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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 7 months

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Our Little Love part six - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

Warnings - 3.6k words of : Toxic yandere men, sub drop, crime, violence, injury, emotionally abusive behaviour, possessive behaviour, lying and manipulation, monopolising, unhealthy relationships, aftercare ish, love bombing?, Namjoon's dark side is coming out but internally (because we can read his mind but MC can't)

It’s a sting or an ache that rouses you awake, coming from your bruised wrist. You let out a soft gasp of pain, lifting your head to see Yoongi carefully applying cream to the dents the ropes had burned into your perfect skin.

“Hoseok and his stupid games,” he mutters, full focus on making sure he’s soothing the marks of their punishment, like if the evidence of them went away so would the sadness they inflicted on you as well. It was a stupid naive thought, Yoongi knew it, but your presence in his life filled him with that silly feeling of hope.

He gently rests your wrist on the bed, searching for the next limb before he notices your eyes on him. They’re blank he notices, void of anything, fuck, they really did a number on you. He couldn’t swallow down the lump of regret lodged in his throat, no he would suffocate on it until you recovered.

You feel the bed dip beside your head, but it doesn’t pull your gaze away from Yoongi as he pulls your other wrist cautiously away from where you held it against your chest. You feel fingers in your hair, the urge to nuzzle against them almost overwhelming but the memories of their harsh words keeps you still.

“Heaven,” Taehyung's deep voice murmurs loud enough for you to hear as he plays with the strands. “Does it hurt?”

At his words you feel something pierce your middle, a pain that lay dormant until it was called out. A part of him means the sting of Yoongi’s ministriations, another part of him means the hole they carved out of your chest. At first it might seem sadistic, but he needed you to feel it, if you felt empty it would be harder to coax you back, the hurt meant you were still alive, still with them, and not an empty shell they were terrified they pushed you to be.

He would take your anger, your betrayal, your sadness over the void you presented to them now. Yoongi moves you carefully from your fetal position on the bed, so you’re lying on your back, your eyes meet Taehyung’s as he peers down at you. The position has an itch of anxiety building under your skin, it's too familiar to your punishment even if you aren’t as physically as exposed, but the burn in your extremities from those ropes lulled your brain into believing it was about to happen again.

You see the frown in his brows as he watches your chest lift and fall too deeply, the look in your eyes like a caged animal looking for a chance to run. It’s when Yoongi takes hold of your ankle you pull away with a small whimper. Both men look at each other for a moment as you swallow down the rising panic.

“Little love,” Yoongi says, being as reassuring as he can, “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

You inhale like your soul slammed its way back to your body, the corners of your eyes watering.

“Liar,” you barely manage to whisper, but it's loud enough that it cuts him. He deserved that. The anxiety in your limbs creeps into your chest, seizing your lungs until you’re unable to take a breath.

The hand in your hair moves to cup your face, his body lying beside you, your hand is on his chest, your insides fighting with the urge to push him away or clutch his shirt and pull him closer.

“Y/n you need to breathe,” Tae instructs against your hair soothingly, taking your hand on his chest in his. The other palm turns your head so you face him, his thumb stroking circles on your cheek. “Breathe with me.”

You want to tell him you can’t, but you try to follow his example, earning yourself a small smile on his face, the hum of danger dampening. You lose yourself to Tae as you both lie together, feeling yourself calm before sleep takes you again. The last thing you feel is soft lips on your temple, but you’re too exhausted to register it.

—

“How is she doing?” Jin asks Yoongi as he washes his hands, breaking his despondent stare at nothing.

He just nods in reply, avoiding eye contact. There were only a few times that Yoongi ever felt himself be moved to tears, but the state you were in now shoved him on the brink of a breakdown. And the worst part of it all was that they were responsible. Aftercare, especially after one of Hoseok’s sessions, was vital and they all knew it and yet because they were caught up in their own emotions they let you drop.

“That bad huh,” Jin laughs humorlessly under his breath, leaning against the door frame as he contemplates his own shortcomings. “Namjoon wasn’t lying when he told her we were the scum of the earth.”

He hangs his head back, looking up at the ceiling as if it would hold all the answers or at least grant him the ability to rewind time back to when you first woke up.

“We weren’t supposed to be scum to her,” Yoongi muttered, turning off the water that scalded his hands red, the pain was good, it felt like he was paying for his mistakes, although it was a small compensation to what he would have to pay. “The rest of the world doesn’t matter, to Y/n we were supposed to be worthy of her.”

“But we’re not,” Jin replies quietly.

“We didn’t have to prove it,” he bites back, feeling resentment towards Namjoon for bringing it up at all. He understood the need to be accepted, raging red flags and all, but to you they were supposed to be better, you were supposed to be the exception.

“What if she never forgives us,” he whispers his fears to the oldest of them, that tight invisible grip around his throat still present.

Jin can’t even bring himself to placate him, he can’t, he has the same fears.

—

Jimin’s tears crumbled their already broken hearts, but when Jungkook joined in it made them feel a despair they hadn’t felt since the day you left them.

“It’s going to be fine,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth, unsure of who he was trying to convince when a small voice in the back of his head was calling him a liar. If he could he would shoot the voice dead. “Our relationship isn’t that weak.”

Hoseok watches their leader massage his eyes as though a headache was starting.

“You need to go see her,” Yoongi says to Namjoon, arms folded, voice empty of emotion. Their fearless head of the crime syndicate had yet to visit you since the fight in the bathroom, Yoongi knew he would eat his words once he did.

“How are we going to fix this?” Hosek groans, patting Jimin’s head as he cried. The maknae was attached to Jimin’s back, both of them on the floor as they sobbed.

Taehyung had refused to leave your side, the others went in and out but Tae was afraid if he left you you would find a way to escape again, and he couldn’t live through that a second time.

“We broke her by exposing her,” Namjoon mumbles mostly to himself, thinking out loud, biting the skin of his thumb uncharacteristically nervous. “Made her feel like it was something bad…” made her pull away from us because we didn’t make her feel safe and let her drop. “Need to rebuild trust in the same way,” need to make her feel loved, “reassure her,” hold her but keep her vulnerable so she doesn’t build back up with walls against us.

His brain works fast, now that the Suho problem was dealt with, he could focus on you until the repercussions of the Captain came. He wasn’t stupid, he knew there would be some sort of retaliation, the Captain didn’t seem the sort to let things go.

“No more games,” Yoongi breaks his train of thoughts, eyes boring into him before looking at Hoseok too. “No more punishments, she never deserved any of them we were just sadistic fucks looking for an outlet for our own insecurity.”

Namjoon’s fist clenches, unhappy with the tone his usually stoic friend takes, even if his words held some truth.

“A whole world at our disposal to kick down and we take it out on our little love,” Yoongi scoffs, chuckling in disgust with himself and the others. “We really are scum of the Earth.”

—

The Captain doesn’t find the ceiling all that interesting, but it’s all he can stare at alone in the hospital wing. He’s not alone in the sense of physically, the hospital staff mill around working on the ward, he’s merely separated by curtains from the other patients, but the noise around him felt like a hum, a buzz in the background. The only visitor he had was the Chief of police telling him to stand down about the syndicate task force and then offering (ordering) him half a years paid leave.

“Take the time off,” he had said. “Recover,” he patted Suho’s shoulder before muttering, “it’ll do you some good.”

But the captain could see the truth in the Chief’s eyes, a hidden variable that was making him speak through the shadows. Kim Namjoon got to the police, he had his strings attached to every officer like they were his puppets. He only needed the top brass, they would create order and command for him. He wondered what he had on them all, how deep the corruption ran.

It seemed he was cut at the knees in more ways than one, the leader of the crime syndicate really drove that message home. He laughs at himself humourlessly despite the lack of anything funny in sight. One of the nurses giving him a judgmental side eye, wondering to herself whether they gave him too much morphine.

Suho could still feel the pain tearing through his knee and his hand, albeit dulled by the drugs in his system. The bullet had been lodged into his bone, it required surgery to be pulled out, surgery that was paid for by an anonymous benefactor. The thought of who he suspected as that person made him want to beg to put the bullet back.

Powerless wasn’t a feeling he was all that common with, even in his darkest days on the force he always felt hope, knew he would see the Sun rise another day. But Kim Namjoon had a way of drowning the Sun, and all her rays of hope. He could only pray that by some miracle, he could pull you out of the waters before your light washed out.

—

The scene when you open your eyes is eerily similar to the one before your world flipped upside down, a part of you wanted to believe the hands of time had turned back or at least you woke up in an alternative universe where the fight never happened, but the memories burned through your mind too clearly for anything else to be true. All seven of your walking talking red flags were posted around you in the room, eyes on you albeit much softer than that day, yet for some reason it puts you on edge.

“Heaven,” Jimin sits on his knees on the bed peering down at you, you notice the telling red rims around his eyes and his nose, was he crying? Why? He tries to cover it with a smile, his eyes disappearing into crescent moons but he couldn’t hide the evidence from you, you knew him too well.

He takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips before he mumbles desperately against your skin, his voice breaking, “forgive us.”

Tentatively, as if afraid you were going to break or run away, two arms wrap around your middle, the maknae lying beside you burying his head into you but you can hear the tell tale sniffles. It was rare any of them ever cried, you really must look like a state.

Your head throbs from the continuous cycles of sleep you were putting yourself through, sleep was safe and you were too exhausted to live, let alone deal with the repercussions of your relationship.

“Jungkook, you’re smothering our dove,” Hoseok sighs, arms folded as he keeps his distance. He wouldn’t say it aloud but since he and Namjoon were the directors of your punishment and subsequently the push into subdrop he was afraid of approaching you.

It wasn’t just your rejection that would break his heart, but if his presence caused a reaction of trauma, more than what you were presenting now, it would crumble him. It took everything in his will power not to fall to his knees and beg you to forgive them, and the man had never begged anyone for anything before.

Even Namjon kept himself an arm length away, sitting on the ottoman at the end of your bed, watching you as the others interacted. Soekjin had stood beside you, his fingers massaging your forehead as if he could sense the pain, but your eyes find Namjoon.

“Did you hurt him?” It was the first time you had seen him and the first words out of your mouth were about that cockroach. He can feel his anger begin to simmer dangerously, his jaw clenches before he releases a self deprecating laugh under his breath. This was cruel even for you, was it a test? Why didn’t you ask him whether he killed him, that he could answer truthfully, the details were a little more complicated.

“We didn’t kill him,” Hoseok says, his mind flashing back to standing on the roof of the opposite building holding the sniper as it took out the Captain’s leg.

“That’s not what I asked,” you whisper, eyes starting to water again.

Namjoon glances at Yoongi’s warning stare, the thoughts written clearly on his stone face, enough of proving to you how evil they truly were, the truth didn’t matter, only you did. But yet there was something inside of him urging him to tell you, a sadistic part of him that wanted to break the already cracked dusty rose tinted glasses. Was it so bad of him to want you to love the darkest parts of him? Couldn’t you hear his soul cry out for you to love him despite how bloodstained it was?

“No we didn’t hurt him Love,” he sighs, hanging his head so he wouldn’t have to meet your gaze, his fist clenching the material of his trousers. The lie tasted like coal in his mouth, but he would swallow it down even if it upset his stomach.

You let out a sound of relief, the weight on your shoulders suddenly disappeared and you could breathe freely again. They actually saw you smile, and the guilt only cemented.

“Thank you,” you exhale, the feeling of love you were holding back against them now allowed to roam back into your body. There was hope, there was a chance to heal your relationship; they listened to you despite their murderous intent, you were relieved. You were so worried they would kill him anyway despite your plea not to, but this was proof they were willing to work on themselves with you, that you meant something to them more than being their toy.

You close your eyes, feeling overwhelmed. Jimin wipes away your tears, you hadn’t even realised had slipped from the corner of your eyes.

“Our baby’s so caring,” Jin comments, trying to keep the bite out of his voice and eyes. Your gaze falls on him and he smiles, it’s the most fake thing he’s ever done in front of you but you’d believe it. Seokjin was a mastermind at manipulation, to the point he could paint whatever he wanted on his face regardless of his emotions. Namjoon had debriefed them before you woke up, the objective was to do what they did best, monopolise you back under their spell.

It throws you, the gentle expression on his face, maybe you did wake up in an alternate reality. Jungkook distracts you, pulling you closer against him, his lips on your shoulder, making his way up your neck and cheek slowly. You turn to face him, eyes in a daze, that sweet bunny smile greeting you shyly but your attention is pulled away by another.

The back of Taehyung’s fingers trace your cheek gently, another smile greeting you when you turn to him on the other side of you, finding him kneeling on the floor beside the bed. He takes notice of your glazed stare, the slow confusion on your face.

“Aren’t you the cutest little love to ever exist,” he coos quietly.

“Our only little love,” Yoongi corrects him.

“Our slice of heaven,” Jimin pipes in.

“The only heaven we’ll ever see,” Namjoon’s deep voice gruffs.

That overwhelming feeling only grew, but it didn’t feel unwanted, you felt cushioned, like you were being lifted or floating on a cloud. Gentle touches, soft words, soothing your soul quiet, letting it rest. But you were unaware a part of you was being buried.

“Our perfect Angel,” Namjoon whispered and for some reason it felt like the final nail in the coffin making you snap back to your senses.

“No,” you sit up to face him, breaking away all the physical touch they had on you. The safe space they had lulled you into with all your defences bare had shattered. “You can’t expect me to accept you for all your flaws if you won’t do the same for me.”

There’s a fight in your eyes that comes alive as you stare him down, but he keeps quiet letting you fill the silence.

“I am not perfect, YOU need to stop pretending I am,” you throw his words back at him, he fucked you with those words and made you accept their cruelty, he would have to offer you the same respite. “I am done with trying to live up to this impossible image you have of me, because every time I break the illusion I can see the disappointment in your faces and it kills me every time.”

“Little love, you are perfect,” Jin sighs, moving to sit in front of you to break the staring match between you and Joon. “All those things you think are flaws are perfect Love, they’re a part of you, of course they’re perfect.”

His thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, trying to will away the fire when it threatened to burn everything they had spent rebuilding in this room with your recovery.

“If we made you feel anything other than perfect dove that’s our fault,” Hoseok admits, “but you already know how bad we are, it’s always our fault, don’t let us fool you otherwise.”

“You don’t get it,” you frown, looking down at your lap. “When you love me like that, it's a burden.”

“Love,” Yoongi calls for you, desperation in his voice, hating that you felt that way at all. “That’s not our intention.”

“Baby,” Jungkook sits up beside you, and you start to feel confined, their bodies like iron bars of a jail, keeping you with them for a life sentence you were beginning to think you deserved. “We love you, we made a mistake, we know that, but our love for you isn’t bad.”

“It’s the one redeemable thing about us Heaven,” Taehyung adds, looking up at you even with your head hanging low, trying to meet your eyes.

You feel your eyes water, you just ached, wanting to be drowned in their love but protected from their consequences. Last time you took the coward's way out, you ran away, this time you needed to create distance, but still work on the problem without bias, without their love infecting you until you could heal them and yourself.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” you confess, holding back a sob. Your mind starting to win the war it raged against your heart and all it wanted.

Their solemn expressions snap to you, the panic in their eyes piercing you.

“What do you mean, little love?” Jimin says warningly, you sounded like you were wanting to end your relationship but you surely knew better than anyone that it was impossible. They wouldn’t let you go if you tried.

“I think we need to go on a break,” you state, your voice strained from the heavy feeling of wanting to cry in your throat.

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok shakes his head, nostrils flaring at the suggestion.

“I’m not asking,” you say firmly.

“You don’t get to make that decision little love,” Namjoon’s lips twitch as he stops himself from growling, how dare you even think it. “You’re ours.”

You both stare each other down, neither willing to compromise.

“I’m mine,” you felt in control again, you hadn’t felt this way for so long, like your soul belonged to you, you weren’t just floating in their desires, you were your own person.

“We won’t let you leave,” Namjoon retorted, not denying your statement.

“I didn’t say I wanted to leave,” you shake your head, looking at each of them before your gaze returns to the leader of the syndicate, a challenge present in both your stares. “But you don’t get to touch me, or fuck me, or play your games.”

Every one of your new rules hit them like a punch to the gut, a cruel mocking thought passing through the air between them, this was the consequences of their fuck up, and they knew if they wanted to keep you, they would have to listen.

“One last thing,” you say after a lot of deliberating, a squeeze in your throat trying to stop you getting the words out, a deep frown set between your eyes. “I don’t want you to call me little love anymore.”

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midwestestbutch · 2 years

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my lil sister saying work song by hozier reminds her of her discord bf….honey that songs abt upper drug addiction and u are 15 and i hate ur discord bf

#they’re both emotionally manipulative towards each other and they r both kind of evil😐😐😐😐#sorry sis i love u but u need to stop #like. her bf was openly HORRIBLE to our baby sister and said rly nasty stuff abt me and my sister rly went ahead and dated him even tho he’s #SUCH AN ASSHOLE and it’s rubbing off on her #she was already an asshole now she thinks it’s ok to be an ass bcuz her stupid bf is an ass

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miraclewoozi · 6 months

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DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC. notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away. notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago.

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room.

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right.

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones.

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’.

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone.

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name.

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry).

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen.

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts.

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour.

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed?

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him.

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they��re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense.

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know.

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans?

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can.

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty.

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it.

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away.

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced.

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there.

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since.

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie.

There is one more.

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly.

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most.

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it.

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits.

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask.

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through.

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake.

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so.

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage.

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest.

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning.

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on.

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth.

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle.

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough.

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe.

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.”

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—” He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go.

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him.

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.”

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different.

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms.

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice.

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants.

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured.

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use.

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again.

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans.

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle.

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat.

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like.

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base.

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him.

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming.

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess.

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop.

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name.

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to.

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.”

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own.

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache.

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum.

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas.

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

#dino smut #lee chan smut #dino x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #kpop smut #j writes.#*#this description is ass we're gonna pretend it isnt. ok THANKS bye <3

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unreliablesnake · 1 year

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That's a first (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: You invite Ghost to a wedding, but end the conversation with something you shouldn't have said.

Note: Just a short drabble. I have a massive writer's block. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: afab!reader, suggestive themes.

••••••••

“A friend invited me to her wedding and it’s two weeks from now,” you began as you ran your hand down Ghost’s vest, your eyes fixed on his masked face as you talked. “I was wondering if you’d like to be my plus one if we make it back in time.”

You had been flirting with each other for long months now, but Ghost only made a move at the beginning of your last mission. “I didn’t want to be compromised,” he had told you, his fingers running down your arms as he spoke. “But I really, really like you, and it would be hard to work with you if I didn’t tell you how I feel.”

The rest was history. You had spent quite a lot of time together on your days off, getting familiar with each other both emotionally and physically. This man was too good for his own good, but for some reason he didn’t seem to acknowledge that.

Ghost let out a deep, humming sound as he thought about your suggestion. It was okay, accompanying someone to a wedding was a big step, it was understandable that he wanted to think about it. But then he put his hands on your waist, pulling you a little closer. “What would I get in return?” he asked you seriously, although you could tell he had a playful smile on his lips under the mask.

“Me in a brand new set of sexy lingerie. And you could also do whatever you want to do to me in bed,” you replied suggestively, flashing a flirtatious smile at him.

“I could even tie you to the bed so I could eat you out and finger you until you’re begging me to stop and fuck you?” With a laugh you nodded. “Sounds good to me. I love to see you fall apart like that.”

You stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss on his mask where his lips were. “But I’ll have to keep an eye on you when we are there, because I know a single friend of mine who simply loves tall, handsome and muscular guys like you. But you’re mine, and I won’t let you get away that easily.”

“I promise I won’t leave your side during the wedding and I won’t talk to any of your friends without you,” he assured you as his gloved hand brushed your cheek.

A dreamy smile appeared on your lips as you listened to him. “You can talk to whoever you want, Simon, unless they’re females and singles,” you said with a laugh. “I love you.”

Wait, what did you just say? The thought of this slipping out of your mouth scared you, because you didn’t think you were at this point in your relationship. You could see Ghost’s eyes go wide from surprise as well. Mentally scolding yourself for your stupidity, you bit on your lower lip and waited for his response.

Instead of talking, he pulled up his mask a little and leaned down to kiss you softly. “I love you too,” he told you eventually with a smile on his lips.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #modern warfare #mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare ii

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jenflirts · 5 months

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mending my broken heart

pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

theme: angst :)

summary: maybe you're the one...

warning: profanities, grammar, no ghostface and cheating

a/n: based on my feelings :) | enjoy.

Falling for someone isn’t for weak people,

Nor being attached,

Nor loving someone.

These are the feelings that will make you mentally and physically weak, just because you would do everything just to have them, just to give them all your attention, love, and hell, even your soul, but why isn’t it for the weak? Well, only emotionally controlled people can survive these challenges. These are the obstacles that we face when we’re in love and this makes us vulnerable.

We’ve always thought that if a partner loves or falls for you it means they’ve accepted your flaws, insecurities, clinginess, stupidity, good days and bad ones, but sometimes don’t you think that they accepted that because they needed too? Out of pity? Or sometimes just to play you cause they’re just bored. I’ve always thought about falling in love and being vulnerable to a person, but then my overthinking mind stops me from doing so.

Yeah, taking from my perspective—a person that’s been played and got attached too many times just because they showed affection—I’ve been hurt so much that I don’t even count how many times that they scarred my heart and still gave them another chance. I did everything I could just not to fall for someone, but I just can’t stop myself ‘cause it feels like an addiction I cannot control. I keep thinking about the past relationships I had and even thought about the times that I let my heart heal and mend it by myself and yet, I keep longing for the wrong people and their fucked up affections.

And then there’s Tara, the girl that makes me feel special, the person that let me believe that love is worth waiting for, and love really does exist. Tara is the type of person that would really make you fall in love with her and not in the bad way, but because she’s the type of girl that you’ll feel comfortable to be around with, rides with your antics, will help you in any possible way, and makes you love your true self.

Tara and I have been dating for almost 2 years and the truth is I’ve fallen deeply in love with her, she already accepted my vulnerability and I accepted hers so there’s really no turning back. I’ve thought about these feelings thoroughly ‘cause I don’t want to hurt her nor she wants to hurt me, I’ve always wanted to feel vulnerable around someone I trust and love the most ‘cause I don’t want to let people see my true facade. Tara saw something in me that people don’t and she’s been helping me to cope up with that.

Everything has been great ever since I dated Tara.

December 09

It's our finals and both of us are stressed out since both of us picked a hard course and I actually want to do something special for her since it’s our anniversary so I’ve prepared dinner, movies and gifts just to surprise her. I went home earlier than she did so I could prepare the things I wanted to give and the words that I wanted to say; Thankfully, Sam and Mindy helped me to do everything.

“Minds? Do you think Tara would like it if I gave her a promise ring on our anniversary?” I asked the girl as we strolled through the jewelry shop. She stopped her tracks and looked at me surprised “A promise ring? Really? Doesn’t that curse relationships?” She asked as she glimpsed the rings.

A promise ring breaks relationships? Now what kind of fuck-mind would believe that. “And where did you get that information? Is it one of those crazies at the uni?” I joked.

“I’m just telling you that rings don't mean forever,” she said. That’s actually true, but I’m not gonna listen to her and Tara deserves a promise that I will love her forever so I picked out the ring and necklace for our anniversary tomorrow.

I helped Tara go inside our apartment and took the blindfold off. She engulfed me into a hug and kisses all over my face. "Tara, we need to eat" I said as I put her down on the floor.

Everything went smoothly and both ended with a promise to love and hold forever.

December 14

The day that feels eerie and gut wrenching, it feels so slow and bothering. "Minds, Tara hasn't texted me for the last few weeks and it's concerning me" I said as I tossed her my phone to check Tara and I's conversation.

"She also hasn't been going home" I added and groaned loudly.

"Yeah, I noticed that. You didn't confront her about this? But I always see her at the uni tho" She said.

Is Tara avoiding me? Did I do something wrong last week? Did she do something wrong? Did something happen that I didn't know? A lot of things suddenly hits me, I thought about everything that I've done last week ago, but nothing really came into my mind.

It's already past midnight and I'm still going on about Tara. I heard the door open and keys tossed on the counter. I went outside and checked if Tara's here or just Mindy wanted to crash by.

"Tara? Baby? Where were you?" I asked as I sat beside her on the living room coach.

"Sam's and did some thinking, so can we talk?" she said.

Why does it feel so suffocating? The way she looks at me feels so different; it feels empty and drained. I nodded and sat in front of her.

"For the last few weeks I've been isolating myself to you and it felt different after what I did. It's been perfect for the last 2 years and I loved every single moment that we've done, but I think we must part our ways and fix ourselves" She cried.

What? Just like that? After 2 fucking years? She's just going to throw it all away? I was too stunned to speak, my brain was spewing out words, but my mouth can't function properly. I felt my eyes stung and tears rolled down on my cheeks.

"So? That's it? Gonna throw away our 2 year relationship out the fucking window like its nothing? Damn Tara, I don't know what to say nor to react" I said as I wiped the tears that keep continuing running down on my cheeks.

She doesn't say anything, but her eyes tells me differently like she's guilty for not telling me the reason why.

"Tara, what's the sudden break-up? what's the reason? 'cause I know for a goddamn fact that it's not about self improvement shits. Tell me so that we could fix it" I assured her

She shook her head no and keeps sobbing uncontrollably. I went to her and wiped her tears; I held her hands, "Love? what happened? tell me so we could fix it" I said as I gently squeeze her hand.

She slowly stopped crying and let me wiped her mascara tear-stains. "It was at Wes's parties and you were studying for your final lesson at that time. Amber snuck me out and helped me unwind by bring me to Wes's parties then I got drunk and I couldn't control myself and so did Chad" she explained.

I couldn't believe it.

The love of my life, cheated.

The girl that I trusted the most, cheated.

I felt my whole world fell apart. It feels like my heart just shuttered into pieces, it feels like there's a new cut to it. I feel betrayed, angry and disappointed all at the same time.

I stood up and went back to my seat and comprehend what just Tara said. I can't do this right now, my mind is all over the place.

"babe? hey? I thought we were gonna fix these" she said

does she really think there's something to be fix? I gave her my everything and this is how she repays me. cheating on me with my other best friend? damn, that's another form of betrayal.

"tara, get out. I can't right now. I just want to be alone for a moment"

She doesn't understand what pain I'm going through right now.

After Tara closed the apartment door, I tried smashing everything so that I could somewhat calm down.

I sat on the living room floor and thought about the things that I have done on why Tara have to do this. Wasn't I enough? Am I that easy to replace? Is our relationship just out of pity? There's so much unanswered questions that I have on my mind, but right now I just want to be alone and mend my broken heart.

I thought she was the one that’s going to help me mend up the open cuts that people leave on my heart, but I would never predict that she was going to leave a big one.

(part 2 of my lovely, jenna is on-going)

#Spotify #tara carpenter x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #wlw #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader

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purerae · 7 months

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Hey, Love your fics! Can you do a SFW (or NSFW if you’re feeling up to it) alphabet about the playboy yandere (or the jock)?

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!PLAYBOY // SFW Alphabet

A/N ;; Thank you so much!! i’ll start off with the SFW alphabet for kieran and then do the jocks! I may do the NSFW alphabets later on<3.

╰────༺♡༻────╯

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Very affectionate to you if you’re in a relationship. Mainly likes physical affection and will always be touching you in some way. (Hand around shoulder, arm, thigh etc)

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

would NOT be a good best friend. The only reason why he’s friends with you is because he’s in love with you 😭 with his other ‘friends’ hes not reliable at all, doesn’t really care for them, just keeps them around because it makes him look good. But with you, He just pretends you guys are in an established relationship (delusional king fr)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’d be the be the big spoon 101%. Holds you quite tight, his body temperature is always cold so that might be a negative.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He has really bad commitment issues but with you he’d want to settle down really quickly. If you wanted him to move into your house hed do so in an instant, or if you wanted a new house/flat? he’d have the documents in hand.

Average at cooking, he wouldn’t burn the whole house down but he also wouldn’t make a 5 star meal. Horrible at baking though. Hed struggle to clean because he’s used to others doing it for him

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

With his past girlfriends, he’d either ghost them or be very straight up and rude if they don’t get the hint.

With you? Even if you were the worst person in the world, you’re not going anywhere LOL.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

To be honest, I think he would find marriage stupid and useless, What’s the point of some words on a paper showing you’re in a relationship?

BUT, if you even slightly wanted it, then he would get married and give an extravagant wedding also inviting literally everyone he knows so he can show off the relationship. Or he’d get married with you, if he can see that you’re slowly getting tired of him, He’ll bring it up suddenly and will not give you an option to say no.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Emotionally, He tries hard for you, but sometimes he takes things like a joke too far beccause he’s used to lacking empathy. But if he notices you’re upset, he’ll apologise and practically go on his knees for you

Physically, He’s gentle but sort of man-handles you?? Not in a rude way but he’d move you with his arms instead of telling you to move or always initiates physical contact even though you may not want it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

LMFAOO IM SO SORRY BUT HED BE THE TYPE TO BE LIKE “aha Y/N, where’s my hug at?”

joking (probably..), Hed always want to be the arms above and he’d hug you very tightly, close to the point where it’s hard to breathe. While hugging you, he’d sway your body side to side (idk if that makes sense)

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

As soon as you say yes into being his partner. Or maybe even before that.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Gets jealous very very VERY easily. If he sees you hanging out w another man, he’d jealous so fast. ESPECIALLY if that man made you laugh.

When he’s jealous, he doesn’t show it angrily or sadly. Yeah he’s angry, but he just flirts more with you, grows more protective over you and doesn’t show the aggresive side to you, but rather the perpetrator.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Loves to smother you in kisses, His kisses are rough and hard, almost to the point where it hurts. He tries to always have a flirtatious personality but sometimes when he kisses you, you can feel the desperate aura around him. Almost as if he thinks you’d disappear if he let go. He likes kissing you everywhere, but does it more on the lips and your forehead. He’d love for you to kiss his cheek and biceps the most.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think this is the only time where you could see Kieran being slightly awkward. He’s a lot more calm and toned down around them. He wouldn’t actively try to communicate with children, but if they approach him, he’d try his best to listen and answer. (He would prefer them not coming to him though.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

It’s cute. Mornings are the rare times where he has his guard down and is overall just sweet. He loves it when you stay in bed for an extra five minutes and would hug you tightly, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear along with soft kisses. He’s quite vulnerable during the mornings and you can really feel how grateful he is to be with you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

This is the SFW alphabet so unfortunately i can’t say what he’d normally do :(.

But on the more quiet nights, He’d like to hug you, while he’s the big spoon and wait for you to fall asleep before he would try too. If he can’t fall asleep he’d gently try to turn your body around and stare at your face (a bit creepily) before he’ll grow tired.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Very very slowly. He’d know your whole life story before you know a portion of his. If you never asked I don’t even think he’d reveal his backstory. But if you were to be quite stubborn about it, he’d tell you everything and more.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With you? Extreme amount of patience, but may get frustrated with your lack of attention to him.

With others? He doesn’t care about them enough to get angry at them. But if it affects you in any way? Consider that person dead.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Every single detail. Even the things you didn’t tell him. Focuses on you like it’s the most important subject ever.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

1. When you finally laughed at his cheesy joke/pickup line

2. When you finally said yes to his confessions and kissed him

3. this whole moment.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

If he sees you speaking with someone who he views as a threat? They’d be on the news in less than a week.

Would protect you by constantly being by your side, low-key overbearing but whatever.

He’d rather protect you than vice versa. But he would like to be protected by your reassurance once you guys get into a steady relationship. Even if he is very confident, he does think bad scenarios sometimes.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Tries extremely hard. Knows everything about you so would but a gift you had wanted for a long time, or if you didn’t know you wanted but once he gave it too you, you’d be shocked at how much you’d needed it. Dates, anniversaries etc extremely romantic, he has a lot of money to spend and would spend it all on you. Even when you guys aren’t dating he’d go all out.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

his whole personality LOL

kidding, he gets jealous really quickly, he would kidnap you if he could tell you REALLY weren’t interested in him, He has no empathy for anyone other than you, he would essentially do anything for you if you asked (beside leaving you alone.)

since he is a yandere, I feel like the relationship would get toxic on Y/Ns side after a while. He’d still be enamoured whilst for you, it could begin to get tiring. (Or not LOL)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he’s good looking. He has a small routine but other than that he just lets his looks carry him.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He’d be a goner without you. Ever since he met you, there’s not a single time where he doesn’t think about you. If you were ever to disappear? He’d search the whole world for you and wouldn’t stop. He cannot live without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Owns a letterman jacket in every colour.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He likes anything that you do.

But with other people, if they act like they know him when they clearly don’t. Most of the school acts like that, that’s why he doesn’t like anyone but pretends too.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Wraps his arm around you tightly. If you wake up before him, you’re trapped. He’s a light sleeper so he’d wake up if you moved a tiny bit. But would pretend to still be asleep so he could cuddle you a little more.

purerae<3

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hannie-dul-set · 4 months

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karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. when you’re nearly run over by a car, and said car happens to be a porsche 918 spyder, your broke ass knows better than to let this one in a million miracle slip by.

PAIRING. shen quanrui x female! reader. GENRE. emotionally-stunted idiots to lovers, implied college! au, rich boy x not-so-rich girl trope but neither of them are normal! they’re both not well adjusted! mc is an actual scammer and ricky’s love language is throwing out exorbitant amounts of cash, romance, humor, angst if you squint but i prefer it when things are stupid, suggestive. WARNINGS. swearing, probably a number of illegal things, dubious medical practices, scamming, gold-digging, mild manipulation, a not very healthy dynamic at first but we’ll get there, more tba. WORD COUNT. teaser: 915 | full fic: est. 15-18k.

RELEASE DATE. within january, maybe. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. hello riyangi nation i have another insanity-driven wip to offer. hopefully i go crazy again and write 4-5k a day like my last ricky longfic HAHAHHAHAH. this one has a bit more plot, a bit more seriousness, but still on the spectrum of unhinged!!! hope u enjoy.

preview under the cut.

IT’S A DOG EAT DOG WORLD OUT THERE. You’ve learned this lesson time and time again, ever since the early age of six— when your father got kicked out from his own start-up thanks to his greedy cousins, when you got in trouble for punching a classmate in first grade because he lifted up your skirt but the fucker was the grandson of your primary school’s dead, and when your high school scholarship got screwed over because “your parents unfortunately don’t support the school enough,” and you flipped off your home teacher all while calling him an ass-kissing, money-grabbing piece of shit.

Well, you were forced to transfer after that.

At least your new school didn’t base their scholarship grants on fucking PTA donations instead of grades.

From then on, you’ve learned that the only way to survive is to screw people over before getting screwed over yourself. There’s no point being nice. You can’t bother being a doormat to people who don’t even contribute a cent to your rent. You’re not wasting your smiles for people you can’t use.

Maybe it’s how you’ve grown to be so opportunistic, because the moment you and a friend were told that only one of you could get a full ride to Yonsei University— you didn’t think twice to cut him off. You stopped sharing your notes. You stopped studying together because why should you be nice to your competition? He was more well off than you anyway. His future doesn’t rely on handouts like it yours does.

Bottomline, yes, you’re not the nicest person in the world. Sure, you screwed over some strangers opting to go to the same job interview as you by giving them the wrong directions. Maybe you cut yourself off from your parents the moment you turned legal when their debt started getting to them and they started relying on you to get out of the pitfall instead of pulling their own fucking weigh. Yes, you’re not a good person. You’re fully aware of that.

Which is why you can’t exactly say fuck you to god when karma comes to bite you in the ass via a car accident on your way to your weekend work shift.

The dead and quiet road you usually cross is now filled with noises of panic.

“Oh my god— dude! Call an ambulance!”

Your lungs hit asphalt and your head starts ringing. A pained hiss slips through gritted teeth. Something’s broken, you grunt, or at the very least not how it should be based on the sharp pain you’re feeling on the arm wedged between your body and the rough and dusty road. “Are they dead?!” you hear someone yell, followed by a car door swinging and footsteps running closer, yet your eyes remain squeezed shut from the blinding headlights and the aching of your entire body.

But it’s not the pain you’re dwelling on. No. It’s the hospital bills and the inevitable days off you’d have to take thanks to your god forsaken fucking luck.

The car should’ve just killed you on the spot.

“Are you okay?!”

However when you finally open your eyes and recognize the embodiment of your karma body slamming you into the ground in the form of a freaking Porsche, your worries suddenly get washed away into oblivion.

Holy shit, you’re fully conscious now. You’ve just hit the jackpot.

“O—oh, she’s awake, she’s awake! Gyuvin—”

Whoa.

There’s a person hovering above you. Rather, the person’s gold gilded necklace is dangling in front of your face. This is more than a jackpot. This is better that the fucking lottery.

“What—what do I do?”

“Is she responsive?!”

“U—uhm— are you okay?” Pretty boy that you assume is the one who nearly killed you is flitting his eyes in panic and is unsure with what to do with his hands. His face aside, the guy is decked out in designer clothing. You don’t miss the engravings on his jacket, the shiny glints of gold coiled around his panicked fingers. You’re not letting his chance slip away. You let out a grunt of pain and start folding into yourself. “Ahh, I don’t think she’s okay! What’s the number for 119?!”

Half acting. Half actually fucking hurting because ow. Maybe you did break something.

“I don’t know! Taerae, what’s the number for—”

“Are you two stupid?!”

Well shit. The pain stops paining because if they bring you to a hospital different from the one you have in mind, it’d be a loss for you. So you play it up even more. “A—ah, I think something’s broken,” you wince. Pretty boy drops his phone and tries helping you prop yourself up.

“Crap. I think it’ll take too long if we call an ambulance,” says one of his companions behind him. “H—hey, do you mind if we just take you to the hospital right now?”

Now, this doesn’t sound safe. Around three men in their early twenties with very evidently no first aid experience delivering an injured woman to the hospital with what you think is a two-seater car is a recipe for disaster. You’re still on the dirty ground, arm definitely broken, with a rich guy looking like he’s about to start crying at any moment very hesitantly trying his best to help you sit up.

They’re waiting for your answer. And the answer is pretty obvious.

“Yes, please. Thank you!”

Because if you get even more injured along the way, that’ll simply be an extra bonus for you.

karma comes in the form of vehicular accidents and designer leather jackets. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#shen ricky x reader #ricky x reader #zb1 ricky x reader #zerobaseone x reader #shen ricky x you #zb1 ricky x you #zb1 x you #zerobaseone x you #zerobaseone fics #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zb1 ricky imagines

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writerquil · 4 months

Text

Spoilers!

TW! A rant. Mentions of S@ and Abuse

AHEM! Alastor apologist (and apparently now partial defender) to the rescue!

This post is for anyone switching up on my guy after the newest episode. And the switch up originates from that one scene, you know, the scene below.

(EDIT: Sorry for the random censoring lol, I don't feel like going back to edit it and its an old habit of mine).

Yeah, we all know this scene. Basically the one where Alastor lashes out at Husk.

Immediately after seeing this scene I had TWO different reactions, in which consisted of “wow that was cool” and “people are going to twist this, aren’t they?”

And people did! So here I am!

I’m basically going to show a bunch of reactions and concerns to said scene that I disagree with and then I’ll say why!

1. “Alastor is like Valentino!”

Don’t even say that. PLEASE NO.

I like to think that I’m pretty good at letting my liking for characters go the moment that I realize they’re wretched in specific ways, but this never occurred for Alastor.

You wanna know why? Because he is NOTHING like Valentino apart from the fact that they’re both overlords who carry soul contracts. I don’t think I really need to pick apart their personalities because we can already tell how different they are.

The only reason why the two were “grouped” together was because Husk and Angel were stuck in situations both caused by soul contracts and an overlord which caused the two to be mentioned alongside each other.

2. “Husk’s relationship to Alastor is EXACTLY the same as Angel and Valentino’s!”

Nope. Both relationships, admittedly suck, trust me, I’m not discounting either relationship or saying “ok well one has it worse than the other”.

But come on guys, the relationships are not the same. Alastor sucks to Husk, obviously, considering he is forced to do his bidding for who knows how long? But there’s obviously a fine line between the two relationships.

There’s parallels of course, with the chains and the soul dealing. The situations aren’t completely the same but they have similar sources so parallels are bound to occur.

Valentino is an abusive ass whom frequently physically and emotionally abused Angel and Alastor (from what we’ve all seen) can be a jerk who drags Husk into clearly many “favours” such as working at the hotel and possibly many more considering he’s clearly met more of Alastor’s colleagues and friends before.

They’re both forced into things and with their souls under contract, they can’t do much about it. But the things they’re forced to do are significantly different. Once again, this isn’t me saying anyone has it better, because it’s not a competition.

But the relationships are not the same. The two are brought in for significantly different things. Do you really think Alastor is s3Xua!!y abusing Husk whenever he’s brought in? Yeah, no, me neither.

Do you think he’s mentally abusing him too, or that a situation like what was displayed occurs often whenever Husk does come in? Because no. Didn’t you see how startled Husk was? This clearly wasn’t just an average event that happened between the two frequently and the fact that Husk was willing to push Alastor’s buttons a bunch in the first place just shows that he wasn’t expecting it to happen either.

And for the people so insistent on Alastor abusing him like that. I suggest you hide your weird k!nks better.

3. “Alastor tortures Husk frequently!”

Okay and what gave you that idea? Was it the way that Alastor lashed out? Because he didn’t lash out of the blue as you may think.

Husk pushed his buttons and Alastor got angry. Trust me, I love Husk but he played a stupid game and got surprised when he won a stupid prize.

Considering Alastor abusive after pulling Husk to the floor is strange. Trust me, if he was supposed to be abusive, it would be explicitly showed throughout the episodes. And before you say “well it was implied”, I really don’t think so.

And once again, Husk was clearly extremely startled, which means this probably doesn’t happen very often. Which also discounts you all considering him to be similar to Valentino, who displayed hurting behaviour frequently.

Like the most we’d even seen interaction between the two was in the pilot and the recent episode. I think we’d get more display if there was more violence occurring in the relationship.

4. “I used to like Alastor before…”

Then what? You realized he was evil and did evil things? YEAH, he’s bound to threaten someone here and there.

Like if you don’t like him after witnessing his literal evilness then sorry to say, you never liked him in the first place.

I’m sorry for this guys but seriously. You can’t switch up on an evil character for doing evil things. He’s going to threaten people. Just know that when he does, it doesn’t signify he’s abusive or assaults Husk on a daily basis.

#hazbin hotel episode 5 #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor haters are gonna make me cry #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin alastor #rant #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin husk

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weirdocat83 · 13 days

Text

A thought I had when Crystal and Niko first met was just “when you can’t tell if it’s Magical Creatures or just Lesbianism.” And I just thought I’d share.

Also the whole time I saw Edwin was basically a compilation of me saying “he’s so gay but he’s so stupid.” And “why the hell is everyone in this show falling for this (possibly autistic?) emotionally constipated twink??”

Also also a good portion of the show was spent with me not knowing whether to think Crystal and Charles were both Bi or whether they both think they’re straight and eventually they’ll both break things off after realizing they are very gay and stay good friends. I have concluded Bisexual.

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin payne #niko sasaki #crystal palace

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popquizhot-shot · 10 months

Note

O my gosh do you think you can do a Miguel x teen reader. Where the reader has been in a depressed mood lately and no one can figure out what's wrong till they reveal that their headphones broke on their last mission and it was the last thing their remaining family member gave to them before they died and they blaime themselves for not being more careful with them.

Headphones-Miguel O’Hara x teen!reader.

As someone who’s emotionally attached to her heradpjones yes I can and will write this. Thank you all so much for the love and support from my last post! I’ll be taking a short break after this and I hope you all like it! Please comment and reblog if you do :D love you<3333

Warnings: Implied Hobie brown x reader; mostly fluff dw, crying.

ART BY THE AMAZING @thattripleabattery

“Is it just me, or is something off about her?” Miles nods towards you who is sitting all alone away from and sipping juice desolately as they all listen to Miguel’s newest monthly goal meeting.

“Something looks off about her, like something’s missing.” Gwen narrows her eyes at your figure.

You just keep nodding at intervals and try to pay attention but all you can think about are the headphones your brother had given you.

You considered them an extension of you, going so far as to even sometimes wear them during light missions while you waited for the threat to show up.

Your last mission had been gruelling, so bad to the point that both Jess and your dad had suggested you take a break from fighting to recuperate.

You were so devastated on the inside, all you did was just nod.

You knew that Miguel knew you were off. It was obvious that you joked less and acted tired. Not to mention the little amount of sleep you got.

It was stupid really, all this drama over a pair of headphones. Yet, they were the last connection you had to your brothers and it felt like you had truly lost your family when they broke into two.

Your mind was literally empty as you nodded at whatever Miguel was saying. You just dipped your juice and kept zoning in and out. It felt wrong that they weren’t there around your neck where they usually were.

Miguel started to notice your constant fidgeting and the way your hands kept rubbing your neck. He had also noticed your dull nature and the way your sweet smile stopped making its way onto your face.

Even to his lamest dad jokes, you’d respond with a huff and small twist of your lips.

As he wrapped up the plan, his eyes flit to yours and he saw you still nodding, your eyes glassy.

He takes a deep breath, “Dismissed, all of you leave. Now.”

The shuffle of chairs fills the room as everyone files out one by one.

He says your name, “Stay back.” And turns around to look at the hologram.

Miles and Gwen look at each other and then at you, who breathes in and nods without a word.

Once everyone has left, he turns back around to find you looking at him with your hands behind your back.

“What happened?” He asks and you sign.

“Nothing.”

“It’s rude to lie.”

“Manners maketh man and all that jazz.” You reply with a roll of your eyes.

“Seriously.” He raises his eyebrow and his hand rests on your shoulder, “You okay?”

“Yeah, god I’m fine! I was just an irresponsible shit and I broke my headphones.”

His eyebrows furrow, “The ones your brother gave you?”

You clench your jaw and nod, eyes smarting as you struggle not to cry at the thought.

He shrugs, “They’re just headphones, kid. You can always get another.”

You just scoffed, “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean, you get it right?”he tips his down to make a point.

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” You smile wryly and turn away so that he can miss the tear forming in your eye, “Cool, I’ll uh catch you later boss man.”

He stares after your retreating figure with remorse, did he say something wrong?

“You dumb idiot.” Lyla pops up.

“What?” He snarls, whirling to look at her.

“She was really attached to those headphones, Miguel.”

“She can always get new ones, Lyla. I’m getting them for her anyway.”

“Miguel it’s as if her brother died all over again.” Lyla replies firmly, “She’s hurting, ans you made her feel worse.”

Miguel hangs his head, “Shit.”

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but after years of shutting himself out, he didn’t understand people’s feelings like he used to, and he wanted with every fibre of his being to cheer you up, and he managed to screw it up.

“You need to go apologise and fix this.” Lyla points towards the doorway.

——————-

“It’s okay. Let it all out.” Hobie’s soothing voice is calming as his hand travels up and down your back to soothe you.

You breathe deeply before letting out another broken sob that only makes you more embarrassed, and in front of Hobie of all people. The guy just oozed absolute “don’t care” energy while still simultaneously being one of the most caring people you’d ever met.

Your apologies are hushed and he takes your face between his hands and wipes your tears from your cheeks, “You look pretty even when you cry.”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

You hug him again, “Thank you.”

“I know what it’s like to lose something like that, and I’m sorry. But I know you will get over it and I salute you for being so brave.” He winks, “I’ve gotta run, catch you later.”

He quickly kisses your forehead and dashes off, leaving you stunned. After a few moments, a smile makes its way onto your puffy face.

“I’m going to kill that kid.” Miguel seethes as he watches from the camera.

———-

You were exhausted after a long day of training and you couldn’t wait to just go and fall asleep in your quarters.

The door swung open easily and your eyes flitted to the shabbily wrapped present on your bed. The bed that was unmade in the morning but was miraculously made and cleaned now.

Your eyes narrow as you tear away the wrapping to find a near identical pair of headphones to the ones that broke and your eyes widen in shock as you hold them up in front of you.

There’s a post-it stuck to the wrapping paper and you read the note that is unmistakably written by Miguel. You can recognise his chicken scratch handwriting.

“Im sorry for hurting your feelings this morning. And I hope this makes up for it. Don’t blame yourself, it was an accident and accidents happen. Im proud that you learnt your mistake and that you act so wise for your age, despite the fact that you decide to go to a weird British punk spider for advice, I am still proud of you. No es tu culpa, none of this is your fault.

Love,

Dad.”

—————-

“She seems to be in a much better mood today.” Gwen nudges Miles.

“She’s smiling and trying to get him to laugh.” Miles grins at your antics.

“Wait her headphones! They were missing, they’re back around her neck, that’s probably why she was in a shitty mood!” Pavitr reasons as Gwen nods in agreement.

“Are the three of you paying attention?” Miguel looks pointedly at the three kids and his glare then falls in Hobie who is seated next to you.

“Everyone dismissed!”

As everyone files out he says yet again, “Hobart, stay back.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #mini miguel<33 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #atsv #atsv x reader

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itsbeeble · 4 months

Text

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (pt 1)

SUMMARY: It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

GENRE: smut, very little fluff, a lot of angst

PAIRING: Kevin Moon x afab!reader

WC: 4.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST PART 2

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez @flwoie

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: insults (nonsexual), mentions of injuries, mentions of what is basically sabotage, kevin is actually really kind of a bad person to y/n yall im sorry, kevin is still stupid (keeping with the trends), kevin is emotionally constipated but so is y/n but she's less emotionally constipated, pining, enemies to lovers, making out, marking, hair pulling, scratching, dry humping, poor attempts at humor, guys i'm actually warning you kevin is a total asshole in this

A/N: Idk why i went the angsty route for this but i'm very very excited to be releasing the final installment of this series. this was supposed to be released on christmas but me and fawn did not give ourselves NEARLY enough time to actually prepare this so we had to push it off. Much love, kiss kiss. Anyway thank you to everyone for reading this collab. This is part 1 of the final installment, so please be on the lookout for part 2 on fawn's page!!

You couldn’t have been more excited to be partnered with Kevin Moon for the end-of-year exhibition. He was kind, he was incredibly talented, he was funny, he—

“You have to be fucking joking.”

— hated your goddamn guts.

You weren’t even sure why. One day the two of you had been just a couple of freshmen, excited to become the best versions of yourselves, and the next…it was like Kevin suddenly decided that he just hated everything about you. He did everything from mocking your solo performances to outright screaming at you for the tiniest of mistakes that not even your professors had picked up on. Your foot was a centimeter too far to the left, your back was arched too much, or your arm looked flimsy. Anything that he could possibly berate you for, he found it.

“Language, Moon.” Your professor scolded, hovering beside you and gauging both of your reactions. Your thumbnail is wedged between your teeth, and your free hand is wrapped around your waist. Kevin is fuming across from you, staring at the paper with such intensity you fear that it would catch fire.

“Professor, you can’t possibly expect me to work with her!” Kevin flings his hand out in your direction, and you scoff.

“You make it sound like this is my fault.”

“Isn’t it?” He raises an eyebrow, lips curling up into a nasty sneer. “Most things usually are.”

“Oh really?” You drop your hands to your side, taking a small step toward him.

“Yes!”

“Like what?”

You’re inches away from each other now, a palpable tension between the two of you that had your professor shuffling back uncomfortably. A few lingering students glanced at the two of you, whispering amongst each other.

Do you think they really hate each other?

I think that they’re doing this just for show, just like Sangyeon and his girlfriend.

Maybe they really do hate each other…or, at least, one of them does.

“Like the class performance of Princess and the Pauper last year.” Kevin grins smugly, as if he’d won some sort of competition between the two of you. There’s a flash of anger and hurt in your eyes.

“Let’s not remember that you were the one who dropped me, Kevin.” The smugness dissipates and now your “opponent” is standing uncomfortably before you.

“I— I know that, but—” You cut him off abruptly, and there are a few tears brimming in your eyes.

“You know damn fucking well that the performance would’ve been fine had you not intentionally let me fall. It’s your fault that happened, not mine.”

“Y/N,” your professor warns. “Let’s calm down, shall we?”

Her hand on your shoulder steels you, and your body relaxes.

“The two of you,” she speaks slowly and calmly but there’s cold authority in her tone, “are going to work together on this performance, and you are going to work nicely. I will not be tolerating arguments this time. If you two cannot prove to me that you can work together as a team then I will fail you, and I will recommend you both be removed from the program. Am I understood?”

You bite on your tongue, eyeing Kevin and waiting for him to respond first. His words dug deep into you. It was easy for you to take the blame for mistakes you made, for starting on the wrong beat. But for him to blame you for his mistake? That was going too far. That was crossing a line that no dancer should ever cross (i know nothing about dancing).

“Understood,” Kevin mutters after a moment, and you nod your head slowly.

“Understood.”

“I think we should do Angel by Keshi.”

“And I think that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

Your eyes widen when Kevin says that with his back flat on the ground of the practice room you’d rented. He’s got a stress ball in his hand, throwing it toward the ceiling and waiting for it to fall back down into his hand. For at least an hour, it had been, essentially, a one-sided discussion with you throwing out ideas and Kevin ignoring you as best he could until you threatened to tell the professor he wasn’t being cooperative. He’d proceeded to call you a “stupid snitch” before responding to each suggestion you threw out with something negative.

“If it’s so dumb then how about you give a suggestion for once?” You retort. “Instead of just sitting there moping like a child.”

“Ooh, good one,” Kevin says mockingly, his eyes narrowing at you after. You know he can see you’re getting frustrated with him. You can see it in the smirk he sends your way as he sits up. “Stings real bad, Y/N.”

“Why are you such a prick?” You grab your crossed ankles, rocking back and forth on your butt.

“Why are you such a teacher’s pet?”

“I’m…I’m literally not.” Your head tilts and Kevin shrugs.

“Sure you aren’t.”

“Can you focus please?” Kevin rolls his eyes when you change the subject, leaning back onto the palms of his hands and spreading his legs out in front of him.

“I’ve been focused, you’re the one who keeps getting distracted by me.”

Your jaw falls slack. You kept getting distracted? The whole time the two of you had been in this room, he had done absolutely nothing to contribute. You, arguably, were the only one not distracted!

“What if we did—”

“Partition by Beyoncé.” Kevin interrupts you, and you quirk an eyebrow.

“I’m not doing that song with you.”

A smirk, and he leans forward. “Why? Afraid you’ll be seduced by your enemy?”

It's too late for that. “Nope. I just don’t wanna be that close to you at all. You fucking smell.”

For the first time ever, Kevin falls silent. His jaw hangs open and his eyebrows shoot to his hairline. Internally, you cheer at how you were likely the first person (as far as you know) to make him shut up for a few moments.

“I do not smell!” He snaps, finally jolted from his stupor when you clear your throat.

“You kinda do, Kev,” you pick at something on the ground. “Sorry to be the one that broke it to you.”

“Don’t call me Kev.”

You look at him, and his nose is wrinkled with disgust. He doesn’t look angry, per se, but he isn’t exactly the most pleased you’ve seen him.

“Sorry.”

Kevin goes quiet again, and now both of you are picking at the floor.

“So we’re doing Angel, right?” You ask, trying to clear the awkward air. Your partner kisses his teeth and shakes his head.

“I really think we should do Partition.”

“Why are you so set on doing such a sexual song?” Your cheeks are warm, but you try to ignore it as best you can. Kevin notices, that smug smile returning to his face.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with it? People love these types of performances.” He has a point, but you’ll die before you let him know it. “They love tension between dancers. Gives them a thrill.”

“It’ll be thrilling when they see my fist in your face,” you mumble so he can’t hear you.

“What?” His eyebrows knit together and you smile coyly.

“What?” Your voice is pitched up to mock him, and a muscle feathers in his jaw.

“We’re doing Partition.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

He kisses his teeth again, returning to leaning on the palms of his hands. You lay flat on your back, fingers splayed across your stomach.

“You’re annoying. You know that, right?” You hear him shift on the ground, and then his face appears in your periphery A dry laugh escapes you.

“That’s not what your mom said last night.”

“Don’t— don’t talk about my mom.” You lift your head off the ground, a lazy grin plastered onto your face when you see Kevin’s lips twitching. “That— that wasn’t funny. Like, at all.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t, Kevin.” You agree, lowering your head back to the ground.

“I’m serious, Y/N. You aren’t funny.” He stands up, gathering his belongings and keeping his back turned. Had you not seen him fighting a smile just a moment ago, you would have thought he was truly angry with you. Or, perhaps, he was angry with you, but the joke was enough to get him to crack a smile.

“I believe you,” you sat up again, following his lead and grabbing your own items. “Totally. Why wouldn’t I?”

He turns to look at you again, his expression shockingly dull when he meets your eyes. The tension is back, and you shuffle awkwardly in your spot. In the silence of the practice room, you’re struck with the urge to ask him questions. Why he hates you, why he dropped you during the performance. It had been on your mind for so long, but not once have you had the strength to ask. Now, though, you have an unstoppable urge.

You clear your throat, dipping your head down for a second and then lifting it to keep your eyes on him.

“Why d—”

You’ve barely gotten one word out before Kevin interrupts you again, taking long and heavy steps to the door. It’s as if he’d sensed your questions, your curiosity. His timing certainly made it seem that way.

“I’ll text you when we can start working on the choreography.”

Kevin slams the door of the TBZ house so hard that the walls shake.

“Why the fuck are you slamming my doors?” Sangyeon yells from his bedroom, his voice muffled by the distance between them.

“Sorry!” Kevin yells back, but he’s not. He’s not sorry at all, not now at least. Why the fuck did he have to get paired with you? Of all the people in the class, why did the professor think it was a good idea to stick the two people who hate each other the most on a team?

“You’re lucky that Sangyeon’s too busy getting his dick sucked to care that you slammed the door.” Changmin peers at Kevin from the kitchen counter, hunched over with a frog-shaped cup in his hand. The older of the two wrinkles his nose in disgust, making his way to the counter and sinking into a barstool.

“Didn’t need to know that detail, but thanks anyway.”

“No problem,” Changmin grins sarcastically, lifting his cup as a sort of toast. “What’s got you so ticked off anyway?”

“Some stupid assignment my professor assigned me.”

“Oh, right. The dance one?”

“Yeah.”

Kevin drops his head into his hands, rubbing at his eyes with the base of his palms. Then he raises his head, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Wait, how did you know about the assignment?”

“One of my friends is in that class,” Changmin sets his cup down and leans forward to fold his arms on the granite countertop. “He said he saw you being a dick to Y/N after you found out the two of you were partners for the exhibition.”

“Well, she deserved it,” Kevin grumbles, dropping his hands onto the counter.

“She always deserves it, according to you.” Changmin kisses his teeth and purses his lips. “Why do you hate her, anyway? She’s a fantastic dancer, she’s super nice, she’s really pretty. She’s got your humor, too, so shouldn’t the two of you, like, get along?”

“Y/N L/N is the spawn of the devil himself, and I’ll die before I get along with her.”

“Okay, I get that, but why?”

Why. Why do you hate her so much? What could she possibly have done to make you drop her in the middle of one of the most important performances of your college career?

“She…” Kevin trails off, his face heating up with embarrassment. “She spilled coffee on me during freshman year.”

For a few moments, Changmin says nothing and Kevin thinks that the younger man didn’t hear him. Then he speaks, and Kevin wishes he hadn’t said anything at all.

“You…broke a girl’s ankle…and almost ruined her chances at ever dancing again…” Changmin speaks slowly, trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of what he’d just heard. “Because…because she spilled coffee on you?”

“It wasn’t just that!” Kevin tries to defend. “She got it all over my expensive shirt, the white one you got me for my birthday back in high school. The stain wouldn’t come out, even with bleach, so I had to toss it!”

“You’re the dumbest person I have ever met, Kevin Moon.” Changmin pushes himself up to stand straight, suddenly radiating anger and startling Kevin. “You don’t fucking drop someone and break their ankle because of a goddamn shirt that I bought you from fucking Target.”

“Wait— it was from Target?” Kevin’s jaw drops.

“Yes? Did you think that I bought a wicked expensive plain white button-down shirt?”

“Well, I mean…” Kevin scratches the back of his head, his cheeks heating with embarrassment.

“You know what?” Changmin pinches the bridge of his nose, biting down on his tongue briefly. “That’s— that’s not the point of this conversation. The point is that you’re a horrible person. You’re a horrible person and if you don’t get your shit together and apologize to that poor girl, I’m gonna get Sangyeon involved.”

“Why— I’m not a horrible person!” Kevin snaps, and Changmin scoffs.

“I truly wonder what she sees in you.”

For a brief moment, Kevin stops breathing. In that moment, a series of thoughts run through his mind, thoughts that he can’t even begin to process.

Horrible person.

I wonder what she sees in you.

Who is ‘she?’ Why does Changmin know what she thinks of him?

He couldn’t possibly mean you. You hate him, and he hates you. There was no possible way that you cared about him at all, especially after how cruel he’d been to you.

Right?

One week.

A whole damn week goes by before Kevin texts you to meet him at practice room 304. To be honest, you would have forgotten about the project had your professor not sent out an email the day prior requesting progress videos to be submitted by Monday morning.

“That leaves us, what, four days to draft at least half of the choreography?” You’re sipping at an iced latte, your back against the mirror as Kevin ties the laces of his sneakers.

“Something like that.”

He’s on edge. You can hear it in his voice. Something has him tense and you aren’t entirely sure what to do about it, especially since you aren’t the cause (for once). Part of you wants to ask him what’s wrong, but a much larger part of you is screaming to just leave it alone. For a while, you listen to that larger part. You begin working with Kevin to choreograph the song and while it was a bit awkward for you, you find it much easier to work with him than with previous partners you’d had. You ignore the way your skin burns every time he touches you— correcting your posture, helping you with a movement. You ignore how much you enjoy his hands on your body, however faint his touch is.

You’d admit that Kevin was right about the tension. The air felt stuffy, the walls closing in on you. It was erotic, the choreography Kevin had created. It was fast, and most of the moves you’d gone through required you to have your body close to his. The audience, however, would love this, just like Kevin said. So, no, you weren’t against admitting when Kevin was right, and you would have told him that at the end of practice.

Really, you would have!

But then Kevin starts pissing you off.

Small, quiet comments about how ridiculous you look. Insulting how you do a specific move. Nitpicking every step, every breath, every water break. Sweat is dripping down your neck by the time Kevin officially lets you stop for a while. You can see how tired he is, can see his shoulders slumping and his legs wobbling every time he steps.

“I think we should call it a day.” You call over to him, and he scoffs.

“Of course you would say that.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you set your water bottle down.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kevin spins to face you as you say this, his jaw ticking and his hands clenched into fists.

“You know exactly what it means, Y/N.” He sneers, standing tall when you take long strides over to him.

“No, actually,” you fold your arms over your chest, “I don’t know what it means.”

“Then I’ll tell you.” His face is now inches from yours, and you back up a bit. Just enough for your face to not be so close to his. “I think you’re losing your touch. I think that you’re sloppy, that you’re arrogant, you can’t admit when you’re wrong.”

Kevin goes on listing these qualities, these faults, and all the while you can only scoff knowing that those are exactly the same things you would use to describe him.

“I think that—” he continues, but then you’re interrupting him.

“Shut the fuck up, dude.” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, but it’s not as if you’d planned to hold back anyway. “You think you’re any better than me?”

“Yes, I do.” Kevin tilts his head with a mocking smile. “I think I’m a thousand times better than you.”

“You aren’t,” you tell him, and he bites his tongue when you pretend to pout. “Sorry to burst your egotistical, self-absorbed bubble, but you aren’t better than me. You aren’t a better dancer, a better student, or a better person.”

Kevin’s gaze hardens, and you don’t notice the step he takes toward you. Or, maybe, you do and choose to ignore it. Maybe it’s exactly what you wanted.

“You’re full of shit.” He breathes out, and you can feel a few strands of his hair brush against your forehead. The corner of your lips lifts into a lopsided smirk.

“And so aren’t you. We aren’t so different now, are we Moon?”

A few silent moments. Bated breaths of air. The tension between the two of you is something unlike anything you’d felt before. You take a deep breath, ready to step away from him, and then his lips are crushed against yours in a furious kiss. There’s no love or care for one another behind it, just a fatal mixture of hate and lust for one another. A build-up of tension that could only be dispelled by the two of you.

Kevin’s hands are all over your body— squeezing at your hips, running up and down your waist, brushing over the curve of your ass. Your own hands tear at his clothes, stretching the fabric beyond repair, and your nails sink into his skin, breaking it and making him hiss in pain. Your lips mesh together, your teeth clacking together and your tongues pushing together in more of a fight than a dance of dominance.

You allow yourself to be backed into the mirror, too caught up in how good his lips feel against yours, and you almost forget how much you supposedly hate him. When his lips fall to your neck and your hands scrape their way up his back, you want to let yourself forget about all the horrible things he’s said to you. His teeth sink into the skin of your neck, listening to the way you groan at the sting, and then his tongue is laving over the spot, his lips sucking at the skin at the same time. He does that over and over again, practically covering every inch of your throat with these marks until it looks like a wild animal got to you.

“I hate you,” Kevin lifts his face from your neck, grabbing your face in one hand and squeezing your cheeks together. His eyes are dark with so many emotions that it has your stomach churning. “I hate you so fucking much.”

You try to respond, but he just squeezes your face tighter and grins maliciously at your desperate whine. He kisses you again, uncaring of the fact that your lips are smushed together and your can’t exactly kiss him back. In fact, it’s almost like that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to struggle against him, wants you desperate and whining.

“Isn’t this nice?” He teases, his mouth a hairsbreadth from your own. “Finally quiet for me. You’re so much prettier when you aren’t talking back to me. If I let you go, are you gonna stay quiet?”

He releases you, and you surge forward to connect your lips in another kiss. Your arms are around his neck and his slide down to your legs, haul you up, and press you against the mirror. You wrap your legs around him, clinging tightly and forcing him impossibly closer to you. Something shifts in the way you move against each other, no longer just your lips and hands, but now your hips are grinding together and you’re moaning, and Kevin is breathless against you, throwing his head back and groaning into the open air. You use this as an opportunity to return the favor, marking his neck up in the same way he’d marked yours (if not a bit harsher).

“Fuck,” Kevin hisses, hands squeezing so hard at your thighs you know they’ll be bruised in the morning. “Always gotta be so harsh, don’t you?”

“You just did the same thing to me,” you snap back, your body shuddering as he continues to rut against you. Your voice is shaking, containing not nearly the amount of malice you’d hoped it would. You sound desperate, you sound like you want him. Which, of course, you do. But you would prefer it if Kevin didn’t know that.

Too late.

His eyes are gleaming as if in a trance and his hands slide to your ass to drag your hips harder against yours. The pleasure continues to build, your eyes rolling back, and your head falling against the mirror.

“Thought you hated me,” Kevin coos and laughs when you moan out his name. “Poor baby, so desperate for me you can’t even speak.”

“H-Hate you,” you whine. “Hate you s-so much.”

“I’m sure you do, baby.” He hums, watching as your body begins to convulse. He can feel himself getting closer as well, his dick twitching in his sweatpants. “Go ahead, cum all over the man you hate.”

And you do. Your body shudders, back arching off the mirror as you moan and sob against him. Your hips continue to rut into his, and eventually, he drops his head into your chest, laving with his tongue at the skin exposed by your t-shirt. Your hands are in his hair, holding tightly to the strands.

After a moment, you tap at Kevin’s head to get his attention.

And boy, do you get it.

As if he was hit with a wave of post-nut clarity, he practically drops you to the ground with a crazed look of horror in his eyes. You frown at him, stumbling back to your feet with legs made of jelly.

“You okay?”

He backs away from you, nearly tripping over his feet. You follow him, but he’s too fast.

“Don’t— don’t fucking come near me.” He snarls, and you flinch. It’s not fear. It’s hurt. You’re not sure why the statement hurt you, but it did and the feeling stabbed into your heart like a golden dagger. “Stay the fuck away from me. This— this was a mistake. You were a mistake.”

It’s become a sort of habit for him, you think, watching as he slams the door to the practice room. You still aren’t quite sure why it hurts, why your throat feels like it’s closing up and your stomach churns with displeasure. You turn to face the mirror, tracing a hand up your neck to touch the marks on your neck and there’s a sad smile plastered on your face.

It can’t be helped when he’s hated you for so long.

There’s a crack in your heart, and you wonder if it’ll be fixed just like the crack in your bone from the last time he hurt you.

Kevin slams the door of his car so harshly he almost fears he broke it. The engine rumbles to life, and tires screech against the ground as he speeds out of the parking lot and gets far, far away from you.

His hands are shaking, so unsteady that he’s almost afraid he’ll get into an accident. His heart is pounding. Adrenaline, maybe. Fear is more likely. Fear of what he’d just done, what he could have done. It terrifies him, the rush of emotions he’d felt when you looked at him.

It didn’t make sense to him. You were supposed to hate him, to want him dead. Why did you look at him like that? Like he hung the stars in the sky and painted the moon just for you. Why. Why. You ruined everything.

A choked sob forces its way up his throat, and he covers his mouth with the back of his hand.

He doesn’t understand it. Why is he feeling so many emotions from this? He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be feeling this…this…

Kevin doesn’t even understand the emotion he’s feeling, so he decides he won’t bother.

He’ll ignore you, avoiding you as best he possibly could. You’ll practice alone, that way he won’t have to speak with you.

Avoid, ignore, hate. Avoid, ignore, hate.

That was the perfect solution.

Avoid you and the inevitable questions you’ll have.

Ignore you and the looks you’ll send him. The confusion, the anger.

Hate you. Hate the way you make him feel, the way you make him want you.

Hate you.

Hate you

Love you.

#blackoutorbackout🍻#itsbeeble #reese's works 📩#reese's moots 🩵#fawn~ 🧼#ally~ ⛄️#kpop #kpop imagines #the boyz #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #the boyz smut #kevin moon #kevin moon imagines #the boyz imagines #kevin moon smut #kevin moon angst #kevin moon fluff

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homisexual11 · 3 months

Text

Jalice SFW Alphabet

Going off my phone for a while, I won’t be back but until then I hope this’ll hold you. Also don’t be afraid to send requests if you have any :) I’ll accept on any Cullen members or wolves but Jalice is preferred :)

TW: Mentions of vampirism… Maria

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Alice can be affectionate, but she sometimes doesn’t show it. She loves giving gifts and such, and little physical touches. She isn’t a cuddle bug, but she’ll hold your hand, have a hand on your arm, things like that. She’s also very passionate with words, too.

Jasper is affectionate. Although he’s hesitant at first, he is definitely a cuddle bug. If you’re human, he’s obviously worried about it, always needing Alice there for support and normally keeping her right next to you, but after a while he grew to trust himself more. He’ll hold your hand, play with your hair, always have a seat for you (his lap in a non-sexual manner). I mean, you’ve seen how he is in the first Twilight movie.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You’ve seen Alice as a best friend with Bella, but both of them? Best girl talk. Jasper does give blunt advice, but he’s also like so good to talk to about boys and shit. Alice gets you the delulu stuff unless it’s bad, then she’s honest. But also like they will do stupid shit with you as long as you won’t get hurt, and if you could have two platonic soulmates they would be it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Alice likes to cuddle. It’s not her love language or anything, but she does like it.

And we already know Jasper 100% loves it. Also like cuddling both of them? Either you or Alice in the middle, but you could probably convince Jasper if you tried hard enough. But normally he likes holding either one of you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

If you were turned, they would 100% live alone with you, and maybe even if you weren’t, but it would take a lot of convincing Jasper. Everyone would have their own duties for cooking, but yes they’re both good at it. Also I feel like Jasper would be better at cooking, if you needed. (Alice could probably light the kitchen on fire on accident so she stays away.)

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Jasper would probably do most of the talking because he’s the only one who can be THAT blunt. They would want to be platonic afterwards, but it definitely emotionally devastated both of them. But they wouldn’t have to, because Alice would be able to see that yall would stay together, so unless you end it, they wouldn’t.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

If Alice could see a future where you were together, that’s how that shit went. They don’t really marry quickly, I mean, Carlisle was the one that made them get married. So, obviously, it’s complex cause you’re three people, but if possible they’d get married to you after a while. Turning you… they would 100% wait at least three years. Keeping you young enough, but not too old. They waited until Alice said it was time from the visions.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

I cannot stress this enough. 10/10 on the gentleness scale. They could easily break you if they were still human, so yeah of course they’re gentle. Also everything with them is gentle soft love. Somewhat old fashioned too. Jasper is not a woman beater, so even though it’s old fashioned it’s GENTLE. (Help why did I feel the need to say that)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

They are huggers. I mean, Jasper is from Texas. (“I’m from Texas, I’m a hugger.” -my friends mom a couple years ago) and Alice gives a bunch of them. Jasper was hesitant at first, I mean, you’ve seen everything physical, why would this be different. But also neither of them let go first. Just saying.

(Wild card: if you were still human and having a meltdown, like Jasper would just pull you into a hug and hold you. He also knows when to calm you down or not, and if he thinks you need to cry he’ll let you cry.)

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Jasper keeps Alice from saying it and freaking you out. But she says it quickly, obviously the first. He takes a bit longer, but he definitely said it first to you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jasper doesn’t really get jealous, Alice does a little bit, but normally she just squeezes the life (ha) out of Jaspers hand or will come up to you and who you’re talking to and pretend not to be bothered and when that person is away she’ll be unbothered and happy again.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Alice’s are quick. Little pecks all over your or Jaspers face and neck. She likes nose and forehead kisses for her.

Jaspers are soft but longer as well. He likes kissing your or Alice’s lips or forehead. He prefers lip kisses, but if you kissed any of his scars? He would melt. Absolutely putty in your hands. A little hesitant at first, but when you’re gentle with him? AHH.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I feel like Alice isn’t great around babies but when they’re older she’s better. Jasper is pretty good with children, you see it with Renesmee.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

They don’t really sleep so it’s kind of like every other time for them 🧍‍♀️ but like they have some sort of a routine consisting of the norm, and would be able to adapt to if you were a human and like had a different circumstance.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Cuddling. Reading. Shit like that. If you need to sleep, they pretty much establish a bedtime for you if you can’t take care of that yourself.

(“But yall don’t sleep!” -You

“We don’t need to, but you, sweet girl/boy, that’s a different story. You need to go to bed, honey.” -Jasper)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Alice is relatively open, besides the vampire thing, and with Jasper it takes a little while.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Alice is relatively patient, but she definitely has a breaking point that’s easier to reach. Jasper, on the other hand, has the patience of a saint.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

They remember everything. Well, Jasper doesn’t think he remembers everything, but if someone asks a question about like what your favorite color is or why you have a certain scar or something he’ll immediately have the answer. Alice doesn’t say anything, but she does know and remember everything you’ve told her and she knows random things about you from the future as well.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

You got a camera, and went around taking pictures of everyone in the fall. You had a plan to get a cute picture with you and them, but you all ended up falling and there’s just a picture of that. No one got hurt, but it did turn out an epic picture. Did Alice sense it coming? Somehow, no, which is part of the reason she likes it so much.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective. Do you remember in Eclipse when it says that Jasper got so many more bites because he was trying to protect her? If you’re human, it’s like that but worse. As long as you keep his heart protected and don’t break it? It’s all yours. Even if you did, it would be yours anyways—

With Alice she’s super protective as well. She knows you can deal with yourself. If a guy is flirting with you? That’s a different story. The same thing goes for her with protecting her heart.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

So much fucking effort. You saw Bella’s birthday and wedding? Yours are like that too, but more stitched to fit you personally.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I mean Alice’s habit of constantly worrying about things in the future isn’t great, and Jasper sometimes changes other people’s emotions too much. But like…

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Concerned. I mean, they need to look put together. Alice is huge on that, but Jasper is a little less.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. They didn’t even realize it until they met you, but it’s true.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Jasper is good at braiding for some reason.

Alice loves planning your outfits so you can match.

They love taking care of you. Like casually.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who was closedminded.

Maria. (IM SORRY)

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

They don’t sleep :) and don’t watch you sleep, but they like it when you lay your head on one leg their laps and fall asleep.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #alice cullen #alice cullen x reader #twilight #twilight saga #twilight x reader #jalice #jalice x reader #twilight headcanons

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minustwofingers · 11 months

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exoplanet p.6 (ellie’s journals)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: a significantly different writing voice! this is going to be a very different vibe from the other chapters since i had to write it as i imagine ellie would (which is a lot different than i do). slight nsfw content (mdni), language, mentions of violence/gore, angst, ellie’s pov is actually really depressing

a/n: soooo i know it’s been almost 3 months...and i’m really sorry about that! a lot of stuff happened in my life and i kind of fell off writing for quite some time. but i finish series, so i’m going to get through exoplanet in its entirety so i can finally give you all closure. some preliminary notes: know that these are modeled after how i imagine ellie would journal if she did journal this much. canonically she didn’t do that much writing that follows a narrative like it does here. i think it’s honestly a little ooc for her to be emotionally responsible enough to talk out her feelings, but given that there’s no other way to tell her side of the story (save for legit rewriting it from her perspective, which would take another 6 months or so and be horrifically repetitive), i decided to just suck it up and write it. i’m sorry if it sounds awkward, since she definitely doesn’t write in a voice that i have much experience with. the next chapter will be better!

word count: 5.5k

tags~ @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28

(i haven’t updated this yet bc my tags aren’t working)

a special special SPECIAL thanks to both @roarriita and @elliesflower for being soooo sexy and betaing for me. you both are so wonderful and helped me sm in feeling good enough to post this :)

without further ado, enjoy ellie’s journals!

January 20th, 2038

Today’s been…fucking…

I don’t even know where to start. I don’t get why this sort of shit always happens to me. First it was being bit and somehow surviving. Then it was getting carted off across the country. And now some girl basically falls out of the sky, claiming that she comes from some sort of paradise up North?

I’ll spare the immediate details. I don’t think I’ll forget the basic stuff—her name, the way she looked clutching at her knees in the clearing and shaking. That stupid shirt she had on and that expensive scarf.

I still want to believe that she’s just a liar who happened to get lucky with running into us, but even without Joel vouching for her story, I don’t think I’d ever be able to buy that she’d been living in the same world as us. I’ve never met someone without scars before. I didn’t know that there were people out there who didn’t have marked up arms and faces. Or people without calluses. Did you know that hands can be totally smooth?

Anyway. Tommy says that he’ll try and reach out across the contacts he has. Joel has her living right down the hall from me in the meantime, so now I have to share my bathroom. Hopefully the Terranovan authorities are good at finding people. She takes so fucking long to shower. It’s a wonder the whole compound still has hot water.

[One page of drawings follows: Dina smiling in the snow on her horse, Joel playing his guitar]

January 25th, 2038

Maria says that they’re thinking about breeding Shimmer soon. I know she told me because that means I’ll need to ride another horse for a little until she recovers and I know that we need another generation of foals, but it still made me cringe for Shimmer’s sake. She’s too free-spirited to be a mother. She doesn’t deserve that.

I went stargazing last night. It was pretty. Lots of shooting stars. I ran into the girl while I was coming back from the meadow. She gave me a weird look, and I could tell she wanted to ask me where I’d been but kept her mouth shut. Sometimes I regret dropping off that bag of clothes. I really fucking liked that gray sweatshirt, actually. I’m not even joking. It looks weird to see it on someone else.

[Half a page of drawing follows of the night sky with labeled constellations]

February 5th, 2038

Long time no see. I’ve been pretty busy with patrols and helping Maria with securing the walls. Joel made me try some of that coffee that our new house guest brought. It was just as awful as I remembered, but he seemed happy. So one point for the space girl. I guess.

Dina’s been hanging around more. She just broke up with Jessie (yes, again). She swears that it’s for good this time, but I’m not so sure. She also talks a lot about Y/N and what little detail she’s gathered about her life back in Terranova. I thought teasing her by asking her if she had a crush on Y/N would make her talk less about it, but it just made things worse.

I miss when things were normal.

[One page of drawings follows: one of Shimmer in cross-ties, another of a girl’s face, half-finished with the face scribbled out]

February 12th, 2038

Today I’m sad. I’m in bed with that book about astronomy that Joel nabbed for me on patrol a while ago and there’s a section I wanted to read that’s completely waterlogged. It shouldn't be a surprise. It’s decades old and has survived through an apocalypse. Normally things like this don’t bug me much because I’m so used to it. Half of my Savage Starlight collection is damaged. I don’t think I’ll ever find the first book to actually complete the series, and that’s okay, because I’ve never expected anything more. But now that I know that there’s a world out there where I’d never have problems like this, stuff like this hurts. It’s so stupid. I’m lucky to be alive. Compared to what’s left of the world population, I live a much cushier life than most. But for the first time in a while, I’m wishing for more.

“Greed is the enemy of happiness” is what Maria would say if I ever said this kind of shit out loud. But is it really? Or is it just realizing what life can be?

[Half a page of a drawing of the solar system, with each planet labeled]

February 22nd, 2038

Maria let me pick the sire for Shimmer’s foal. It felt kind of gross, to be honest. I asked Maria if there was any way for Shimmer to choose and I was only sort of joking, but she just laughed anyway and patted my back. I won’t have to worry about finding a new horse for another two seasons or so, she told me. It’ll be weird not having her for a little.

She also told me that there was still no word from anyone who knew anything about Terranova. She said this to me in this placating voice, like she thought that I was going to punch a hole in the wall or something after hearing it. That seems to be common when it comes to people talking about Y/N and me. I don’t know why so many people think I don’t like her staying with us.

I don’t, by the way. Let me be clear. But I mostly feel indifferent about her now. She doesn’t bother me as much anymore, not since she started getting out of the house. I think she might be helping in the gardens, but I’ve never actually asked. We don’t talk a whole ton. I don’t think she likes me all that much.

[A drawing of Shimmer’s head poking over her stall door that takes up one page]

March 2nd, 2038

Today was finally our first nice day of the year. I would’ve enjoyed it more if the bird that lives in the tree outside my window hadn’t blown me out of bed at 4 in the fucking morning. I’m exhausted now. It’s been a long day. Joel says I need to take Y/N out on patrol soon. Why, I have no idea. Maybe he just wants me to actually befriend her or something, and I do nothing but patrols now. He can’t possibly expect her to be a good patrol partner.

Thankfully, I checked the logs when I came back. The route he wants me to cover with her has been the quietest all season. I doubt we’ll run into anything. If we do, I’ll probably be able to handle it. Hopefully.

[Half a page of doodles, mostly of nature and wildlife with the exception of a half-finished doodle of an arm clad in a fabric that drapes like silk and a hand with polished nails]

March 3rd, 2038

Many surprising things were learned today. I can’t believe it’s illegal to be gay in Terranova. Sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just—out of all the things they could be bothered by, it’s that? Really?

March 12th, 2038

I haven’t been good at journaling recently. I don’t really want to talk about why. You know why.

[Six pages of drawings, with many unfinished doodles of Y/N—including but not limited to her on her horse, her reading on the couch, and one with her sitting in what is a very loose interpretation of a classroom, taking notes]

March 13th, 2038

I will feel more normal tomorrow. Hopefully.

[Two pages of drawings, all of Y/N. One is her bent over a book, the other is her smiling up at you]

March 14th, 2038

I did something really stupid. I think I should probably just document this here so I don’t accidentally drunkenly spill it all out to Dina at the next bonfire. This is so embarrassing. I don’t get why I feel this way. It’s so stupid, you know? To feel anything towards someone who’s so…I don’t know. Different.

She gives me the weirdest looks sometimes. I can’t tell what they mean. It feels like she’s judging me. And why wouldn’t she be? I bet all the girls she spends her time around back home are just like her—perfect, orderly, pretty, proper. The day before I took her patrolling she gawked at the shorts I was wearing. It was borderline offensive. Actually, fuck that. It wasn’t borderline. It was offensive. You don’t just stare at people like that. She should know that.

Anyway, I invited her over to my room last night. Normal, right? Because we’ve been doing that a little since I took her on patrol, by the way. I’m not sure if I mentioned that before. But this time I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m…I don’t know. Creepy? Strange? Scary? She told me that she thought I was intimidating. And then I called her “untouched”, like how some old-timer devout Christian wackjob or whatever would describe virginity. It was so fucking weird of me. I don’t know what got into me, but she kept doing this thing where she kicked my foot with hers or touched my knee and it just threw me off. It took me forever to fall asleep last night—I kept replaying what I’d said to her, especially how I’d told her that she wouldn’t have made it if she were me like I was some sort of hardcore survivalist. I think I embarrassed her. I’m never doing anything like this again. I’m going to be dead sober every time I see her from now on.

I’ll stop talking about that. Y/N did come back after I’d made a fool of myself and showed me her collection of movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. I haven’t watched any movies since I was with Cat. When we first started dating, I’d invite her over and she’d sit right where Y/N did last night. I’m trying to not think of the implications, because it’s space girl, and she’s going home sometime soon.

[Three pages of drawings follow—some nature drawings of ferns and moths, others of Y/N with wet hair, her knees tucked up to her chin like she’d been in Ellie’s bed that night]

March 19th, 2038

It’s the Spring Equinox. That’s the first thing Y/N told me this morning when she saw me in the kitchen this morning. She gave me a mini lecture on what that meant for the planet’s axis tilt and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I already knew, since she seemed really excited to tell me.

I made a horrible discovery yesterday, by the way. Maria came up to me and told me that Tommy had decided to reach out to some of his other buddies up North to see if they had any connections to Terranova, and for the first time, I felt myself hoping that it wouldn’t work.

It’s awful. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Even in Jackson, where things are comparatively much better than the rest of the world, there’s risk. Just this winter, one family had to be kicked out when they were found hiding an infected son. No one here is completely safe, just safer. I shouldn’t be selfish. Y/N needs to go where she’s meant to be, where there’s no chance of infection or invasion. I’ll be fine. I just need to get over whatever this is.

Speaking of her, I need to go get her to tell her that we’re heading out on patrol in just a few minutes. Fingers crossed she doesn’t accidentally shoot me, but Joel swore up and down that she knows how to handle a gun now. Sure. Haha.

I’m back. It’s the middle of the night and she only just left my room. I don’t know how much detail I need to go into—chances are I won’t forget this. But for bookkeeping purposes: patrol did not go so hot. I had to give her stitches without any local anesthesia. I’ve never given stitches to anyone nearly in my lap before. I was really nervous, too. I don’t think I’ve ever had to focus so much on keeping my hands steady when it came to stitching someone up before, not even with Joel.

I’m starting to think that maybe I was wrong about thinking that she didn’t like me. I still can’t tell exactly what she thinks of me, and I know that it’s a really bad fucking idea to be entertaining thoughts like these, but tonight she did something that made me reconsider. She got under the covers with me, and instead of moving away to keep us from touching, she rested her head next to mine on the pillow.

I hope she couldn’t hear how much my heart was racing. People can’t hear that kind of stuff, right? Even if they’re close?

I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way she—No. She doesn’t see me like that.

March 21st, 2038

She rested her head on my shoulder today. I don’t know what to think of it. If she was normal and grew up like the rest of us did, I would know exactly what to think. But she’s not normal, and it’s not fair of me to treat her like she is. Maybe this is, like, a culturally acceptable thing back from where she grew up. Maybe rich people just cuddle each other all the time. I wouldn’t fucking know, and unfortunately no one in this godforsaken town can help, because there’s a distinct lack of what Maria calls the “bourgeoisie”. They’re all either dead or back where Y/N grew up, doing whatever rich snobs do.

Even if it is normal for her, I feel like I can’t stop analyzing everything she does. She seems more nervous around me than she does anyone else, but she lingers like she can’t help herself. I’ve noticed that she stumbles over her words and touches me much more than is really necessary. Or at least I think she does—maybe I’m just imagining things.

But even if it means what I think it does, I can’t let myself think like this. It’s not fair to her. No one deserves to live here if they have the choice. At least the people out here know how to handle it. She doesn’t, and I don’t want her to turn into the type of person who does.

When I stitched her up and teased her about being weak and sensitive, I think she thought I was insulting her. I try not to think about it, but if I let myself wallow too much, I’ll wonder what kind of person I’d be if I wasn’t so jaded. Maybe I’d draw more, or read more, or write more. Maybe I’d be an easier person to love. I didn’t get to choose how I turned out. It just happened to me.

So if she has the choice, I’m going to do everything I can to help her make the right one. I don’t want her to be like this.

March 29th, 2038

I had a dream about Riley last night. I haven’t had one of those in years, not since I was traveling with Joel. We were back in the mall, and Riley had just turned the lights on as a surprise. I had this feeling then, like I was being given a second chance. That I could set things straight and do what was right. I woke up before I could insist that we leave.

[A drawing takes up half of the next page. It’s a crude depiction of the mall Riley turned in.]

April 4th, 2038

It’s the middle of the night again. I can’t sleep. I’m so disappointed with myself about what I did tonight with Y/N. At the time, it seemed like a really good idea. She likes me back, apparently. I was right about everything that I wrote about earlier, I guess. But it certainly doesn’t feel like I thought it would.

It’s not like there’s no part of me that isn’t thrilled that she feels the same way. That’s why I gave in and slept with her. But even when she told me how she felt, even before I completely lost my self-control, something heavy was already hanging over me. Regret, maybe. Or guilt. I don’t know. What I do know is that this can’t last. I can’t make this good for her like I want to. She needs to go back, and she needs to be able to feel like she can make that choice without feeling like she’s leaving anything good behind.

I’m not a spiritual person. but even so, I can’t help but feel like that dream of Riley was a sign. This is my second chance. I’m not going to fuck it up this time. I’ve already been an accomplice of so much suffering. Y/N is going home, and I’ll never see her again when she does. That’s that.

It took all I had left in me in the end to kick her out. She looked so hurt, and the fact that she tried to hide it made it even worse. I wish I could tell her why this can’t work, but I don’t think she’d understand.

[A drawing of Y/N kissing Ellie’s palm follows, her hair slightly mussed]

April 6th, 2038

I need to stop making rash decisions like knocking on her door late at night and asking her to come over. I really don’t know what’s gotten into me, because whenever I see her now, I can’t help but freeze up. Like last night, when she kissed me and touched my face and told me she thought I was a good person. I panicked and told her—well, nevermind. I don’t really want to repeat it here. It was mean, but I didn’t know what else I could do to get her to stop.

She was already tearing up by the time she left. I had to sit down and breathe deeply for a few minutes before I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick. I don’t really think I want to write more about this right now. It just makes me sad how unfair this all is. Of course the one time after Cat that I meet someone I really like it just has to be in one of the cruelest scenarios possible. I just have no idea what to do.

[Five pages of drawings follow of Y/N in bed, her head tilted back against the pillow, her eye’s half lidded, and her mouth slightly agape. Ellie redraws this multiple times, x-ing out parts that don’t seem quite right]

April 10th, 2038

I know this is none of my business, but she’s been spending a lot of time with Dina lately. She nearly got herself killed getting a gift for me with Dina yesterday, which feels like some sort of especially cruel joke. The universe isn’t being very fucking subtle right now.

If what I’m worried about is right, at least Dina has the option to come with her up North. She’d test negative.

April 20th, 2038

I would really like it if I could have one short break from the misery that’s my life right now. I turned 20 yesterday, accidentally introduced Y/N to my ex, proceeded to get much drunker than I meant to, completely fell off my rocker and asked Y/N to stay the night, and then discovered this morning that not only has Terranova found Y/N but that my strategy of keeping Y/N at arm’s length completely failed.

She wants me to come with her, and she’s threatening to stay here otherwise. I did the only thing that I could think to do and snapped at her.

I’m so tired of this. I hate having to act like I don’t care. This is the third time now that I’ve had to say something nasty to her to keep her from getting too close. I just want to get in bed and sleep until she leaves and I can pretend like nothing ever happened and that everything is normal.

[One page of drawings of Y/N passed out in her bed and Y/N grinning while holding a lopsided cake]

April 28th, 2038

I know I haven’t been writing much again. Sorry about that. I just can’t bear to think about my life right now. I know I should be relieved—this is what I wanted. I wanted her to go where it’s best for her.

But there’s still that selfish part of me that keeps me up at night. Y/N is going to leave this place never knowing how I feel about her. Logically, that should be what I want. This way I won’t need to say a real goodbye. I know I won’t need to now, since she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. It’s really fucking immature of me to be so hurt by what she must think of me now, but I can’t stop.

I wonder how long it will take for me to stop feeling sad about this. I’ve never had to process anything like this where there’s nothing I can do. With Riley and Sam, I at least got to heal from the knowledge that I was going to help make the vaccine to save the world. But losing Y/N just because of where we come from is totally meaningless. I can go forward knowing that I made it easy for her to make the right decision, but that only goes so far.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle this. I’m going to practically live with Dina so I don’t need to be alone for the first few weeks.

I wish May 8th would just come already so she can go away and I can get on with my life.

May 1st, 2038

Things have changed some. Joel cornered me in the kitchen last night and told me that I needed to grow up and just appreciate the rest of the time I had left with Y/N. I was going to agree and try to walk past him, but he stopped me and told me that he needed me to escort Y/N. I guess he’s right. She can’t go alone, and Joel and Tommy are getting a little too old for week-long expeditions into the wilderness.

He also told me that I need to apologize to her and make things right, saying shit like I’d regret it forever if things ended between us like this. I don’t want to admit it, but I think he’s right. When I told him that she’d originally threatened to stay if I didn’t go with her, he blinked, hard. Then he told me that he had an idea.

I’m faking it. I’m telling her that I’m going, even though I’m going to leave her when she gets picked up. I don’t know how I’m going to pull it off. When I told her in the meadow last night, she was so happy. I know it’s really sappy and cliche to say this, but I felt my heart shatter, bit by bit. I’m not a very good liar, not to people who are important to me. But I suppose I’ve been lying to her all this time, kicking her out of my room and telling her that I didn’t want anything more with her.

I can do this, I think. I have to do this, or else she might threaten to stay, and I don’t think I have it in me to be cruel again. Not to her. I guess I’ll just trick myself into feeling like I’m actually coming with her, like we have a chance of actually being together. I don’t know. We’ll see.

[One drawing of Y/N laying down in the meadow that takes up half a page]

May 3rd, 2038

It’s easier than I expected. Y/N sleeps over in my room at night, and if I don’t think too hard about it, I can pretend like things will always be like this.

I’m getting to be such a sap, though. I almost broke down in the bathroom today while I was getting ready. It was over the stupidest thing—a toothpaste bottle. Y/N always folds it so neatly, making a perfect, tight spiral of plastic near the end. It used to really bother me when I first had to share with her (because who does that—it’s weird and doesn’t do anything since she doesn’t manage to squeeze out the extra in the bottom anyways), but the thought of throwing it out when it finally emptied and having to find another one that’ll never be folded again hit me and suddenly I was counting my inhales and exhales. I don’t really give a shit about toothpaste. It’s just that it was the moment that I realized that she’s really going to be gone soon, you know? Slowly but surely, the evidence of her stay here will be wiped away and replaced. Someday I’ll forget all the little details about her.

She’s knocking on my door. I need to stop being so depressed and go see her before she picks up that something’s wrong.

[One small doodle of Y/N smiling and rolling her eyes while brushing her teeth]

May 6th, 2038

Dina’s coming now. Y/N told me this morning after she went to say goodbye. I feel really shitty about this. I guess I should tell her that I’m not going now, because this way Y/N needs to go home to get Dina the help she needs, but I just can’t bring myself to. I’ll have to escort both of them to the pickup spot anyway since Dina’s weaker now that she’s pregnant, and the thought of having to spend a full week with Y/N after she knew I lied to her makes my skin crawl. I can’t tell who I’m trying to protect by doing this—me or her. Maybe both.

I’m losing my two favorite people here, and they don’t even know it yet. But this is the best option. This is my chance to finally do some good in the world.

May 7th, 2038

I’m about to go stargazing with Y/N for the last time. I don’t think I’ll be writing in here again until I get back. I don’t want to risk losing this while I’m out in case something crazy happens. Which it probably will, but I canonically happen to be really good at living when shit hits the fan. Also—I don’t imagine Y/N to be a particularly nosy person, but if she ever came across this and thought it was a book or something, it would make things really awkward. So, you’re staying tucked carefully under my bed until I come back later this month.

I don’t know how to handle this sort of goodbye. I don’t really know how to handle any sort of goodbye, I guess, but at least I’ve been through them before. I may not do it well, but I know how to live when people I love die. But this isn’t like that. No one is dying (hopefully), and more importantly, I know it’s a goodbye this time. I see it coming on the horizon and I can’t even tell anyone about it. How does anyone deal with that? How does anyone cope?

Y/N’s knocking on my door now. I need to go before I start thinking even more and do something stupid like start crying or whatever.

I’ll be back in about two weeks.

June 1st, 2038

Sorry for not writing. It’s been pretty shitty, actually. It took me 5 extra days to get home because some scavengers gave me trouble. I hardly slept for most of them. I ran out of ammo about 4 days out and had to use my knife for everything I ran into until I was able to raid the cabinets of this abandoned cabin. Nearly got taken out by a clicker, too. It was not fun. It was especially not fun because I was not feeling super great to begin with, for obvious reasons.

Things haven’t gotten any better since getting back to Jackson. Y/N didn’t take her stupid Exoplanetary Systems textbook and now I’m struggling with whether or not I should throw it out. The rational side of me says to keep it because it was published after the outbreak and probably contains updated information that isn’t anywhere else. The rest of me doesn’t even want to look at the stars anymore because it reminds me of her.

It’s really hard not to blame her for ruining everything. I can’t go out and ride my own horse without thinking about the first time we went on patrol together and she dropped my gun and nearly killed one of us. And I can’t even relax in my own home, because I’ve spent almost every night with her since March in my bed. Sometimes when I hear a creak in the middle of the night I assume it’s her walking down to the bathroom or getting water until it hits me again that she’s never coming back.

I know I’m being melodramatic. There are many other worse problems I could be having right now. But I don’t even have my best friend anymore. I wonder if Dina and Y/N are angry with me for lying. I wonder if they’re settling in okay. I hope that Y/N manages to fix whatever her research was and that Dina gets better.

[Twenty pages of drawings of Y/N and Dina together. Some are snippets of them on their expedition to the pickup site. Others are pictures of Y/N and Dina walking around with smiles on their faces in what looks to be a city]

June 21st, 2038

It’s been over a month since I’ve last seen her. I had a breakdown while getting ready for bed when I realized that I didn’t remember what her voice sounded like anymore.

[Ten pages of half-finished drawings, each with its face scribbled over]

June 28th, 2038

I don’t think I really remember what she looks like—not exactly. I’ve been trying to draw her because I’m still in the habit of making decisions that are definitely not good for my mental state. I just can’t do it, and it isn’t for the lack of trying. Every time I get to her eyes I keep drawing something that looks wrong, but I can never tell why. I compare it to my earlier drawings of her from when we first met and it feels like meeting her for the first time again.

Joel says it’ll pass and that he’s proud of me for doing the right thing. Jessie and I have been hanging out more. Even if he won’t admit it, I can tell he’s miserable without Dina. But he understands why she had to go—just like how I feel about Y/N. And Dina too, of course. Jackson feels like a ghost town without her.

July 17th, 2038

I haven’t been writing or drawing in here for a while, I know. I was going to just go ahead and start a new journal—you know the one that Maria gave me for Christmas with the dark blue cover—but it didn’t feel right to just stop without explaining. Otherwise I’ll feel like an asshole for wasting so much paper.

I don’t want to move on from what happened with Y/N and Dina. I really don’t, but I don't think I have a choice. If I keep going on like this, I’ll never be able to live normally again. I’m just sick and tired of being sad all of the time. So I’m not going to write here anymore. I don’t think it’s realistic for me to forget all about it, because I don’t want to forget her. Not really. But I guess if I want to get better, I’ll need something different. So, here’s that. The beginning of my fresh start. “Fresh start” and you call me overdramatic!! haha. Y/N was here!

(You left this on your nightstand. I promise I didn’t read too much. I opened it because I thought it was your sketchbook. I’m going to put this back since I hear you walking down the hall now.)

ok as an aside my blog is broken so my stuff isn’t notifying people when i tag/showing up on dashes or in tags. please reblog if you’re comfortable so people can actually find this! thank you!

final a/n: i totally get it if this wasn’t quite your cup of tea this time—i just really wanted to iron out ellie’s pov before their reunion in the end. which is happening and not a spoiler because i have always promised a hea! this was a change in pace for the story and i promise you that the next chapter will be more normal/align more with my normal writing style. i have also changed my mind (probably) and have decided to stick with writing an epilogue! so two more chapters are coming before this is totally over. thank you so much for waiting and being so patient! i love you all dearly ok bye bye now

#ellie williams x reader #exoplanet #not adding tags because i’ll eventually repost #this is just for people who want to read!

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