

“Gotcha.” They shrug. “As for me—yeah. Really not my best day. It was just, uh, some family shit. You know how it is.”

Carmy makes a sound of acknowledgement. “That sucks.” He doesn’t know much about their family other than that they’re fairly shitty. It’s the same the other way around, too. 

“It’s whatever,” they say, even though it really isn’t, and he knows it. They look at the floor one more time before looking up at him. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something?”

“Yeah, I do,” Carmy replies, his words coming out much more despondent than expected. 

They settle on some pepperoni pizza from a place down the street. It’s a tried and true method—they deliver, it’s cheap, it’s oily, it’s cheesy, it’s good. Just talking about it makes Carmy taste it on the tip of his tongue. 

“You can go and shower if you want. I’ll get the door when pizza comes,” they offer. They’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up. 

“Okay, thanks.” Carmy pauses then, gears turning. He’s vaguely worried his memory is going to shit. “Did—did I just say I was gonna shower?” 

“Oh, no, you didn’t, you just always shower when you get home from work, right?” They say it like it’s the weather, like it’s familiar, and that’s when Carmy realizes because it is. After several months of living together, of course they’ve picked up on his habits. It doesn’t need to be a thing. There’s no reason for it to be a thing.

“I do,” Carmy replies faintly, and for some reason, that’s all he can say. 

“Thought so.” They look at him for just a moment, but it makes him feel like his body’s gone transparent. “I notice these things, you know.”

“Yeah.” Carmy looks at them when they turn back to the dishes, back facing him. “You do.” 

He tells himself he’s not gonna think any harder about any of it. He’s not gonna think about the singing, the apron, the way they just notice these things, but then he does. 

He’s in the shower, and he thinks about everything.

The water pressure is pathetic, but the warmth still feels nice. Between that and the sound of the running shower, it’s usually enough to quiet his thoughts. This time, though, it doesn’t. To his credit, he does try to think about anything else. 

He thinks about work, because he always does. He thinks about flour, about onions, about knives. He thinks about the shampoo lathered in his hair. He thinks about those lightbulbs they still need to get. He thinks about food. He thinks about them. He thinks about pizza. He thinks about the way they sing when no one’s around. He thinks about the way they know him. 

He thinks about them, knees on the floor only in a—

He thinks of bashing his head into the tile wall until he explodes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself, rivulets of hot water trailing down his forehead and dripping off his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

The soreness is still present in his body, but that never quite goes away. He does feel a bit better now that he doesn’t have sweaty, sticky skin, though. It gets even better when he puts on a clean white t-shirt and his favorite sweatpants. It’s a nice surprise from his past self who did his laundry for him. 

This amount of niceness is okay. This is what he’s used to—a shower and comfortable clothes when he’s home from work. That’s enough.

He steps out into the kitchen with a damp towel on his head. He finds them sitting by their one shitty window that opens, pizza box in front of them and joint lit. It casts an orange glow to mix with the golden light from the window. 

“Hey, pizza’s here!” They slap their hand on the greasy cardboard box. “Just got this joint started for us, too.”

“So you weren’t gonna smoke it all on your own?” He doesn’t mean to tease, but he does. He slips into the seat across them, arms resting on the table they placed by the window. 

“I couldn’t smoke this whole thing even if I wanted to,” they protest. “Besides, joints are made for sharing. Here—now you get to take it. Isn’t that nice?” With their elbow propped up on the pizza box, they hold up the joint to him. The lit end of it sizzles a bright orange, emitting a thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling. 

“That is very, very nice,” Carmy agrees, taking it carefully from their fingers. Their face spreads into that contagious grin of theirs, and he’s far from immune. Sometimes he smiles so much around them that his face hurts, rusty and unused. 

Sure, he can blame that on the weed, but if he’s being honest with himself (a rare occasion), that’s a complete lie. Obviously the weed lessens the tension, the stress that winds him up tight. It’s not just the weed that gets him to relax, though. 

It’s them. There’s something disarming about their presence, something that makes him loose-lipped around them. Even when he’s sober, he finds himself feeling comfortable. He’s not quite sure how that happened, or if that’s ever happened. He supposes that isn’t a bad thing. Just something he’s noticed. 

He wonders if they’ve noticed. 

“You like the new rolling papers?” They tuck their knees under their chin, propping their feet up on the chair. 

“Hm.” Carmy lowers the joint from his mouth to give it a good look. He rotates it around in his fingers. “Strawberry?”

“Yeah, it’s strawberry,” they confirm, poorly hiding the excitement in their demeanor. Not that they were trying to. “Can you taste it?” 

He pulls from the joint, the edges of the paper sizzling red with the weed. It’s an even burn this time. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth after he exhales a cloud of smoke. 

“Still no,” he decides after a beat, and they sigh. 

“I don’t know why I ever get my hopes up.”

“I do taste something else in this, though.” He takes another hit, stews on it. “Lavender?”

“Shoulda known you would’ve gotten it on your first tray. Yeah, it’s lavender. I found some lying around.”

“You made this one pretty nice,” he observes, eyes tracing the shape of the joint. “Between the lavender and the new papers, I mean.”

“Well, y’know.” The smile on their face is small and shy. “I don’t smoke joints often, so I wanted to make it nice, and I, uh…”

They’re paused for so long that Carmy interjects. 

“And?”

“And I—want that joint,” they finally say, outstretching their hand. Carmy has a strong feeling that they weren’t originally going to say that, but he hands over the joint nonetheless.

“Strain?” He asks curiously. He can feel the body high creeping up his shoulders, fluid and light.

“The strain that gets you high,” they reply with a grin.

“Oh, thank god,” Carmy sighs in relief, and the way that makes them laugh… It makes his chest tight. 

“To actually answer your question, though—I dunno.” He likes watching the smoke drift from the tip of the joint as they talk, thin gray wisps in the air. “I think it’s a hybrid? Not sure if it’s more one way or not, though…”

“As long as it’s not the weed that puts you to bed.”

“Um…well, if you smoke enough of it, it can.”

They sit together like this for a while, just sitting and taking turns with the joint. It’s an easy, fluid exchange, flowing between them like smoke. No matter how much they both try to blow it out the window, it always comes back in. The smell of weed is strong in the air, earthy and pungent.  

Although he would never describe himself as a talkative person, sitting stoned across from them makes the words come out. Sometimes, he thinks he likes himself better when he’s high—his mind isn’t running circles around itself, and the soreness of his body just floats away. He feels more like a human than a poor imitation of one like he usually does. 

This weed smells kinda good, he thinks, and when they laugh, nose scrunched up, he realizes he said that out loud. 

“That’s literally what I’ve been saying,” they agree, a bright grin lingering on their face. “That’s how you know you’re a fuckin’ stoner!” 

“Feels weird to call myself a stoner,” he muses. He plucks the joint from their outstretched hand. It definitely looks shorter from when they started a moment ago. “But I guess…”

“If you like the smell of weed, you’re too far gone,” they say with a grave expression. “It’s so fucking over for you.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, equally as serious, and then they’re both bursting out into laughter. He likes the sound of their laugh—it’s unabashed, fills up the space. 

“Dude, I’m high,” they whisper after they both calm down, like it’s some sort of secret, and Carmy can’t stop himself from laughing all over again. “Oh my god. Are you high?”

“I—I think I might fucking be,” he gets out between laughs, and that sparks them straight into another cackle of laughter. He’s not supposed to be able to make others laugh, he doesn’t even make himself laugh—but then he’ll say something, and they’re lit up with laughter. 

“We need to eat this pizza now, ” they yell, projecting over their combined noise. They flip the pizza box open, and it smacks Carmy right in the face. 

“Oh,” he reacts mildly.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you punched me in the face,” he reasons, but their guilty expression persists. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just cardboard.”

“I’m sorry, I’m high,” they sigh apologetically. 

“I know,” he replies with a little smile. His eyes drift down to the pepperoni pizza sitting before them, glorious in its perverse amount of oil. “So, we’re gonna eat this, right?”

“Oh my god, yes we are,” they gasp, and the moment is forgotten. 

When he tears off a pizza slice, the cheese stretches in thin, gooey strings. They grab the slice adjacent to it to snap the strings in half, but they’re both leaned back in their chairs, pizzas in hand, and the cheese is still connected. 

“This doesn’t seem right,” Carmy mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We should’ve just cut it.”

“How could we have predicted this?” They pull their pizza further back, and the string still doesn’t break. “Wow. I’m honestly impressed. I don’t think it’s ever been this insane before.”

“I think we’d remember.” He’s not sure why he’s still talking and not just running his finger across the string to break it. 

“I think we would, too.” They snort, shaking their head. “This—this is some spaghetti type shit.”

“What? Spaghetti?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

“I—I mean like—that fucking disney movie. With the dogs.” They pause for a moment, mouth silently moving. “Fucking—lady and the, the truck—”

“Uh.” He has to hold back a laugh. “...The lady and the tramp?”

“ Holyshittheladyandthetramp ,” they blurt out in a rush, and the cheese string finally snaps in half. “…Well, I guess it’s not exactly like the lady and the tramp, then.” They take a large bite of their pizza, and it reminds Carmy exactly how hungry he is. 

“You mean lady and the truck,” he corrects, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. Especially not with how good this hot pizza is, delightfully salty and greasy in his mouth. 

“Shut up, I was trying,” they grunt through a mouthful of food. 

“How exactly is this like the lady and the tramp, again? Or, uh, not like it?” 

“Well, it was just like it, but then the string broke.” Somehow, they’re already halfway through their slice. “Could’ve been a beautiful spaghetti moment.”

“Spaghetti moment,” he echoes under his breath, holding back a laugh. “Remind me how that scene goes?”

They go quiet for a moment. It’s like he can see the gears turning in his head. If he’s being honest, he already remembers how that scene goes, but…he wants to hear them say it. He needs to hear them say it. 

“Uh, well, they’re…eating spaghetti. The titular lady and tramp.”  Their eyes are fidgety, flickering back and forth between their pizza and the window. “And they’re sharing the plate, the two of them. They’re eating together, and, um…” 

“...And?” 

They meet his eyes, mouth hanging open, and then they close it. 

“Um, I don’t remember, actually,” they say, shaking their head and blinking. He sees it for the blatant lie that it is, and yet. “Do, do you remember?”

As he stares back at them, unable to look away, he wonders. He wonders about what this really means. About if this really means anything at all, about if he’s going to find out if it does. 

“I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, cowardly, and neither of them say anything else.

Out of the two of them, they’ve always been better with recovering from awkward moments, so they do. They start talking about something else, and the world keeps turning. But in the back of his head, Carmy remains in that moment, unwilling to let it go. 

Why did you say that you didn’t remember? He wants to say. Why didn’t I say that I remembered how it went? Because I remember. They kiss—they fucking kiss. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what I wanted to hear?

But because he’s Carmy, he doesn’t say anything. He just eats.

He’s so hungry that the pizza disappears in minutes. It’s delicious, but he’s so high he’s not completely sure he can taste it. Somehow, it remains the best thing he’s ever eaten. 

The rest of the night is a blur. He remembers getting onto the couch at some point. They both decide on a random movie he doesn’t catch the name of. They finish off the joint on the couch together, sinking into its cushions. It burns hot in his throat as it reaches the end. 

And as it turns out, the weed he smoked is the one that puts him to bed. 

“...Ca…Car…” Someone’s calling him. “...Carmy, c’mon. You’re gonna complain about your neck tomorrow if you keep sleeping here.”

“Mhm,” he replies helpfully. He turns his head into the cushion. His body feels like an abstract blob, perfectly molded into the couch cushions.

“Okay, you made a good point. But. ” They laugh quietly, under their breath. “Movie’s been over for like 20 minutes now.”

“Mhm,” he repeats, nearly inaudible. He doesn’t wanna get up. Whenever he falls asleep, it always feels like he’s never gotten an hour of sleep in his life. There’s nothing he needs to think about, worry about. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t feel like letting that go just yet.

Everything goes silent again for a moment, save for the cars on the road. He begins to drift away again, slipping back into his dreamless sleep. 

But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it’s like a smoking brand on his skin. His eyes fly open and he jolts awake, jerking upright. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they apologize, fretful. Between the dark of night and haze of sleep, they look pretty different. The blue light from the television is streaked across the blurry planes of their face.

“It’s fine,” he replies, drowsy. Speaking feels…heavy. Begrudgingly, he adjusts to sit up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Weed,” they say with a shrug. 

“How, how long was I—?” He cuts himself off with a yawn, wide with condensation in the corners of his eyes. 

“Only like, 30 minutes.” They yawn back. Typical infectious yawning. “End of the movie sucked anyway.”

“Oh.” Pause. “What was the ending?”

“Love interest died,” they state plainly. “He told her about how he felt, got rejected, and then she died in a car accident. Pretty tragic.”

“Huh.” Carmy makes a face. “That does suck.”

“Yeah, a bit.” They’re idly fiddling with the remote, scrolling through Netflix without reading anything. “I feel like the movie was trying to say something profound about the unpredictability of life or something, but the writing was shit.”

“I guess it’d be too perfect if they got together,” he muses.

“I guess,” they echo. They turn off the tv, and the room goes dark. The only light is from the yellow street lamp right outside their window, wonderful in its inconvenient placement. It illuminates the shape of the back and leaves their face in shadow. “I think I remember how that scene went,” they say suddenly. 

“Oh.” Carmy’s heart feels stuck in his throat. “And how does it go?”

“Well, they’re—both eating spaghetti. Like I said.” They’re not facing him, leaving their face shrouded in shadow. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the shake in their voice or not. It’s beyond him why there would be any shakiness at all. “They somehow get the same noodle, so they, uh, kiss.”

“They kiss,” he repeats for some unknown reason.

“Yeah.” They let out a quick laugh, but it doesn’t sound like they actually find this funny. He wishes he could see the look on their face. 

“I don’t think pasta works like that,” he hears himself murmur faintly. For some reason, he can’t help but think that was the wrong thing to say. But he’s already said it. Maybe it’s the same reason as to why his heart is beating so urgently. 

“No, I, I don’t think so either,” they mumble. He refuses to place the way they’re feeling. 

I can’t fucking do this.

The thought resounds like a gong, hit with a mallet right next to his ear. 

“It’s late, I gotta head to bed.” It feels like someone else is speaking for him, moving his body for him. He can’t stop them. When he stands up, he avoids their face.

What the fuck are you doing?

Another thought resounds. He doesn’t respond.

“Right, I—didn’t even notice the time.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the strain in their voice. No, he didn’t word that right—there is no strain in their voice. “G’night.”

"Night,” he murmurs back.

This is enough, he tells himself as he falls into bed. His sheets are tangled. This is enough , he repeats, and it’s not because he’s scared, afraid, anxious, or any other stupid synonym. It’s because he believes it, needs to believe it. 

He tells himself, this is enough , even though he wonders, what is supposed to be enough? He doesn’t listen. He stamps down the protests, the thoughts that are out of line. The high usually helps with that, but it’s worn off, now just leaving him in a weary, sleepy state of things. 

This is enough, he thinks, and he falls asleep looking at their shrouded face behind his eyelids.

#carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #the bear fanfiction #hahaha i've been stewing on this fic since sept 2023 and now its here... i have like 2 more chapters written right now #they're around the same length #AH!!!! CARMEN BERZATTO!!!! #my writing #my fics #carmy #reader #alexithymia fic

[staytheword]

falling rain

falling rain — one shot [ back to general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors, please do not interact!!

• bang chan x female reader, other stray kids members are mentioned/featured, as well as other idols (itzy’s yeji, ateez’s san, nmixx's lily).

• non idol au, friends to lovers. angst, fluff, post breakup sadness and melancholia. drinking. explicit language. smut, oral sex (f receiving), protected sex.

• word count: 11k (11,199)

You fell out of love. It happens. All you need is time to piece yourself back together. But as you and your friends meet for a movie night, you don’t expect your ex to be there - yet he is, and it looks like he’s doing much better than you do. Luckily, your friends are there for you - especially Chan.

• permanent taglist: @ughbehavior​ ; @upallnight-s​ ; @changbinluvr​ ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan

• story taglist: @tanyas97 ; @hyynee ; @moonlightcandy00 ; @drhsthl ; @flakeisthebest

• author’s note: Here it is! Thank you for your support on the preview, I am so glad you guys liked it and were excited for the full story. I hope you enjoy it! Take care <3

The rain is cold against your skin. 

You look up at the sky through your transparent umbrella. Swirls of pale gray cover the horizon, blurred by drops of rain sliding down the plastic material. It was darker earlier - the rain will stop soon. 

The bus stops in front of you, its brakes squeaking. You close your umbrella and get on, sitting where you usually do, at the back, next to the window. Placed between your legs, your umbrella is getting your jeans wet, but you don’t care. You close your eyes, letting the music in your ears soothe you. You’ve been taking the same bus route everyday for years, so you know exactly how much time you have before your stop. It’s not like you’re afraid of falling asleep, anyway. You never sleep in transportation, and it’s not like your mind has been able to rest easy recently. 

Your playlist transports you through melancholic melodies, pianos and violins lulling your senses. Your favorite songs do not let you forget the ache - they remind you of it, softly, tenderly. That’s what you want, anyway. 

You’re not interested in forgetting. You just want to heal.

When you open your eyes, your stop is a minute away. You press the button and get up, ignoring the inevitable looks of the other passengers on the bus. People are always staring. Always judging. Often, you care. These days, not so much. You can’t control them, what they do, what they think. They’ll see the shadows under your eyes, the pale skin, the chapped lips, and they’ll tell yourselves, she isn’t sleeping much. She looks terrible. She must be going through something. 

So what if I am, you want to tell them? Aren’t we all? 

When you step off the bus, it’s barely raining anymore and you decide not to open your umbrella. You let the rain slide through your hair, against your hands. You’re so cold but you’re used to it. You haven’t been able to warm up in a while. The rain feels good, actually. It makes you aware of your body, of your skin. As you walk towards your apartment building, you tilt your head backwards and let the rain fall down your cheeks like tears. 

Daylight has almost vanished when you unlock your apartment door, and you step inside with a sigh. You’ve grown to hate this place so much, but there is nowhere else to go. You should look for another apartment, but moving seems like an insurmountable amount of shit to go through and you just don’t have the energy. Maybe in a few weeks. Maybe in a few months. Maybe. 

You start by taking a shower, the boiling hot water contrasting with your icy cold skin. You wash your hair, apply lotion. Your movements are slow but you get there eventually. Wrapped in your bathrobe, you open your closet and stare at your clothes. It’s not that you hate them, you just have no idea what to choose. You’re not going someplace fancy, so you end up slipping on a simple pair of jeans and a warm sweater. 

You should probably eat something, but your stomach is in a tight knot. There will be food at Yeji’s place, anyway. 

As you check your phone and realize you still have some time before you have to leave, you let out a long sigh and sit on your bed. You’re not sure you really want to go, but your friends organized this movie night a while ago and they are excited for it. Yeji’s place is perfect for it - she has a projector, which allows the movies to play as wide as the wall. Everyone has been tasked to bring their favorite snacks and drinks. It’s going to be a chill night, and you’ll be happy to see your friends, but everything feels exhausting. 

You promised you were going to be there. So you will go. 

It’s not like they will bother you, anyway. They all know you pretty well, although some more than others, but they are all aware of what is going on with you. No secrets to have. Still you don’t want to be a bore, and you know you’ll do your best to smile throughout. It’s not that they want you to - but you’ll still do it. It’s just who you are. 

At least he won’t be there. Yeji said he wouldn’t - had plans already, apparently. It would be okay if your ex was there - actually, you’ve seen him a couple of times already since your breakup. But you need to be in the right mindset - and today you aren’t, so it’s good he’ll be absent. 

You let out a long sigh and stand up to dry your hair. 

You apply simple makeup, a bit of eyeliner, some mascara. You put on your favorite necklace. You decide to wear perfume. Little things to make you feel better, like you aren’t crippled inside, like you don’t have a decaying organ in your chest. It’s recent, that you’re able to do that. A week ago you would’ve showed up in sweatpants and messy hair. 

Little steps. 

As you grab a tote bag to fill it with the snacks you bought yesterday, you get a text from Yeji. 

Everything okay? 

Come anytime <3

She’s checking up on you and you’re grateful for it. Not a lot of people do, not even your closest friends. You don’t blame them - you haven’t been good company and sometimes it’s hard to find the right words. Some of them have been anxious that your breakup with San will mess up their friend group, and in fear of seeming like they’re taking sides, they just decided not to say anything. They take care of you differently - but sometimes you hate that they can’t talk about it with you. 

Yeji doesn’t do that. She’s been there for you at every step - and it’s not because she blames or dislikes San. It’s just different for you and her, because your friendship not only goes way back when your friend group got together, but also way beyond. 

Leaving in 5, you text back, and she sends a heart emoji. 

Once you’re ready, you slip on your jacket and stare at your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look your normal self, except for the obvious exhaustion on your face, and the slightly vacant look in your eyes. 

You can do this. 

You won’t let your stupid, broken heart define you or your life. 

When you get to Yeji’s, she pulls you into a tight hug. A few people are already there - Jeongin is already snacking on a huge bowl of popcorn, talking to Lily, who’s on her phone scrolling down Pinterest boards. Changbin and his girlfriend, the newest addition to your friend group, are bundled up under a blanket on the couch and wave at you. 

You follow Yeji to the kitchen, putting the cans of soda you brought in the fridge, adding your snacks to the pile on the counter. 

“You look really pretty,” Yeji tells you with a smile. “Is that the sweater we got together the other day?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m still not sure about the color, though.”

“No, it suits you. I promise.” 

You give her a sincere smile as she empties a bag of potato chips in a bowl. It’s quiet in the apartment, but you know it won’t last very long - except for Changbin, the loudest people have yet to arrive. 

“How was work today?” Yeji asks. 

“Fine,” you shrug. “Boring.” 

She gives you a long look. 

“You know you don’t have to stay there, right? You can find something else. With your skills it would be easy -”

“I know, Yeji,” you say in a low voice. “But not right now.” 

You play with your nail polish, chipping a small piece from your thumb. 

“Right now boring is good,” you nod, your voice a little more firm. “When I can focus more, I’ll look for something else. Promise.” 

She smiles, taking your hand to give it a squeeze. “I just don’t want you to waste away where you don’t belong. You’re worth so much more.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

You put your head on her shoulder for a second as Jeongin’s laugh resonates through the apartment. It’s a sweet and familiar sound, and you start to believe it was a good idea to come. 

Grabbing the filled bowls of potato chips, you and Yeji join the others in the living room. You sit down next to Jeongin, who quickly shows you the funny puppy video Lily has shown him, and you giggle at the screen. As Yeji starts to set up the projector, the door opens on a few more of your friends and you know it won’t be quiet anymore. 

Chan, Jisung and Minho are yelling about something, raising the volume of the conversation a million dozen decibels, and you shake your head at the sight of them. Chaotic and loud as they are, even in your state you are grateful for them, because whatever the circumstances they can always make you smile, or, at least, provide welcome distractions. 

They drop down in the remaining spots, either on the couch or the floor, Minho diving his hand down Jeongin’s popcorn bowl and Jisung arguing with Changbin about the type of beer he bought - of course, as usual, Jisung’s only answer to Changbin’s complaint is a simple traitor. 

“THIS AGAIN…” Changbin yells at the top of his lungs. 

You can’t help but smile. That game has been going on since Changbin moved out of his apartment with Jisung and Chan to move in with his girlfriend - Minho took his spot since, and there really isn’t any bad blood between them, but Jisung loves to remind Changbin how he abandoned them. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Minho says, sitting down between you and Jeongin. You took the spot at the end of the couch, a blanket covering your legs. “How’s it going?” 

“I’m okay,” you say with a smile. “What about you?” 

“Fantastic. Did you check out that link I sent you?” 

You start to talk a little - you and Minho work in a similar domain and it’s always nice to exchange ideas and anecdotes. You find yourself immersed in the conversation, the noise of all your friends chatting and laughing mixing into a background noise you can’t get enough of - it definitely helps the black hole inside your chest. You don’t feel so cold, you don’t feel so empty. You know it won’t last, and reality will catch up to you quickly, but for now you allow yourself to relax. 

“Y/N.” 

You turn towards Chan, who has stopped at your level. He’s smiling kindly at you, looking a little tired - but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Like you, Chan barely sleeps. Neither of you can stop the ceaseless train of thought in your heads - while you stare at the ceiling, Chan works. 

“Hey, Channie.” 

“You want something to drink?” 

“Yeah, maybe a soda.” 

“Cool, coming right up.”

“Oiiiii, what about me?” Minho whines. 

He asks for a can of beer, followed by Lily who has finished her previous one, and soon everyone is yelling at Chan to bring them something to drink. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and you chuckle. 

“Let me help you,” you say, standing up. “Y’all are lazy,” you add, squinting your eyes at your friends. 

Their protests all tangle together and you laugh, following Chan to the kitchen. 

Your friends. 

They are all precious to you, all in their own way. 

But Chan. Chan. 

The first time you met him you felt your heartbeat accelerate because he looked so damn charming. A kind smile, eyes like stars, and an energy that immediately soothed you. It did not take long for you to develop a crush on him. How could you not? He was kind, funny, talented, and smart. He truly cared for the people in his life and never broke a promise. Handsome, too, of course. The kind of guy that made you weak in the knees, that sent your thoughts reeling whenever he touched you. 

Your crush had always been one-sided though, which was fine. You had quickly worked to overcome your physical attraction to him and made it a priority to develop your friendship. Because Chan understood you. You found yourselves exchanging looks and agreeing on similar things often enough so that one day, you sat down next to him during a party to ask for advice and you ended up talking for hours, forgetting to get drunk like everyone else. 

You are not particularly close. You don’t know everything about each other. You mostly see each other with the rest of your friend group - rarely alone. You don’t text each other everyday - in fact, you barely do. But he’s a steady presence in your life, a friend you rely on, and you know it’s the same for him. 

Tonight, you’re especially grateful for him. 

Chan gives you a smile as he opens the fridge. 

“I like your sweater,” he says, handing you a pack of sodas. 

You put it on the kitchen island, smiling. 

“Thank you. I like your earrings. Are they new?” 

You’re used to Chan wearing his silver hoops, but today he’s sporting a simple black dot on one ear, a small lightning bolt on the other. 

“Yeah, I felt like a change,” he nods. “They say it’s good for us, right?” 

“I guess,” you answer simply. “It suits you.”

“Thanks.” 

You exchange smiles, gathering all the desired drinks slowly. You glance at him sometimes, at the angle of his nose, at the dark curls that brush his ears. Your crush on Chan eventually faded away, although never entirely. You have just buried it so deep inside you sometimes you forget it is there - you haven’t thought about it for a long time.

Then again, your heart has been entirely occupied by San. 

Heart.

Body.

Soul.

All of which lay in pieces, now. 

Chan must see the shadows in your eyes, because he frowns a little, looking intently at you. 

“Is something wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to shake the bad thoughts away at the same time.

“No, no, don’t worry.” 

Chan gives you a smile and a short nod, although he’s still frowning. He can feel you don’t want to linger on it - you hope he knows it’s not that you don’t trust him. Besides Yeji, Chan is perhaps the friend you trust the most. 

You remember every single hug he’s given you. 

Always so warm. 

Always at the right time. 

He probably doesn’t know some of them gave you the strength to hold on. The most recent one, about two weeks ago. 

“Can I have another one, please?” 

The barman gives you a nod and turns to prepare you another beer.

Besides you, Yeji gives you a long look. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” 

“Just one more,” you tell her, lifting an index. 

She smiles, throwing an arm around your neck. She keeps a close eye on you - that’s why you feel comfortable to indulge in another drink. You need it, after all. Since your breakup with San, you’ve barely touched alcohol, choosing instead to drown in snacks and utter isolation. 

So for your friend, it’s a step forward that you’ve agreed to come tonight. 

It’s just you, Yeji, Chan and Jisung. A quiet night at the local pub. 

A few beers, a board game.

When you have a new full pint, you and Yeji head back to the table and sit down. All of you decide to play another game, and Jisung starts shuffling the cards, telling you some dumb joke. You know he’s doing that to make you feel better, and it works. You find yourself smiling so much your cheeks hurt a little. 

You place your head on his shoulder, affectionately, and cross Chan’s gaze. He’s smiling, too, fondly. 

Your friends are talking and your heart hurts so fucking much.

You miss San. You’ve fallen out of love a long time ago, you now realize, but it’s still painful. You have to start over. You have to find yourself again. It’ll be long work - but you’ll do it. And as you look at your friends, you think to yourself they will make it easier. You’ve been drinking a little, and the emotion swells in your chest. 

“Y/N, don’t cry!” Yeji cries out, noticing the tears on your cheeks.

You have not even realized you are crying. You touch your skin in surprise, letting out a giggle.

“Awwww, no, honey,” Jisung says, drawing you in his arms. 

He rocks you like a child and you laugh as more tears drip down your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I love you guys so much.” 

“Nooo, you’re gonna make me cry too,” Yeji cries out, taking your hand.

“I know it’s not… Not easy for you, because San is your friend, and…” You sniffle. “I don’t want this to be difficult for you.”

“Don’t say that, Y/N,” Jisung whispers. “We’re your friends, too.” 

“We’re here for you,” Chan nods. 

Crying and laughing at the same time, your friends decide to keep playing to get your mind off of things. You’re grateful.

Yeji wins, of course. She always does. Once all your beers are finished, you agree to go. Chan will drive Yeji home - he’s only had one pint. Jisung lives close to you, so you decide to walk together. 

You say goodnight to Yeji. She places a kiss on your cheek, squeezes your hand. Chan draws you into a hug. 

It’s so loving. So steady. 

It takes the breath out of your lungs. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he says in your ear. “I’m here if you need me.” 

You’re too dumbstruck to reply. But you know you’ll remember those words for a long time.

You do. 

You still remember the words - you can still hear them. 

He’s here.

He loves you.

Like a friend, of course. 

But that is more than enough.

“Y/N?” 

Chan’s voice brings you back to the present. You shake your head and chuckle.

“Sorry. I was just lost in thought.” 

He nods, biting his lip nervously. “By the way, I wanted to ask. There’s this concert next -” 

That’s when you hear the door open - followed by a voice.

His voice.

Your blood freezes in your veins, and you stare dumbly at Chan, unable to move. 

You feel like bursting out in tears. No, no, no. 

Not him, not tonight. 

You feel Chan’s eyes on you. Yet, you don’t really see him. He delicately puts a hand on your wrist. 

“Y/N…” 

You try to gather your thoughts. You should’ve prepared, just in case. You feel so stupid. Of course it was all going too well. 

You’re startled when Yeji bursts in the kitchen, puts her hands on your shoulders and seeks your eyes. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, honey -” 

“What the hell?” you hear Chan mutter next to you. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to come.” 

“He wasn’t,” Yeji hisses. “I swear, he told me he couldn’t.” 

“Fuck’s sake, this dude…” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. 

Slowly, you look up at your friends, gathering a smile. 

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice clear. You take Yeji’s hands in yours, nod at her. “I’m fine.” 

“Y/N…” 

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I’ll be fine.” 

You look at Chan next, and you feel like your heart will burst out of your chest. There’s something in his eyes you can’t identify, a spark that is also a shadow. He’s frowning, his body slightly bent towards you, like he’s about to pull you into a hug. You clear your throat and nod, praying to all you can not to let your voice tremble. 

“It’s all right,” you say. “He’s our friend. He should be here.” 

And to some degree, you mean it. 

Yeji gives you a tight hug, and you can hear Chan let out a long sigh from behind you. You can’t linger on it - you have to focus on yourself. 

Stay calm. Breathe. 

You can do this. 

The breakup was hard for the both of you, you remind yourself. You loved each other, you really did, that much you’re sure of. San was never that good of a liar. You have a much more vulnerable nature than him, which was always a source of conflict between you, but you know your breakup affected him. You remember the tears in his eyes. The vein in his neck, pulsing, as he held them back. You remember the way his hand clenched yours. The way his words came out broken from between his teeth. 

It’s over, isn’t it? 

You fell out of love. 

It happens. 

You take a deep breath. You still want San to be your friend. You’ve agreed that you would try, and you intend to follow through on your words. 

You take a step to follow Yeji back to the living room, but Chan puts a delicate hand on your shoulder. You turn around, plunge your eyes in his. You’ve always thought of them as a haven, a night sky full of stars, both deep and bright.

He stares at you with a clenched jaw and a furrowed brow. He smells as he always has, a smell you’ve wanted on your pillow for so long - and it still makes you slightly dizzy although you know there’s no chance with him. 

“If at any moment you want to go home, tell me, yeah?” he whispers to you. “I’ll drive you.” 

You’re a little entranced by the soft lines on his full lips and the way his low voice scrapes - but you manage a nod, after what feels like a long second. 

“Thank you.” 

He nods, gives your shoulder a squeeze and lets you go. The warmth of his hand lingers there, and it gives you courage to move forward. 

San has already taken a seat next to Jisung and glances at you when you walk into the room. Your friends are kind enough to keep the conversation going, so the room doesn’t fall silent, but your heart sinks at the bottom of your chest. 

Because San doesn’t look tired. He doesn’t look sad. 

In fact, he beams. 

Eyes sparkling. 

New clothes, new watch. 

A smile so wide it slices right through your heart. 

Fuck, he looks so happy. 

You have to bite your tongue so you burst out crying. You stagger a little bit, but Chan is right behind you and it prevents you from falling back. His warmth, the voices of your friends, everything makes it better. 

“Hey,” you manage to say, although you’re not sure how. “You look good.” 

“Thanks, you too,” he tells you, but his voice is distant. His eyes are too, like he doesn’t even see you anymore. Not like he did before. 

It’s abundantly clear - your ex has moved on. 

It’s not that you still have feelings for him - you just need time to grieve what you had. San was a huge part of your life for a long time, and suddenly he isn’t there anymore. That absence, that void, that’s what is difficult to deal with. Being so goddamn alone all the time. No one to make you feel loved. No one to love, either. 

You’re still putting yourself back together. 

You’re still healing. 

Not him. He’s done it. 

You should be happy for him, and in a way, you are. You’re not mad he’s moved on. But it happened so quickly. It hasn’t even been two months. You were together for more than a year. Maybe you’re jealous, maybe you’re bitter. But mostly it hurts. 

How long is it going to take you? Why are you so goddamn sensitive? 

You breathe out and help Chan bring everyone their drinks. San’s laughter is a haunting melody and you can’t wait for the movie to start so you can think about something else. You take your previous seat, and Jeongin rubs your back affectionately, offering you the bowl of popcorn. 

Chan sits at the opposite side of the room. Pathetically, you wish he was still next to you. Instead you focus on the images that start playing, projected on the white wall in front of you. It’s a movie you’ve already seen, but that’s ok. It’s not like you can really focus, anyway. 

Because all you can see is San. Funny, clever, happy. You know him, you’d know if he was pretending, but he isn’t. He’s liberated. It’s the only word that comes to mind. You wonder for how long you’ve been bringing him down. If he realized it and hated you for it. If he couldn’t wait to get rid of you. If he was just looking for an excuse and -

You close your eyes and put a stop to the intruding thoughts.

No. It wasn’t like that. 

Was it? 

You don’t know anymore.

You barely follow the movie because your thoughts keep spiraling. Around you, your friends are chatting, making jokes, and commenting on the movie. Jisung’s laugh is so loud it takes over sometimes and you take refuge in it. But your heart feels frozen in place, in the middle of two beats, unable to go forward. You stare into nothing. You don’t even touch your soda. The popcorn, either - so you hand it back to Jeongin. His presence feels good, too. 

You hate yourself for being unable to live in the moment. For letting your mind wander like it is, dizzy and unkind. 

In the movie, people say what they think. 

In the movie, loving doesn’t seem so hard. 

In the movie, it doesn’t rain. 

It’s a blessing and a curse that everyone is watching the movie, and that you’re sitting in the corner, in the dark. Your eyes are filled with tears and suddenly one escapes and slides down your cheek. You fidget in your seat, faking a yawn to wipe it away. You pull the blanket over your trembling body. You laugh when the others do, although it’s heartless. Nobody notices - or so you think - and it’s a good thing. 

You try to focus on the movie. It’s entertaining, it’s funny, and for a minute, maybe, you succeed in feeling better. Then you see, from the corner of your eye, San pulling out his phone. He stares at the screen, and in the dark, its blue light illuminates his face. He smiles at it and types a few words. You know that smile. Fuck, you were that smile, once. 

You clench your jaw, hard, and wanting to look away you accidentally fall into Chan’s eyes. He’s looking at you, and although you can’t see his face very well in the darkness, you notice the worry in his eyes. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t say anything - but you hear his silent question. You need to go?

You shake your head slowly, forcing a smile. I’m fine. I’m fine. 

He nods. He doesn’t believe you. 

You stand up on shaky legs and head to the bathroom. Once you close the door, you don’t even open the light. You wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of your own reflection. You just breathe out, breathe in, and then breathe out again. The tears fall down your cheeks, warm. They taste bitter on your lips. 

Why can’t you be like him? Why can’t you move on, be happy? 

You take a few minutes to collect yourself. It’s fine - you don’t mind seeing San. It’s good, if, unlike you, he’s able to rebuild himself. It’s all you wish for him, and you know it’s all he wishes for you, too. He’d probably be honestly sad to know you aren’t doing well. You can never tell him, of course. You’ll pretend as well as you can - you can’t allow yourself to be vulnerable with him for now. You’ll keep it for yourself, shamefully, selfishly. 

It will be fine. 

You’ll get over it. He did, so why not you?

Once you feel ready, you head out the bathroom, and Chan is there, leaning against the wall. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” you chuckle. “I didn’t realize someone was waiting. Did you -” 

You stop as Chan puts his hands on your shoulders and pulls you to him. You fall into his arms, and you’re a little shocked so you don’t move at first. Still, Chan holds you there. You stammer. 

“C-Chan, I’m okay, you don’t have to -” 

“Y/N,” he says, and there’s something about the way he whispers your name that makes your heart ache. “I saw you crying. Please. You don’t have to hide.” 

Gently, you let your head fall against his chest. He hugs you a little tighter. 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” he whispers. “You don’t have to hide.” 

You nod. He said it in such a way, you don’t know what it is. 

You are friends. 

You’ve been for a long time. 

Despite your crush on him, despite the awkward period where he was aware of it but didn’t say anything, despite all of that, you are friends. 

But Chan has always been more than that for you.

Chan is a pillar, Chan is a mess. 

Chan is both the lighthouse and the storm. 

You like the feel of his arms around you. The way his chest moves as he breathes. The texture of his t-shirt. 

Oh, God. Not again. 

You can’t let your crush come back running. You’re just sad. You’re just lonely. It wouldn’t be fair to Chan, would it? He’s your friend. He’s not a pretty face you can choose to lust over whenever you’re lonely. 

Don’t do that to yourself, Y/N. 

Don’t do that to him.

Chan is your friend and he is only trying to be here for you. 

“Do you want to go home?” he whispers in your hair. 

You take a deep breath and nod. Chan takes a step back, smiling kindly at you. You do the same, although it’s a little faint. He bends his knees slightly to be at your height, gently rubs your cheeks to remove the tears and replace your hair. 

“Let’s go, then, love.” 

You don’t have time to gawk at him for using a nickname he’s never said before, because he turns and waves at you to follow him. 

He tells your friends you’re feeling a little sick and he’ll drive you home. You say there’s the flu going around at the office, and you hate lying to your friends, because you know some of you will believe you and some won’t. Right now you don’t really care - even if they all knew it was a lie, they wouldn’t judge you. You make sure to not avoid San’s eyes and smile at him. You don’t want him to start asking questions. 

You get your things. Yeji gives you a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, making you promise you’ll text tomorrow. You nod, squeezing her hand and glancing at your friends. There will come a day when you’ll be yourself again. 

You just need time.

Time and a lot of courage.

When you step outside, with Chan right behind you, you realize it’s raining again. You look up at the sky, now a profound black painted by hints of grey clouds. You run to his car, the rain heavy and cold.  

The car is clean and smells nice. Chan pulls back his hoodie, starts the engine and drives away as you look back at the apartment building. You wish you were stronger. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Chan says, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping on his thigh to the rhythm of the song on the radio. 

“Do you?” you tell him with a smile. 

“I do,” he nods, matching your smile. “You’re telling yourself you should be stronger.” 

You gawk at him, feeling both embarrassed and scandalized. He shrugs. 

“Didn’t I ever tell you I can read you like an open book?” 

“Tsk,” you retort. “Wasn’t that when we played Mafia?” 

“Whatever applies to Mafia applies to real life.” 

“Not sure that’s true.” 

“This is.” 

You glare at him and he does the same, playfully. You feel much more relaxed now that you’re here. It was always easy to talk to Chan - never does that change, whatever the circumstances. You are much alike in that you tend to put others before yourselves, often at the sacrifice of your own feelings. For some reason, though, that didn’t work between you. The walls immediately fall apart.

“So I’m an open book, huh?” you say, staring at your hands. 

“To me, yes. When I have my eyes on you.” 

“And you had your eyes on me tonight?” you ask without thinking. 

“Of course,” he answers, stopping the car at a red light. “I stayed sober, kept a close eye on you. Just in case.” 

You wince. “Just in case I started crying hysterically or made a scene?” 

He shakes his head, looking at you. The red light reflects on his face, enveloping the car in its hue. The rain thumps on the car in soft sounds. Chan’s dark hair is messy on his head, charmingly curled at the tips. 

“More like in case he did something,” he eventually says. 

“Why would he?” you ask with a frown, assuming he’s talking about San.

“Well…” Chan sighs. “He can be a dick sometimes.” 

You’re surprised by his words - you never would’ve thought that Chan disliked San. On all accounts, they are good friends. Chan chuckles nervously at your look, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry. I know you were a thing for a long time, but… It’s just what I think.” 

“Did he do something?” 

Chan shrugs. “It’s just a feeling. Never really did anything. Except breaking up with you, of course.” 

You scoff. “He’s an asshole for breaking up with me?” 

“Yeah,” Chan stammers. “Just - like - who would ever let a girl like you go?” 

His words don’t make a lot of sense to you. They come to you muffled, as if you are plunged in a dream or in a drunken state. You honestly can’t believe your ears. 

“What are you -” 

He quickly waves his hand, looks away from you to the road ahead - and fortunately for him, the light turns green, so he has a good excuse to change the subject. 

“Don’t mind me. I’m just rambling.” 

You really don’t want to let this go. Your heart is racing, and you honestly wouldn’t know San’s name if someone was to yell it in your ear right now. All you can see is Chan, his tightened jaw, gripping the wheel of his car, driving you home. His words echo in your head, and you’re trying to put everything together. 

Did you miss something? Clearly, Chan has something on his mind, an itch he can’t scratch. Have you been so intoxicated by your grief and sadness that you blacked out? You haven’t been a good friend, that much you know. You just wanted to feel better, first. You were of use to no one feeling this sad and broken. But Chan’s agitation has clearly been there for a while. How long have you been this blind? 

You open your mouth, trying to find the right words. Chan, what is going on?

Chan, are you angry at me?

Chan, please, tell me what’s on your mind. 

You sigh in frustration. You’re silent for a while, your thoughts spiraling, and just when you’re just about ready to ask, your phone rings. You glance at the screen instinctively, and San’s name is like a slap on the face. 

Are you okay? he asks in a text. Tell me when you get home. 

Hints of your boyfriend. Remnants of the past. The text feels like a ghost is speaking to you. It makes you angry. It makes you ache. 

You might not love San anymore, but you miss him. 

“Are you okay?” Chan asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. 

You’re about to say you’re fine, which has become an automatic response, but you remember what Chan said. I can read you like an open book. So instead, you take a deep breath. 

“It’s San,” you explain. “He’s asking me if I’m okay and to text him when I’m home.” 

Chan scoffs, and there is nothing amiable in the sound. “The guts on this guy,” he mutters. “I’m literally driving you and he knows that.” 

You frown, sensing the anger in his voice. 

“Seriously, Chan, did something happen between your two?” 

Chan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to look at you. 

“Chan,” you insist. “Tell me, please.” 

He lets out a sigh, gripping the wheel tighter. 

“We might’ve had… an altercation.”

“An altercation?” you repeat. “Like a fight?!” 

“Not a fight,” Chan sighs. “Not a physical one, anyway.”

“What the fuck happened?” 

The words escape your mouth. An uneasy feeling washes over you. Nobody has told you about this. Nobody has said a word. 

“When did this happen?” you ask when Chan doesn’t answer.

“Like… a week ago, I think.” 

“Why didn’t no one -” 

You interrupt yourself and close your eyes. Looking out the car window, you realize you’re already parked in front of your apartment building. How did it go so fast?

For how much longer are you going to keep losing track of time? 

“Chan,” you say, your voice shaking. “Please tell me what’s going on.” 

He looks at you with timid eyes. They shimmer in the darkness but you can’t focus on them. You are trembling and you can’t hold on to a single clear thought. Your mind is a blurry mess.

Chan looks out through the window before he takes a deep breath. 

“I didn’t want to do this tonight. You need to rest, you -” 

“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll never be able to sleep, so it will be worse.” 

You feel your hands shaking, so you clench your fists. Outside, the rain accelerates, pounds loudly on the car. The sound is almost unbearable but you don’t care. 

“If you’re trying to protect me, I’m grateful,” you add, when you see he’s still hesitating. “But I can take it. I’d rather know.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice quivering. 

“We’re friends, right?” you tell him. “That’s what you said. Be my friend, Chan.” 

He sighs and rubs his eyes. You’re scared, and yet a part of you feels perfectly calm. You hate the fact that something was hidden from you, but you’re so ready to withstand whatever storm is heading your way.

You’d rather stand in chaos than into nothingness. 

At least the chaos makes a little sense. 

“Before I say anything…” Chan sighs. “I don’t want you to take any of this on you, yeah? I know you’ll feel bad, but please, just remember -” 

“For fuck’s sake, Chan,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Get to the point.”

“He has a girlfriend.” 

You stare back at him. 

“What?” 

“San. He has a girlfriend. I thought it was too soon, that it was disrespectful of you, so I told him and it got heated, but… Yeah. Shit. I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

It’s like the rain suddenly got quiet. 

A girlfriend. 

You should’ve known. You saw it, after all. The phone, the text, the smile. The happiness in his eyes. The trendy clothes, the new watch. All the hints were there. 

He has moved on. 

More than you expected. 

Everything happens quickly. Your body acts before your brain registers it, and in the blink of an eye you’re outside in the pouring rain. You slam the passenger door behind you, you forget your bag, you don’t even think about it. You just walk forward.

It’s bitter cold. 

In seconds, you’re drenched. 

Your knees feel weak and you’re sure you are going to fall.

A sob escapes your throat. 

It shouldn’t hurt that much. 

You hate your heart. 

You hate how vulnerable it is. 

You want to move on, too. 

“Y/N!” 

You turn around, halfway to the door of your apartment, to find Chan running towards you. You raise your hand slowly. It’s shaking like a leaf.

“It’s fine, Chan. I’m f-” 

“Stop saying that!” 

You’re a bit surprised at the sudden anguish in his voice. He stops inches away from you, getting soaked by the heavy rain. It slides down his cheeks like tears, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. He looks at you fiercely, his eyes blazing with light. 

“I’m sorry, I just - I see you’re hurting and it’s killing me.” 

You don’t know what to tell him. You wish he would go away. You wish he would hug you. You wish the pain would just stop.  

“Y/N -”

“I don’t care!” you scream, the sound getting lost in the rain. 

Chan frowns. 

“I don’t care if he has a girlfriend,” you cry out. “I just…” You shrug, your eyes lost in Chan’s. “I just want to heal, too. I want to move on, too. I’m sick of being sad. I’m sick of hurting.” 

There is such despair in Chan’s face you can hardly bear it. You wish you could tell him not to take the weight of your pain on his shoulders, but you know him better than that. He can’t help it. That’s why he’s here with you.

“You just have to give me time,” you say, your voice falling apart. “I’ll be fine eventually.” 

He lets out a sigh, slides a hand through his drenched hair. A raindrop slides down his face, gets caught on his lips. 

“Please, let’s go inside,” he pleads. “Let me be here for you.” 

You hesitate, but the cold rain keeps you on your toes. You want to be home, in your own space, but you also don’t want to be alone. So you nod, and Chan lets out a sigh, thanking you in a whisper. 

When you step inside your apartment you’re a little shy to turn on the lights because it’s messy, but you can’t really be bothered about that right now. Chan waits on the other side of the door, a hesitant look on his face. 

“Come in,” you tell him. 

He nods, closing the door behind him. Your place is modest, just big enough for one person, situated in the semi-basement of the building. It does not get much light, but it feels cozy and it is cheap. 

The first thing you do is get a towel for Chan so he can dry his hair and his clothes. He hangs his hoodie on a hook near the door; luckily the t-shirt underneath is only damp. His dark blue jeans took the worst of the rain. You suggest giving him some dry clothes, but he insists he’ll be fine. 

You tell him to get comfortable and go to change in your room. Your limbs feel weak as you slip on a pair of sweatpants and a crewneck. You cannot stop thinking about Chan's words. 

San has a girlfriend. 

He has opened his heart to love again. 

The rain keeps falling. 

It’s time you heal. 

When you come back to the living room, Chan is anxiously staring at his phone. He puts it away when he sees you, smiling a little timidly. 

“Feel better?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Want a drink?”

“Sounds good.” 

You give him a gentle smile and you both head to the kitchen, where you fill two glasses of soju. He takes one, clinking it against yours. You drink it in one go. 

“Now that feels better,” you sigh. 

Chan smiles at you fondly, and you nudge his arm. 

“Chan. It’s all right. It had to happen.” 

“So quickly, though?” he winces. 

“We all heal at different paces,” you say softly. “Or maybe it’s his way of healing. Either way I’m happy for him.” 

Chan leans one elbow on the kitchen counter, giving you a long look. You hold his gaze, confused at the sudden calmness you feel.

“You said you can read me like an open book,” you remind him, pouring yourself another drink. “Am I lying?” 

He smiles briefly. “No.” 

“Cheers.” 

He takes another sip, and you imitate him. 

“How about we sit down?” you propose. 

Once in the living room, you sink into the couch. Chan sits at a comfortable distance, twirling his glass between his fingers. It’s strange to see him at your place - because of the size of your apartment, you rarely have friends over. You remember him driving you home a couple of times, but he must have been inside only once or twice in the three years you’ve lived here.

You talk a little, about everything and nothing. You drink some more, perhaps a little too much, but the soju warms your body. Chan relaxes, too. The bottle is quickly empty. 

You both fall silent, and you stare at the bottom of your empty glass. The tears come back too easily. 

“Chan?” 

“Yeah, love?”

You peck your lips. Hearing him say that feels too good. It’s so new, but you already don’t want him to ever stop. 

“Is she pretty?” you utter.

“Y/N…” 

“She must be. Pretty and smart.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“Do you know her?” 

You look up, and Chan shakes his head. His hair is untidy, his cheeks a little red, his full lips as inviting as ever. 

“I don’t. Ji told me they met at a party.” 

You let out a shaky sigh. “So everyone knows?” 

You hate the way your voice shudders, but you can’t help it. Chan shuffles closer to you, gently taking your hand in his. It’s warm and familiar. 

“No,” he answers in a soft voice. “Just a few. We wanted to wait for the right moment - well, actually, I thought San should be the one to tell you.” 

You laugh, wiping your tears. “No offense, but that would’ve been worse.” 

Chan snorts amusingly. “Oh. Good thing it didn’t happen, then. I thought it’d be a good idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” 

You both end up giggling, and Chan doesn’t let go of your hand. You sniffle. You don’t let go either.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you say. But why are you so invested in this?”

“In your breakup?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m not invested in your breakup,” he shrugs. “I’m invested in you, you’re my friend.” 

“But it’s - you don’t have to, you can just be like the others, not take a side, you don’t have to fight anyone.” 

“Why wouldn’t I speak out? It bothers me, you know me, I don’t shut up when it comes to people I care about.” 

“But San is your friend, too.” 

“But you’re -” 

You frown. “I’m what?” 

“You’re Y/N.” 

The tenderness in his voice takes you by surprise. It seeps through his lips, echoes in his eyes. You feel your heart twist and turn - and just like that, his fingers slip away from yours.

“Sorry, I…” He closes his eyes, shakes his head. “Hell, I’m doing it all wrong tonight. And I should really stop drinking. How the fuck am I supposed to drive back home?” 

“Chan, wait,” you say, ignoring him. “What are you trying to say?” 

He sighs heavily. His face falls in his hand, and he breathes there for a second before he looks back up at you. He looks so tired.  

“I know you had a crush on me,” he breathes. 

You smile nervously. “Why are you bringing this up?” 

“Because I have a crush on you, too,” he says. 

You blink, and it’s like the world tilts. You haven’t been drinking that much, it can’t be the soju. Still, you feel dizzy and warm. Chan is looking at you with fondness and anguish. 

He didn’t say had.

He said have.

His words are right there, still on the tip of his tongue. 

In his eyes. 

So damn bright. 

No - he’s here because he’s your friend. That’s it.

Isn’t it? 

“I don’t understand,” you breathe out.

“I never acted on it because San had wanted to ask you out for a while,” Chan explains with a shrug. “And you know me. I never put myself before others. And although I sorta knew you had a crush on me, I convinced myself San was better for you.” 

You look down at your hands, feeling completely overwhelmed. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” you whisper. 

“Because you were so happy with him,” Chan says, his voice shaking. “You found each other and it was good, and who was I to say anything? At one point it didn’t even matter anymore, and I buried it deep inside of me, told myself I was over you. You were over me, after all. It was just a crush, anyway. I was so sure you’d be in this with San for the long run.” 

So did I, you want to say. Your throat feels so dry, however, you can’t say anything. You can just stare at Chan. He smiles at you almost carefully. 

“When I heard about your breakup… Everything came rushing back. The other night, after we got drinks, and I saw you crying… I was just so worried about you. So gutted to see you hurt, it was almost unbearable. And then he said he found someone else and I couldn’t understand, and we argued. It was heated, but it’s fine now. We’re good.” 

You close your eyes because the world can’t stop spinning. You were so cold earlier, but now you’re almost sweating. You’re too warm. The world is ablaze. 

Chan is your fire.

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you. I can’t say I am. But if I let myself go…” He stumbles on his words. “I just might.” 

Time has stopped. You can barely breathe.

You feel the sting of shame.

The delightful warmth of Chan’s confession.

You’ve been so blind.   

“You just mean so much to me,” he says, his voice both low and soft. “I just want you to be happy. I just want you to be loved as you should be loved.” 

When you open your eyes, it feels like he’s sitting closer to you although he hasn’t moved. He’s not touching you, but his smell overwhelms your senses. You can’t look away, and he watches you back.

“How I wish I could,” he breathes, his eyes drilling into yours. “Fall into you. Show you how you could be loved. ” 

You drink his words like they’re the essence of life. You feel, in each one, a wish, a hope, a possibility. Ropes that were drawn and never knotted together. Lifelines, waiting to be grasped. 

“I never was,” you breathe. 

He frowns. “What?”

“Over you,” you explain. “I never was over you. I’m not.” 

He closes his eyes. 

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t tell me that.”

“It’s true,” you say, voice trembling. “I loved San, of course I did. But you were always in my heart and you will never not be.” 

Chan’s eyes drip down your eyes to your lips. You feel an ache inside your chest. It’s like it’s starting to rain indoors. What an odd feeling. 

“You don’t love him anymore?” he asks carefully, weighing every word.

“No.” 

Your voice comes in a whisper, but it’s full of certainty. 

“But Chan, I…” You swallow. “I can’t - I can’t listen to what my heart says about you, it’s not fair, you’re not… You’re not a stand-in, you’re not - you’re more important than that, and…” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

The question catches you off guard. 

“Just once,” Chan smiles. “I want to taste your lips. Just once.” 

What could you say to that? How many times did you dream about Chan’s lips on yours, wondering what they felt like? Were his kisses kind, delicate, hungry? You’d see him drink whiskey and wonder if the taste would linger on them. You’d see him kiss another girl and picture yourself in her place. 

And now he was offering you a kiss.

Hell, he wanted to kiss you. 

So you find yourself nodding, and Chan takes a long look at you, as if he’s waiting for you to change your mind. You remain immobile, lips parted, awaiting his. Slowly, he plucks them, grazing them against his - and they sink into yours, soft, like a cloud, deep, like the ocean. 

You collapse in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. He slides his fingers through your hair, his other hand embracing your waist to pull you closer. You can’t hold back a sigh from escaping your lips, and Chan responds by kissing you deeper, the movements of his lips getting almost feverish. 

“Chan,” you moan when you gasp for breath.

“Fuck, I can’t stop,” he growls, placing small kisses on your lips.

His fingers dig in your skin, and you desperately want to disappear against him, so you move your leg so you can straddle him. Chan wraps himself around you, and you feel the dampness of his clothes but you don’t care. You take his face in your hands, plunging back into a needy kiss. Chan’s hands wander on your back, on your hips, on the back of your neck. You can only lean into him. His tongue teases your lips and you open your mouth to let it in. It plays with yours, and you can feel walls tighten. 

By now you are fully making out, your hips grinding against his. You can feel him getting hard, and it sends your mind reeling. 

“God, you’re so perfect,” he moans around your lips.

“I’ve thought about this so often, Chan,” you admit.

“Same,” he grins. “I… Fuck, I can’t tell you this.” 

“Tell me,” you insist, trailing kisses alongside his jaw, on the delicate skin of his neck. It makes him shudder, and can almost feel his cock pulsating under you. 

“I thought about your lips,” he breathes out. “Your body. How you would sound moaning against me…” 

“Fuck, Channie…” 

You clench at his words, pressing your core on his erection. He grunts, his fingers slowly making their way under your shirt. You tug at his, and suddenly, like a flash of lightning, you realize what you are doing. Your heart skips a beat, and your mouth dries. Everything rushes back. You stop, and he does the same, leaning back. 

He looks more attractive than ever with his hair tousled by your fingers, his full lips red and wet from your kisses. 

“I’m sorry, I just -” 

“Is this going too fast?” he asks you gently. 

You hesitate. “It’s not that. I just - I don’t want to give the wrong impression.” 

Chan frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Like you’re just a rebound or something,” you shrug.

Chan smiles - that cheeky grin of his, his eyes sparkling at the same time. It toys with your heartstrings. How could anyone not adore this man? 

“I don’t care,” he answers. “I’ll be your rebound.” 

“Chan, I’m serious,” you sigh.

“So am I,” he says, twirling a strand of your hair around his index. “If it’s something you want, then I’m here. I want to. And it doesn’t have to mean anything tomorrow, or ever. We’ll always be friends.” 

You breathe out, briefly closing your eyes. All you want is to keep kissing him, to forget the world in his arms. To be desired, to be loved. 

It’s all you want.

But your heart still aches.

So much has happened tonight - you feel so heavy. 

You sigh again. “I just… Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

Chan cups your cheek. 

“It’s okay, love,” he says, placing a kiss on your forehead. “It’s all so fresh. I can leave if you -” 

“No,” you quickly interrupt him, pushing a finger against his plush lips. “Please. Stay with me.” 

Chan nods, his eyes not leaving yours. You should move. You should get going - get a glass of water, sleep it all off. But you can’t move, lost in Chan’s gaze, your body a bundle of nerves. You lean forward, settling your forehead against his. 

“It’s killing me,” you chuckle nervously. 

Chan giggles, and the sound is delightful. “We have time, love. I won’t let you go, now. I got you.” 

He places a soft kiss on your lips.

“If you’ll have me.” 

As an answer, you give him another kiss. You slide your fingers through his humid hair, inhaling his scent. 

“Will you sleep here tonight?” 

“I’m here, baby.” 

The word makes something melt inside of you. You shiver, and instinctively, he sprawls his warm hands on your back. 

You’re overwhelmed by the tenderness and the hurt. 

You feel so loved. 

So abandoned.

So alone.

So supported.  

So seen. 

Your lips find him again like a magnet. You kiss him deeper than before. You’re losing your mind. 

“Y/N,” he breathes in your mouth.

The words escape your lips. “Fuck it, I want you.” 

He groans, his fingers diving in your skin. His cock twitches under you, making you lose all sense. 

“I want this, Chan,” you sigh, biting his lip. “But I don’t - I don’t want you to think I’m using you, all right? You’re my friend, I care about you, I -” 

He laughs. “You can use me all you want.” 

He starts kissing you again, feverishly, as if it hasn’t just been a few seconds since he last did it. You arch your back, closing all distance between your bodies. Chan starts placing kisses down your neck, his tongue teasing your thin skin. 

“I’ll make you feel good, baby girl,” he whispers. “I’ll make you forget for a little while. Do you trust me?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s just you and me tonight. Let the rest fade away.” 

He puts his strong hands on your ass, and slowly moves it. You sway your hips, and the friction of his erection against you makes you moan softly. You plunge your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his shoulder blades. 

“Just you and me, yeah?” he whispers.

“Just you and me,” you nod. 

In a swift move he removes your shirt, groaning at the sight of your bralette. It’s made of a thin lacy material, so he can perfectly see your nipples, and immediately leans in to brush his lips against them. You shudder, your nails digging in the back of his neck. 

He removes your bra to gain access to your breasts, gently massaging them in his hands and sliding his tongue around them. Meanwhile, you caress his cock above his jeans, loving the way he tenses at your touch. 

“Hold on to me,” he tells you in a breath.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he lifts you up, only to gently lay you down on the couch so he’s on top of you. 

“Let me see you,” you breathe, grabbing his t-shirt. 

He obliges, removing the piece of clothing so you revel in the sight of his toned chest. You take off your sweatpants and stare as he removes his jeans as well, giving you a better sight of his athletic body. His boxers do nothing to hide his erection.

“Before this goes any further,” he says, and his voice sounds so raw it sends shivers down your spine. “Do you have -” 

“Bathroom,” you say with a nod. 

He smiles, bends to steal a kiss and disappears. You look up at the ceiling, suddenly very aware of your nakedness, of what you are about to do. 

It feels like you’ve been through ten days in one. 

This morning you woke up with dread. 

Now you are filled with hope. 

Is this going too fast? Should you wait? 

Maybe. 

You don’t want to. 

This feeling in your chest, that Chan helps surge, that threatens to burst - all this light, all this love. It’s been a while since you’ve felt that. From someone else, from yourself. 

So what if it’s too fast? You want to live. 

And if there’s a person you trust, it’s Chan. 

“Got it,” you hear him say as he reappears. 

You don’t really know what to say because you have all this love and light inside your chest and words would not feel enough, so you stay silent, only pull him back into a kiss. He lays on top of you, warm and a little unsteady. You can feel he’s a little nervous, just like you, but you don’t mind. You need his softness. You need his realness. 

You push his boxers down, feeling his cock touch your stomach. The sensation is enough to clear your mind, and you bite Chan’s lower lip a little. He answers with a slight chuckle. 

You want to tell him how crazy he makes you. How nice it is to feel him so warm and hard. How much this means to you. But for some reason, you can bring yourself to say anything, and neither does he. You just breathe together, febrile and eager. His fingers graze your wetness, and you shiver. Sensing your pleasure, Chan applies some pressure on your folds, leaning two fingers on your clit. You arch your back, moaning a little louder than you expected. Your hands reach for him, palming his cock, your own fingers brushing his tip. 

“Fuck,” Chan grunts. “Y/N…” 

“Channie, please,” you whisper. 

“Wait,” he answers. “I want to do something first, if this is my only chance.” 

You frown, opening your eyes as you feel him move. You quickly understand what he means, however, as his lips trace a path of wet kisses on your stomach and your thighs. Soon his breath is against your core, and you forget how to breathe. 

When his tongue touches you, it’s like a hundred sensations at once, and you can’t hold back a shaky moan. Your fingers grab the couch as Chan pushes your legs further apart. He kisses you, pressing his tongue into you, attentive to your reactions. 

“You’re gorgeous, you know?” he says, although you barely hear him. “Keep moaning for me, baby girl.” 

A surge of pleasure goes through your body, enveloping you in silk, and you grab Chan’s hair, instinctively pushing him against your clit as his tongue encloses it. 

“Fuck, fuck, Chan, I’m…” you whimper.

“Are you coming?” 

You nod, and he buries his nose in you, embracing your sensitive spots. Your orgasm makes your whole body tremble against him, and he holds your legs as you do, making sure to accompany you throughout. 

As you come down, slowly, you blink back into reality. You look at him a little timidly, realizing your fingers are still tangled in his hair. You place your palm against his head, caressing it tenderly.  

“I’m so sorry,” you mutter. “Did I hurt you?” 

“Not at all,” he chuckles. “It was beautiful.” 

You bite your lip and he moves so he can kiss you. Your taste is on his lips and his tongue and it’s making you a little dizzy. 

It’s been a while since you’ve felt as good as this. 

Not that the sex with San was bad - but it faded at the same time your love did. When you broke up you had not touched each other like that - barely kissed, even - for weeks.

Although you’re sensitive, you really want to make Chan feel good. You need him inside you, stretching you, making you whole. You align your legs so his cock falls between them, and you grind slowly. His breath hitches against your lips, and you take it as a hint he likes it. 

“You made me feel so good, Channie,” you tell him in between kisses. “I want to do the same for you.” 

“Fuck, you’re so warm,” he lets out. 

“I want you inside me,” you say. 

He nods fervently, puts on the condom he got from the bathroom and aligns himself with your entrance. You feel so relaxed and tense at the same time, tucked in his arms on the couch, the rest of the world faded away. He enters you slowly, letting you time to adjust to his size, and you breathe out slowly. 

He feels so different. He feels so right. You are a bundle of nerves he unmakes.

He thrusts his hips at a measured, exquisite pace. Each time he goes deeper, and you cry out in pleasure, your fingers digging in the skin of his muscled back. You feel the fever, you feel the want. He breathes heavily against your neck, holding you tight. 

“You okay?” he asks in a whisper. 

“Don’t stop,” you tell him, arching a little to facilitate his movements. 

Chan doesn’t stop. As he makes love to you - because it is what he is doing - you sense his thrusts getting a little more erratic. In the quiet of the living room you hear nothing but the sound of him plunging inside you, his cock smeared by your wetness, his breathing mingling with yours. It is so erotic, so loving, your second orgasm is building quickly and deliciously. 

Chan accelerates. You pant, moaning nonsense. 

“Come with me,” he breathes, and that is the last thing you need to come undone. 

It’s enthralling how your soul escapes you and yet stays right there, against Chan, around him, with him. As you clench around his cock, you hear a delightful moan escape his throat, rough and hoarse, and it keeps you right above the clouds with him as he comes inside of you. You feel him twitch before he relaxes slowly. 

His lips find your forehead and he plants the softest of kisses there. 

As you sink into the couch, he removes himself from you, and lays down on top of your body. You don’t mind the weight - in fact, it feels just right. His nose is in your neck, his breath tickling your sweat-covered skin. Your fingers slide in his hair, and you close your eyes. 

You give yourselves time to recover. As the high fades, you feel Chan’s breathing relax and get more steady. 

“Channie,” you whisper with a smile. “Don’t fall asleep.” 

“Hm?” he groans, lifting his head to look at you. 

With his hair all over the place, his small eyes and swollen lips, he looks ready to pass out. It elicits a large smile from you, and you tenderly caress his cheek. 

“Let’s get to bed,” you tell him. 

He nods. You stand up on shaky legs, and help him on his feet. Together you close the lights in the apartment, and then you take his hand to guide him towards the bathroom. You take the time to clean up and head to the bedroom. The lights are off except for the fairy lights hanging above your bed. Once you’re there, you open a drawer, take out a t-shirt that will fit him. 

You slip under the sheets, Chan next to you. He pulls you into his arms, and you put your head on his shoulder. 

The rain has slowed to a drizzle.

Who knows what the sky will look like tomorrow? 

For now you just want to sleep against Charm’s warmth.

“Get some rest, love,” he whispers to you. 

“Goodnight, Channie.” 

“Goodnight.”

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment or reblog with a word in the tags if you can. It's truly appreciated ♡

#bang chan smut #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #chan smut #chan x you #chan x reader #chan x y/n #stray kids smut #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n

[ikigaisvt]

seventeen as tropes – vocal unit

starring: jeonghan, joshua, jihoon, dokyeom & seungkwan + gn!reader / (mention of mingyu in dk's) words count: 3.5k in total (between 400 - 800 each, expect seungkwan's 1.3k..,,.,..,, dont comment on that pls) content: fluff, non-idol!au warnings: everything is soft tbh? skinship (cheek kiss, kissing, holding hands), teasing, pining, rivalry, shitty team mates/friends, crying, lots of blushing lmao, very very very very sappy note: seventeen as tropes has been sitting in my drafts since 2022 and i'm FINALLY letting it out,, i hope everyone enjoy it! i decided to post it by units or else the post would get Too long (i already went off on this one lmao) don't worry hhu unit and pfu unit is already in the making hehe >.< pls don't come for me if some members have more words than others! inspiration isn't going to be the same for every tropes so i hope everyone can keep that mind! minors can interact with this fic but please don't follow or i'll hard block you. ignore any mistakes pls my brain is Dead rn,,, pls enjoy this piece of mine and don't forget to leave a like/reblog/comment! mwah mwah mwah good reading~

Jeonghan: Blind date

Jeonghan never loses bets and everyone in his friend group knows that which is why no one ever makes bets with him. He is just an extremely lucky person and he can always get his way out of any situation; expect when the person he made a bet with is Joshua – I taught him too well, he thinks to himself. It’s all because of a lost bet that he finds himself going on a blind date on this Thursday afternoon. That was the bet – to go on a blind date with someone the other picked. To say he was nervous was an understatement. All he’s hoping for is that Joshua didn’t prank him and sent like Seungkwan as his date. That would be awkward, he thinks as he makes his way quicker to the café.

As for you? Well, here you are, waiting for Joshua’s friend in this new café that opened in the neighbor. You don’t really know what went through your mind when you agreed to this blind date; something about Joshua’s words, probably. He can be a bit too convincing at times, something he apparently learned from this special friend – Jeonghan. You’ve never met the guy but oh have you heard countless stories about him. You know he’s one of Joshua’s closest friends so maybe you won’t get a relationship out of this but you will be able to talk about Joshua’s weird antics – in hopes Jeonghan isn’t worse, somehow, than your best friend.

You’re lost in your thoughts when a voice softly calls your name. You look up to see the most beautiful man ever and he quickly introduces himself as Jeonghan, as he sits down in front of you. You don’t really notice how Jeonghan looks at you, like you’re the most beautiful human he has ever seen or how a slight blush creeps up on his ears. And Jeonghan doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks or how you slightly smile to yourself every time he tells you something. You two talk for hours; complaining about Joshua’s behavior – and you don’t let Jeonghan get away with turning him into a little devil, talking about how cute Sylvanian families are – he even shows you the ones he has, he rants about Legos, too, while he lets you tell him about that last book you read – something about a fae prince and a human falling in love. The staffs at the café breaks you both out of your conversation, letting you know they are closing in 10 minutes – it’s only when she comes around that you realize you are the only customers left. You quickly gather your stuffs, expecting to say goodbye to Jeonghan in front of the café but he naturally walks you back to your place. It’s when you’re leaned on your front door that he asks for your number – I thought he would never make a move, and he promises to see you soon before leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. It’s only when Jeonghan leaves you that he realizes luck was, once again, on his side.

Joshua: Coworkers

You’re very grateful for your coworkers at your new job. It’s only been a few months since you joined the finance team at this new company but everyone treats you like you have been part of the team for a long time. Everyone helps you out in new tasks, especially Joshua. Whenever you have to do something you aren’t used to, Joshua comes running to help you out and he cheers you up every time you have a hard time. You never really questioned how he acts as you always thought he was just being nice – as he is with anyone else. However, as your coworkers have known him longer than you, they know how you always get a special treatment from him; he makes you coffee when you start working and after lunch, he brings you your favorite chocolate, he prints out your folders for you and makes sure you always have your favorite pens working. His crush on you is known to everyone but you.

That all comes to light on a company dinner where Joshua special dots on you even in a restaurant far from work – he gets you food, fills up your plate and your glasses, lends you his jacket when you get cold and even offer to walk you home. All of these little attention gets him teased by your coworkers while you are still as oblivious as before. Joshua wears a profound blush on his ears all night but once again, you still don’t notice the pink tint of his ears (you honestly think it’s a cause of his drinking) and Joshua is entirely too happy about you being so clueless.

A few hours later he walks you home – as he promised. However, you surprise him by asking why everyone was teasing him back there. He stumbles on his words, the blush going to his cheeks until he finally admits it’s because he has a crush on you ever since you walked into the office on your first day. And now you’re the one with the blush, stuttering an answer – I like you too, but Joshua takes you by surprise by kissing you.

Jihoon: Acquaintances

You have known Jihoon since middle school; he was just always around in your group of friends and yet you didn’t know him at all. All you knew about him is that he liked music and as much as you thought he was nice, you never thought about making friends with him – if you didn’t all this time, why now? But when you’re in your first year of college, walking into your liberal arts class and you see only one familiar face – Jihoon’s, you walk up to him because it’s always good to know someone in every classes – to get notes or for future project.

So, you put on your best smile, sit down next to him – hope to god he remembers you – while starting to rant about how glad you are he’s here. However, all you’re met with is a blushing and stuttering Jihoon; “Sorry, I- uh- I forgot to water my dog- I mean, no- Forgot to give water to my dog! Bye!” before he runs out of the auditorium. It’s an understatement to say you are confused about his behavior, hoping he doesn’t secretly hate you – and is currently at the college’s administration to beg for a transfer. He’s cute, after all.

Next week, you are standing in front of the door of that same auditorium wondering if you’re going to find Jihoon in there. You don’t give yourself time to run away, pushing the door open and promising yourself to try and make a friend in this class today. You sit down, not trying to find Jihoon among the students. You didn’t even finish pulling out your laptop that the chair beside you is pushed back – Someone sat down next to me! – and you look to see who your new best friend is, only to see Jihoon looking at you, smiling. He greets you, asks you how your morning went before apologizing for last week – something about him being stressed. You let him know it’s alright – you can’t just hold grudges against him. And he’s cute today too. That’s how you two become friends after more than 10 years of being in each other’s life – or like background. And so, because Jihoon never feels like he apologizes enough, he does anything you ask of him for weeks: he buys you food, lends you his notes, makes you playlists but most importantly, when you ask to see his studio, he accepts.

On a Friday night, he picks you up and you two walk together to the studio, as you ask him about music – all these years, you always saw him with a guitar or humming songs and yet you never knew how it all started. And so, he answers all your questions, he talks, again and again, he tells you everything because it’s you. When you get to the studio, you walk around, touching every instrument, asking more questions while he sets up his computer. He goes out for a moment – letting you know you can play around on his computer – to pick up dinner at the fast food down the street. Of course, you take his offer, settling down on his chair and you open Youtube, play some songs before trying to make a simple track. It’s when you open his files to add one of his samples that you stumble across a file named after you; you can’t resist the urge to open it, finding songs after songs – Run to you, Darl+ing, Lean On Me, Adore U.

Jihoon comes in a few minutes after, the computer still shining with all these songs. And that’s when he knows – he knows he can’t hide it anymore, he knows all these years he spent at a distance from you can’t happen again, he knows he has to tell you. So, he tells you – he never talked this much in a night – he tells you he always liked you, he never forgot that first day he saw you in middle school, he explains how much he tried to not be in your life but he always felt himself be pulled in. He confesses that’s how he started music – because nothing but this could describe what he feels in his chest when you’re there. And you have tears in your eyes, you feel like your heart is going to implode from the love he gives you and you tell him; someway, somehow, your life has always felt empty when he was missing. When college came around you were scared you were never going to see him again. So, when you saw him, you knew this was destiny. You knew the world pulled strings for you two. (You spend the night at his studio, listening to every song he made for you while you two build a new world together.)

Dokyeom: Love at first sight/Meet cute

Dokyeom knows it; he’s in love. Okay, he hasn’t been in love before but he is pretty damn sure if love is something then it’s this; your chest tightens, you feel tingles in your stomach and you can’t stop looking at everything they do. That’s what he feels right now, when he sees you reading your book in that coffee shop.

He’s here with his best friend who tries so hard to get his attention but nothing can make him look away. I’m not being a weirdo, he reassures himself. You’re just so pretty, sitting there while reacting to that book – at one point, he saw tears pooling in your eyes – while you sip on your tea, your headphones on. You stay there, reading away while he watches you, then stops looking when he feels like you’ll notice him but he finds himself looking at you soon enough, never being able to really stop.

It's when you get up, making your way to the bathroom that he breaks from his daze – I need to get a grip. So, he focuses on his best friend’s rant, listening, actually answering his questions. But when he misses you, he looks back to your spot only to find it empty, only your book left behind. He gets up immediately and make his way to your spot, not even caring about Mingyu’s complaint. He picks up your book – Me Before You, he reads – and hurriedly makes his way out of the café. As he looks around, trying to find you, he notices you at the end of the street, a few meters away, waiting to cross the road. He runs up to you, not wanting to let you get away and as he gets to your level, he gets weirdly nervous; it’s not like he’s gonna make any move, right? He lightly taps your shoulder to get your attention. You turn around, a natural smile hanging on your lips as an answer. Dokyeom feels his heart beat faster right away and he knows it’s not even the nervousness, it’s you – Hi, uh- I- I was in that café, he starts as he points behind himself, I think that’s yours, he says as he holds out the book between the two of you. Immediately, you react, your face twisting in something between surprise and gratitude as you grab it and you never stop thanking him, again and again, asking him how you can repay him. Nothing, he answers, stars in his eyes knowing he will never be that close to the sun again, just- enjoy that book, okay? he finishes, turning around to go back to his best friend and his cappuccino. He walks slowly, almost as he expects you to catch up to him, almost as he wants you to – and he does. It’s when he pulls the door of the café open that he feels a light touch on his shoulder, his body reacting to you before his eyes can even see you. His lips pull up, his eyes shine again and he turns around, his heart reacting the same way again, before you extend a piece of paper between your bodies, stuttering; You forgot something too, the blush on your ears deepens, my number.

Seungkwan: Rivals

Seungkwan has always loved badminton; at this point, he talks about it so often, the whole school knows. Which you might be bitter about – only because you don’t like sharing something in common with him – but it’s only normal people do know about it; after all, he’s the captain of the boy’s badminton team. Now, what people of this school don’t know is that there is also a girl’s badminton team in the school – however, they are about to know. You have been leading the team so well, even though it has only been two years since it first got together, that you now get to share the court in your school’s sports hall to practice with your girls. Your coach – which is also the boy’s team, also lets you know that you’ll be meeting the other team every 2 weeks for friendly matches so the girls could improve in their skills.

It's the next day when you walk onto the court, already prepared for practice – you just need to take care of a few things as you are the team captain. Unfortunately, you stumble onto Seungkwan when you least expect it – you thought the team had classes at this time (not that you know his schedule, of course). Seungkwan doesn’t understand what you’re doing on his ground and he asks you to leave or else he will tell the coach – as if he had any kind of weight on her. Go tell the coach I’m here, go, you scoff at him, knowing she will only let him know what’s really going on. A few minutes later he comes back, the coach by his side, as he rolls his eyes at, probably, the thought of sharing anything with you.

And that’s how the rivalry between the two of you gets worse – if that was even possible. Your team meet every other day, practicing side by side and sharing laughter – expect you and Seungkwan. You both make your possible to annoy each other – you take the best spot first, you help the coach, you give advices to his team mates, you even go as far as to use him as something not to do on the field. On his side, he refuses to say your name, he keeps reprimanding your girls, he even says how even a toddler could play better than you and even go as far as to flirt with your team mate. Fortunately, even through all this fight with him, you and your girls train hard and your skills are rapidly improving. Time passes by so fast and it’s already time for your first match against the boys. You gather your team, let them know you believe in them and to not get intimidated by their playing – they are going to play hard and we need to hit back as much as them. It’s when Seungkwan sees you like this, so serious, so sure of yourself and so proud of your team, even when they lose points that he notices you in a different way. The way you burn with passion and yet how your eyes still shine with love when one of your team needs words of encouragement. He didn’t think he would ever feel like this but right now, you are distracting him from the match. And nothing, distract him from badminton.

The match is fierce, the room is burning with pride and want for the win; which the girls get. You cheer again and again, even the boys are congratulating your team – only Seungkwan doesn’t as he gathers his stuff and leaves first – which somehow, stings. You think it’s because his pride is hurt but it’s only because he can’t bear to see you anymore when he feels like this – heart fluttering, lips forming into a smile – at the sight of you.

The training keeps going after that win, the matches too; you keep annoying him and he does too, even though is comments are more helpful than anything; don’t do it like this, you’ll get hurt or even tell them to coordinate their moves, it will make them better – but you don’t notice, you only do the contrary of what he wants you to. The 5th match comes faster than any of you expect and you fight for the win with your team – you haven’t won these past 3 ones and it’s taking a toll on the team spirit – but the luck isn’t on your side when you sprain your ankle. The match stops as soon as you yelp, your team mates too surprised to react right away. Through the pain, you open your eyes when you feel a hand touch at your ankle delicately, trying to evaluate how hurt you are. You expect to see your coach but you meet a pair of brown worried eyes – Seungkwan. Are you hurt somewhere else? he asks softly, before turning around and telling everyone else to give you space, talk to me, please, he pleads, his big brown eyes fixed on your face. The after shock of the fall passes by as you stutter; why do you care? before asking for two of your team members to help to the infirmary – the coach letting everyone know the match is postponed, as you go through the door.

A few hours later you’re sat down on the cold bed, waiting for one of your friends to get out of class so she can drive you home – two weeks without walking and a month with no badminton, at least, the nurse told you earlier, but please go see a doctor, she finished before leaving you alone in the room to rest. You’re lost in your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door, thinking it’s your friend that’s here to bring you back home – finally. You’re more than surprised when you’re met with Seungkwan’s figure at the door as he asks you if he can come in, which you answer with a nod. He walks in and sats down on the chair at the end of the bed; what did she say? he asks, nervous at the thought of talking to you normally – and also, at the thought of not seeing you for practice anymore. 2 weeks with crutches and a month without playing, at best, you whisper, trying to fight back the tears. Oh- I’m so sorry, he says, sounding sincere. It’s not like you have anything to do with that, you sneer, wiping a tear off your cheek, do you? He sits back, now realizing how far your rivalry had gone for you to thin he could hurt you; no, of course not. I would never, he says seriously, as he sits down at the foot of your bed. Yeah, sorry, you apologize, your voice breaking in the middle, I thought that was what we did. Hurt each other. He takes in your pain which is much more than physical right now; your heart is on the verge of breaking and it’s mostly because of him; Not anymore. I don’t want to do that anymore; he starts as you lookconfused by his words. So, he explains; how his aversion for you came to be because you were a better captain, how people compared you two together, how some of his old team mates wished to have you instead of him. How he found himself to be as admirative of you as people are, how he finally understood everyone when he saw you play, how badminton was made for you, the same way you were for him. How these feelings bloomed in a place he thought was burned by the spite of others. How he wishes he could take everything back but since he can’t how he hopes you can give him a chance to do better, in the future. So, you do; you hold his hand as you both stay silent; he starts to come up with way to fix your broken heart and you, coming up with a plan to keep the flowers blooming even in winter. Maybe love is the way to it all.

thank you so much for reading! leave me a like/reblog/comment if you want and you'll have my unconditional love forever 🫶

#sammy's words #seventeen #seventeen reactions #seventeen tropes #seventeen vocal unit #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #jeonghan tropes #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #joshua tropes #joshua scenarios #joshua x reader #joshua imagines #joshua fluff #woozi tropes #woozi fluff #woozi x reader #woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom fluff #dokyeom scenarios #dokyeom imagines #dokyeom tropes #seungkwan tropes

[drea-ms]

★﹐NO SURPRISES．﹗﹑

₊ ⊹ ⪩⪨ ┆ Because Saiki Kusuo knows that in every universal time loop he creates, that you two will always find each other and fall in love.

warnings. time loop au. implied angst?. fluff. open ending i think... saiki is just hopeless in love. um no use of yn. nothings bad. sappy.

You don't know what loop you're in at this point, it was the same thing over and over again, a loop you can't get out of. It hurts you every time, because he knows that he can't do nothing to stop it. You know how in each time loop you're with saiki, it ends badly, it restarts again, and your back to not knowing who the guy in your loop was. This time, in this loop you'll find out who he is.

Love is a weird feeling, it makes you feel happy, cared for. It makes you feel like throwing up what you ate previously when you see the person you love. But love can also hurt, it can hurt you, or anyone in this room. Love is sad feeling, because you never know whether to expect it or not.

This time loop is weird though, this time you're in the same class room with saiki and sit next to him, before, you were in another class room and never met him, why was this one weird to you? What was so important about the pink haired boy that brought you two near each other in every time loop? Maybe this is God saying you were soulmates, as if.

"Hi" you whispered at him while the teacher was looking at the board, you weren't hoping for a hi back, it was a habit to say to the person next to you in every loop you always wanted to know every person in each of your loops, you went back and listened to the teacher, until you felt a piece of paper on your desk, "Hi?" he wrote on the note, determined to get to know him better yoy wrote, "I like your pins in your head! it looks nice on you :)" you pass him the note back and smile at him, waiting for his response, "thank you." was all he said once he gave the note back to you. he... he was cute.

Over the following weeks, you got to know a lot about saiki, his friends, the weird people that have crushes on him, and his love for coffee jelly. He was cute, cute enough for you to fall in love with him. "Saiki!" you greeted him at the front of the school, going up to him and start walking next to him, you two began talking about stuff, not minding any attention to the world, just the two of you in your silly little world.

It hurt saiki that in every time loop, you two would meet, fall in love with each other, begin dating one another, but it always ends because of the volcano eruption he can't figure out, it ends before he can say 'i love you' it ends before you guys have your 9 month anniversary, it always ends with him erasing your memory of him so that in every time loop he can find a way to change everything. To make sure he can fix yours and his mistakes. To make sure that in every time loop, universe or galaxy, you two would find each other and fall in love with one another.

Maybe in this time loop he'll find a way to end the volcano, that way you two can live happily for once.

Maybe, just maybe, god will finally be on his side for once.

NAO SPEAKS? send in requests!! i'm bored rn, also i found some of the requests on my old acc in my notes app... i'm posting them kn here!!! 🤪🤪🤪

#📞 — nwjn-z #the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki k x reader #kusuo saiki #kusuo saiki x reader #saiki kusuo #saiki kusuo x reader

[kentoberry]

SWEET LIKE HONEY ! — albedo kreideprinz.

⭒— SUMMARY · you failed your latest test, but there’s no need to worry when the professor offers you a way to make up the grade ! [ this post contains dark content. full tags utc. ]

⭒— CONTENT · sub fem reader , college au , teacher / student relationship , pervy albedo , dubcon , coercion , panty stealing , praise , implied masturbation , crybaby ! reader , office sex.

to begin with, your day had consisted of burnt toast and unwashed dishes. by the time you were ready to go grab a cup of morning coffee, you noticed a toothpaste stain on your white blouse so you had to get changed again instead. to put it simply, everything was going wrong ! you wanted nothing more than to return to bed, close the curtains, and shut the world out for the day. instead, you powered through and made your way to class.

in hindsight, maybe you should have done just that. you had completely forgotten about a test you had done last week until a piece of paper was slammed down on your desk. your heart dropped as you flipped it over to reveal a big 'c’ in the top corner. bio-chem with professor albedo was the only class you were averaging below an 'a’ in, this was only going to make it even worse ! you had studied your ass off for this test, doing everything you could to increase your knowledge of the subject. hell, you were convinced you had worked harder than everyone else in this class ! it was as though the red ink was mocking you, laughing at your failure. you decided that your only option to rectify this was to visit your professor after class and inquire as to your low score.

as soon as he wrapped up the lecture, you shoved the paper deep into the depths of your bag. not wanting to have an angry outburst, you had opted to grab a long overdue coffee before heading to your professor’s office. it hadn’t helped too much, your shakiness noticeable as your knuckles rapped lightly against the hard wood. albedo took a moment to stretch from his prior position of being hunched over the desk marking papers for one of his other classes. he peered around the door, fluffy hair and cozy sweater making him feel oh so inviting.

“sir, could i talk to you for a moment?” he picked up on the nervousness in your voice instantly.

“of course, miss y/l/n. come in.” professor albedo opened the door wider, gesturing to the couch on the other side of his desk. “am i correct to presume this is regarding your recent examination score?”

you placed your bag down as he closed the door and returned to his own seat.

“yes, sir.” was all you managed. your stared at your shoes, trying to gain control over your emotions though to no avail.

“well?”

you sighed deeply before the rambling began and you gave in. “i don’t understand how they’re so low. i’ve been working so hard, studying all night even-” you hadn’t expected to get so worked up over a silly little letter on a piece of paper that you could just throw to the wind. tears began welling in your eyes, nose becoming slightly runny. “i-if my grades aren’t perfect then i won’t get back in to study for my masters ! how-” sniffle. “how am i supposed-” sniffle. “to fix this?” sniffle.

“first take a deep breath, y/n.” you buried your head in your hands, your professor’s perception of you being added to the list of your worries. the last thing you wanted was for him to assume you were some spoiled crybaby who always got what she wanted ! “we can work something out.”

you looked up at him as though he had just offered you the world. your teary eyes gleamed in the soft light of his office, awaiting what solution the smart man had come up with. albedo wanted nothing more than to fix all of your problems. sure, you were his most diligent student. if he was honest, your poor grades were perhaps… an experiment of his own. he wanted to see how much pressure you could handle, since he was considering offering you a position as his assistant over summer break. you had lasted longer than his original hypothesis had predicted.

your professor’s introverted nature made it difficult for him to comfort you. he decided that the best course of action was to plop himself down next to you on the loveseat, wrapping one of his arms around your sobbing form. you buried your face into albedo’s sweater, dampening the soft wool in your tears. his grip only tightened around you, cooing softly as he caressed your back.

all in all, there was nothing impure about the interaction. or at least, there wasn’t at first. in your sorrowful haze, your hand had accidentally brushed against your professor’s crotch, prompting a sharp intake of breath from the man. his attention was then drawn to the way your breasts were pressed against him.

“s-s-sir?”

albedo’s face flushed red at the fact that you’d noticed his… predicament. your eyes were wide, sobs having halted. you looked so innocent before him, so much so that he couldn’t prevent his dark thoughts taking over.

“i have a proposal for you, y/n. perhaps if you were to help me with the… situation before us, i could ensure your grades stay high enough to secure your place in any future education you desire.”

surely he wasn’t insinuating what you thought he was. you had always thought he was a rather attractive man, though he was your professor ! you should be running to the dean to report him right now.

“you may go, if you so wish,” it was as though albedo was reading your mind. “none of my superiors will believe any negative thought you share about me. now, you can either leave and accept your results or we can…” he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “come up with a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“s-sir, i-” you began sniffling again, though you didn’t make a move towards the door. perfect grades for the remainder of his classes was too good of an offer to pass up, wasn’t it? he could tell that you were considering it.

“we can take it slow, darling. i do not wish to make you too uncomfortable.” his hand was on your shoulder, the other resting on your hip.

a weak “okay” left your mouth.

albedo pulled you onto his lap, resting you on top of one of his thighs. his hands found their way underneath your shirt as lithe fingers started digging slightly into your hips. he rocked you slowly against him as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. how embarrassing that you had to let your professor use you like this just so that you could pass a class !! he admired how you’d fully given into his advances, your body practically limp for him to use as he desired. your arms wrapped around him as salty tears began gently rolling down your cheeks. attempts to keep your cries quiet were futile, with your professor pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head in an attempt to comfort you. the way you were so vulnerable for him spurred him on further. you were too weak to pleasure yourself, so he had to do it for you !! your legs were tightening, thighs wanting to give you more friction than you were already receiving from him. albedo took note of this. he lifted you off of him enough to remove your clothes. the man allowed you to keep your shirt on, for it would save you from any further embarrassment should somebody walk through the currently unlocked door to his office. your sobs only increased as he removed your panties. luckily for him, you were too preoccupied to see him shoving them deep into his pocket, no intentions of returning the lacy fabric to you. you felt so exposed, hiding your face even further in him.

“there’s nothing too worry about, sweetheart. i think you look ravishing like this.” he dragged a finger between your folds, only to be met by his slick covered digit. he took it for a few short laps around your aching bud, relishing in the whines that became mixed with sobs falling from your lips. albedo sat you back down so that you were straddling his thigh. he spread you enough so that your clit was resting against the rough material of his trousers. subconsciously you began rutting your hips against his lightly colored slacks. albedo kept one hand on your back, gently guiding you, while the other began stroking your hair. tears covered his sweater, accompanying your sweet moans.

“so good for me,” your professor would whisper, along with other praises of how you were his “favorite student” and how beautiful you looked rutting against him so desperately. you’d be lying if you said his words didn’t increase the wetness pooling between your legs, though you felt so humiliated in this position that you felt more tears falling simultaneously. your cunny was spilling juices all over him, most definitely ruining his pants.

you grew exhausted rather quickly, between the cries and the stress today had thrown at you. no matter how much albedo was encouraging you to keep going, your trembly voice barely whispering to him that you “can’t” do any more was enough for him to lend a helping hand. what kind of professor would he be to ignore a student in need ? as you remained clinging onto him, he continued to hold your head as his other hand reached between your thighs. his fingers circled your entrance, gently tapping it. he wanted nothing more than to scissor you open and stuff your pretty hole nice and full, though he didn’t want to scare you off. he wanted to keep you in a position where he could continue to have control over you, which meant giving you your desired grades while he persuaded you to keep returning the favor for him. how could he allow for such a sweet thing like yourself to escape his grasp ?!

you felt your eyelids growing heavy as your professor’s fingers massaged your puffy clit. his touches were like feather, using his index and ring fingers to spread you open as his middle finger stroked you ever so lightly. he tapped against the bud periodically, enjoying how you trembled with every graze. your voice was mostly gone, barely able to warn him that you were close. “g-g-g gonna-” was all you could manage. the man knew exactly what you struggled to communicate.

“cum for me, sweetheart,” the dirtiness and shame you felt at your professor’s words combined with his saccharine tone made you shake. he rubbed directly onto your pulsing clit as your body began spasm on top of him. albedo held onto you as pleasure rushed through your veins and even more of your cum spilled onto his thigh. he helped you ride through your high, the scent of sex filling the office. you pulled yourself away from him as your breathing calmed. he was in half a mind to drag you back into his embrace, though his curiosity regarding the shy expression he imagined adorning your features prevented him from doing such. your hair was a mess, tear stained face red. your eyes were slightly swollen, fresh tears still dancing down your puffy cheeks. you tried wiping them away and clearing your running nose with the back of your sleeve. albedo grabbed a tissue from his desk, assisting you as you sat in defeat. your eyes spotted the wet patch you’d left on his trousers. you couldn’t help but apologize profusely, despite barely being able to form a sentence. albedo looked down at you, pads of his thumbs gracing your cheeks. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i always keep spare clothes in my office, just in the case of any lab emergencies that should arise.” the man would wait until you left to change. the way your weak form exited his office was intoxicating, staring intently at how your hips swayed slightly with each step. despite how he wanted to feel you wrapped around the aching in his pants so very badly, he would instead prefer to take you in a much less formal setting. for now, the panties that you had unknowingly left behind would have to suffice.

#kentoberryposts #albedo kreideprinz smut #albedo kreideprinz x reader #albedo smut #albedo x reader #albedo x you #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut

[icequeenbae]

Hii! This is a more slow burn request so I’m sorry if it’s a little difficult, but could I request Heartsteel Ezreal x reader who’s knowledgeable and quite sarcastic and quick witted with their replies? I just wonder how their meeting would go with the whole Black cat, golden retriever vibe!

And maybe the reader sometimes suffers from low self-esteem and burnout.

Pairing: Heartsteel!Ezreal x Reader ft. all members

Heartsteel AU, attempted humor, fluff

Warnings: grumpymanager!Reader, Kayn is annoying as fuck… language? lol

Word Count: ~1.4k

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Author’s Note: Hiii~ Thank you for the Ezreal request, sweetie! I do have my favorites in Heartsteel to write for, and he is definitely at the top of that list <3 Not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but let’s give it a try! As usual, let me know via comments/ asks/ reblogs, I try stay on it~ P.S. The stuff I post for requests is usually not beta’ed, so pls bear with me…

You rubbed your tired eyes and cursed, checking if your fingers had any mascara on them. There was an issue to resolve, and you had hoped to finish up before the Heartsteel members returned to the waiting room after their rehearsal. But your plan failed miserably.

‘Our dearest manager!’ Kayn appeared next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. ‘Always working, what a busy little bee!’

You raised your eyebrow at him and stayed silent until he cleared his throat and retracted his arm, while the rest of the members scattered around the room, minding their own business.

‘Someone has to work around here,’ you replied, typing away on your laptop.

‘You should take a break and go grab something to eat at least,’ Yone suggested.

His amiable comment made you release a desperate sigh.

‘They messed up the mic backup, Yone. Not to mention that we have the music video budget due tomorrow and someone screwed up the calculations. I cannot let you film without the drones or the special effects crew. If you do everything yourselves, you’ll be dead before you go on stage again, and I will be ripped into a million tiny pieces by the company or your fans. And I don’t know which one’s worse…’

‘If that’s Sett’s fans you’ll live. They all twinky as shit, look at Phel.’ Kayn cackled, and Yone glared at him.

Sett and Aphelios exchanged looks, probably deciding to give their most annoying member a proper thrashing another time just for the sake of your emotional wellbeing. At least someone understood how dire the situation was.

‘How can I help?’ The producer asked.

Although you appreciated the offer, you knew that they had to perform tomorrow, so Yone would have to supervise the last of preparations starting early morning. You could not allow him to spend the night helping you and then go straight into tomorrow’s work. The price of a screwup was too high on this one.

‘You can help by taking them out for dinner and making sure they’re tucked in later. I don’t want anyone out wreaking any havoc while I’m not around to settle everything.’

‘That I can arrange.’ Yone nodded, giving the rest of the members a solid onceover. ‘You heard Y/N, boys. No fun for you tonight, we have a very long day tomorrow.’

‘Ugh. Buzzkill…’ Sett sighed, and Phel pinched him on the arm, hard. ‘Ow!!’

‘I think we can live with one night in, guys,’ Ezreal interjected. ‘We’re so tired anyway.’

‘Speak for yourself, young man. I am full of energy!’ K’Sante retorted.

What a traitorous blow! You’d expect it from anyone but him.

Noticing your flabbergasted expression, K’Sante quickly continued.

‘…which I can spend by working some iron in the gym before bed time.’

You shook your head, trying to focus on your spreadsheet again. It was a little- no, it was extremely overwhelming, trying to fix several urgent issues at once, while running on a couple hours of sleep, half a sandwich (had to donate the rest to Sett – he’s still growing, after all… or so he thinks) and way too much coffee.

‘Are you going to stay here though?’ Ezreal asked, sounding too quiet for his usual bubbly self.

You assumed he was afraid to get the short end of the stick and make you explode with his question. But you were too tired to even yell at any of them.

‘Not that I have any choice,’ you answered dryly. ‘Not everyone can teleport, Ezzie.’

He pursed his lips, probably realizing that it was best to leave you alone before you gave him the same glare that Kayn had earned earlier. Unlike the demonic bastard, Ezreal was among the members who preferred to stay away from you when you were fuming, as opposed to irritating you further to poke some fun. Yone had already spent a week negotiating for you to take back your resignation once, so they were on their best behavior ever since. Well, the best they could muster, which wasn’t that great but in the grand scheme of things… you’d take what you could get.

After they all vacated the premises, you finally managed to send the updated budget numbers for approval, and made a few calls about the mic replacement. It was unbelievable, but you really had to find someone to get the necessary equipment and fly in to bring it on time. So you stayed at the venue to be able to check whether everything worked fine right away.

But later that night, a mystery visitor woke you up while scooping you off the chair to get you onto the sofa.

‘Mhm- what… Who’s here??’ You jerked up from your uncomfortable sleeping position, accidentally hitting someone in the face with your head.

‘Ow!’ You heard someone squeak and turned around, finding Ezreal in pain, holding his hand to his nose.

‘What on Earth brings you here??’ You instinctively pinched the bridge of his nose as if that would help with the pain. ‘Wait, what time is it? Where is my phone??’

‘I took it,’ he said, wiping under his nose to check for blood.

Thankfully, there was none, and he was okay. Your nervous system, however, was not as lucky.

‘What do you mean, you took it??’ You frantically checked the time on your laptop. ‘3:23? I was supposed to meet someone an hour ago! Why didn’t you wake me up?!’

You grabbed your phone from blabbering Ezreal, but he clung to you like a koala.

‘Y/N, I-’

‘I know. You didn’t think properly, and now I will have to find a way to get that guy to come back if he isn’t sleeping in his hotel already… Shit, Ezzie, you fucked up! No, I fucked up. How could I have fallen asleep?? Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ You knocked on your own head with your knuckles to make a point, and Ezreal caught you by the wrist with his two hands, looking as if you had hit him and not yourself.

‘Y/N, I already met with him and took the mics. We ran a test downstairs with some of the overnight technicians. Everything is set up and working fine.’

You blinked at him a few times, still confused.

‘Uh- You… did?’

‘Yes. I came back earlier and you were asleep. Then someone called you, so I figured- And then I went down and checked everything,’ he delivered anxiously. ‘I also brought you a sandwich- but I didn’t want to wake you, so…’

He grabbed a paper bag from the sofa and shoved it into your hands. You looked at it, and then back at Ezreal, your sleepy and stressed-out brain still catching up with everything.

‘Um- so you brought me… a sandwich?’ You asked.

‘Yes,’ he nodded, strangely bashful. ‘And a juice box.’

His cheeks became rosy, and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Ezreal looked like a stray puppy, unsure about whether it was safe to express his affection.

As your laughter settled, you finally exhaled. Everything was okay, thanks to your unexpected little helper for tonight. And now that he’d mentioned the food…

‘I hope you got me an extra-large one.’ You hummed, sitting your butt down.

‘I got two,’ he beamed. ‘And a chocolate bar.’

‘Good. You look like you could have some chocolate right about now.’

And of course, after such an eventful night, as well as the previous few days, having a full belly made you dozy again. Although you did notice Ezreal’s head slowly tilting towards your shoulder through the layer of drowsiness, you didn’t catch your own head leaning onto his.

Due to your carelessness, you were in for a rude awakening in just a few hours.

‘Now, isn’t that adorable?’ Even from the depths of hell you would have heard Kayn exclaim in the most obnoxious voice possible.

‘I’m taking a picture. For the family album!’ K’Sante announced, quick to utilize the camera on his phone.

‘Or future blackmail…’ Kayn sneered evilly.

‘Maybe I should post that picture of you stuck in the vault with your pants down, Shieda Kayn.’ You mused out loud, eyes still shut.

There were a few sounds resembling muffled cursing, and then Kayn walked it back.

‘Hey man, we shouldn’t take pictures of people sleeping. It’s illegal or some shit. Let’s just go check on the preparations, come on.’

And so, they went back to where they came from. ‘Manager…’ You heard Ezreal whisper, head still laying on your shoulder. ‘You’re amazing.’

Non-EXO masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading and happy holidays my sweethearts!! I have just a couple more requests to go~ I don't think I will take more for the time being but I might come up with another requests event for 900 or 1000 milestone! Please don't forget to comment and reblog if you want to support me 💜 And check out my masterlist for more of my HEARTSTEEL and kpop content 💕

#league of legends #league of legends fanfic #heartsteel #ezreal #ezreal x reader #ezreal heartsteel #ezreal fanfic #ezreal lol #heartsteel ezreal #ezreal league of legends #kayn league of legends #lol fics #lol fic #lol fanfic #yone #heartsteel yone #kayn #aphelios #heartsteel kayn #yone league of legends #yone heartsteel #sett #k'sante #league of legends x reader #icequeenbae fics #icequeenbae requests

[tyxoxo]

Cherry Waves

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

genre: thriller, angst, kidnapper/stalker jeno au, jaemin + mark inserts

words: 11.9k

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, murder, blood, knives, cnc smut, oral, fingering, choking/breath play, voyeurism, spitting, unprotected sex, its lowkey giving incel, post-traumatic stress, stockholm syndrome

(this is purely fiction, warnings in bold mean potentially triggering cotent)

a/n: the feds prolly looking at my search history like “👀” but on another note, this is the longest piece of writing i’ve ever published. so pls pls pls! send feedback! this was a rollercoaster of a fic to write ._.

major hugs and kisses to @glitchfiles for helping me decide on an ending and @pradajaehyun for proofreading!

playlist: 

deftones - cherry waves • rosemary • bored • be quiet and drive

clams casino - blast

—

“i’m kind of scared. do you think it’ll bite?” 

“noo, don’t worry baby. it won’t. squirrels are always welcome to food.” your boyfriend reassured you, chuckling in the presence of your endearing timidness. 

the two of you were currently exploring a nature park, choosing to celebrate your 5 year anniversary in the outdoors, away from the bustling city life.

“here, just take the almond and approach them slowly, they’ll come.” he said as he handed you one to start, out of the bag that read Blue Diamond Almonds.

“how about you go first?” 

the two of you shared a laugh, your partner nonetheless agreeing to demonstrate.

just like you expected, he took one almond in his hand and began to tread softly over to a family of kits, and a mother. the four were eagerly awaiting the treat, using their noses to scour over to him. one baby squirrel was more brave than the others as the rest halted once your boyfriend began to kneel down. 

in one sniff and a switch of its tail, the squirrel grabbed the almond and hurried back to his family. 

“see! not that hard! your turn.” he rose up in the process, standing close by in case you opted out. 

“alright, here i gooo.” you geared up the courage, doing exactly as he did, approaching softly towards the group of squirrels. 

you cocked your head to the side in curiosity at the fact they all ran away in unison, back into the green shrubs they called home. and with not enough time to save you, you heard the scuffing of shoes against pavement and a loud crack sound to follow. 

as you turned towards the deafening sound, your boyfriend collapsed onto the floor, his head making contact with the concrete in just as strong of a crash that you heard just mere seconds before.

you weren’t sure if a scream managed to escape, as the hooded figure armed with the hammer made sure that you weren’t conscious to tell the tale.

—

the constant motion of your head banging against a hard surface is what stirred you. your eyelids were heavy, not just from the forced slumber, but from the blood that managed to seep down from your scalp and cake onto your skin. the familiar smell of iron flooded your senses, reminding you of your current state. 

somehow you were moving, not on your own accord. you couldn’t have been... your hands and feet were bound with what felt like rope, based on the friction as it dug in your skin. 

you were moving inside a van, laying down in a fetal position, with your boyfriend across from you doing the same; though he didn’t seem to be conscious.

it was hard to tell if he was breathing, due to the jounce of the van driving over rough terrain. 

the entire vehicle wasn’t average, all of the backseats were gone, not even folded down into a compartment. it felt industrial, with what seemed like new steel framework covering the entire interior. 

you lacked the energy to produce any sound, let alone turn to the direction of the driver's seat to see who was transporting you. the salt from your tears was the last you could recall before falling back into a deep sleep. 

—

to say you reanimated back in the comfort of your own home, with your partner by your side would be the highlight of your life. to say that what all happened was merely a dream. 

yet, your harsh reality was thrust upon you once you awoke again. all of your limbs were still bound, with the only appropriate action being observing where you were now.

you were placed on a cold, grey concrete floor, plastic tarp covering the walls and ceiling, with a single LED work light standing in the corner offering plenty of illumination. a standalone workbench was positioned against the left wall, with an abundance of mechanical tools to satisfy any technician. 

you knew you were still covered in your own blood, but the smell wasn’t there anymore. instead the nauseating odor of overused bleach coming from a nearby bathroom overtook your senses. 

your vision finally began to focus on your boyfriend who was lying directly across from you. 

you weren’t sure if your attacker merely forgot to tape your mouths shut in a haste or simply didn’t care. either way, you used what freedom you had left to call out, your scream resonating enough to wake him up.

he winced, teeth covered in crimson from the aftermath of his blunt force trauma. once he met your eyes, tears began to well; relieved to know he was breathing, but pained to see him struggling for clarity.  

he scanned the room, just as you did, then settled upon your crying eyes. 

“are you okay?! please, tell me you’re okay!” 

he was selfless just like always, more concerned about your well-being than his own. 

“i-im okay.” 

truly you weren’t. your head was pounding, and your arms were beginning to fall asleep from being bound. 

“i’m sorry i couldn’t protect you. im-” 

“no! don’t say that! we need to get out of here now!” you cut him off immediately, not wanting his words to add onto the anguish you were already feeling.

“just stay there and i’ll come to you.” 

you nodded as he began to shimmy along the cold floor, using his coarse shoe soles to push along the concrete. 

he paused every other moment, most likely feeling dizzy from his injury.

your hopes were crushed when he was halfway. the sound of multiple door locks being fidgeted with, echoed throughout what you assumed to be the basement. the door creaked, and slammed shut even louder. your boyfriend stopped moving, knowing the end was potentially near. 

the view of who or what coming down the stairs was obstructed by the tarp covered wall but within seconds, you saw a man.

who didn’t bother to cover his face.

you kept the fact that he was attractive repressed in your mind. it was more important to realize that you would likely die here now that you saw what he looked like. 

he was tall, lean, and young. couldn’t have been much younger or older than you. with raven dark hair that was long enough to form somewhat of a mullet. his bangs covered most of his blank expression, though it didn’t take much squinting to realize his irises were black. an evil black.

your memory was too foggy to remember if he was wearing the same clothes as before. but the white dress shirt, and black slacks didn’t seem familiar; especially the black butcher’s apron. 

he stopped at the base of the stairs upon seeing your boyfriend’s attempts to get close to you. 

“we can give you whatever you want. we have money. take our cards, whatever. just let us go please!”

he ignored your boyfriend’s pleas, choosing not to even look at him. instead, his eyes bore deep in your own.

fear grew in the pit of your stomach. there were only a few things a guy like him would want from you and the thought of him taking not only your life, but your body shook you down to your bones. 

your boyfriend must’ve assumed the same based on his whirling eyes between you and your attacker. 

you wished to give him a name, something to represent his depravity. but all thoughts were paused once he began walking slowly in the direction of the workbench. 

there was a toolbox and a rolled up utility belt waiting for him, it was just a matter of choice.

he rustled through the box, creating enough noise to elicit terror for the both of you.

it didn’t take long for him to choose one, the light in the corner bouncing off of the stainless steel bowie knife that he pulled from it.

he inspected the blade and it’s sharpness in silence, ignoring the sobbing coming from your disheveled body.

“kill me and just let her go!” 

your boyfriend’s cries didn’t go unnoticed, as the mephisto of a man paused his inspection, eyebrows raising as if he would accept that offer.

seeing his side profile from his position at the workbench sparked faint recollection within you.

why did he look familiar?  

—

Four Months Ago

—

jeno still wasn’t good enough at adapting to his new life of carnage. 

how did he not know that a decomposing body would attract maggots, no matter how “clean” he kept his basement bathroom. 

the life he claimed was an “accident.” 

atleast that’s what he told himself.

but could a life taken after rejection still be considered an accident? maybe.

the girl took too long. 

he cooked for her, provided clothes for her, gave her a place to sleep. yet she was never accepting of his affection. 

it was just four days ago that he had to rush to the emergency room on his own volition, to have a laceration on his collarbone stitched. the bitch barely missed his subclavian. 

he was beginning to be more lenient after holding her captive at his house for 2 weeks. though he wasn’t sure if there was a beginner’s guide on “how long it should take to actually let a hostage begin to roam your house.” but he learned his lesson after dinner, when she ran towards the kitchen sink and grabbed the sashimi knife.

every attending nurse asked what happened, but he continued to blame it on a “freak accident”: trying to transport a porcelain attachment on his shoulders, tripping and ultimately earning a gash. 

somehow they bought it.

ten stitches later, he was discharged. seething at the teeth, he sped back to his house to finish her. he couldn’t have another slip up like that again.

that night he brought the blade into her neck, earning her a matching cut. 

it was the first and last time she was ever brave. 

now here jeno was, at a utility store in search of his first shovel. he wasn’t picky, he just needed something sturdy enough to help dig his first grave.

off into the distance, he saw you. innocently scanning the shelves for new vanity light bulbs. 

you were absolutely perfect.  

he felt a sudden magnetic pull to be near you, even smell you. but he had to resist the urge; there was a decomp job waiting for him at home. 

it probably wasn’t a good idea to approach you either, as there was a possibility the smell of putrefaction was beginning to attach to his clothes. 

from that day on, jeno had been watching you for months. 

every outfit you wore, every doe-eyed expression, every bite of your lip was all for him. 

even though the two of you were never formally introduced, he knew the proper time would come. 

so far he had done well becoming acquainted from afar: he knew where you worked, your grocery store of choice, your primary care doctor, even your favorite drink at the local café.  

there was still so much left to uncover. now, he set the goal of finding out your birthday, just to send a batch of flowers to your job when the time came; labeled anonymous of course. 

but the dreams of becoming your admirer were crushed the day that jeno found out you had a significant other. he almost chucked the vase he was holding. he didn’t need a vase, he was merely there because you and your boyfriend were at a furniture store, eyeing a new couch for your living room. it was just a method for him to blend in. 

he kept his composure so as not to draw attention nor have to pay the store for damages. 

the boy you called “babe” was average, nowhere near your level. but you clutched onto him like he was the only thing that mattered. 

what did he have, that jeno didn’t? 

the obvious answer was you.

jeno sat the vase down before storming out of the store, causing the bell atop of the door to slam and chime throughout the showroom. you actually turned to the direction of the entrance, somewhat alarmed at how loud it rang through the store. 

fortunately, you were too late to see him. 

that night, jeno began plotting his second abduction. it would be a challenge, no doubt. 

he would ultimately regret if you got hurt in the process, but with enough love, he could prove that he was sorry.  

and now that his “ex” was taken care of, he could finally focus. 

there was a small checklist he made within a couple of days: buy a van, have the backseats removed and fitted with steel.

luckily money wasn’t an issue. but he did get a few weird glances from the auto modifications shop at his request.

“you don’t seem like the type to want a van decked out like this?” the automotive stylist said while looking over jeno’s new 12-seater. 

he was sly enough to come up with a lie, plus the amount of money he was willing to drop was all that was needed to seal the deal. 

jeno considered himself well-equipped from first girlfriend, it was just a matter of time and preparation before you were his second...

—

Present

—

you couldn’t hold back your screams, not when the love of your life was on his knees, being held at knife point. 

“please! stop! you don’t have to d-do this!” 

you thrashed on the floor, tears painting your cheeks, mucus staining your upper lip.

jeno had dragged your boyfriend back to his original position with his knife in hand, eventually standing behind him. 

he took a handful of your lover’s hair to cock his head back, exposing an array of veins lining his neck. 

“i love you so much…” was the last you would ever hear, causing jeno to furrow his brow and snarl in disgust.

the life you once knew was taken in a slash, jeno’s right hand swiping the serrated blade along your boyfriend’s stained skin. 

your ears rang from the sound of metal against flesh, all of the tendons snapping at once. velvet poured from the now-open cavity, splattering onto the tarp and jeno’s bare hands. 

your guts felt twisted, hearing the gurgling sounds of blood clogging his airway. seeing his eyes roll back into his sockets. so lifeless. 

jeno let the body fall on its own. 

he was inexplicably satisfied. the pig you called “babe” was now out of the picture, merely a slab of dead meat.  

you curled into a ball, letting your head fall to the floor, entire soul succumbing to emptiness.

you simply didn’t care if you were next. 

jeno stepped over the corpse and towards you, knife still in hand. with a swipe of his nose, he kneeled down in front of your shaken form, the least bit bothered by the blood smeared on his septum. 

you didn’t even flinch when he tossed the knife down, barely missing your chest when it came to a stop on the floor. 

“when i come back, we’ll be formally introduced.” 

with a click of his tongue he rose up, leaving as if he didn’t just rip out your heart. 

it didn’t take long for your boyfriend’s blood to run across the basement floor, the rest clotting near his open throat.

you let the warmth of the dark fluid envelop you. soaking deeper and deeper into your clothes.

—-

“shhh. shouldn’t we be quiet?” 

you heard the whispered voice of a woman, giggling in between her words.

your eyes fluttered open, taking a while to adjust from the tears that crystallized over your eyelashes. 

how many hours, or days has it been? 

based on the way your clothes were now brittle from the dried blood, and the sea of black covering the floor, it had been a while.

unfortunately, your subconscious wasn’t able to repress the memories of your dead boyfriend, not when his cold, stiff body was still on the floor.

his skin had blotched purple, showing signs of livor mortis, his irises a milky white. 

“no its fine. come here.” 

you heard the familiar voice of your abductor, as he ushered the woman down the basement stairs. 

excitement littered both of their faces, the girl hopping from the last step and into his arms. 

you didn’t care to recall her appearance, the only thing worth mentioning was her frilly dress and kitten heels. 

did she not even react to the scene in front of her? a corpse, and your starving body, still tied up, on a soiled basement floor?

she continued to giggle, keeping her hands on his chest.

“this is amazing…you’re so fucking hot.” her ear-grating words were swallowed by the heavy kiss they shared, attacking each other’s mouths. if it wasn’t for the mess, you were sure that he would’ve slammed her against the tarp covered wall. 

his hands explored her body, lifting up the ruffled fabric to expose her ass, squeezing ever so often to hear her whine in pleasure.

you tried your hardest to block out the sounds of their smothered lips. even slamming your eyes shut to fulfill the disbelief that flooded your brain. 

“you know i did this for you right?” he spoke in between their labored breaths, pulling away for air. 

“of course i did…now can i show you how grateful i am?”

he nodded, palming himself through his black pants.

the girl guided him towards his workbench, pushing his back into the chilled metal table, seeming dominant in her quest to show thanks.

her hands trailed down to his belt buckle, freeing the clasp. you could hear his zipper being undone, and the sigh of relief once she started touching him in the right places. 

you didn’t have the strength to demand them to stop, nor the freedom to end your own life. either decision would only fuel her to go slower.

the she-devil got down on her knees, pulling down his pants, giddy at the sight of him with no underwear. his dick sprang free from its confines, snapping back onto his chiseled groin. the girl squealed in satisfaction, to see that he was just as big as her face.

a growl erupted from his throat as she took him in her small hands and licked along the underside of his cock. 

she welcomed him in her drooling mouth, keeping her eyes glued to his look of satisfaction. he wasted no time fucking her face, eyes darting between you and the corpse he created.

you winced at every gag you heard, every tug of his lips between his teeth. 

she was struggling to fit what she could, even tapping his thighs, signaling to stop. but he wasn’t concerned for her effort. 

he was busy swimming in pure ectasy, getting off to the chaos he created. 

through it all, you finally managed to mutter the words,

“please kill me…”

—

Day 2 

—

the snapping sounds were becoming too hard to ignore. you couldn’t drown them out any longer.

your eyes focused on him again, attempting to stuff the rigid corpse into a large black suitcase. 

he panted as he tried to bend the unforgiving joints, fighting against the effects of rigor mortis. 

his frustration was growing with every trial and error. and the smell of rotting flesh wasn’t helping either. 

you were too catatonic to react…it was just another day in his world. 

he eventually succeeded, feeling pleased to have the remains covered before it continued its cycle of decay. 

in the corner of his eye, he saw you wiggling in your restraints, trying to make your limbs come alive again.

“who was that girl?” 

your voice was crackly, barely audible from dehydration. 

“what?” he said with obvious confusion, pausing to look over at your crippled frame. 

“the girl you were with?” you gulped afterwards, trying your hardest to lubricate your vocal chords with what saliva you had left.

“must’ve been a nightmare…” he spoke under his breath, shameless in his look of concern.  

somehow you believed him. 

and the mere thought of dreaming something so wicked disgusted you. 

you watched as he finished zipping up the suitcase, taking off his vinyl gloves and tossing them on top.

he then made his way over to you, kneeling down to untie the complex knots on your wrists and ankles.

you chose not to look at him, fearing he would change his mind and leave you there to molder in sorrow. 

“i’ve hidden my name for long enough…jeno.”

his eyes managed a subtle smile through his introduction; the naturally occurring feature strangely matching his exterior. if he wasn’t a murderer. 

once the ropes fell loose, you could barely resort back to mobility. it felt unnatural to finally be able to stretch after so long.

but now that you were somewhat free, you finally realized how filthy you were.

“i’ve got some cleaning up to do…there’s a bathroom for you to use over there. freshen up and then i can take you upstairs to the kitchen.” he pointed with his head over to the ivory bathroom, which seemed to be the only clean spot in the basement.

he had the decency to help you to your feet, watching as you struggled to gain equilibrium. you looked away into the direction of the bathroom, indicating you could help yourself now. 

you didn’t bother glancing over to the workbench, figuring he was smart enough to put away his tools and weapons. you didn’t have the energy to defend yourself anyways. 

the bathroom wasn’t far enough away to miss the smell of a festered corpse but you hoped by the time you showered, it would all be a bit better.

to your surprise, the bathroom was fully stocked: unopened toiletries, feminine products, shampoo, body wash, lotions, towels, everything you needed to feel alive again.

laying in the sink was an oversized t-shirt, sweatpants and socks, all in a vacuum sealed bag, which you assumed to be jeno’s. or maybe they belonged to a former victim. it didn’t matter as long as they were clean. anything was better than the battered clothes you had on now. 

you closed the door and began to undress, keeping your body towards the door incase jeno barged in to take advantage of your naked form. though you doubted anyone would want to see the current state you were in. 

raising your legs to get inside the fiberglass shower proved to be a challenge, even bending down to adjust the temperature of the water made your knees buckle. 

but you eventually managed to rid yourself of the dried blood and sweat; water droplets masking your tears as you watched the black clumps flow down into the drain. 

—

jeno was waiting for you outside the door, leaning against the wall that was now free of plastic sheets. 

everything was spotless, or at least that’s what you could discern through your hooded eyes. the floor was free of biomass, all of the tarp was discarded, and the suitcase was nowhere to be found. most of all, the horrid odor was gone. 

jeno eyed you up and down, satisfied with the floral smell coming from the lotion he bought you. he was always a fan of rose, and he hoped you were too. 

he reached out his left hand for you to take, but you rejected the gesture, instead hugging your sides and looking down at your feet. 

you could get up the stairs just fine. 

or so you thought.

just as your feet made contact with the first step, you tugged on jeno’s shirt for support as he led the way. 

you managed to miss the faint smile that painted his face, as you were too busy trying not to lose balance. 

once you made it upstairs, you took in the interior. natural white oak floors, a spacious living room fitted with potted plants, a curtained patio sliding door, a small tv, with a gaming console placed just underneath in the stand, a glass coffee table, and a single white boucle couch that was surprisingly free of any suspicious stains. 

the same could be said for the kitchen, shiny quartz countertops, and all steel appliances. you began to doubt if he afforded all of this on his own, but then you thought back to his extensive basement. maybe his career supported  all of his dangerous endeavors. 

your stomach instantely growled upon sitting at the kitchen bar. so loud that jeno managed to hear it as he began rummaging through the drawers for cooking utensils.

“i guess i should tell you the reason that you’re here.” jeno huffed as he began chopping up the raw food onto a cutting board. your heart dropped at his words; you weren’t sure if you could handle learning the reason right now.

“i’ve been watching you for quite a while now…i just knew from the very first time, that i had to prove my worth. prove that i could be everything you needed.”

you knew you weren’t mentally ready to play along with his insanity, nor try to earn his trust so soon. with his level of denial, your strategy needed time. 

all you could do was be a listener and soak in his confession. 

“i know i’ve done irreversible damage to you, so i don’t expect forgiveness. but at least let me give you the support you deserve to heal.”

you chose not to reply, it was best that way. 

maybe through the silence, he would come to his senses. 

as he continued to cook, you tried to look closely for any hints of him lacing the food. you weren’t afraid to deny sustenance in exchange for starvation.

but when you realized he was making a plate for himself, you felt less suspicious.

jeno arranged the food to look delectable, and placed everything neatly on trays, paired with a glass of water. he stood across the kitchen bar, eagerly awaiting your review before he took his first bite. 

you picked at the rice with your fork, and tried your best not to tremble when you brought it up to your mouth and swallowed a few grains. he frowned when he noticed you trying to hold back tears.

what was so sad about a plate of food? 

“i didn’t do anything to it.” he said sympathetically, but you let the tears fall anyway.

having a meal with the man that kidnapped you wasn’t anything to be delighted about. nonetheless, you grabbed more and more, slowly beginning to feel replenished.

jeno ate with you in silence, every once in a while watching the tears fall onto your plate.

you were sure that the lack of food for two days straight was the reason for the onset of nausea that creeped inside your body. the food didn’t taste bad, far from it. but the more you ate, the more you felt like you couldn’t keep it down. 

a couple of spoonfuls remained, and once you set down your fork, you eyed the couch behind you in the living room.

laying on a soft surface for once, sounded the most appealing.

“can you help me to the couch?”

you knew he wouldn’t turn down your request. anything you could do to earn his trust, the better. 

jeno was quick to assist, first, gathering the plates and placing them in the sink.

“i’ll put the leftovers in the fridge, just let me know when you want some more.” he said as he walked briskly to your position on the bar stool. 

you didn’t dare move.

his soft hands grabbed both of your own, clasping somewhat too hard to get you to your feet. you faced him eye to eye, waiting for him to guide you. 

but there was no motion from either of you; his chest mere centimeters from your own. his irises were such an uncomfortable black, soulless.

you couldn’t look away. 

sweat formed in your hands, which you were sure that he could feel. yet, he didn’t let go. a sniffle from your runny nose seemed to have snapped him out of his reverie. 

with no further time to waste, he helped you towards the living room, keeping hold of your clammy hands as you sunk down into the soft material. you winced as you swung your legs around to lay flat but immediately exhaled in relief at the plush cushions hugging your entire backside. 

jeno brought your glass of water to the coffee table, and scooted the tv remote closer.

just the mere sight of the remote made you wonder if turning on the news right now would show hundreds of stories on you and your boyfriend's disappearance. or any leads on the suspect. 

your family, your goals, your passions, all ripped away by someone that “cared” about you. 

why couldn’t you bring yourself to scream at the top of your lungs to fill the void?

the desperate need for rest overpowered everything else. this was the most comfortable you had ever felt in a while.

you closed your eyes, drifting off into a  deep sleep to the sound of running water from the kitchen sink. 

—

you missed the answer to your question just half an hour later. it was motivation. 

had you heard the sound of heavy knocks echoing off of the front door. you would’ve made your presence known, whether or not it was the police. 

a youthful male voice yelled on the other side.

“jenooo! open up buddy!” 

then a different voice spoke, 

“dude! we know you’re in there!” 

jeno froze from drying the dishes, only his eyes looking in the direction of the door. 

it was mark and jaemin.

he thought he made it very clear, for them to never show up to his house unannounced. 

ever since he began seeking you out, he made sure to send a text to them stating that “he’d been going through a rough time, that it was best to have as much privacy as possible. and to always shoot a text or a call before coming over.”

guess they didn’t want to respect his wish. 

he carefully sat down the ceramic bowl on the counter and bolted towards your sleeping body.

he didn’t even need to spike your drink, it was obvious you were going to pass out from sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion. 

jeno knitted his brow in disappointment. you looked so perfect like this, ready and willing to take what he could give. and now his friends had to ruin it. 

sadly, he didn’t have time to be gentle.

your eyes immediately shot open at the feeling of him gripping your waist with one hand, and covering your mouth with the other. 

“don’t fucking say a word.” 

he snarled in your ear, spit accidentally hitting your lobe from how hard he spoke. he wrapped his veiny arm around your hips, forcing you away from the couch. 

you had more energy than he thought, preventing him from getting a good enough grip to hoist you over his shoulders. you kicked at the coffee table, managing to knock over the glass of water onto the hardwood floor. he saw you turn your head towards the direction of the door from the sound of a few more knocks, those probably being the first you heard ever since they arrived.

he suffered through the discomfort of you gnawing at his fingers as he dragged you back towards the basement. 

your measly struggle only allowed a single muffled scream to bounce against the crevices of his hands. 

as he kicked the door open to the basement, he switched positions, this time dragging you down by a simple chokehold, causing your body to slump from the lack of circulation.

your heels knocked against each step, no longer having the adrenaline to fight back. he hurriedly grabbed the duct tape on the workbench, knowing he wouldn’t have enough time to do a thorough restraint.

it pained him to toss you onto the hard floor, just when you were beginning to find solace in his home. but he continued to tape your mouth, and your wrists, ripping the strips with his teeth. 

he added plenty to your mouth, knowing you were smart enough to try and lick the adhesive. 

you were disoriented enough from your elbows and knees striking the concrete, that he was able to sprint back upstairs, locking you inside. 

there wasn’t as much of a mess when he returned, just a glass of water shattered into pieces on the floor. he ignored it for now, already coming up with an excuse for the slight disarray.

he wiped his hands free of your saliva before opening the door. 

of course the two were excited to see him. 

“took you long enough!” jaemin exclaimed before reaching in for a hug. jeno didn’t return the embrace, choosing to remain cold and statuesque.

the two friends could sense the tension, coming to their defense immediately. 

“now before you get pissed, we sent you hella text messages and you never responded.” jaemin stepped back, raising up the palms of his hands. 

“yeah and we were beginning to worry. is it okay if we come in and talk? just thought it would be nice to check on you.” mark followed suit with his concern, hoping jeno would permit them entry.

secretly, jeno was squeezing his side of the door handle to death, and internally, his blood was boiling.

he had an entire human being probably thrashing around in his basement, and two unmarked graves of his ex and your ex in his backyard.  

now wasn’t the time.

but they were already here, and telling them to leave wouldn’t be easy. 

“fine. but you can’t stay long. i have to go grocery shopping here soon.”

a complete lie. 

jeno stood aside to let them enter, remembering to bring up the broken glass on the living room floor as they took off their shoes. 

“be careful, i dropped a glass of water earlier. let me sweep it up first.” jeno made sure they stopped in their tracks before walking over to his coat closet to grab the broom and dustpan.

he swept up the crystal shards in seconds, mentally praying that they would want to do something other than just talk in silence, 

something to drown out the potential noises you would make from downstairs.

—

unbeknowest to you, jeno was trying his hardest to appear unbothered as the three took turns playing Street Fighter. 

he kept losing, which seemed unlike him. and not once yelling at the screen was unlike him too. mark and jaemin noticed his lack of excitement, but couldn’t brush it off any longer.

“you sure you’re okay?” mark looked over at jeno once the match ended. 

“yeah i’m fine.”

“we can stop playing if you want. i get you’re not always in the mood.”

“no it’s fine. i need the distraction…”

jeno looked down at his controller, finding that to be the better option than locking eyes with either of them.

“is work kicking your ass? maybe you need a vacation…have some time away from all the bullshit.” 

jaemin did have a point, but you were more important. vacation could wait. 

—

had you finally been rescued? had the police finally traced him?

the lack of commotion from the rest of the house left you feeling hopeless. maybe the detectives were doing a welfare check, which wouldn’t account for much noise. jeno didn’t seem like the type to attack law enforcement nor turn himself in. 

he’d only had you all to himself for a day now, you doubted he would give himself up so soon. 

you managed to stand to your feet, thankful for the rush that prevented him from taping your ankles together.

you tried searching his workbench for any signs of a sharp object that could cut your wrists free. of course he locked everything away, and there didn’t seem to be a secret compartment. 

you then ran up the stairs and placed your ear against the door.

all you could hear were two faint voices other than jeno’s. but they weren’t loud enough to discern their position in the world. either way, you had to make your presence known. 

the length from the door to the stairs was non-existent, which meant you couldn’t get a head start to ram your shoulders into the steel material.

the least you could do was kick and shove it, just enough to indicate a disturbance.

you did all the above; sure to make his visitors look in the direction of the basement.

you were beginning to get overzealous in your attempts. you just knew you were going to be saved now. 

just as you stepped back to increase what momentum you had, you felt gravity pull you down towards the trenches.

without any assistance from your hands to break your fall, your entire body tumbled down the staircase. 

the uneasy sound of a pop rang under your skin, traveling all the way from your ankle. 

as soon as your twisted body settled at the bottom of the staircase, you instantly knew.  

he was definitely going to dispose of you now.

—

jeno thought he could never truly be mad at you. but when you decided to cause a scene downstairs, he knew a punishment was in order. 

luckily, mark received a call from his girlfriend saying she needed help installing a new router in her apartment, and since jaemin rode together with him, they had to leave. 

your pandemonium just began as the two put on their shoes and said their goodbyes, making sure to stress to him that if he ever needed to “rant or vent”, to give them a call.

his demeanor was like a switch as soon as he shut the door, his eyes darting over to the now silent basement, jaw clenched so hard that he could’ve tore a muscle.  

maybe you realized your fate, he thought as he power walked over to the door. 

the scene in front of him was far from what he could have ever guessed: you were sprawled on your back, laying in a pool of your own tears. as soon as he caught sight of your injury, he put two and two together. 

you fell and sprained your ankle.

a faint sigh left his lips, and he rubbed his eyes as if to erase the mess you were now in. 

your sobs grew louder as jeno made his way down the steps, hoping he would gain a conscious by the time he made it down.  

to your surprise, jeno didn’t pull out a knife, neither did he wrap his hands around your neck and give it a fateful squeeze. 

he bent down, carefully gathering your crippled legs together. with one brief exhale, he brought one arm around the back of your neck and the other under your bundled knees. he rose up effortlessly, without any need to readjust his footing. 

you winced into his chest at the feeling of your ligaments pulling apart even further from hanging in the air. 

but the pain seemed to have subsided for a split second as you looked up at the man carrying you bridal style up the stairs.

blemishless skin, pink lips, long eyelashes—

you interrupted your outlandish thoughts, choosing not to label him as outwardly flawless. you could burn in hell if you ever admitted so.

—

your foot had completely mutated, like you had swapped body parts with an alien. 

somehow you were alive, and that’s all that mattered.

jeno took the time to carry you to his bedroom and place you on his king- sized bed. you didn’t even need to ask for help as he swung your legs onto the semi-firm mattress. 

his entire room sported a similar Scandinavian design like the rest of his house, with more plants hanging from his bedroom window. 

“my foot looks disgusting…” you thought you whispered low enough under your breath, but jeno managed a chuckle as he started gathering extra pillows from his closet to elevate your swollen ankle. 

it sounded foreign, but oddly comforting.

“well, you managed a pretty decent tear. just be grateful it wasn’t your achilles, or i would’ve had to take you to the doctor…” 

“how long do you think?”  

“mmhm, three to four weeks. as long as you don’t put unnecessary pressure, it should be pretty painless. i have some ice packs in the freezer but i need to go digging for some pain pills. do you need anything else before i go get them?”

“a glass of water and blankets please.”

“of course.” he nodded at each request, making a mental checklist and walking off in the direction of the coat closet to gather the blankets. 

you scooted back in the bed, letting the headboard support you while you sat in an upright position. 

it didn’t take long for him to come back with a handful of all the things you needed.

a glass of water and ibuprofen lay on the adjacent nightstand, two pillows were placed underneath your ankles, three assorted blankets were folded neatly at the foot of the bed, two ice packs were wrapped in microfiber towels, and the fully stocked bathroom was just a few steps down the hallway to the right. 

you already had a brief discussion with him on needing assistance to go to the bathroom, though it left you feeling rather uncomfortable. then you thought back to him buying feminine products—maybe it was less awkward than you thought.

as the evening progressed, jeno remained by your side, scrolling through his phone on the other half of the bed. he didn’t speak much, only checking every once in a while to see if you needed to pee, too much in fact. 

he quickly realized your slight annoyance from his fifth time asking, deciding to keep quiet for the rest of the night. 

you finally managed to rest with your eyes closed once the ibuprofen took away some of the discomfort, and within minutes, you drifted off. 

—

3 Weeks Later

—

your recovery was painless just like jeno predicted. within a week, the swelling and bruising went down.

in the second week, you were able to walk to the kitchen to heat up your own food in the microwave.

considering jeno worked from home and couldn’t leave his office space that often, you tried your best to be self-sufficient. 

through it all, he continued to cook and clean, creating somewhat of a new domestic lifestyle that you never thought was possible. 

once he finished work at 6pm, he would come out of his office and into his bedroom where you spent your time reading. he would always refill your glass of water and lift the ice pack to take a peek at your ankle. 

you never admitted to him that you missed interpersonal relationships or profound conversation, but there was something deep within you that thought maybe he could see it in your face everytime he brought you a snack from the pantry without saying a word.  

in all honesty, you were afraid to bring up anything from his past. it wasn’t like the two of you were together and you had no idea he was a murderer. 

he showed his true colors from the very beginning.

every night he slept on the far half of the bed, always starting off on his back, with one hand behind his head. once he hit deep sleep, he shuffled quite a bit until he found comfort being on his side, sometimes facing you, sometimes not.

you never awoke to snoring or his body making contact with yours. most nights you would wake from a nightmare, though you did a decent job at hiding it. some nights you couldn’t handle the agony that plagued your mind, laying there crying for hours. 

just when you thought jeno couldn’t hear your sublte cries, he did. but what could he do to make it better? 

in the final week, jeno did some makeshift physical therapy with you, testing your range of motion while you sat on the edge of the bed.

he seemed to be in deep concentration, even making sure the room was silent so he could listen for any popping sounds that would’ve indicated more recovery time. 

“i don’t know if it’s just me, but i don’t look as stiff anymore.” you said as you watched jeno gently rotate your ankle clockwise, then counterclockwise. 

“you certaintly don’t feel stiff. i think we’ve done everything right so far.” jeno smiled, quite impressed with how well his methods turned out for you. he let your foot come back softly against the bed before standing up. 

your breath hitched when he positioned himself in between your legs, staring down into your glossy eyes.

jeno pondered on the thought of bringing up your sleepless nights. but he didn’t know of a correct way, or if there was one at all. the only thing he could do was make sure you had access to one pain pill at a time, for if the day came that you left him, he would leave the earth too. 

you had “been with him” for almost a month now, and you managed to last longer than he thought. 

he admired you for that. 

“will i ever know who you are?” 

your voice gave out, dwindling into thin air. jeno watched as you dropped your head to conceal what dignity you had left.

he used a single finger to prop you back up, ultimately deciding if an embrace would make it better. 

there’s no way it could. 

—

Day 32 

—

this was the worst nightmare you’ve had yet.

the scene was too vivid, too real to let go of.

reliving the day your boyfriend died ate away at your soul and spit out what sanity you had left.

each time he died, the more he spoke to you, as if he wasn’t dead.

“you see that i’m quite dead. how awful.”

though his neck had just been slit, he laid there…staring at you…speaking so monotone, so robotic. 

“why do you make me experience this over and over again? wake up. wake up. wake up.” he repeated to you. 

your blood-curdling screams filled the bedroom; yet another sleepless night for not only you, but jeno too. 

it was only recently that you began thrashing around the bed and filling the silent room with your grief-stricken cries. 

there was no trying to hide it now…the pain became too much. 

jeno immediately rose out of bed, enveloping your shaken body in a full embrace, the first time that he’d ever done so.

you continued to wail as if he wasn’t there. 

“where is he-i need to see him! where did you put him?!” 

you continued to repeat your demands, rocking back and forth in his arms.

jeno knew what you meant, but he was sure you truly didn’t need to know. if you were this broken down from the nightmares, there was no way learning the truth could make it all better.

jeno knitted his brow as you continued to shuffle within his broad frame. 

he would never admit this to you, but these past few weeks have been miserable. 

he was beginning to lose hope. 

spraining your ankle was probably the best thing that could’ve happened; as bizarre as that sounded.

the two of you spent so much time together, and even though jeno could tell you wanted to know more about him, there just wasn’t a right time. not yet.

his past and how he came to be was best left unsaid. not until you seemed “better”, as the heavy load of his own trauma would’ve only made it worse for you. 

and now here you were, still not “better.” 

within the time that you began to gain control of your breathing, jeno contemplated his decision. 

he let go of your body, rubbing his eyes to adjust better to the dark room. 

you watched closely as he made his way around to you and held out his hand.

for the first time, you took it. 

it was if you were still dreaming, but no longer fighting your night terror. 

he guided you towards the living room patio door, walking slowly enough in regards to your recently healed ankle.

you seemed to have forgotten that the backyard existed, as you were so used to being in your own purgatory. nonetheless, you were eager to see the outdoors again, yet still unsure why he was taking you there. 

jeno used his non-occupied hand to push the curtains away before unlocking the sliding door, still keeping his other hand interlocked with yours. 

a slight breeze hit your face as the two of you stepped onto the patio. 

even in the early morning, the moon still illuminated bright against the deciduous trees swaying in the wind. petrichor emanated from the dampened grass, soothing away your stresses immediately.  

being outside for even just a second made up for all the lost time you spent in captivity.

maybe this is why jeno brought you here, to finally let you experience the beauty of the outdoors again; to take your mind off the troubles of your nightmares.

you remained behind him, peaking over his shoulder to admire the forgotten land you once accustomed yourself to.

still no words were spoken as he lead the way into the yard. you continued to hold his hand, finding comfort in the creases of his palms. 

he came to a stop in the middle, and appeared to have been looking down at something. you furrowed your brow as he let go of your hand, already missing the contact that kept you down to earth.

once you stepped aside to be shoulder to shoulder, you immediately realized what this was.

your wish had been granted. 

in front of you were two raised patches of dirt, one seemed to have settled more than the other. it appeared that grass had been planted, in an attempt to speed up the rate of growth on the disturbed level of soil. 

your world shattered—crashing into the depths of pure misery and sorrow.

you fell to your knees, the softened mud painting your pajama pants deep brown.

all the tears you could’ve cried remained back inside the house. this time, your chest felt tight, constricting any sign of emotion.

jeno remained blank, gearing up for the words that would change your life forever.

he bent down to your level, knees settling into the mud, eyes glossed over.

he waited for you to look up from the two graves, almost considering if he should do this.

you met his eyes, just as dark as the sky.

“this will probably be the last time you ever see him.” 

to you, his voice barely sounded human, morphed into the monster he truly was.

you felt a surge of fight or flight—a passion to fight for your survival. 

it all became a blur as you lunged forward, grabbing both sides of his chiseled face and connecting your lips to his. 

you couldn’t bear to keep your eyes open as you kissed him. for you knew that this way of self-preservation would haunt you if you made it out alive. 

giving him what he wanted all this time, seemed to be the only logical way.

jeno welcomed your lips without falter, as if this was the answer. 

his lips were soft, mending against your own like silk. 

your hands remained attached to his jawline, as he trailed down to grip your waist.

he squeezed you just right, not too hard like he’d done in the past. 

you wanted him to take control, to show that he could do whatever he wanted. the whimpers that escaped your lips, told him so. 

the kiss never broke, as you both rose and stood under the pale moonlight. his hands traced down further, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. he cupped the underside of your thighs within a single catch of your breath, to which you exhaled and whined, so gingerly. 

he took your subtle detachment as an opportunity to connect your tongues, the feeling of warmth completely searing your insides. 

you were too dazed to match the way his tongue explored your mouth, but the messiness ignited infatuation for how unique he tasted. 

still, it could never be too much, not even the way your conjoined saliva dripped onto your tear-stained shirt. 

there was no limit for how willing you were to submit.  

he swallowed the whimpers that fell from your mouth, trying his hardest not to tug on your lips too harshly. 

his hands pressed upwards on the back of your thighs, signaling that he craved more.

he clutched onto your ass as you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist.

you could feel the growth in his sweatpants increase the moment your breasts made contact with his clothed chest, nipples almost meeting together in the same distance across.

you were both harmonious in your attempts to get back inside the house; just the simple action of raking your fingers through his raven locks, encouraged him to move quickly. 

he managed to walk through the yard with ease, taking only a brief moment to peek behind you to ensure he didn’t trip over the entrance from the patio. 

during his journey to the bedroom, you buried your face into his neck, peckering on the veins that branched out into beautiful streams of blue.

your tongue found his racing pulse just as he kneed the door open to the room.

he laid you down on the edge of the bed, choosing to return the favor and kiss along your neck. 

your hands couldn’t decide on a spot to grab, so you kept them tangled in his hair.  

you had to be as convincing as possible that you craved this too, but it didn’t seem that hard to do when he caressed you in all the right places.   

“i’ve waited so long for this, for you…”

his voice had gone even deeper, vibrating against your collarbone as he kissed there. 

he continued further, meeting your chest that so desperately needed to be exposed. his teeth tugged on your hardened nipples through your cotton shirt, earning yet another whimper that bounced off the painted walls of the bedroom. 

he was dependent on your noises of pleasure, desperate to hear every sound that told him he was doing well.

just as you blinked, he lifted your shirt, with not enough patience to take it the rest of the way off. his mouth latched onto your sensitive nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue every time he nipped it between his teeth. 

he gave the same amount of attention to the other, swirling his wet muscle along every inch of your breasts. deep down, you wanted him to inch further towards where he deserved to be.

but you felt so sinful for thinking so. 

he continued his descent, kissing along the flesh of your tummy and down to your pelvis. his eyes remained closed while doing so, as if he was already familiar with every feature of your lower body. you hadn’t even realized that he tugged your pajama pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor.

you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on him, though you knew he had a look of pure bliss; excited to finally take what was his.

you jumped at the feeling of his nose resting on your clit, even rubbing it back and forth, painfully slow. he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent that was bound to get stronger once he took off your panties.

your entire body jolted from his tongue tapping your sensitive nub, causing all of your blood to rush to that spot. he poked at a faster pace, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the ache in your core, nor nullify the guilt you felt from actually enjoying it.  

he was teasing, obviously wanting to savor every moment that had no guarantee of happening again. 

“all mine…” he purposefully whispered close to your clothed heat, the spurts of air hitting your dampened panties with every unhinged word he spoke. 

you wiggled your bottom half, coaxing him into giving the attention you so desperately needed.

he was receptive to your attempts, immediately hooking his hands under the seam of your panties and pulling them off in one fell swoop. you kept your arms close to your upper body as a way to console yourself for how far you let this go. 

he pried your legs open wide, pushing them back so they were bent at the knee. his hands rested on top, pausing to inhale your scent once more. 

you kept the view below hidden with your arms, as the sight would be too much to take in. the mere feeling of him licking a single strip with his flattened tongue, from your puckered hole all the way up to your engorged clit forced a complete sigh of relief out of your body. 

you covered your mouth with your hands as a result, conflicted on whether or not you should hold it in anymore.

judging by the pause, jeno wasn’t pleased with your concealment. 

“don’t fucking cover your mouth.”

he spoke right into your pussy, eyes trained on your next move. you obeyed him that easily, placing your arms down at your sides to grip the sheets. 

as soon as you looked down, you were met with a sight that would ultimately defy all virtue left in your sickened world. 

jeno’s eyes were locked onto you, lapping at your slick with such determination to make you cum from his mouth alone. 

his hands had moved from your legs to your thighs, making sure to keep you static through it all. 

he did everything right—sucking on your clit, dragging it lightly between his teeth, covering every inch of your folds with his spit.

each time he propelled his saliva onto your wet cunt, you couldn’t help but try to close your thighs around his head; all purity soiled by the way he defiled your pussy. 

you knew it would only get filthier from here.

he snaked his left hand down, the pads of his thumb coming to rest on your pulsating bundle of nerves. his other hand formed a union between his fore and middle finger, making a way to your entrance.

it was evident through your prolonged captivity that jeno would feel resistance as he eased his two fingers inside. he wasn’t as slow as you hoped, but if it was for the sake of prepping, you would take what warnings he gave you. 

all three of his methods worked in reducing the pressure in your pelvic floor, but you still felt as though you could never truly be ready for his cock, mentally or physically. 

“you can barely take my fingers, fuck…”

he took the chance to curve his fingers inside you, creating friction as he scraped against your spot effortlessly. 

your entire world was spinning, and it was just the beginning. 

he was steady as he fucked you with his fingers, never once loosing sight of how ruined you were. 

the squelching from your walls suffocating his digits caused his sweatpants to feel uncomfortably tight. 

he couldn’t wait to stretch you full. 

the denial you onced claimed, began to wash away as you felt your orgasm approaching. 

his pace increased, creating a rhythm that was bound to make you crash. 

“i-i cant! please!” 

jeno ignored your cries, utterly content with forcing it out of you whether or not you wanted him to stop.  

you grabbed a fistful of his hair again, resting your fingers in his scalp as your whole body convulsed. 

constellations flooded your vision, blinding you from the reality of your guilt. you couldn’t help but grind into his face, prolonging the peak of your climax. 

all but his mouth left your pussy, his hands ushering your lower body even closer.

he managed to stay latched onto your beating clit, as your body continued to spasm. he truly didn’t want to leave that spot, as he found himself completely drunk off of what you gifted him. 

the amount of your juices that painted his mouth and chin, was proof.

you barely had enough core strength to lessen the impact of your legs falling against the bed as jeno rose to his feet.

he undressed himself within seconds, tossing the items of clothing inside the open closet. 

all you could do was lay there and be a tool, trying your hardest not to react to the size of his cock. 

there truly wasn’t anywhere he could fit, not even in your mouth if he wanted you there. 

you managed to survive this far, but you were already second-guessing your chances the moment he positioned his naked body in front of you.  

there was complete truth in how perfect he was—toned muscles, smooth complexion, and veins that branched out in every direction, most notably in his arms and hands. 

he was the epitome of virility. 

you were merely just a vessel for him to use and destroy. 

“take off your shirt.” 

he stroked his length, watching you fumble with the piece of clothing bunched around your neck.

as soon as you discarded it, he lifted both of your legs up, letting his shaft plop onto your wet mound. the sound was filthy, an indication of how wet you were. 

he started to glide his length up and down your pussy, practically wet humping your slick as if you weren’t overstimulated from his oral assault only minutes prior. you involuntarily jerked at the contact of his tip rubbing your abused clit, watching as he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth at your undoing.

he finally let his grinding come to a halt; tip stopping right at your navel. 

precum leaked inside the natural divet in your skin, forming a pool from his arousal. 

“pl-please jeno…i need you.” 

you no longer cared if it hurt, all that mattered was being at his complete disposal. 

he listened to your desires, finally conjoining your bodies as one. the stretch was uncomfortable, burning even. but the satisfaction that followed, negated every ounce of hatred you used to feel. 

you attempted to breathe through the discomfort, but all you could produce was a gasp as he eased his way further. even through the pain, you could see in his face that you were his entire world. 

his mouth hung open, eyes rolling back for a second before gaining focus on your effort to accomodate his size. a line of saliva fell from his lips onto his shaft, making more of a mess than was thought possible. 

you were severely uncoordinated from the intensity of your previous orgasm, but that didn’t stop you from pulling him in for a kiss as he bottomed out. you moaned into his mouth, slurping on his tongue to taste what remained of your essence. 

he furrowed his brow when you clenched down as hard as his girth would allow, sucking him further inside your cervix.

he finally took it upon himself to move, feeling resistance as he geared up to piston inside you. his hands made their way from your thighs to your neck, gripping hard enough to make a vein visibly pulse against your temple. you placed your hands on top of his, hoping he wouldn’t take that as a sign to soften his hold on your throat. 

this was everything you wanted. the exhilaration of being on the brink of death, a stark contrast to how he’s made you feel before. tingling littered under where his palms squeezed, causing you to writhe in pleasure as he drilled into your pussy. 

no matter how hard he squeezed, you trusted that he wouldn’t end you. not when he was completely buried in your walls, growling in your ear at how well you took his cock. 

“you’re so perfect, taking my dick so well…” his words sounded muddled from the ringing present in your ears, you weren’t even sure you comprehended them correctly through the high building up inside you a second time.

you managed to let a moan escape through the restriction as he pushed both of your bodies higher on the bed, having enough skill to remain inside you the entire time. 

jeno noticed your eyelids begin to flutter, a sign that you were teetering on the edge. he relished in the sight—your body slumped against him, your vocal chords attempting to produce noise but ultimately failing.

you were officially cock drunk, inebriated by how well he fucked you dumb. 

even through the haze, you could see him enjoying every second, tugging on his lips to suppress the animalistic sounds brewing deep within his chest. 

he finally took his hands away, allowing your senses to restore from the lack of oxygen. your chest heaved profusely, causing your back to arch as if you were being exorcized.

his stamina was still just as unwavering, never once losing rhythm. just as you gained control of your breathing, he pushed your legs back towards your head, simultaneously being in awe of your flexibility. 

the sound of skin slapping hit against your eardrums with each strike, and now that there was a surge of pressure being applied to your throat from this new position, you could barely vocalize how flawless he was at hitting your spot every, single, time.

you could feel his length twitching, veins swelling, and balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. 

your stomach tightened from the pressure against your womb, forming a wave that you were bound to drown in. 

“i know you’re close…cum on my cock…fuck.” he gulped in between, trying his hardest to hide the shakiness in his voice. he was just as close as you were, ready to explode at any moment. 

all it took was for him to pause and grind into you slowly.

and with it, came a cathartic release. 

a string of moans finally escaped through your restriction, forming a melody for jeno to absorb in his frenzied brain. 

unhinged groans fell from his lips as he emptied his seed; silken fluid overflowing and mixing with your own.

you clenched around his dick even harder than before, milking him for everything he was worth.

he stilled inside you for a while, practically putting all of his body weight on you while you remained in that position.  

the back of your thighs were sure to have bruises from how long he had kept his hands there. but you wouldn’t trade those marks for the world. 

you shuddered as he exited you without warning, shifting to lay by your side. even through the silence, your thoughts were loud. 

he came inside you, and it was obvious that the aftermath of the situation plagued his mind too.

—

you pretended to be asleep. though jeno was a different story, which all worked in your favor. as the morning progressed, he pulled your backside into his chest, one arm resting on your waist and the other under your neck. it was a surprise to you, considering he never touched you in his sleep. 

the main complication you faced now was slipping out of his arms without waking him. 

you were still backed up against his front when you lifted your head to view the time. 

the nightstand clock read 7:32am. 

if you didn’t act soon, you would be put underground, allowing someone else to take your place and experience the same horrors as you. 

you wiggled yourself to test his stimuli, no response. so you did it again, nothing.

you carefully lifted his arm that was on your waist and began to scoot towards the side of the bed. he stirred once, but not enough to fully rouse him. 

the time read 7:37pm when you finally stood to your feet. 

you could’ve made your way to the kitchen, but cleaning up was definitely a priority. 

you treaded lightly towards the bathroom, not even bothering to bring clothes. as you stepped inside, you were met with abhorration. 

the person you saw in the mirror was barely recognizable, ravaged beyond repair. and no matter how hard you scrubbed your body, it still couldn’t wash away the bruises or the remnants of jeno that had been sitting inside you for the past two hours.  

hopefully by the time you got back to him, you would finally be purged of his undying affliction. 

the simple action of grabbing a knife from the kitchen wasn’t so simple in your regards. 

your anxiety started to rise as you entered the kitchen. there, laying on the counter, in a stainless steel holder, were your means of redemption. 

it didn’t matter what kind, just as long as it cut deep enough… 

the one you grabbed happened to be a paring knife; ideal for your method of use.

your hands were sweaty, making it difficult to grip thoroughly. but you managed with two hands, all the way back towards the bedroom. before jeno could potentially see you through the doorway, you switched your hands, positioning the knife behind your back.

he was still sleeping, peacefully.

the clock read 7:59am. any minute now. 

you walked around to where his back was facing you; his slow and steady breathing being a complete imbalance to your racing heart. 

you maintained a good grip of the knife as you slipped under the disheveled sheets, attempting to straddle him and in turn wake him up for his departure. 

at first, he grimaced, wondering why his sleep was being disturbed. but once his eyes fluttered open, he smiled, blissfully unaware of your deception. 

he turned onto his back so you could straddle him properly, his body heat greeting you like the sun.

he lifted his hands and started to caress your thighs, creating goosebumps along your tender skin. he seemed to be focused on the bruising, expression filled with pride at how hard he claimed you.

you fought with every fiber of your being to hold back tears as you lowered yourself onto his chest. 

you met his soft lips for the last time. sealing his fate with a kiss. 

you exposed the knife in your right hand before sinking it into his side, the impedance of his tough flesh trying to stop you from sinking the blade in deep. 

you kept your eyes closed through it all, but you could feel his mouth open in shock. 

your tears finally broke, and just as you felt them separate from your chin, you opened your eyes.  

and stabbed again. 

and again.

and again. 

you flinched each time, waiting for a piercing cry, but there was nothing. his mouth hung open in agony, trying to produce a scream, but there was nothing. 

his skin had turned pale, eyes dilated and whirling out of control. soon came the blood, painting your hands, the sheets, and his tepid skin. 

you buried your face into his neck, hoping to hear his pulse slowly drift away. 

instead you were met with his last words,

“you made it…”

—

check to see what readers are saying here!

//tagging:

@pradajaehyun @glitchfiles @nikimeows @seungsthetic

#jeno smut #lee jeno x reader #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno au #nct dream fanfiction #feedback is appreciated <3 #i suck at endings BYE

[senualothbrok]

I write fics about Baldur's Gate 3

I mainly write about Gale. I write angst, hurt/comfort, romance and smut (Gale x Tav/OC/reader). I often write about heavier issues like trauma, mental illness, and grief.

You can find a list of my work and other misc stuff below the cut. You can also find me on AO3.

I really hope you enjoy my work and blog. I'd love to hear from you with any comments, feedback, random thoughts, or fic requests, so don't be a stranger!

--------------------

Enough (Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Angst. Trauma and recovery.) AO3 link

You agreed to help Astarion with the Rite of Profane Ascension, but you can't watch him go through with it. You interrupt the ritual, and Astarion turns on you. Now, you must deal with the aftermath of your actions.

Love and Beauty (Non-18+. Non-ascended Astarion x female Tav. References to bereavement.) AO3 link

A few days after Astarion has taken you to his grave, you are lying in bed together. You decide it's time to make a confession.

Rest (Non-18+. Gale x female Tav. Hurt/comfort.) AO3 link

You have defeated the Netherbrain and survived. But when Gale asks you to marry him, you find that you cannot accept his offer.

Content (Non-18+. Gale x Tav. Mild hurt/comfort. Fluff.) AO3 link

After the reunion party, Gale wonders whether you regret choosing him over Astarion.

Prayer (Non-18+. God!Gale. Gale x Tav. Heavy angst. Grief/mourning.) AO3 link

The God of Ambition has returned to Elysium, and you did not follow him. You grieve for Gale, and you struggle to move on with your life.

A Show of Love (18+. NSFW. Gale x female reader/Tav. Smut.) AO3 link

Sometimes, Gale doesn't seem sure how much you love him. So you decide to show him.

Words (18+. NSFW. Gale x female reader/Tav. Smut.) AO3 link

At your home in Waterdeep, you and Gale recall the early stages of your relationship.

Progress (Non-18+. Professor Gale x female OC. Angst. Mental illness and recovery.) AO3 link

When you start your studies at Blackstaff Academy, you expect a battle with your demons. But the last thing you expect is to fall in love.

Promise (Non 18+. Professor Gale x female OC. Angst with a happy ending. Mental illness and recovery.) AO3 link

Gale learns what it means to love and be loved. Sequel to Progress.

A Brush With Danger (Non 18+. Gale x female Tav.)

Anon prompt: Gale's thoughts and feelings before his infamous declaration in the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

Unexpected (18+. NSFW. Professor Gale x female reader/Tav. Smut.) AO3 link

You pay Gale an unexpected visit after one of his classes.

Absolution (Non-18+. God!Gale. Gale x Tav. Angst.) AO3 link

The God of Ambition considers the last of his attachments. Sequel to Prayer.

The Difference (Non-18+. AU (isekai). Gale x female Tav/OC. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Mental health issues.) Multichapter. AO3 link

When a portal appears in your living room and Gale Dekarios tumbles out of it, you think you are going insane. But truth is stranger than fiction, and things are rarely what they seem.

Mortal pleasures (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader.) AO3 link

Gale has shown you how gods bond in the astral. Now, you show him how good mortal pleasures can be.

---------------

More about me

Senua - 35/F - she/her

This post is a pretty good description of who I am!

I also love animals (esp dogs/cats/horses), tattoos, the Viking age, and existentialism.

Memes

I occasionally make Gale-related memes because I think I'm funny 💀

The inside of my brain

When your soul mate is a pixel man

Smooching Gale - the struggle

Gale porn is therapeutic

Fic vs therapy

Other things

* My dear friend @dolceaspidenera made some wonderful gifsets of Gale x Aurora from Progress and Promise. They are so beautiful, I still haven't recovered from them.

* Lovely @mahiiimahiiii made a beautiful piece of art inspired by The Difference, which overwhelms me with so many feels.

* My beloved bestie @practicallydeadinside-blog gifted me a cameo from national treasure Tim Downie explaining why Gale is so shredded and it changed my life.

She has also blessed me with:

- a comic strip of Words which has destroyed my ovaries and impaired my cognitive functions.

- a phenomenal drawing of Mia from The Difference.

* I commissioned one of my favourite artists @demiesop to draw Gale and Mia from The Difference, and she truly delivered.

* Tim Downie kindly did a beautiful reading of Gale and Mia's wedding vows from The Difference, which I treasure so much.

#baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #gale fic #astarion fic #bg3 gale fic #bg3 gale smut #gale smut