#And even with that help it was so fucking daunting... Thinking about it gives me mad anxiety and makes me tear up its ridiculous :')

[mrfoox]

Oliver ranting about politics for 30 mins: that was a good talk (:

Me, who have said like nothing: (: nice

#miranda talking shit #Also: oliver: complaining that there are people who get money without giving the proper papers etc #Me: -crying bc i remember hpw fucking awful it is having to handle that and then still get called and questioned about it etc- #Oliver: what did i make you sad? Did i say something mean? Why are you sad???? #Bro buddy... Im remembering the trauma of having to prove to the government im not mentally stable both by providing 15 different papers #And then having them call me constantly and wanting me to explain everything and i felt like some kind of impostor #I mean i get what he means theres probably a lot of people who gets money without providing all the correct things etc but like holy hell #Can also say theres probably a big amount of people who avoid even trying to get support they are entitled to bc they know its an #Exhausting battle. I probably wouldn't have bothered at all if i didnt get help from others to fix all the paperwork i needed to even apply #And even with that help it was so fucking daunting... Thinking about it gives me mad anxiety and makes me tear up its ridiculous :') #I could probably discuss this better if i didnt always feel like an impostor. I always feel like im faking everything and am abusing the #System and goverment money. Despite having add+autism along with deppression/anxiety disorders and i literally have doctors who have writtn #That miranda dont and cant function as normal people and need more help. Still im like... Oh no im faking... Im stealing...im a fraud... #I guess its bc its not... 'obviously' something wrong with me so i feel bad for even saying something. Its bc its me #Anyone else says the same things as me im like yeah thats understandable... But me? God no i am a waste of space and i should die

[astralnymphh]

stuff you up ౨ৎ

aestras thanksgiving smut special

' so who's getting stuffed, you or the turkey? '

HELP PALESTINE . DO NOT BUY TLOU2

♡. summary; fuck the festivities, who actually cares about all that sappy shit. instead, embark a newly founded festivity– fucking your girlfriend up in the dusty memory of your old bedroom~ ♡. a\n; late af as fuck but just a fun little smut, nothing too serious, a bit rushed but here y'all go ♡. CW; groping under the table, fingering (r), clit stim (r), strapping (r), horndog!ellie, dom!ellie, tipsy!ellie, risky sex (joel almost catches u), cock referred as 'her' + referred as ellies, cocktip teasing, ass grabbing, some ass smacking, some plot, jokey bickering, readers a bit bratty, a slight brat-taming moment if you squint, mouth muffling, squirting, petnames; babe, baby, babygirl, princess, good girl, (lmk if i missed anything)

♡ WC; 5.5k ♡ masterlist ♡ thanks 2 @fleshunger 4 proofreading the intro ♡

Paired minds savor the embellishing glow of lit stick candles settled before them in a ritzy manner– shedding light over plates of arraying colors. Marination that glistens, crispness that scrapes, and mushy mesas' of garlic herb potatoes that delicately slump in the cradle of a spoon. Consume with your eyes first, then your cameras– and conclusively, your rumbling tummy. 

Rather to consume what's meant to be, than to gorb the scruffy haired girl next to you– at least for now, yes? 

It's your first Thanksgiving with Ellie, being that you two only linked heartstrings this year.

You, the possibly innocent angel that you are– right now, serve clement smiles to whomever talks to you, be it Joel or some random relative who’s name only just surfed your ears this night, it doesn't matter. De rigueur, wear it well.

A baser mind– I mimic regret while telling you this– tumbles far from the garden of Eden and slips away into a daunting realm, the underworld. By under, I mean downstairs, below the button, the internals. Ellie straight up, served hot, was just bursting with hormones. The tender meat oozing with buttery slick melt fell short in maintaining the contact of those chartreuse eyes, instead, suffering the envy of them rooted to your thighs beneath the oak. 

Noses immerse themselves in salty goodness, eyes feast before gobs could, rolling molars gnaw turkey off the tines of forks, but her, her cunts' the only organ thinking right now.

Especially while seated adjacent to you, her clit was throbbing past the hard material of her jeans.

"You both settlin' in your new apartment?" Joel's bellowed drawl carries over the other muted chatter, low in the background.

"Mhm," your hum slopes and rises behind lips sealed to a glass rim, then part with a smack, "Ellie’s definitely settled more than me." ending with a giggle.

Her ear pivots from you, dirt–dappled nose at the fore, "Oh? What's that 'spose to mean babe?"

"Can't keep your hands off that shiny new Playstation, hmm?" 

"Tchh– you bought it for me." replied her with a skosh of sass.

"That I did."

"Uh–" Joel bumbles.

Els drones out, "Andd all my video games–"

"Where's my thank you?" you pout in frolick, forwarding your face for her view.

Hmph.

Her miffy eyes bounce around her skull hence to piloting back on yours, her own pout puffing, "Okayy, here," she sighs lowly, nosing her lips down to pucker a peck– smacking together.

A shared hum in approval vibrates between the bond of skin, half–approval, a kiss was meager in your book of play, and you felt particularly playful this eve.

With a finished kiss, leaves your mouth to mouth a sneaky little quip, fruitful in a whisper, "Didn't hear a thank you~"

"Hmm?"

"Els.." 

Faces still bathing in transferring warmth, her breath hitches on your mid–face, a sigh to end all worries, "You'll see, just wait." Her voice cracks a bit, silken on your ears.

Waiting wasn't even on the table. 

Not when a brawny hand suddenly gropes your inner–thigh, squeezing the fat in little wags.

Give thanks to whomever, thank fuck for being at the tables edge, where nobody else could witness this.

"Anywho–" Ellie grogs her throat clear of those debaucheries, returning to her normal seated poise, "yeah, like, we're settled– thanks for helpin' us find that place." her pitch heightens, flowing into a nosy chuckle.

"Course, kiddo." softly spoken off Joel’s sentiments, but minding less attention and returning his mouth to something more, toothsome. Foodsome.

Goddess, her grip is mighty.

Devious fingers– they found their way, quick. Fingers such as hers, waxy and pale, rigid and calloused, stamping up your hip and giving firm pressure to the bone. Knuckles flushed of pigment, they dig around the crest wanton, nudging you slightly.

"Seriously?" you spit through grit teeth, wiggling your hips in reaction.

Ellie harks your mutter, tugging those smug corners into a cocky smile as her nervy nature would plant her in, naughty–toothed smile, "Huuh?" that bastard coos, "what's wrong babe?"

"You dickhead." 

"Me, dickhead?"

"Yes, you, dickhead."

"That's a lot of dicks n' heads, what is it with you and dicks n' heads?" she creeps her face closer, squinting dumbly– which only made her onslaught of 'heads and dicks' more peeving now that you really loured at her.

Grimacing at her dense brows queller than a storm, blushy nostrils taunting in a wiggle, it subtly made sense– impish coquetry. The kind of shit you toss like a game of ball, prior to the main event. An event, to be seen.

"Why you givin' me that look, huh?" she squints lower in return, flaring her nose, "Do I have a dick for a head?" 

"I would not kiss you if that were the case," you claim advantage of her closeness and peck her goofish scowl, forcing a crescent to spry on that mouth, "Dork."

Hooks on your hip palpate harsher on the jut, her thumb swiping where the cushion and your butt cleft. Pressure given, when words pique her interest.

"Babe," Els murmured with fry in her chords, "d'ya want it?"

"It?" you gulp.

"Mhm.." thrummed she, eluding, "c'mon, you know.." said with that chilling husk, whew.

Okay, maybe it's clearer–than–a–midsummers–noon clear, that Ellie was a tad tipsy. Pink worm of hers just couldn't resist the samplage of some bourbon, sweet oakey notes that evoke memories of bourbon skies hence, quite the beautifying thought. Skies where you play a shrouded silhouette to her line of sight, tapping thumb to chin in ponder. Ponder, pondering.. for what were you pondering those sunsets?

Yet now you lacked a ponder on whatever the hell she was hinting to, only for it to ferment suddenly.

"Ellie, what are you on–"

"My fingers," a blurt wets her whistle, cocking her head dear to your poor ear, "do you want.. my fingers– in.." you feel her dual digits dive in the crevice of your thigh and groin, curling snugly.

"Ellie.." you hiss, pinching your brows in honest bewilderment.

Her pinkie roves over the bulge of your crotch and punctures the inseam right above your clit, stinging the little bud– which throbbed at her press.

"Do you?" her breath wanes, speech sedated with the aim of persuading you.

Contemplation was considered– maybe too carefully, maybe not. Problem one, legitimately most if not all of your family was within spitting distance of you, but on the other hand, the gutsy hand, weighed her offer slacker than a greedy businessman. In precis, her puppy eyes of coveted sanction, rears triumph. Dickhead.

A caught gulp squeezes down your gullet, puffing your chest out, "Mhm.." 

"Okay.. mhh–" she giggles with husk, creasing up as her lithe fingers trace and wrest your fly open, skulking her hand beneath the hood, "Just focus on dinner baby, I got this.." wisped soft, kindred to cashmere.

The unyielding stretch of your denim fastens around your hips in the act of her palm ramming inside, yanking you forward. Pursing your lips in elated exhales, you try, try to winch meat to mouth and void the tamping of your clit, try as you might– the pleasure is dire.

Ellie’s prints depress a lewd discovery, the stub of her smaller knuckle thickens itself in leaky panty, secreting from your eager hole. A discovery, worth a hushed gasp, "Ooh? Wet already babe? God damn.."

"Shut.. up.." choked you, only reaping a laugh from her.

"Fuck, I do all this?"

"Duh."

"Hehe– fuck that's hot.."

She withdraws her fingers half–way, to slither them under your panties. And without a foraged bit of foreplay, dilates your labia with her furled digits loading inside of you.

A squishy nub brushes your sweet spot.

Your pipes in turn swell with sharp intake, wall of your throat cooling instantly. Fuck, bona fide fuck. Enormously fucked when her pumps wreak gentle squelches from your dewy core.

"Jesus, mhphh.." a gruff of air susurrus from her, starkening her torso in an 'appeasingly normal' angle so she may, blend in, bemusing your mother with small–talk, "So, d'you always have a gathering this big on Thanksgiving?"

Out of all people, really, Els? 

She indulges with a smile, purely answering, "Oh yeah, every year– whole family, too many relative I suppose." fading erratically into a giggle.

"Heh– ‘least you got a big house, shitt– I mean," In spite of sounding casual, slips into a grit curse when your wet walls clench her in, "–dang, what I wouldn't give to live here, right babe?"

A mere butt of her elbow nearly dips you into the waters of appearing– deviant of natural, those slender digits, twisting a tender knot inside. She pumps at a canter, lesser than brisk, swifter than a slug. Beat, beat, beat to your g–spot, akin to the pitter, pitter, pat of your whizzing heart.

"Y–yeah, soo jealous, even though I did as a kid.." laughing it off awkwardly, a bask of 'Please let that be the only time I talk.' relief uplifts your sunk gut, momentarily.

"You still eating well livin' on your own?" your mother queries, tuning that time–old maternal charm.

"I mean, d–decent, enough–"

Ellie thrusts her fingers faster, fashioning a trickle of ooze to froth out onto your underwear. Pacified by the sensations, you clamp tighter, knocking a winded hitch to your staggering speech. Fucking inconvenient. Olives of her eyes binge a glint so bawdy, yet inlaid in a bad case of puppy–face, bullshit purity on her glossy lips. She knew the consequences, and consumed them like nothing.

"Pshh– decent? Babe, please, I'm like the microwave master!" exclaimed she, feigning a biggety tone atop her rasp.

You scoff, "Ah–" shuffling your thighs in light see–saw motions, "again, decent."

The knot squeezes as she finger–fucks the tranquility of mind from your pussy, staring knives at you when her supple thumb drags your clit in flicks.

"Sure it's not good?"

"Mh–mh.."

"Like, really good?"

No way she was referring to the microwave meals anymore.

Your mother intrudes softly, "Honey I can start bringin' you my homemade food if it's not–"

"It's okay, she's just playin' around–" Ellie replies before a vowel can flutter your lips, proceeding to eye–fuck you with a smug visage, "she loves my cooking." she rasped, eyes slimly showing.

All you can spotlight on is her gropey hands, jerking you like some toy, it felt too fucking good. Too pleasant to snuff, too divine to scold, exhilarating to your veins sore with salaciousness. Then, you route back to a ponder, what more could she stipulate? 

"M' gonna go to the bathroom," you swat her hand out and jostle your fly up, netting a coo of amusement from Ellie– secretly.

"You good babe?" she vocalizes after, keeping her pussy–prune digits free of smear.

"Come with me." purred you, hoisting from the oaken chair.

Ellie's lids arise with tangible hots– an aphrodisia densely potent of kindiling her eyes. No anointing of sanctity will ripen her intentions, nor anchor the even throb of her cunt. For a throb is a hymn, to you. She wants you, and she's going to have you. Moments and minutes hence, falter to compare in energy.

Cue her cheek pleating smile.

"Okay–" a light snort prances off her open lips, whirling her lap aside to skim through the tight wedge and stumbling to you, "which bathroom we doin'–"

"Just follow me," your voice aspires over, cusping your hand and snagging her calloused ones in the curve of it, "gonna' show you somethin'."

"Heh–" she chuckles dryly, tailgating with a gentle pull of your forearm.

You two whip around a door nook, glide through the foyer and advance upon a staircase. Your cotton–clad heels stroke wood planks beat by beat, soft wallops that carom off skyscraping maroon wine walls. Ribbons of lunar light dangle on and off your heads, crafting gauzy shrouds that mix and mingle off the corners with a bobbing ascent. Every wall laid reminiscent of a ritzy manor, a lacquer of lavish. 

The flight of stairs then ingress into a much thinner hall, in a much quainter space, and fitted to each doors awaiting enigma. Duller light spills through, glossing the path you took towards a fawny brown door– your bedroom.

Ellie espies the cleave of an abutting door, aiming a bead on with her index, "Wait– isn't that the–"

"Shh," you gingerly rustle air on locked teeth, shifting your arm towards the gilded rotund knob and twining with metal clicks and clacks, "bathroom was just a cover up."

"Oh~" 

"Hmm hm~" you kittenly croon.

The barrier pendulates sideward from your stride, only to be elbowed soundly back to a wisping shut.  You pinch the little knob's notch and, click, lock the door. An amused flit of breath pours from her agape lips, catching your wordless gist bereft of another second.

Ellie thrums that same old rasp, sweetening you up, "Real smooth babe, takin' us up here.." her feet coast her closer to you, kitty–cornering you to a rearwards stumble.

Plaster bumps, a welting sharp ridge– they trench in your ankle and up as your calves butt the wall, inevitably backed up. Trapped, positively trapped. 

"Well–" a scoff enlightens your latter words, "couldn't just stay there with you two fingers deep, hm?" and your 'hm' asks for her agreement, pitch yawing.

"Was 'gonna make it three, but.." 

"But?"

Her head shrouds yours in a gray penumbra, orangey–tint nose a scant whisker from brushing yours, and sends you into a conundrum with a mere utter, a tepid utter, "got uhh', something better for you." tying off with a willed lip bite.

"Oh really?" you moon with pep, hooking a calf around hers.

She smokily coaxes, "Fuck yeah– look." her knotty digits then cruise around her hips, meeting at her denim zipper and tugging that metal tab down. Fleeting as starlight, she thumbs the belt–band and chucks her jeans just beneath the ruck of her asscheek, chafing fabric to fabric with her lax boxers.

A lone brow quirks, expressing the fact that with the way she juts hers hips forward and palms her crotch weirdly– it reared too obvious, "Ellie, don't tell me–"

A springy mass wiggles against the front inseam, held in her teasy tauty grip– veins popping of course, "Tell youu whaat?" her words muff in hoarse laughter.

"Baby.." you exhale, adjoining a whiny moan. Ellie's such a goofy tease.

That simple mass in her crotch, was a sign– a clear, lucid, taintless and foretelling, that you were getting stuffed like a turkey tonight.

In counter, her exhale fuses with yours in dancing particles, so gentle, finer than purity made flesh, "Babe.." and such gentleness caresses your ears, a pureness forgotten in those divinity forsaken puppy eyes– pout moist.

You can't rend your pupils elsewhere, trapped like mice, you gape with encroaching arousal dowsing out your nerves– and drenching down below. Markedly, where you gaze now– her fingers tug the waistband down, exposing the bulbous green head of her cock in her boxers tight band, barely, literal orb of luster dabbled on the tip.

Now your eyes truly cannot escape.

Cotton tenderizes in lines around the bulge, her hand stroking above the shape. And the way you stare, fucks her mind good, speaking throatily, "God," a gulp bubbles, "can't stop starin' hmm?"

"Hehe– couldn't help but wear it?" you snap back.

"Yes ma'am," said off a grunt, pushing said bulge to your curious hand, pleading for a rub, "you gonna' suck her?" soothing is her tone, a breathless moan.

You coo, "Want me to?" and weasel your palm in circles, watching her pelvis follow.

"Uh'huh babe– mhh, need it.." she rolls the hem of her shirt up to her ribs, flaunting that strapping waist– perfectly toned.

Appetent with sure appetite, you nod, a nod that tows her lids down, down.. down, till the green born of her eyes rely on a thin horizon hawkeyeing you. A sliver of sparkle, eager in you. It only takes you dual bends of the knees, stamping chiffony flesh to cold oak and your fingers tucking in her underwear– to excite Ellie.

"Yeah, m'gonna suck her, suck that cock." you mouth in broken vowels, steeping breath on her firm navel pouch.

"Fuck.." she nimbly grunts and tosses her head back, tightening skin on the jounce of her adams apple, swallowing.

Giving tender pressure on her boxers, you slither them netherward until they sojourn atop her bunching jeans fixed above the knee. You swear, those quads of hers clench at your brushing touch, causing your sights to skip up on that dangling cock. Wow. The fat head pokes your nose–tip, curbing up as she cradles its silicone girth to palm.

"Hold uh'," what you expected to be 'up' erupts as a tiny grunt snuffing, eyeing her other hand concealing her lips with a muffled 'puh' to top, "there we go." that hand draws down to smear her spit along the length, squelching mildly.

"Mhh–" you hum shorn of audible sound, batting keen breath on her strap, "–so big.."

You tell her that, everytime. And everytime, she revels in that negligible fact, shutting her eyes in skin–sheathed darkness– pinpointing on how too–too hot that seems. And the way you say it? Oof.

Ellie tacks five fingerprints on your head's crown and coaxes in flits of force, easing you on, "My god, babygirl– oooh.." she relishes an oval–mouthed moan, watching your lips wrap her cockhead.

And it's warmer than anything you've gobbled so far this eve.

Balming a heat like that, tucked in her boxers so neatly and snug– it tickles your gums. Soft and pliant, your lips are, they crease and roll under as you swallow her in, impressing a pit on your tongue when they meet.

"Hhmmm.." you moan a mouthful on the frothed up silicone, dragging your lips back over to motion a bounce of your head.

"I know~" she coos to your bumble, pucking her hips with an equal piston to her pelvis, "them' lips feel goood– fuuckkk.." as if you can feel them, dork.

You clasp her thickness in hooks of your tongue, sending splotches and globs of spit to pool around your oval–ringed mouth, courtesy of her tip bumping your throat in, "Guh- guh, guh, guhh–" prods. 

Ohh, that birdsong. The quaffing of your vocal bands subject to her humps, producing a rhythmic beat to alight her hormones. Your song worthy of hearing. You wimp the swelling sink that her nails wreak, a flicker between cuspate tapering and a meek love– a calling for more.

Enlighten me a morsel of those twisted, dirty thoughts, auburnhead devil.

Leathery wads of her free digits roam hot on your pulping cheeks, chiseling out as you suck. Her fingers then find themselves arcing a tuck behind your ear, thumb printed to your temple. A dash of encourage, she presses, a truer than blue visage, she contorts ran by pleasure. Squelch, suckle, drag spit, and repeat.

Due to your stretching spread of lips taking her well, likeness of a blockade in your mouth, you couldn't speak. Obviously. So over the wish–wash of saliva, Ellie tunes you in with her filthy comments.

"Suckin' my filthy cock.. fuck–" she pauses with a gruff moan, baking in your brain deep, "gonna' make me cum so goood–" her vowel strains, clenching her pussy lips around nothing except the cool, cruel air, "yes.." 

A reed of cold nips your chin, seconds hence realization settles; you're getting sloppy. A manifestation of Els actually fucking your noggin to slosh, wouldn't spark surprise if liquid poured from your cranium at this point.

Her own arousal rots you further down, too.

With the feeling of her cock climbing near hellward down your throat, smacking on the gummy walls, and the husk her moans endure, crucifies your pussy with an ache of want. Fabric of your jeans suffers a beat, your clit, throbbing. It hurts so good and it stings so right, so tight, you need her now.

A faster bob you give, the more Ellie can't take it either. 

"Babe–" she hawks out, but fails to halt your bopping movements, "babe, fuck–" the digits parked behind the conch of your ear skip and push your jaw up, staking her cock out with a spring. 

"Ghh– schhlp, huh?" a chuck of spit muddled your words, unfurled tongue lapping up every web left by your messy, messy mouth.

Nook of her hand like a cusp to your jaw, she beckons you with a nudge, and rasps, "Up– c'mon, n'turn that ass around." 

Ass. Something about that word reverberated in you, bothered you hotly, made a tepidness leak from your cheeks. The rasp she rung it with, eyeing you with twin fern flames for irises– an approaching engulfment to marry your skin with ashen blessing, more consuming. Ass, Ash, haha.

A flutter in your hips spreads like fire across your legs. It weakens the muscle you bend, standing upright challenged resemblant of a feat, especially when Ellie's grabby gropes found purchase in the crevice of your hips, spindling you on a quick axis. It wanes the composure you hold like a goblet, dwindling to shattered shards across the floor, primarily as those bedeviled claws slot under rough woven denim and remove them false of trouble and trick– ruching to nothing at the root of your ankles.

Where happy hubbub clamors downstairs, pleased pandemonium moans upstairs.

A jut of two knobby hip bones thump into each asscheek, denting the skin into a gully. Warmth, a ligature of it rides through your backside, making you shake. Not like her hands would let you tremble, one being so immovably returned to your hip.

"Fuuck that pussy 'been waitin' for me, huh? Can just tell.." mumbles her with vocal fry, pupils ogling bare of shame at your cinched folds, clasping nothing.

"Your fault."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm.." you hum timidly.

"Gonna call me dickhead again, or–" a fat ball teases the dripping lips of your pussy, spreading them slightly and sloshing the skin around, "Is this enough?"

To give way, was a mistake, buckling your pelvis deeper on her cock which faces a grip ardent to shaft– teasing with rolls of her wrist. The cockhead, or literal dickhead, warps and smooshes against your clit as she toys with it. A whiny, "Huuh– Els.." mangles in your larynx, pitching.

"Yeah, you like that? Know you do." that damned smirk lives in her curving tone, sweet with a dash of tang. Her cock dilates your delicate folds further, exposing the velvet flesh to cold air and an intrusive visit. 

Your fiendish pussy kisses her cocktip and ceases its movement, clamping her in place, whimpering, "Mhh, ahh– ah.." 

"Hey, 'lemme go– was just getting started babe," she laughs crisply, landing a fine plume touch to your ass, "c'mon.. loosen up.."

A flux of slacken tires the muscles that clamp her in, hugging your entrance more softly around her tip.

Ellie winches weight on her knees, crouching her groin into you with a slow swerve, "There we go.." she purrs with tension in her tune, relieving a sigh when her cock pops in silkenly.

You seize up, gasping sharply, hips begging to break brittle in her grasp of iron– but iron does not deform easily. Pressure stays pressured, and digits knurl over the hill of your hip bone to prop it upright. With walls expanded on her cock like your pussy was made for her, it humbles you, belittling you to sludge in her metal caress.

"Fuuckk yeah–" she broadens her sigh of bliss, abrading on the 'K', like a crackle. Pleasure kills neutrality in the smoothest way, gathering grooves in her forehead, "y'feel so warm baby.. mhmm–" 

"That's not even your dick.." you half–way give a giggle, suppressing the moans you choke up.

A tense whistle of air sounds from Ellie's nose, a reaction of vague irritation, "Swear to god.." her tongue smacks after and a sudden thrusting of her fat cock catches your mind astray, winding those choked moans out. 

"Uhn– uh fuck, huhh–" you babble.

"Not my dick huh? Who's fucking you? Tell me, fuck– yeah?" Her words warble where skin smacks, wetness palping in obscene squelches. 

Does she really expect you to answer when her cock continually swells your cunt and abuses your g–spot? Yeah. Ellie will fuck the answer from one hole to the other, if she so feels compelled to.

But of course, you don't answer.

"Baaabeee," she taunts, "baabyyyy," and tortures, "who she getting fucked by right now, tell mee.." and fucks, cooing purer than vernal spring washed in the rain, mushing globs of pre–cum all over your cervix.

"Y-you.."

"That's right."

This feels almost violating to your vagina, to be stuffed like this. Did she size up? Get a new strap? Whatever the case presents itself as, it felt fucking good. Made you woozy, each bop she played like a drum on your sore ass, summoning a white ring of creamy sap to veil around her cock's girth. White droplets failed to envelop her cock, though, each jiggle of your muck bodies lashing beads of it onto the oak boards, your thighs, her pretty auburn bush, etcetera. Attempting to grab the wall, duh– that fails, then you scramble jittery digits across said wall, awkwardly finding a rigid door trim to grasp at long last– speak of the devil, Ellie laughs at that.

"Haha– aww, too big for you princess?" she utters to you like a dumbass, ego brimmed with the pumps her cock skids on your gummy walls, smirking with thinned lips.

Vulnerability loathes humility, "Fuck y–you."

"Sure."

Her perception of sight, harboring verdancy, drops low to your bulging hole that swallows her good– as you should, tender milk that pools inwards as she slides out, and froths a flood of slick when she humps it back to the same hole it spilled from. 

Might she indulge more sampling?

Ellie's hell–sworn index traces your swelling folds mellowly, togging a cap of pearly cum on her finger pad. Scrutinize, then she licks. Her peach lips kiss her finger softly, puckering wrinkles as she sucks the sleek off, "Sssmhpt–" her lips zip, "yeah–ha, that's what 'm taking about–" delighted, she is.

The knot in your womb begins to coil and fill, a rapturous sting impaling inside. Your folds, springing on her friction, sends a ripple to fluctuate in your ass cheek. Enticing. So enticing, Ellie grabs a handful, bloating fat strokes of your buttcheek between the webs of her delirious fingers.

"Ghh– yes.. yes–" she growls, deep in her lungs. The harness in return rubbed her clit in all the right ways, electrocuting her legs with a twitch, "arch that bsck f'me baby, c'mon– arch on my fuckin' cock–" 

Harking her, you heed. Heed with a convex draw of your back, protruding your ass out for her messy usage. That– that was the last straw, her only straw. You being so keen. Something less than a mutter of, "Good girl." was the last audible voice you could pick up, her game swapping to a faster ramming into your sloppy pussy.

"Ellie!" you wince, praying on a star, "So g–good.." you gape and fall forward, smearing slobber on the drywall.

Her cock was too much. 

A tear soaked upon that very wall, gifting it a taste of your salty heaven.

"Mhmm– god, fuck fuck fuck! You're so good, s'good t'me.." a breath shuddered, she limps forward onto you. Her pale hips still punishing with a litany of humps, now scores deeper on your gushy cervix, her drenched chest marking hot on your clothed back.

"Needa' cum– Els, babe.." why you were even asking, might flummox a future specter of yourself– purling on her thickness, feeling the endless tension pull from you in strings of cum, kissing the head of her cock, you were on the train track to cumming already. Dumbified questions really egged Ellie on, luckily.

"Yeah baby, want'chu to– all over her, she needs it, mhm–" she assures you, two foam–spit lips stamping your lobe, "feel that baby?" her elbow mounts like a belt to your hip crest, ducking under and tamping your womb, palm to pudge, and intones, "She's so fucking deep– shit.." 

Spade of her cock punching your walls, over and over, you finally snap. The added hand to your belly, sought it done. Done well, pronto. 

You convulse in tight vices to squeeze her dick, orgasm shaking you to the literal core, "Huunhh– Ellie, Els! Ssuhh– Ell–" a clammy paw wedges your mouth from splitting the walls with your uproar, fingers tender on your lips cushion.

"Shh– shh.. not so loud babe, take it easy–" snuffing you, she talks clemently, little grunts detailing you on how close she was, too, "that's it.. don't hold back baby– uh, fuck."

Her cock fucks you just right, blows you fried so easily, with every heavy lunge– you weep.

A pang twisting inside averts a sightly gaze to the beautiful coastline of darkness, pure oblivion. Fuzzy dollops of faded splotches prance your vision like a sick joke, mocking your high. You can't even croak, not even a peep, just sit back and let cum dribble from your hole, plashing her filthy cock in a sick mess.

Right on a dream–like cue, a snarled groan mauls from the deepest depth of her diaphragm, fresh on your ear, "Ghhodd– fhmm, good fuckin' pussh– mhh!" 

Splash.

Her lids squinted tight, nose flared wide, she came. In waterfalls you couldn't observe, but swore you heard. A geyser to the floor, hyaline ribbons of her precious flavor taint the floor so disgustingly, so vividly, it shines.

Guess the wine loosened both of her lips.

She usually does not cum like that.

Damn.

Muggy exasperation fans your neck in ghostly hands that wrap, a recalescent mist baying for some kind of relief in dramatic swells and shrinks her chest pushes into you. Then, something moreso flobbed, a chuckle.

"Heheh–" her fingers slip from your lax lips, tapping kittenly on your chin.

"That's was, mhh– um–" you huff, dead of air just like her.

"Good?"

"Yup, just– couldn't.. oof.." 

Her lips purse and plant a kiss to your scruff, grinning against the flesh, "Did good for me," moist smacks besmirch further, rasping, "felt so good t–"

A beating of hardy steps peals through the door's underside, sending a wash of shock over both of you abruptly.

"Fuck." Ellie's voice muffles sotto voce, darting grips to your folded hips, thumbs tacking on the streched knoll your ass provided.

You perk your ears in tune of this noise, gut instinct curls and kicks your body to move, bucking back on Els– who mind you, was still sheathed inside you.

That knocked another grunt from her, "Hmmph– don't do that– god, babyy.." she whines, runting back into you.

Hole stuffed back up, you clench your fists into a ball. This idiot.

"Ellie? You in there?" A familiar, dense, Texan drawl aptly known as Joel's, beacons from beyond the door.

That's bad.

"Shit what do I–"

"Get off, for onee–" a tense on your chords, you huff, bucking her muck sweat thighs off your hind and skidding out her cock pronto. The sudden emptiness was jarring, but, no time to waste.

"Fuck! Again–" she hisses.

You crouch your bare bum inches from the floor and swoop up the pooling pile of denim and cotton panties, rearing them up and fiddling with the metal button. Ellie followed suit, the best of her abilities– sex really fogs up her faculties, and pressed her cock plumb to her stomach as to tuck it properly her boxers, letting the band snap in place on waist– gently.

Triple knocks erupt, and then his bellow, "Kiddo?"

"We're good, we'll be down!" she calls back, eyes far from not studying your scurrying silhouette, just has to comment, "–fuck that ass." like she wanted more.

A grumbled 'Hmm' vibrates on the oak, trailed by fleeting footsteps that trudge away, thump, thump– you get it.

"Oh?" you kink your whisper, foxily, "second rounds?" and pivot around to face her.

"Mphht– not what I meant, dickhead." her voice deepens weirdly at the brink her sentence plonked upon, cocking her head with a smirk.

"Whatever." your eyes roll, capering off the room's corners.

"Hmph–" gruffed in amusement, "Cutie." gingerly steps huddle you right against that wall again, two biceps meeting warmth–to–warmth with your soaken shirts waistline.

Scoff, just scoff, "I think this is how second rounds start, liar." 

She goes all bumbly, furrowing those bushy orange brows and frisking her eyes in a roll, copycat, "Don't get me started, pleasee." she begged fakely, cadence dense.

"Too late."

"You're right." her lips, wisp to yours so perfectly timed, interlocking one pink bud under your top lip and butting noses, plushing together in tide. Even plopped a little smack to the clad meat of your ass, how sweet.

A scant hint of dinner lingered on her breath, passed to you like a spill. Makes you want to slink those stairs in one go for a different palate of seconds. But, alas, you two bet smooches on the hope of no further interruptions, scarfing up kisses like hungry dogs.

(pls lmk if u wanna be added to the perm list, some mentions didnt work!)

@whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams concept #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #modern!ellie williams #modern!ellie #ellie smut #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams tlou

[chlorinecake]

𓂃 watercolor eyes | park wonbin oneshot

⚡︎ pairing: Stoner!Wonbin x Female!Reader | ⚡︎ word count: 7.8k | ⚡︎ genre: mutual pining, college au, smut (⚠︎) | ⚡︎ contains: awkward relationships, an original character + sungchan and shotaro, swearing, drug use/distribution, angst (?), mild dacryphilia, sexual tension mixed with fluff, kissing, unprotected sex while buzzed, heavy petting, oral (m. r)

ON TOP OF countless other obligations in your life, upcoming exams were kicking your anxiety's ass with the biggest fucking boots imaginable.

All you wanted was to take the edge off, and at this point, you didn’t care what it’d take to do that.

Introducing Exhibit A: Your closest friend and roommate, Roxanne, who so conveniently happened to be a junkie.

You brought up your need for a “quick fix” (so to speak) while studying in your dorm together one afternoon. Though, she offered to get you some help from another friend of hers who you’d never met before.

“Wait, you want me to go with you?” You asked in confusion, already prepared to reject Roxanne’s proposal at the idea of personally consulting her drug dealer.

“Yes, you're coming with me… What do you think this is, Kiki’s Delivery Service?”

“No, but… I-"

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out, ____,” she chuckled, turning the steering wheel as she trailed down a shadowy lane.

“No, I… I want this… I need this even, it’s just that…I don’t really know what to expect…”

“Then don’t expect anything,” she answered, giving you an encouraging smile that came off as more condescending, “Expectations are for pussies anyways.”

“Roxanne, I’ve never even met this guy before,” you pressed, hoping that she’d maybe let you sit outside in the car instead of actually speaking with him.

“Look, I’m close with my dealer, and as I always say, a friend of mine is a friend of yours.”

Cue your internal sigh of submission.

“Okay,” you said, straightening your posture in your seat with a feigned confidence.

“Uhhhh, are you sure with that ‘okay,’ or is it more like an ‘okay, I have more questions’ type of ‘okay’?”

“No,” you clarified, “it means what I said… I’m okay.”

“Okay,” she nodded, before giving you a brief synopsis about this friend of hers: STEM major, weed connoisseur, and art-hoe with a shy guy undercut.

Doesn’t sound anywhere near as daunting as the drug dealers on TV shows appear to be, right?

She pulled up to one of the apartment complexes a few miles from your university. It was one of the lower quality establishments, with the only oddity being how nice the vehicles parked outside the apartment divisions were, a sleek black motorcycle belonging to none other than the mysterious drug smuggler named Wonbin Park.

“Hey, take off your hood, silly, it’s rude,” Roxanne nudged, locking her car from the keys in her pocket more times than necessary.

“But… what if someone sees us?,” you whispered, walking closely beside her.

“Then I’m glad their eyes are working? Hell, I don’t fucking know what they’d want me to tell ‘em,” she shrugged, walking up to the front door.

“So are you acting like a nonchalant loser on purpose, or is this just your way of trying to calm me down?”

Roxanne laughed hysterically at your words, showcasing the sparkly pink gem decorating her upper canine teeth as she patted you on the back.

“We’re just here for weed, babe. That will help calm you down before I can.”

You had almost missed the part where she knocked as you got lost in your head, the front door suddenly opening and basking you both with a sudden warmth, contrasting with the cold evening weather.

“Roxie?,” asked the male from the doorstep that you fought with every bone in your body to avoid making eye contact with.

“Wonie?” Your friend mocked goofily, walking up to hug the boy briefly before grabbing your hand and pulling you inside, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought a friend.”

“Not at all, my place is always open to you and your girlfriends,” he chirped with forced yet gentle enthusiasm.

“Uhhhh, she’s just a friend, considering how we’ve only slept together while clothed before… but thanks anyway!”

“Any time,” he replied confidently, walking up to the sink that was conveniently in his living room before re-lighting the dead bud of the joint he held gracefully between his plump lips, ashes falling from the tip before he inhaled a thick huff.

Some of the ash fell on his lower abdomen, and you were just now realizing that he didn’t have a shirt on.

Good thing you were used to the smell of pot by now, thanks to Roxanne’s inevitable habit of greening out every Friday night.

“So, what brings you ladies in today? I’d hate to break it to you, but I used my last condom just a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, we’re actually here for a different kind of pipe this time,” Roxanne answered, blinking as if trying to communicate with him to ditch the wild language.

“Oh,” he said, doe eyes widening as his mouth hung a little, his bunny teeth shining right back at you.

Stop staring at his mouth.

Stop staring at his mouth-

“I uh… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything,” he smiled softly, and of course you noticed because that’s where your eyes were glued the entire time, so distracted that it startled you when he reached to shake your hand.

“I’m Wonbin, but… you can call me anything you like, really.”

“It’s alright,” you returned, finally coming back to the present, “I’m ____.”

His initially confident demeanor stemmed from his assumption that you were more flamboyant like Roxanne, but he made note to be less vulgar until he could tell you warmed up to him.

Until he properly warmed up to you.

“So uh, yeah, do you want the usual, or were you thinking to try something new?” Wonbin asked casually as he leaned on the back of the sofa.

“Hmm,” Roxie hummed in thought, “yeah, my usual’s good. Just lay off the stronger stuff in the mix, though. It’s her first time.”

Something about what she said made Wonbin smile, wide and excited, peeking at you through his shaggy bangs with zero intent of hiding it.

Was he… flirting with you?

“Well, it’s my pleasure to be your first then,” he winked, getting up from the couch and heading to another room on his flat.

“You two kittens just wait here and I’ll be back with your stuff in a minute,” he claimed, which actually ended up being around an 8 minute wait while you and Roxanne went on and on about something you can’t even remember now.

The smile evaporated from Roxanne’s face as Wonbin returned to the living room while reciting the order. “You’ve got two ounces of-”

“I know the recipe, moron. You might scare my friend away if you say it out loud…,” she joked, feigning a pout as she hugged your shoulder, “so how much do you want for it, candy man?”

“It’s on the house this time,” Wonbin said, “so long as you bring me dinner tonight.”

“Fucking fat ass,” she spat, “what’re you craving?”

“Something warm,” he replied almost immediately, “with seasoned meat and a sauce… Maybe some rice, too.”

“Gotcha,” Roxie chirped as she pushed off of her knees to stand up.

Wonbin walked up to hand her the goody bag with such politeness, almost in the way that a child would give something to his big sister.

“Cool. I like eating around 7 o’clock, so you know when and where to find me.”

“Yes, through your stomach and all the way up to your greedy little heart.”

“Mhm,” he said with a satisfied hum, taking Roxanne’s spot on the couch as she walked towards the door. You and Wonbin were now sitting next to each other, his arms spread out on the back of the couch in a relaxed manner.

“Uhm, ____?”

“Oh, right! Sorry… I didn’t know we were finished,” you stammered, getting up from the couch to meet Roxanne at the door.

“Yeah, took him long enough,” she rolled her eyes, “I was starting to think he wanted us to spend the night…”

“Alright, get out of my apartment already,” he said playfully, waving a hand as if shooing you two, “and make sure to secure the bottom lock for me, I don’t feel like getting back up yet.”

“Whatever.”

Slam.

The door was closed, 50% locked, and you two were heading back down the staircase, cold air greeting you once again before you both got back in the car, driving back to your dorm room to drop off the drugs first, and then to the grocery store…

… to buy a bag of rice and a fresh pack of chicken.

“WHAT’S THAT NOISE?,” Roxanne asked with animatedly furrowed eyebrows, holding the grocery bag you two had packed Wonbin’s “dinner” in.

You ended up making a chicken roast with carrots, potatoes, gravy, and steamed rice like he asked.

“Here, hold this,” Roxanne mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear before she dropped the bag, your reflects luckily kicking in fast enough for you to catch it before the glass container could hit the concrete stair well.

“It’s as cold as a snowman’s grave out here, Wonie, open up!,” She yelled while banging on the front door, the little dream catcher that hung on the inner side jingling with her forceful hits, “Hellooooo?”

“You’re like Doordash but with the temper of FedEx,” you heard a deep voice say from behind the walls.

“But I only charge herbal fees for my services,” she added while crossing her arms.

Creek.

The door slung open, Wonbin’s muscular arms framing the entrance with a fed up look plastered on his face.

There were two people sitting behind him on the couch playing video games. A violent game, you’d assume, given the sporadic and sharp flashes of light that filled the room.

“Is there some kind of a secret password now or something?,” Roxanne asked impatiently, not as entertained my the view of Wonbin’s still shirtless body like you were.

“Oh, right… come on in ladies,” he said with a feigned smile, extending a hand to welcome you two back in, “hope you brought enough food, because I have guests.”

You followed Roxanne and Wonbin to the kitchen, where you placed the steaming bag of food on the counter before taking out the containers. That’s when Roxanne started grabbing dishes from the cabinet.

The glass plates clinked behind you as you went to search for a serving spoon in the drawer. “Hey… where are the spoons and forks?,” you asked while still looking through one of his kitchen drawers before Wonbin suddenly tapped you on the shoulder.

“I uhm… I keep the utensils in here,” he smiled shyly, just as he reached for the overhead counter to grab the silverware he kept in a box. Your breath got caught in your chest as you felt his hips nearly fuse with yours in the moment. Luckily, he couldn’t see how flustered you appeared underneath his shadow.

“Gimme that,” Roxanne giggled, snatching the box from him and taking out two large ladles, one for the rice and another for the roast.

“Gosh, that smells amazing! Can you put cheese on mine, pretty please?,” you heard one of the boys ask from the couch, peeking over his shoulder with soft eyes.

“Yes, Taro, I can put some cheese on it for you… even though I think it’s weird,” Roxanne smiled.

“Ahh, thanks man. Oh- and who’s the new girl?” He went on, placing the controller down as he was no longer interested in playing.

“Just a friend in need of a good time—” Wonbin answered, which shocked you to say the least, “—so be nice, Sungchan.”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?,” The taller boy pitched in, “but does she even talk?”

The room went quiet for a moment, the only sound being Sungchan’s clicks from the remote controller before he got gunned down by a random player.

“Dammit, Shotaro! Why’d you stop playing? Now we’re tied with the other team!!”

“Too bad, so sad, bro. I’m hungry,” he chirped, getting up from the couch to help you bring the plates to everyone.

“Woah, who’s the big plate for?” Shotaro asked with widened eyes.

“Me and Sungchan,” Roxanne said with a satisfied smile, “we’re sharing.”

“Oh… you didn’t tell me you and Sungchan were on good terms now,” you said, breaking your awkward streak of silence, just now recognizing the taller boys face from Roxanne’s phone.

She always talked about Sungchan and his “big stupid dick,” as she liked calling it.

The pair stopped being cool with each other for reasons you don’t really remember anymore, but you’d take her sudden affection towards him over the violence you witnessed during one of her texting fits the other night.

“Shhh,” she giggled, meeting Sungchan on the couch before sitting on his lap, “I hope you don’t mind me feeding you in front of your little friends… unless that makes you shy,” she pouted.

All he did was open his mouth in response, savoring the taste of the first spoon she fed him.

It was a sickeningly cute sight to be honest.

“Sick and twisted,” Shotaro said as if reading your mind.

“Cry about it,” Sungchan joked between a mouth full of saucy rice, heart swelling from the way Roxanne cooed at him.

You and Wonbin were just now making it to the living room after getting some napkins for everyone. There was room left for the two of you on the couch thanks to Roxie sitting on Sungchan’s lap, but that meant you and Wonbin would be sandwiched together in the middle.

Great.

“Come on guys, take a seat,” Roxie said before taking a bite of the food, her teeth grazing the metal fork with a loud scrap.

“God, I hate when you do that,” Sungchan sighed, tickling her sides as she laughed uncontrollably.

“Stop that, asshole, before I drop this food everywhere!”

“That’d be a shame, this chicken is so good,” Wonbin hummed with a nod, stuffing his cheeks with more of the gravy.

“____ made it,” Roxie pitched, giving you a look.

Despite how hard you tried to fight it, you were started to feel pretty awkward.

You knew it had a lot to do with Wonbin, thanks to his cripplingly annoying quirk to not put a damn shirt on.

You did eventually warm up to everyone, even pitching in on some of Sungchan’s dad jokes.

Though, the stack of empty dishes in the center of the living room table seemed more alive than your spirits right now.

The inevitable tiredness that came with staying up late without a phone in your hand started to kick in.

“Hey, I’m gonna go wash up these dishes real quick,” Wonbin said, glancing your way for reasons you almost couldn’t process between the loud laughter of Shotaro and Roxie over whatever dirty joke Sungchan told about SpongeBob and Patrick.

Did he want you to come with him? Alone?

Yes.

By now, Wonbin was no longer in the living room, having walked to the kitchen sink where he proceeded to run soapy dish water.

The scent of lemon wafted through the dimly lit space as you stepped beside him to get the dish towel.

“Sorry,” you said nervously, noticing the way he jumped as your hand grazed his arm slightly.

“It’s alright, you just surprised me,” Wonbin smiled, drying his hands before walking over to the other side of the counter, opening a plastic bag filled with what appeared to be blunt wraps and another bag filled with fluffy green.

“You just leave that stuff out on your counter?,” You asked, voice kind of quiet over the running water.

“Mhm…,” he started, “it’s not like the cops are just gonna raid my house randomly… unless… you were to say something,” he winked, putting a filler along the inside of the wrap before sprinkling in some herb, then tucking it tightly.

“Your secrets safe with me,” you said, the faucet squeaking as you turned the water off.

“____.”

“Yes?” You asked in confusion almost… he was already starting to use your name so normally.

“Pass me that lighter from over there,” he pointed before sticking his tongue out, licking the inner side on the blunt wrap to seal it.

His pretty tongue glistened underneath the kitchen lights, captivating you once again.

Fuck, stop staring, you internally swore at yourself.

He put the blunt between his lips, waiting for you to light the tip. “Stop moving, silly,” you giggled, holding his face in place with your other hand to keep him still as he playfully moved his head around to give you a hard time.

A tiny giggle erupted from his throat, too, making your smile linger for a little longer before he bid his thanks, inhaling a huff of the smoke and exhaling it through his nose.

“Hmmm,” he hummed as he cleared his throat. By now you were leaning against the sink with no intention of washing the dishes any time soon. No intention of leaving the kitchen, either.

“C’mere,” he offered, reaching for your chin in the same way you did to him earlier before inching closer to your face.

“Wonbin-”

“Just part your lips for me, okay?” He asked in a light voice, “I want you to try it with me.”

You nodded at his words, hesitantly parting your lips as he slowly set the blunt between the opening you allowed for him.

“Okay now seal your lips,” he said, licking his own, “and inhale… slowly.”

You obeyed his words, taking a steady breath in as the warm and cloudy smoke filled your mouth… then your stomach… then your senses.

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, coughing at the way the smoke hit the back of your throat, to which Wonbin only laughed at your reaction.

“Good job, newbie,” he teased, running you a glass of water before passing it to you, your teary eyes staring back at him in a mix of embarrassment, regret, and intrigue.

“How was hitting it,” he asked, pearly eyes staring back at you.

“Just as bad as I thought,” you admitted.

“Yeah… they effects will start kicking in pretty fast, too,” he chuckled, proceeding to take a huff from the same blunt. “But,” he started, voice falling to an alto, “you know that wasn’t free, right?”

“Excuse me?” You asked, watching as he lazily cradled the joint in his two fingers.

“I only do favors for Roxie because we’re chill like that…,” he paused, biting his lip derisively as he tilted his head, “I hardly know you, though.”

You didn’t even bother checking your pockets because you knew you came empty handed.

“Aww, what is it, baby?,” he cooed, turning your chin to face him again as he took another huff from the joint.

“I didn’t bring any cash with me, unfortunately,” you replied with a halfhearted expression, already feeling yourself get dizzy.

He noticed the way you began to tear up even more from the smoke he was now gently blowing in your face.

“You’re eyes look pretty right now,” he smiled, staring way harder than he should’ve, “how do you feel?”

All of a sudden your core starting to heat up, making your legs feel as though you were merely hovering over the floor. You didn’t feel grounded anymore because you were overcome with a feeling of light.

“A little warm,” you started dryly, “but like… numb and euphoric at the same time.”

“In here?” He asked, placing a hand on your upper stomach, resting dangerously close to your tits.

“No…. It’s uh… a bit lower,” you said, reaching for his wrist before pulling his hand away from you.

That’s when you caught a glimpse of a colorful splash decorating his wrist. “That’s pretty,” you smiled, adoring the tattoo from afar.

“You think so?” He asked sarcastically before whispering in your ear, “too bad compliments won’t pay my bills.”

You sighed at his words, watching as he braced his body weight on the counter before your right hand found a mind of it’s own, reaching out to trace a line up his defined abdomen.

“Then allow me to repay you in another way,” you offered, poking his flesh with your nail a bit, “you like my cooking, don’t you?”

“Very much so, yes. But you could try pleasing me somewhere else… ‘A bit lower,’ like you said,” he whispered seductively, eyes in a daze as he guided your hand by your delicate wrist to the center of his belt buckle, a line of hair leading to the bulge buried behind his baggy jeans.

A thick vein trailed from his thumb to his forearm before his grip left your wrist.

“Wanna take a closer look?” He offered, drawing your attention back to the colorful spot on his skin even though your first mind thought he was talking about something naughtier.

“Sure,” you answered quietly, taking his hand again to examine the design, “a butterfly?”

“A moth, actually… it’s a little more masculine if you ask me,” he added, the shadow of a proud smile ghosting over his lips.

“But it has watercolored eyes,” you pointed out.

“True… So it’s like.. more ambiguous I guess?”

“Maybe… or it could just be a beautiful man,” you voiced, stroking over his skin with the pad of your thumb.

You liked this.

The look of his skin, but more so the way it felt.

The way touching him made you feel.

“Uhmmmm, guys?,” Shotaro cried out from the living room, the energy in his voice breaking the stillness of the moment, “I’m pretty sure Sungchan and Roxie are about to start fucking each other in a few seconds, and I could use a little help in here!”

You and Wonbin made eye contact at Shotaro’s words, the same thought filling both your heads:

“What?”

“Just get in here, quickly! They’re taking each others clothes off!!!”

“FUCK, MY STOMACH still hurts like a bitch from laughing so hard yesterday night,” Roxie sighed, cheeks a flushed hue either from the three shots of brandy she just guzzled or the three comforters she was wrapped in on her side of your shared room.

“Yeah… I had a great time hanging out with everyone,” you said, only half-present as other thoughts floated around in your mind.

Thoughts about when you would get to see Wonbin again?

What you two would even do?

How Roxanne would react if she knew Wonbin had been stuck in your mind like gum on a-

“What the hell are you thinking about?”

Oh shit.

“Uhm… Nothing, why?”

“It’s gotta be something,” Roxie pressed, staring at you from across the room through her false eyelashes, “you were moaning in your sleep last night with that same look on your face.”

Wow. She was quite a fast talker for someone so tipsy.

“I was?”

“Mhm,” she smirked cheekily, trailing a finger along the knitted seam of her bed sheet.

“Tell me who you were thinking about… I’ll know if you’re lying, too,” she pressed.

“I was just… gosh, why is that making me so flustered,” you sighed, hiding your face in your pillows.

“C’mon, spit it out, ____!”

“I was thinking about Wonie, okay?,” you finally admitted, hoping it would make her shut up.

“Hmm…,” she started with a satisfied smirk, “you’ve already starting calling him by a nickname, I see… what’s up with that?”

“Nothing at all,” you smiled aggressively, watching as she spread herself out on the mattress like a star fish, “would you like me to call Sungchan over to keep you company while I’m out?”

“He’s already on his way over, silly,” she smiled, flexing her fingers around nothing, “wait, where are you going, anyway?”

“Nowhere special… probably just gonna talk a walk around campus. But don’t worry, I’ll wait for your boyfriend to get here before I leave.”

She pouted at your words, lower lip poking out like a baby, “Aww… stupid… big dick Sungie’s my boyfriend… ehehe…”

SUNGCHAN SHOWED UP shortly after you managed to get Roxanne back to bed. Praying that they wouldn’t end up fucking in your bedroom while you were gone, you put on a jacket with hopes of taking that walk to clear your head, even though now you simply hit a joint to calm your nerves.

That’s when you heard a pair of footsteps approaching from outside your door, just as you were about to zip up your winter boots.

Knock, knock, knock.

A a warm feeling erupted in your stomach, making your fingers freeze at your ankles.

Standing up to peek through the door-hole, you saw Wonbin’s plump lips first, before his bright brown eyes stared back at you.

Shit, why was he here?

“Hey, I can hear you breathing from behind the door… well, whoever you are,” he giggled, which made you giggle a bit too.

There’s no way you were gonna get out of this now, but you still counted down from ten before opening the door.

“Hi,” you smiled, letting him in, “don’t know how you got on campus, let alone to my dorm room, but okay.”

“I’m friends with Roxie, remember?”

“Yes, but I don’t remember you visiting here before… like, ever.”

Even if he had, it’s not like you’d be able to forget a face or presence like his.

“Nice shirt, by the way,” you teased, poking him in the stomach to which he smiled.

That terribly cute smile of his.

“Yeah I uh… wear them sometimes,” he replied, adjusting the beanie he wore before speaking again, “Where is she, anyway?”

“Pretending to be asleep so I can cuddle with her while she sucks on me… well… not there but… nevermind,” Sungchan interupted, walking from the room with now disheveled hair.

“Hell, I left for like three seconds, what happened,” you asked, observing the fresh purple bruise on Sungchan’s neck.

“Roxie gets unbelievably horny whenever she’s drunk for some reason, and I refuse to do anything with her when half of her mind is on fucking mars,” he sighed, going to the fridge and pulling out a can of soda.

“She’s lucky I let her do this much… Wait- I thought you said you weren’t coming?” Sungchan said to Wonbin with a suspicious look.

So Wonbin was invited to your place. How fun.

“Ahh, I changed my mind out of boredom...”

“Right,” Sungchan nodded while walking to the front door, “I’ve gotta go get a lighter from my truck, but I’ll be back if Roxie asks for me.”

“Hey uh, me and ____ can go get it for you if you want,” Wonbin offered, flashing you a look.

“Really, I mean I parked pretty far away, but-”

“It’s fine, really, I saw where your truck on my way here.“

“____?” Sungchan said your name as if searching for your approval, to which you nodded which a humble, “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

“Alright then, go ahead. But take your time though so you don’t slip and break your asses…”

WONBIN LOOKED IN the roof compartment of Sungchan’s truck, just as the lighter fell down, slipping between the small crack in the seat.

“Shit,” he cursed upon trying to reach for it, “my hands too big to get it.”

“Hey, I can try getting it for you,” you offered, watching as he made room for you to take his place in the vehicle.

The drawstring of your underwear clinging to your hips as your shirt fell down your waist with gravity.

“Are you wearing a thong?” Wonbin asked, cold index finger hooking with the thin strap of your panties before pulling back and releasing it with a snap.

“Ahh, what the hell, Won!,” You yelped, retreating from the seat to swat his hands from you, “you’re supposed to be helping me!”

“No, we’re supposed to be helping Sungchan. Now get back to work,” he order you playfully, pointing back down to where the lighter fell.

You shook your head, bending back over in an attempt to retrieve the lighter once again.

He was only teasing you because he wanted to see more of your personality.

He couldn’t say that things were moving fast between you thanks to the inevitably awkward grounds your first impression of each other was cultivated upon, but he still wanted to get past the shy stage.

Skip all of the a baby steps and just start running with you.

Weakened grunts fell from your lips as you desperately fished for the lighter, your hips looking a mere second from bursting through your tight jeans given the position you were in.

“Shit,” Wonbin cursed under his breath, feeling a sense of warmth grow on his cheeks as he darted his eyes away from you.

“Oh,” you said with a muffled sounding voice.

“Um, y-yeah? What’s up?” He stuttered, still looking off into the distance.

“I’ve got the lighter… And some spare change,” you chirped, clasping the findings in your hand before reaching a foot down cautiously.

“Isn’t that stealing?” Wonbin teased, finally looking back to only see your foot slipping on the wet condensation from the truck’s running board.

“____, watch your step!” He called out with a slightly raised voice, his hands finding your waist to protect your fall, which only led to you both tumbling down together.

A strained groan erupted from Wonbin’s throat as his back hit the cold hard ground first, your body weight falling onto his center as your hands hit the gravel, slightly scuffing your skin.

You hadn’t even realized that your eyes were closed the entire time until you finally opened them, the coins you held being scattered about as Wonbin’s wide bunny eyes scanned you with shock.

His arms framed his head, nose a little red from the weather and a sprinkle of snowflakes dusting his black beanie.

“Are you…are you okay?,” he started, voice trailing off as it finally clicked in his mind that you were straddling him on the ground, essentially in public.

He couldn’t pin a finger on what it was about you that made him feel all shy like this, especially whenever he wasn’t buzzed.

“I-I’m… uh… I’m fine,” you stuttered, freeing him of your body weight and extending a hand to help him up.

“Thank you,” he huffed, a puff of cold air escaping his mouth before circling around your warm bodies, “I told you to watch your step….”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that those stupid coins distracted me,” you shivered, just now feeling the effects of the weather as goosebumps sprouted on your skin, “At least I got the lighter, though!”

Wonbin chuckled, both at your enthusiastic words and the uncanniness of this moment, taking off his beanie and adjusting it over your head before closing the door to Sungchan’s truck, pulling you close to him by the shoulder.

“Alright… let’s get back inside before we both freeze to death.”

AFTER GOING BACK inside, Sungchan had somehow managed to get Roxie out of bed, the four of you sitting on the couch while watching a random movie till midnight.

It all brought you a strange sense of déjà vu. You and Wonbin sitting awkwardly together while Roxie and her Sungchan sat like Siamese twins. The only thing missing, aside from some good home cooked food, was Shotaro’s infectious smile and a recreational drug in your system.

A soul booster.

You had gotten lost in your thoughts again, not even realizing when Roxie kissed Sungchan goodnight before he headed home.

Nor when Wonbin pretended to be sleep so no one would wake him as you slept peacefully on his shoulder.

Nor how he left your side once Roxie went to her room to sleep, reaching for the dust-ridden acoustic guitar hiding in a corner of your loft after a long forgotten ex-roommate left it behind as a “farewell” gift.

Nor the warm and woody melody he started to play from the other end of the couch, the gentle hums from his throat luring your busy mind from its slumber.

Your eyes opened with lazy blinks, vision slowly keening in on the lit joint that hung from his mouth, the sound of his fingers sliding against the fretboard and strings sending shivers down your spine.

Or maybe that had more to do with the winter air thrumming through your dorm room's cheap windows.

From the look outside, you’d guess it was sometime around 1am.

The stars were sparkling in the sky and the world beneath almost dead quiet.

“Oh- sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Wonbin said in a half-whisper, noticing the way you were glancing at him before taking the blunt from his mouth.

“Oh, no… it’s okay, I was just… I didn’t mind…” your words trailed off to a mumble as you sat up a little straighter on the couch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “What song was that? It sounded really pretty from what I heard.”

“Yesterday… by the Beatles,” he smiled, getting up to set the guitar back in its original place of abandonment, “it would’ve sounded even better though if I had a pick with me.”

He took another huff from the blunt, exhaling through his nose in a familiar manner as he offered it to you, “Want some?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, taking the blunt from his hand before inhaling the herb yourself, though, it was slightly different from the one you had in Wonbin’s kitchen the other night.

“It’s some of Sungchan’s pot,” he said in a husk voice as if reading your mind, “Don’t go too crazy though, ‘cause his shit’s pretty strong.”

He peeked at you through his wavy bangs, waiting for a cough from you that never came.

“Are you buzzed yet?” You asked after taking another huff or two yourself, playing with the smoke in your mouth before blowing it out slowly.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “don’t know how I managed to play a full song, but... yeah... I'm trashed.”

“It must be a talent, I guess,” you hummed at his words, just now noticing the lit candles sitting at random areas in the kitchen and living room.

Good thing, because it helped to drown out the scent of marijuana.

“What else are you good at doing while high?”

His tongue clicked at the roof of his mouth as a subtle yet unmistakable smirk creeped on his face, perfectly matching the rosy hue that began to stain his cheeks.

“You thought of something dirty, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…” he chuckled, widening the distance between his legs a bit as he sat.

Was he… teasing you?

Your eyes fell down to the blunt he placed on the ashtray beside the table, it’s lit bud ceasing with a quiet hiss.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t free either, huh?” You joked, shaking your head at yesterday's memory.

“Nope,” he smiled, “but… you still haven’t returned the favor from your first hit, so I won’t be too mean for now.”

Of course he’d bring that up again.

Right here, right now as you sat mere inches in distance from each other, both buzzed out of your minds.

“And if you were to be mean,” you started hesitantly, biting your lower lip before continuing, “what would that look like?”

He thought on your words carefully before answering, “Well, I doubt it’ll ever come to that anyway, so don't worry about it.”

“Oh, and is it the weed making you confident all of a sudden?”

“No, just the simple fact that you’ll pretty much do anything I tell you to.”

You scoffed, “That’s crazy talk.”

“Is it?“ he pressed, inching closer to you. "Kiss me,” he said, lips just a gentle wind's push from touching yours.

You didn’t budge, but your heart beat escalated all the same.

“Cute,” he smirked, his large hand finding the length of your neck, gliding up to your jawline as his thumb toyed with your lower lip. “I can see it all over your face that you want me, ____.”

“Then why are you asking for it?,” you teased.

“Because I wanted to hear you say it first… even though I already knew you’d let me do this,” he whispered, closing the space between you with a kiss, his warm mouth engulfing yours as the scent of his woody cologne filled your senses.

His other hand found your lower back, pulling you impossibly close to him as the sound of both your hearts beating and his needy grunts consumed you.

Much like the watercolor moth on his wrist, Wonbin’s gentle and vibrant masculinity couldn’t get any more precious in this moment.

This is exactly what he was looking forward to, whether he decided to guise it under the façade of a favor or be completely straight up with you, he finally got you right where you wanted.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you tugged a bit, desperate to hear more of his pretty sounds before the shadow of a smile wavered over Wonbin’s face at your actions, up until he felt your knee bump his hard-on through his pants, causing him to hiss.

“You’re being rough with me,” he said in between kissing your mouth, his hot and thick tongue darting past your lips as the kiss become messier.

Louder.

“And?” You asked, pulling away from his lips before leaving a trail of wetness down his neck, paying extra attention to a spot that made him twitch in his seat.

“And it’s so fucking hot,” he almost moaned when your teeth grazed his skin, his back meeting the couch arm as you subconsciously grinded your hips against his pants, straddling him.

“Is this how you wanted me earlier,” you said, stopping your movements, “when we were outside in the cold?”

By now his shirt was off and your fingers unbuckling his belt with gentle clinking sounds from the metal.

“No,” he said in an impossibly deep voice, looking dead at you as he spoke, “My first mind wanted to fuck you silly in the backseat… but I couldn’t to that to you.”

You giggled at his choice of words given how high you were, shimmying his pants down a bit further before halting at the waistband of his boxers, palming him gently through the fabric.

“Why not?” You asked in a soft voice, contrasting with the fierce grip you had on his clothed shaft.

“Because... even though you’re being an impossible tease right now, I felt like you deserved better than to be fucked in your best friends boyfriend's truck,” he said with a shaky voice, gripping at the couch to contain himself.

You appreciated his consideration in your heart, but didn’t wanna say anything out loud, especially not while your hands were on him like this.

And thank God for these thick curtains, otherwise the whole world would’ve seen how red his throbbing tip looked after finally being freed from the restrictions of his boxers.

You started at the base of his length before gliding upwards, spitting on the head that was already leaking a bit of his early release.

You started to pump him slowly, pearly white precum standing out as it mixed with your clear spit like watercolor.

“Use your mouth for me,” he almost begged, eyes falling victim to a blurry haze as his knuckles turned white with his grip on the cushions.

You teased him a bit by letting your warm breath ghost over his tip, eliciting a groan from him as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

The desperation inside of him only grew from here as your warm and wet lips finally wrapped around him.

You hollowed your cheeks a bit, hands resting at either side of his hips as you began using your tongue to help you take him inch by inch.

“Mmm, feels so fucking good, baby,” he said with a strained voice, his hands finding your head before his thumbs grazed your lips, one of them prying to squeeze itself into your mouth with his already thick cock.

The sight alone was enough to make him buss, so he threw his head back, biting his lip harshly to contain his sounds.

You hummed against his dick, almost feeling it in your chest once his hands pushed your head down further.

He just couldn’t deal with your teasing anymore, wanting to feel you more than he could begin to explain.

He bucked his hips upwards, rutting into your mouth like a bunny in heat. “Aww, fuck,” he cursed, watching the way your eyes glazed with tears.

He always managed to see you crying one way or another, and he loved it every single time.

Your fingernails dug into his sides as the sound of your gagging became hard to miss. He released your head with a sigh, panting as both of your faces burned with heat.

He didn’t expect you to start pumping him again though as soon as your mouth left his cock, but you knew he’d end up missing your warmth in seconds anyways.

“I wasn’t trying to be mean when I did that, by the way,” he sighed, biting his lip as you looked back at him with moist eyelashes, “I just couldn’t hold bac- nghhh~.”

A broken moan escaped his mouth once your hands found his balls, gently cradling them in your hands while alternating with pressures, your other hand still stroking him.

“I’m doing quite the favor for you, Wonbin,” you said with a rasp voice, your throat a bit sore from his actions on top of the smoke you huffed earlier, but he figured it made you sound hotter anyway. “Are you sure I’m not overdoing it?”

“Mmm… no, p-please don’t stop, baby,” he whimpered shamelessly, screwing his eyebrows tightly.

You felt yourself clench around nothing at the nickname, and judging from the way his face changed, you’d bet he noticed.

By now, he could hardly keep still, the muscles in his stomach flexing just as you felt his balls tighten, just as he was finished, chest heaving with need as you rode out his high.

That's when you started to take off your jeans, tossing them in the corner somewhere as he practically drooled at the sight of you in just a baggy top and panties, a dark spot forming at the center of your core where your arousal started to leak through.

“____,” he paused you, bringing you into his lap, your warm core sitting right atop his aching hardness, “you don’t have to go this far if you don’t want to.”

“Well maybe this isn’t just about me owing you anymore,” you whispered, kissing him on the corner of his mouth, “what if I want this?”

His cock stimulated you through your panties as he thought on your words, subconsciously rocking your hips back and forth.

“Then I’ll let you have your way with me…” he said with a rasp whisper, kissing up your neck as one of his hands massaged your tits, his other hand sneaking past your underwear to find your soaking wet clit, rubbing it slowly but with such a pressure that your fingers clung to his broad shoulders.

“I want you to make me feel like I’m falling apart,” he groaned against your skin, spreading your slick all over your aching pussy lips, “I want you to ruin me.”

You didn't waste any time with aligning him at your entrance, sliding down with ease most of the way given how wet you were.

He groaned as your tight walls fully consumed him.

“Fuck~,” you whined, feeling euphorically full as he started thrusting into you, hands gripping at your back as he became overstimulated inside you.

The drugs must've made you feel extra sensitive, especially with the way his tip fucked against your g-spot. You looked into his teary eyes, stoking his face as you helped to bounce with his movements, lewd sounds bouncing off of the walls.

“You’re being so fucking good for me, baby, just like that," he moaned as you clenched around him, too high to give a damn about filling you up raw with thick spurts of his cum.

“Wonie,” you whimpered, feeling as his hands roamed all over your climaxing body.

You felt every part of him in every part of you, and to say the least, it was worth all the awkward moments it took to get here.

THE NEXT MORNING, you woke up with your head resting on Wonbin’s chest, his messy hair spread about his head as you felt his breath faintly on your head. You probably looked like two babies with the way you were cuddling each other under the blanket.

It was a sickeningly cute sight, one might say.

“Sick and twisted,” you heard Shotaro say in the back of your mind, just as Wonbin groaned beneath you with a cat-like yawn.

“I still feel high,” was the first thing he said, making you giggle a little more than necessary before looking him in the face, the effects of your night together ever-present on his face.

“I feel…good,” you smiled.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hummed back, peeling yourself from his body as you blinked the tiredness from your eyes.

“You can keep a secret, right?” He asked hesitantly, voice barely audible given how quietly he spoke.

“With my whole life,” you answered, now making eye contact with him which was surprisingly way easier to do than a day ago.

He found your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “We should do each other favors more often… but… maybe not call it that.”

Was he initiating a sexual relationship with you?

Maybe something more?

“Well…” you started curiously, “what would you wanna call it instead, then?”

A grin peeped on his face that quickly softened when he licked his lips, giving your hand a squeeze once again before parting his lips to speak. “Maybe-”

“Fuck,” Roxanne sighed with annoyance, “you horny ducks didn’t blow my candles out last night… now the wax is no good,” she sulked.

“Oh, s-sorry about that, Roxie, we were smoking and it helped the smell,” Wonbin answered first.

“… wait, did you just call us horny ducks?” You asked with a mix of confusion, offense, and realization.

She heard you two.

Hell, of course she did.

“What? You think I didn’t hear Wonbin and his vocal ass practically singing as you did… whatever you did to him…?,” She rambled on, washing her hands in the sink before pulling some from produce from the fridge.

“Oh my God,” Wonbin cringed at himself, covering his face with his hands, though his ears were clearly burning red now.

“The blanket… you brought it in here, didn’t you,” you asked her, just now noticing that it was one she kept at the end of her bed.

“Yep! You’re welcome, freaks,” she chirped through a mouthful of raw celery, drawing your attention to the knife and cutting board she handled, “I’m gonna need your help soon though, ____. We're cooking for a mini get-together later with Taro and Sungchan.”

You hummed at her words, folding up the blanket while thankful that despite how high you two were last night, you managed to put your clothes back on before the sun came up.

“You guys should get cleaned up first, too, by the way,” she said, side-eyeing you as she diced a few green onions. “And preferably not at the same time, please... I’ve heard enough moans for the rest of this week, thanks to you two.”

⚡︎ a/n: I just wanna say thank you to everyone who read this goofy lil piece I wrote !! It's been a while since I wrote something that wasn't requesting, and I had so much fun getting back in my creative mode again !! Hopefully you guys enjoyed it as much as I did huhu !!

📍 check out my NEW RIIZE masterlist

⚡︎ tag list: @ashgonedash @jaylaxies @fakeuwus @ot7sevenlvr @nqvgue @riizebinnie @cherriruto @sungbbinieworld @kvstjwonnie @yjshannie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @nikisdubblchococake @babigriin @greasywall @snrrpyzen @squoxle @wonbinkisser @quirkymoon @bominute @serenityqtz @bahraini-aphrodite @jewjewbee04 @minslatte @svtf1lms @suquitoz @hyunilinia @yeonkis @pixiewoni @loljungwon @sunwonkiworld @iizanaa @bambseung @deadpool15 @s1eepyanahi @wearscvn @spkyfy @urfavmommy @anna-357j @numberonetaleprince @write4cench @choqolei @zhonglele02 @xenkimmie @whoslio @leeknow-minho2 @songbird033

#riize smut #riize x reader #wonbin smut #wonbin x reader #riize scenarios #park wonbin #jung sungchan #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #riize ff

[hanasnx]

mmmm what do you think of reader who’s shy to look in anakin’s eyes while he’s all about eye contact and forcing her to look at him as he’s fucking the life out of her 👀

- 🐚

MINORS DNI 18+ PART ONE ✩ PART TWO NOTES: so. i love this prompt sm bcos i rly believe ani has such a need for eye contact in his life in general and it’d def translate into his sex life ughhh

! ── for anakin, eye contact is very important. he’s one of those people that doesn’t remember to avert his eyes, and makes people uncomfortable with how unwavering his gaze is. how it holds, and how it bores. if someone’s talking to him, he tries to look into their eyes because it’s a sign of respect for him. if he doesn’t like somebody, if they annoy him or he can’t stand their vibe or their opinions on things,, he rarely looks them in the eye. does anything to avoid it really.

! ── so that sense of need for eye contact translates in his sex life. if hes doing you, he likes positions that allows him to see your face. missionary variants, mating press, sitting on his lap or riding him, standing over you while youre on your back and taking him,,,, (ofc he loves other positions, but these are the ones that matter to this prompt rn)

! ── he’s such an intense person. he’s so severe and possesses such a heavy presence. intimidating, and daunting sometimes you get overwhelmed looking at him. a victim to his gaze that you lose yourself in, and you constantly worry you’ll remain there forever. so you avoid it, especially in public, or you’ll be hopelessly entranced where anyone could see.

! ── anakin doesn’t realize that, and only sees that you avoid his eye contact. to him, it’s suspicious, it’s disrespectful, and he doesn’t care for it at all. by you evading it, you don’t understand how it makes him feel. which is all the more reason to demand it from you when you’re alone together.

! ── you’re so vulnerable. completely bare, so enraptured you can’t even think. how could you consider looking at him now? its like youre embarrassed to share such an intimate moment with him

and he’s tired of it. “look at me.” he tells you, while he’s balls deep in you. you can’t answer. “i want you to look at me.” another plea, as if giving you a reason would be enough for you to comply. unable to even consider the notion, your brain is filled only with warm goo oozing around with each thrust. how could you form a thought?

so he helps you focus. his hand grabs your face so harshly, pinching your cheeks together, pursing your lips. your eyes fly open at the ache in your jaw, and you’re met with your vision consumed by him. boring into your gaze with his own, directing you by his hold on your face to watch him through your brows. “i said, look at me.”

#indy shoots the shit #anon #1k #indy: headcanons #anakin skywalker headcanons #ch: anakin #thanks for the msg!! #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker prompt #anakin skywalker imagine

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-fourteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Have fun 🪽🍡

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart

NOAH

My knee bounced with nerves as I sat in the chair in the quiet waiting room, the only noise came from the slow ticking of the clock on the wall opposite of me. I eyed it carefully as the seconds ticked by. My appointment didn’t start for another five minutes. I still had time to walk away from here but the daunting reality of the guys asking how it went today kept me rooted in place. So instead of dwelling on the fear of what’s coming, I typed out a new message on the Hollow Omens group chat.

Me: The new song premieres on Octane tomorrow night. Eight pm!

Malcolm: Oh shiit

Jolly: let’s fucking go! We’re excited for you guys to hear it.

Angel 🪽: excitement is so mother fucking real. I’m sad I’ll still be in Japan so I’ll have to figure out what time that would be here! I want to listen to it live.

My stomach dropped as all the wind got knocked out of me, the realization that Y/N would hear the song. The one I wrote about her in my haste of anger. Would she know it? What would she think?

Y/N had another week in Japan and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss her like fucking crazy. She’d already been gone a week so another seven days without her close to me made my heart stutter. I’d been taking care of Salem for her and the scent of her in her bedroom didn’t help the ache in my heart and stomach. I miss the way she smelled so when I noticed her perfume on her vanity; I spritzed the sweater I wore that day a couple of times, so it felt like she was close.

We kept our 2:30 FaceTime call every day since she left, even if it only lasted a few minutes. Just the occasional check-up on how things were going on each of our ends before she had to go, her dad having something planned for them. I called her every morning at 7:30, except this morning since I overslept. I was furious with myself but kept my cool as I sent her a text, letting her know I’d call her at 2:30 my time.

Angel 🪽: I’ll be in bed so don’t make fun of my bedhead.

Me: You’ll still look beautiful.

The corner of my lip turned up when I remembered the selfie I sent her the other day of Salem and I lounging on the floor of her bedroom.

Angel 🪽: oh, my baby! I miss you so much.

Angel 🪽: Oh, you too mochi!

Me: ouch, I’m hurt, angel.

Angel 🪽: I’ll make it up to you when you take me out for dinner. We can go half and half on an appetizer.

Me: For you? I’ll cover the whole bill while you order whatever you want.

Two days ago, Chase and Malcolm returned home so there was no need for me to check on Salem anymore. We expected Y/N to come back with them but she stayed longer for more one-on-one time with her dad.

“Noah?”

Snapping my eyes up to the petite voice, I nodded towards the older lady who stood at the open doorway of the office.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she stepped to the side, allowing more space for me to walk inside.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as my eyes cast towards the other door; the one that led outside where my car was parked.

“I hate to tell you this but even if you leave right now, I’ll still get paid,” the doctor joked with a small smile.

I hummed while slowly rising to my feet and walking past her into the office, the words on the door barely catching my attention. “Might as well get this over with.”

Dr. Poulos. Therapist.

NOAH

“Are you concerned she’ll be upset by what you’ve written?” Dr. Polous wondered while writing something down in the book on her lap.

I shrugged while chipping away the black nail polish on my fingernails. “Maybe.”

“Hm, I’m sensing you are.”

For the last twenty minutes, I told the therapist everything about my life; from the past till now. At first, I was apprehensive but knowing this was something I needed, I gave in.

“It doesn't matter. What happened is in the past. We’ve moved on.”

“Why are you using the past tense, Noah? She’s in your life. You’re starting over again, and trying things from a different approach.” Dr. Poulos steepled her fingers together.

“Yeah, I know,” I nodded

She hummed while sitting there to analyze me with her blue eyes, a slight pull on her thin lips.

“Y/N’S on a vacation, right?”

When I nodded, she continued. “Why don’t you take one as well? It might be good for you.”

I shifted on my spot on the couch, eyes darting over to the plant she had on the left side of her dresser. A bit fuzzy because of the connection between phone lines.

“I don’t need a vacation, that’s not what I do- I work. I have too much to do, so much shit to handle. Everything would fall apart if I didn’t,” I admitted. “It keeps my mind focused on what it needs to be focused on.”

Dr. Poulos raised a brow. “What shouldn’t you be focusing on?”

“I hate how much of my mind gets fucking distracted by her. It’s fuckin pathetic, all I see is a life I doubt we’ll ever have. Everything will be taken from me, I’m used to that by now,” I sighed while running a hand over my face.

“Your need to control everything is leaving you vulnerable to the parts of your life you can’t control. It makes you feel uncomfortable not being able to read her feelings, and control the situation, doesn’t it?”

My eyes snapped up from the floor, shoulders rigid with anger. “What do you think? I’ve never known the feeling of a stable home. There were so many years of my life living out of backpacks and on the road. I have these panic attacks, something she hasn’t seen, she doesn’t know about my darkness. She’ll never come back to me if she sees that.”

Dr. Poulos sighed while closing her notebook to set it on the table in between us. “You don’t know that, Noah. Unless you talk to her, you don’t know what she’ll think. Your issue with communication and feelings is, I think, causing a barrier between the two of you. You would rather live in your fantasies than risk giving up control. You wanted to give up control, even for a moment, and run. Are you upset you didn’t?”

I rubbed at my chin while adjusting my position on the worn leather couch. I didn’t know how to answer that so it took a few long beats of silence for me to find the right words.

“Fantasies don’t include repercussions. We were safe in our expressive, well-appointed studios, locked up with our rages and rebellions. I just want things to go the way they’re supposed to, the way I need them to. There’s no life without my band, my work, without her.”

Dr. Poulos smiled. “You don’t need to run from those feelings Noah, I think you need to start by opening up and letting yourself be truly honest. From the get-go, you’re only making yourself crazy running in circles, pushing your own limits.”

I couldn't help but snicker. “Are you sure you haven’t listened to my band before?”

She simply smirked while pulling out her schedule book.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, going back to her previous statement.

“It won’t be easy Noah, but I think we can start from here. What days work best for you?”

I mentally went through my schedule. “Wednesdays are fine. Just not at 2:30. I have another appointment I can't miss.”

NOAH

Music played from the speakers, bass pounding against the walls of the house, as I sat with Jolly and Michael on either side of me on the couch. It was still early in the afternoon so we hung out at the house. Jesse and Orie were cooking something on the grill while the three of us were browsing on our phones. My eyes were glued straight down at mine, my heart hammering throughout my body as my breath was still caught in my throat. My cock twitched lightly in my pants but I was frozen to adjust myself discreetly.

“How sweet does Y/N look in this photo?” Michael said while showing his phone to Jolly, who agreed with a small smile.

“Looks like she’s having fun. Noah, did you see it?”

I’d been staring at it for 5 minutes. Everything about it was beautiful. She was truly just as ethereal, as I said she was.

“I wonder if her caption is for a song,” Michael continued to analyze the picture, a little too long for my liking.

Realizing I didn’t even read the caption, I peered down and read it; my head tilted in confusion.

Fuck this wondering. Fuck this trying and trying. Fuck this belief that two people can become one ideal. Fuck this helplessness. Fuck this waiting for something to happen that probably won’t ever happen.

I knew it wasn’t good enough, no matter what I did, or how much I attempted to show her I was the man she needed. She didn’t want to feel trapped under someone’s gaze. Well, okay then.

Tossing my phone on the couch, I got up in a huff, irritated, walked to the kitchen, and slammed the cabinets as I looked for a glass.

“What’s the matter now?” Jolly asked with a sigh.

“Nothing,” I said while pouring myself some orange juice, slamming the fridge after putting the jug back.

“Who the fuck is slamming shit?” Jesse wondered while walking back inside with a platter of burgers and brats and setting it on the kitchen counter.

“Dude, it’s nothing.” I sucked in a breath, trying to keep my anger in check.

“Your actions beseech you, my friend, why are you mad?” Orie said now standing next to Jesse.

I shrugged while crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m just done,”

“Done with what?”

“Y/N feels trapped, Jolly! I knew she’d never fall back in with me. I knew it. She probably met some Japanese dude who can give her real ramen and is having the time of her fucking life. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t come home yet.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jesse pinched his eyes in annoyance. “Noah, it’s not that deep. Nowhere in her post does it say that or imply that she’s seeing another man. Y/N is with her dad.”

“All I’m saying is she doesn’t need to be trapped under my gaze anymore, she can do whatever the fuck she wants,” I grumbled while sitting on top of the kitchen counter, legs dangling off the edge.

“You’re so dramatic. You can literally just ask to FaceTime her you know, talk this shit out like rational adults,” Orie said.

“No,” my voice was firm while my heart said something else.

It was almost 2 in the afternoon, which meant our daily FaceTime call would happen soon. Should I bring up the post to Y/N? Or just ignore it like we did every other elephant in the room.

“Good, good hide your feelings. Don't actually share them- see where that gets you.” Jolly shook his head in defeat then rose to his feet.

“We’re writing a record, aren’t we?” I shot back.

“Yeah that don’t mean-”

“Wait, sit down jolly. I just thought of another track. We need to write this down.”

With a reluctant sigh, Jolly pulled out his phone to type as I sang softly the melody that was buzzing in my brain.

“I asked for more than I could take with nothing left to give. So who, who, who, who are you, you? Who, who, who are you? Every day it’s all the same. I don’t wanna play your games. If you wanna know, it depends on who’s asking. Who, who are you?”

“You really are a head case you know,” Michael says before retreating up the stairs to his room.

“Good, don’t care!” I called back before jumping off the counter. “Shit, we need a new amp tuner! I’m going to head to the record store and get a new one.”

“You can use mine,” Jesse said with a mouth full of cheeseburger.

This mother fucker is always munching on something.

“No, it’s fine, I need to clear my head, anyway. I’ll be back soon.”

NOAH

I held my phone in my hand, the constant ringing as I walked towards the record store irritating my already on-edge attitude. It was 2:35 and the second time I tried calling Y/N with no answer. I tried to tell myself that she even said she would miss a few calls, but she hasn’t yet. A week away and we still made our 2:30 FaceTime calls.

Something still didn’t add up.

With an agitated groan, I stuffed my phone back into my pocket while I hummed a new tune to myself, the words rolling off my tongue with ease.

“You’re too good to be true, yeah I gotta go, gotta run You don’t want me the way I want you, no. You walked too close to the rails; I picked you up when you fell.”

As I walked into the record store, a loud bell sounded my presence, and a brunette lifted her head from the front desk to give me a small smile. “Hi, welcome in.”

Her eyes shined as her face twitched, the typical holy shit, I know that person's face that I always recognized when I went out in public.

“Hi,” I waved before walking over to the front desk, her eyes getting larger the closer I got. “How are you?”

“Go-good,” she stood straighter. “I’m sorry, I’m a little star-struck right now.”

I chuckled. “You’re fine. How long have you been a fan?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “For the last few months. I saw you guys play with Hollow Souls this last tour.”

My face twitched at the mention of Y/N’s band but kept my composure.

“You know, Y/N’s a huge inspiration for me. Just how she dealt with everything with Trey. It’s amazing how she overcame that relationship.”

I went stiff but slack at the same time. “How do you know about that?”

The girl shrugged. “It’s all over the internet. Reddit has some pretty insane stories about the breakup. Some say Trey was cheating with underage girls while some say she cheated on him but I don’t believe that. She’s not that kind of person.”

“Um,” I rubbed at my chin, desperate to change the subject. “Can you show me where your tuners are?”

She nodded and motioned for me to follow her to the back of the store. We spent the next few minutes talking about the different kinds they had, even though I was familiar with it all, but having a conversation with someone who didn’t judge me or my actions was nice. For the first time in a long time, Y/N was at the back of my mind.

“So,” I peered down at the nametag on her shirt. “Bailey.”

Her cheeks reddened as her lips curled up. “I’d never thought I’d hear Noah Sebastian say my name.”

I chuckled, enjoying how easy it was to talk to her. “What’s your favorite song of ours?”

“It’s not a song but more so a verse off your self-entitled album; My pretty little face with all the right parts. My pretty little face I couldn’t keep from the dark, I learned from the best as my sorrows grew. And then they pulled me out after I introduced them to you.”

“You liked that?,” I asked, almost astonished.

Bailey smiled as she stared up at me, a soft expression on her face.“Yeah, it was deep, like you said you’re perfect on the surface but deep inside you’re flawed, like anyone else. But didn’t notice until the person who hurt you pulled them out.”

When my eyes widened, she quickly stammered over her words.“I’m sorry if that was a wrong assumption, it’s just how I saw it.”

“No, no,” I spoke quickly while running a hand through my hair. “That’s-that’s pretty close. I’m glad it has meaning to you, in that way. That’s special.”

“A lot of your lyrics make me feel that way,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Well, I hope the next record does the same.”

Bailey's brows raised to her hairline. “You’re already working on the next one?”

“Most of it is in the early stages. We’re about to release our first single tomorrow night; octane at eight. Make sure you’re ready.”

“There’s no such thing as ready,” she says. “There’s only willing.”

My jaw went slack for a few seconds until I let out a low cough to make my feelings. Her words had a different meaning than what I was thinking but it still sat deep low in my stomach; the comment kept replaying in my mind.

“What are you doing later?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“Later?” Bailey raised a brow.

“Yeah, maybe grab some food and talk?”

“I don’t know,” she shifted on her feet to tuck another piece of hair behind her ear.

It was a simple action that reminded me of Y/N. Except it was something that made my heart flutter when she did it. With Bailey, nothing. My heart rate was slow, almost even, and there were none of those butterflies there.

“Are you- are you sure?”

Bailey’s voice brought me away from thoughts of Y/N and how she didn’t answer my call or any of the texts I sent her earlier.

I shrugged. “Well, I asked you, didn’t I?”

NOAH

Walking through the front door, guilt weighed down my heart. Jolly and Jesse were sitting on the couch watching a movie and they raised brows at me.

“You’re back late,” Jolly noted.

“Yeah, I uh- I went out with a girl tonight.” I stopped at the first step, hand gripping the railing.

“I’m sorry?” Jesse nearly dropped the bowl of popcorn. “Who?”

I sighed while turning more towards them while on the stairs. “The cashier at the record shop was nice, and we hung out. We went to Applebee’s and went half and half on an appetizer.”

“Wait- what about Y/N?” Jolly asked.

I snickered, eyes narrowing. “Y/N won’t mind, trust me.”

Anger still pooled low in my stomach because before walking into the house, I sent another text to Y/N to ask how everything was going.

Nothing.

Silence.

Kept me on read.

Message loud and fucking clear, angel.

“Noah, do you not remember what we discussed in the kitchen this morning?” Jolly said, raising his voice a bit, unusual for him. “What the hell, dude?”

Jesse tossed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “You can’t tell a girl you’ll wait for her then go out with someone else.”

“It’s nothing serious,” I scratched my face. “I hung out with this girl. That’s all.”

“Noah-,” Jolly started.

I motioned upstairs, ready to change the subject. “Hey, Chase and Malcolm want to play Fallout. Are you in?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighed.

MALCOLM

“Hey, sweets. How are you feeling?” Chase asked into the phone that lay between us on our bed.

“I’m alright,” Y/N’s tired voice came through the speaker. “I spent the entire day sleeping. My dad had a full day planned for our last day together but I couldn’t get out of bed. I feel like shit.”

I gave a small smile even though she couldn’t see. “He understands, Y/N. Your dad isn’t going to be upset.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Before he dropped me off at the airport, we had a heart-to-heart today. About everything, about Noah.”

I shared a look with Chase. “What about Noah?”

“I’m ready, guys. Noah’s been so patient with waiting for me to go through these feelings and trauma. I thought being with him would deter me from healing but he’s actually what I need to heal.”

“You sure, buttercup? Don’t take this the wrong way, we’re happy that you’re finally at a good place mentally and that you want to jump into this with Noah. But we want to make sure that you’re sure.”

“It’s Noah,” there wasn’t a hint of hesitation in her voice. “I’d never been more sure about anything like this before.”

Chase smiled a little as we linked our hands together. Both of us were so proud of how far Y/N came within the last few months. When she first moved in with us, there was a dark point in all our lives we didn’t know if she would make it past the pain of what she did to Noah; even though it wasn’t completely her fault.

“We’re proud of you, Y/N,” Chase said.

“I love you guys. I feel like I don’t say that enough. Every single bad thing in my life, the two of you have been by my side.”

We could hear the tears in her voice.

“We love you too, sweets.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, making plans for when she returned to the States before her flight home was called. We weren’t able to pick her up when her flight landed so we dropped her car off earlier at the airport so she could drive herself back.

As soon as we hung up, a noise came from my computer, an invitation on Twitch.

“You sure you don’t want to play with us?” I asked Chase while I set up at my desk.

Chase nodded. “I’m fine with watching you play.”

“What’s up, fuckers,” I snorted into my microphone as I loaded up into the game with Noah.

Jolly was there as well but only Noah was listening to me.

“Hey guys.”

I glanced over to Chase when we heard the somber voice of Noah.

“What’s wrong with you, Sebastian?” Chase asked.

“It’s been a long day,” he sighed.

For the next half hour, I played with Noah and Jolly, with Chase watching, and we all joked about random shit but Noah was quiet for most of the time. Something was off with him and as the last match ended, I was ready to get off the game until Noah’s words gave us pause.

“I went out on a date tonight.”

Chase stiffened next to me as I fell back to my chair with my heart-stopping. “I know I’m colorblind but I’m not deaf. What did you just say?”

“No, you’re not,” Chase playfully smacked my chest.

Noah let out a deep breath. “I’m seeing somebody- I can’t, I - she doesn’t want me how I want her.”

Although he never said her name, we knew exactly who he was walking about.

“That’s not true, Noah, you know it’s not. She does. She’s just-.” I said.

“Look, please don’t start this shit right now. I just need to attempt to move on, at least.”

I quickly put my microphone on my mute and then turned my chair towards Chase.

“What the fuck?” I said with an exasperated breath.

“I don’t understand, this isn’t making sense,” He ran a hand over his buzzed head, something he always did when something bothered him. “Should we tell him about her dad and the song?”

“No, 'cause she’ll be pissed.”

“You don’t think she’ll be more mad now? Noah went on a fucking date tonight,” Chase seethed.

I pushed my auburn curls away from my face. “Man, I don’t know. It almost feels like it’s not our place to get involved but it’s-.”

“Y/N,” Chase finished my sentence.

“We need to give her a heads up, just end this tension bullshit. They have to talk,” I sighed.

“She can’t get upset,” Noah’s voice brought us back to the conversation, and I unmuted my microphone.

“Who can’t get upset?” I asked.

“Y/N, she can’t get upset. She ignored me all day after that post on Instagram.”

Chase scoffed. “What the fuck, dude. What does that have to do with you going on a date?”

“I tried to call her, it was 2:30! No answer.”

The way that Noah was speaking clarified that there were underlying feelings behind his actions but of course, wouldn’t tell anyone about it.

“You want to fucking know why she didn’t call you?” Chase sat forward, elbows on his knees and veins in his neck twitching. “News flash, Noah, the world just doesn’t stop when you don’t get attention.”

“Excuse me?”

I could see the darkness take over Chase’s usual bright eyes and knew what he was about to say. I shook my head. “Chase no, it’s not-.”

“No, fuck this soap opera shit. Y/N passed out at 2:30, she has been all fucking day. She was in pain you, idiot.”

A long beat of silence. “What do you mean?”

“Chase-,” I tried again.

This wasn't our business to tell. This should have been something Y/N and Noah talked about privately.

Chase ignored me as his knee bounced with anger. “No, I’m tired of this nonsense. Y/N has endometriosis you ass!”

More silence, only this time you could hear the background noise coming from Noah’s mic clear as day; voices.

“Wait-she told me she deals with something that takes a lot out of her every month. That’s it?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Stage Three. It’s a disease in which tissue similar to the lining of the uterus grows outside of the uterus. Every month when she has her period, the pain is worse than normal because of this. Hence today all she did was sleep. She wasn’t ignoring you, Noah. She was just asleep.”

“It's serious. She’s been dealing with this for years and she’ll continue to deal with it for the rest of her life,” Chase said.

“If it wasn’t for the surgery, it could have been worse,” I informed next.

“Wait, what surgery? When?,” Noah asked with pure confusion in his voice.

Chase bit the inside of his cheek. “It was a few years ago before Hollow Souls took off. It’s called a laparoscopy.”

“She had a what? I don’t know what the fuck that is?”

I repeated the word for Noah but his agitation was clear in his next words.

“A lapara-parascopy”

“Bro, sound it out, lapar-o-scopy,” Chase gave a light chuckle, given how tense the conversation got.

“Yeah still don’t know what the fuck that is, is she alright? Is she-.”

Chase and I shared a look, knowing there’s a lot more we can go on about this but also knowing that we’ve said all we could say.

“Like Malcolm said, Endometriosis comes with pain and inflammation, and she can pass out from the pain. Y/N gets sick a lot-you have to do your own research on this, Noah. But you also need to know, it’s not all about you,” Chase said with a shake of his head.

“Why can’t she just tell me that?”

“She wants to, trust us. We know-.”

Noah’s voice cut me off. “I know you know her, but you don’t know what feelings she has. I can’t keep falling for this every time.”

“Noah. come on you’re so stubborn! What happened to waiting?” I shot back with an edge to my voice.

I rarely ever lost my patience but right now with how stubborn Noah was being, I couldn’t help but scoff.

“Never said I wasn’t, but I need to move forward too until she speaks to me herself about this. What else can I do?”

“Noah, she loves you, man. She fucking loves you.”

“If that’s true she would tell me, Malcolm, this shit fucking hurts enough. I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you guys later.”

Before we could even say goodbye, Noah exited our chat that we used to play video games, leaving just the buzz of dead air playing back on my speakers.

NOAH

Stage 3 of endometriosis is considered moderate.

Endometriosis itself is not a fatal condition. However, experts associate endometriosis with some potentially life-threatening conditions, such as ectopic pregnancy and depression.

There are two types of endometriosis surgery: excision and ablation. Both are laparoscopic, meaning the surgeon makes tiny holes in the patient’s skin and can enter through those holes to perform the surgery, rather than needing to make large incisions. Ablation uses heat to destroy tissue, while excision uses heat to remove it. Ablation can only remove tissue on the surface, while excision can dig deeper to remove all of it.

“Oh Angel baby,” I sighed while dropping my pen on the piece of paper I’d been writing on for the last thirty minutes.

With both hands dragging down my face, I let out another deep sigh before scrolling through another article.

The most common symptom of endometriosis is pelvic and lower back pain, especially during the menstrual period. Rather than the cramping that many women experience during their periods, women with endometriosis often experience severe pain that can be difficult to manage. Other symptoms include pain during intercourse, pain with urination or bowel movements, heavy bleeding during periods, bleeding between periods, fatigue, and infertility.

A small gasp left my lips when I remembered back to that night we shared. The pained expression as I hovered over her until we switched positions then the blood on the condom.

Fuck, infertility. That’s why she freaked when I mentioned a family.

Deciding I had enough research for one night, I called out for Jolly and Jesse.

“Everything alright?” Jesse asked a moment later, followed by Jolly.

The two of them sat on the edge of my bed while I continued to sit on my computer chair, slowly rocking back and forth.

“I-um-I just found out something about Y/N. Might explain why she left that night,” I said while handing them the notepad of paper that I was using for my notes.

Both of them read through it, Jesse sucking in a breath while Jolly let his shoulders fall and took a deep breath.

“Shit,” Jesse said.

Jolly, however, gave me a look. One I knew all too well.

“You fucking knew,” I accused while leaning forward in my chair.

“Not what she was going through. Nick wanted to tell me but-.”

“Wait,” I shook my head in disbelief. “Nick knew?”

I didn’t give Jolly time to explain because I quickly dialed Nick’s number and put the call on speaker while it rang.

“Yellow?” Nick answered on the third ring.

I rolled my eyes. “First of all, don’t answer the phone like that. You know I hate it.”

“Exactly why I do it. What's up?”

“You knew, I fucking know you knew,” I seethed.

There was a very long moment of silence from Nick’s end before a tired breath sounded. “Noah-.”

“No! Why did you fucking help them lie to me? You had me believing I did some shit for months! You all knew what her issue was and you just let me sit here in the dark over it?”

I rose from my chair and paced my room as the anger intensified. For months, they made me think I was the problem; it was my fault that Y/N walked away.

“It wasn’t our place to bring it up, Noah,” Jolly said.

“Y/N should have just been honest upfront about it,” Nick spoke next.

“Clearly she was scared! Read this shit!,” I pointed to the notepad. “She goes through that every month. And not one of you told me. I could have faced her anger later. Fuck, man.”

A shaky breath fell from my lips as I ran a hand over my chin, trying to control the way my heart raced and pulse quickened.

“It’s not too late, Noah,” Jesse reminded me.

“It is because I certainly don’t know how she feels; not now,” I said reminding them about the Instagram post this morning.

Jolly pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Not this again. It was a post, Noah!”

“Whatever, I’m not dealing with this right now, just know I fucking know you knew and it’s irritating,” I told Nick on the phone.

“But now that you know, does it change how you feel?”

As I opened my mouth to answer, the phone buzzed in my hand and my heart rate now doubled, thinking it was Y/N.

Unknown: had an awesome time with you! 💕 so glad we’re trying this.

Fuck.

My heart sank to the depths of my insides realizing that the text message wasn’t from Y/N.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I answered Nick’s question with a defeated sigh.

CHASE

Malcolm paced the entire length of our bedroom with his hands on his hips. His auburn hair fell around his shoulders in curly waves and if it was any other situation, I would marvel at how gorgeous he looked.

“Mal, you need to calm down. You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” I tried to reach for his hand but he sped past me.

His emerald eyes burned. “He’s dating someone. Can you believe that? After all that bullshit about waiting for her. The second she’s ready, he moves on?”

“We don’t know that they’re dating. Noah said they went out on one date, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Malcolm sighed before falling onto the bed next to me. It was nearing eight in the evening. Y/N’s flight would land any minute and we were patiently waiting for her to return home.

“Are we going to listen to their song?” Malcolm asked.

I rubbed his knee. “They’re still our friends, Mal. We need to support them.”

Eventually, he nodded before resting his hand over mine. “We need to warn, Y/N. I don’t want her to be blindsided by this news or find out about it from someone else.”

I agreed and pulled out my phone, quickly typing a message out to Y/N.

Chase: sweets, we need to talk to you. Call us when you can.

Sweets: I have pretty shitty service where I’m at. What’s up?

Malcolm and I shared a look, neither of us wanting to tell her over text but knew that it would be better if she found out from one of us. The words almost burned on my fingers as I typed them.

Chase: Noah went out on a date. He’s seeing someone.

Read 9:30 pm.

Chase: sweets??

Read 9:43 pm.

After almost twenty-five minutes with no response from Y/N, I tried calling her twice which only went straight to voicemail. Malcolm pulled out his phone so he could pull up her location. The three of us always shared our location, in cases of times like this.

“Fuck,” he cursed.

“What?” I asked, heart pounding hard against my chest as I peered over his shoulder to look at his phone.

Immediately, we recognized where Y/N was; her avatar on the map unmoving and staying in the same spot for the last half an hour.

Chase: Y/N, please let me know you’re okay.

“What do you think she’s doing there?” I asked.

Malcolm rested his head in his hands. “I don’t know, babe. But whatever the reason, shit’s changed now. It can’t be good.”

We sat in silence for another long few minutes, my hand rubbing soothing circles on Malcolm’s back in a way to keep him calm. I was about ready to text Jolly when Malcolm’s phone rang.

“Buttercup, where are you?” He rushed out once he saw the caller ID.

There was silence on the other end until a broken, destroyed voice sobbed into the phone.

“I fucked up, guys.”

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

[smilinlemon]

sunkissed

a/n: i love felix catton, my bisexual king and i couldn't help but think of him while listening to sunkissed by khai dreams

Summers in Saltburn were no stranger to you, ever since you and Felix had become a real ‘thing’ he had been inviting you to the estate to beat the heat. It was daunting at first, wholly out of your comfort zone, but mornings like this made it all worth it.

Mid-day, the sun hung bright and burning hot in the sky as you, Felix, Venetia, and Fairleigh all hung around the pool. You could hear the three splashing and playing in the pool as you sat in a nearby lounger, fresh braids cascading down your shoulder and a cool drink in your hand as you listened to the ambiance of the place you learned to call home. Hearing a quiet grunt and water splashing, you looked over your sunglasses to see Felix pulling himself out of the pool and god did it look like something straight out of a movie watching the beads of water slide down his chest – 

“God, stop eye fucking him!” Fairleigh shouted in your direction, causing heat to rush to your face as you threw a nearby shoe at him in the pool. “Sod off Far!” you shouted, waving him off as you turned to your boyfriend who smiled down at you with a knowing look. “Don’t just stare, give me a kiss?” the question was only there as a formality, you all but demanded something from your favorite boy. Felix happily obliged, chuckling softly as he leaned close, kissing your lips warmly. 

“Better?” he whispered, not retreating from you just yet. All you could muster was a small nod as you shared a smile and kissed him once more before he lay on the lounger beside you.

As Felix settled into the lounger, eyes fluttering closed as he took a deep breath and visibly relaxed, you couldn't help but admire his sunkissed skin—the feeling of the august air against your exposed skin gently tousled his brown locks. The soft rise and fall of his chest as he began to dry off in the sun and thoughts of past summers couldn’t help but come back in waves. The first time you visited Saltburn, swimming in the lake with Felix in the Dewey morning before anyone was awake, the late nights spent talking as well as not talking at all. The memories brought a smile to your lips as you daydreamed on. 

Feeling eyes on him, Felix cracked an eye open to see you smiling absentmindedly at you. That smile that made him fall for you over and over. “Love, ‘mere.” He held his hand out, silently ushering you over, which you did, quickly padding yourself over to your lover who swiftly pulled you into his lap. A small noise of surprise left your lips as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close before closing his eyes again. “Comfortable, my darling?” you whispered, lightly carding your fingers through his chocolate locs which earned you nothing but a content hum. You could feel him physically relax at your touch, breath beginning to even, you began quietly singing a song you couldn't help but think of every time you saw Felix on these august days.

“So slowly a sunlit dream pulls me out of sleep

Feel the morning through the blinds

I get to thinking about your sunkissed face

And a quiet place I could give you all my time”

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #saltburn #felix x reader #im branching outttt

[degendog]

I would love to learn what it means to be a real man

trying to do it alone can be tough and it's so much easier when you just have to do as your told

for starters, seeking out advice on becoming a real man is a solid first step. that shit takes some serious balls. you’ve already started.

becoming a man is about gaining confidence in yourself. don’t make yourself smaller, don’t try to take up less space. be as unapologetically yourself as you want. cis people, and even some fellow trans people, won’t be comfortable with you being confident and secure in yourself, but fuck em. you exist for yourself, not anyone else.

becoming a man is also about presenting in a way that makes you feel powerful and enhances that confidence. if you haven’t tried wearing men’s clothes, get a couple things from a thrift store or hand-me-downs from a friend. try them on, wear them to a store. get a pack of boxers briefs and pin a rolled up sock to the front pouch. that’s your dick now—wear it as much as you can, even outside of boymode.

if you’ve already done all that, make sure the clothes you wear fit your personal style, whatever that may be. punk? jock? guy that works at geek squad? make sure the outside matches the inside.

start manspreading in public. sit with your legs shoulder width apart. it’ll be easier if you’re packing. it’ll be even easier when you start t—you’d be too sensitive to do anything else.

stop giving a shit about your height if you’re below the male average. tons of short guys exist and are hot as fuck because they own it. josh hutcherson is like 5’5 and tons of people think he’s sexy. part of that is because he doesn’t come off as insecure.

apologize less. be polite to people that deserve it, but don’t be subservient. dont apologize for asking questions, don’t apologize for correcting someone, don’t apologize for existing. don’t be afraid to be a bit abrasive, even.

try out more masculine hobbies. you don’t have to abandon any “girly” hobbies you may have—it’s 2024, men can knit. try out woodworking or shooting or fishing or computer building or working on cars or even growing chili peppers. ask your male friends what they do for fun and try it out for yourself. if you have a good relationship with your dad or any other male family member, ask him to teach you. if you don’t have someone irl to teach you something, pick a hobby you’ve always wanted to try out but were too scared to, and watch youtube videos on it. even if you don’t end up loving it, you’ve stepped out of your comfort zone, which is a big accomplishment in itself, and you might’ve even had a nice bonding experience with someone.

look into how to get t, and then do it, if you haven’t already. find a trans clinic in your area, go to planned parenthood if you’re in the states, hell even do diy if you need to. if you’re in an area where it’s unsafe to start t—especially florida jfc—work your ass off to get out of there as soon as possible.

start jacking off and fucking more like a man. stroke your dick instead of rubbing your clit. get a strap on and jerk that off. repeat, “i’m a man” to yourself on every stroke. try pumping your dick. picture yourself topping. actually top. experience your sexuality as something beyond cis society’s expectations for a “woman”—because you never were a woman, so why should you fuck like one?

if you’re scared to do something that’ll help yourself transition, ask yourself “why does this scare me?” and decide if your fears are as big as they seem. many things that seem daunting about transitioning aren’t actually bad, and sometimes end up being fucking awesome.

it’s not going to be easy and it’s definitely not going to be easier than “staying” a woman, but becoming the man you were always meant to be is the best thing you can do for yourself. being able to look in the mirror and like what looks back at you is the greatest feeling in the world. i hope you get there.

#mail #if there’s anything you want specific advice on my ask box is open #you got this man #forcemasc #autoandrophilia #force masc #greatest hits

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter Two

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: dark themes surrounding history of domestic violence, references to physical injury, heavy emotions (hope can also be heavy)

a/n: all i have to say is thank you for reading, and i'd love to hear what you think

......................................

Oh, come child

In a cross bones style

Oh, come child

Come rescue me

'Cause you have seen some

Unbelievable things

Crossbones Style by Cat Power

.....................................

Not comfort. Not exactly ease either. Familiarity maybe. Both of them settling into a routine configured around the other. She likes to help with the animals whenever she can, getting up as early as him, no task too daunting or dragging for her to say no to it. Just the other day she helped him trim back the sheep’s hooves, not even flinching when one of the girls tried to give a jerky kick underneath their ministrations, all shush and soothe in her flicking ears as Joel got the job done. She understands flight and freeze like that, at least in the animals. 

They get done what chores they can in the morning before she has to get changed for work, the requisite light blue dress with the buttons down the front, an apron snug around her waist. She had made a joke about the fucking fifties the first time he saw her in her uniform, surprising him with the quick, crass humor, her half-grin as she got into the passenger seat of his truck. 

He drops her off, heads into town or to the station, whatever needs to be done, and usually is done around lunchtime. He’s supposed to be watching his cholesterol, admonished by the one doctor in town two years in a row now. So he orders a salad with a sigh when he stops into the diner around noon, though Dolores will often tuck a few fries onto the side of his plate, a quiet smile when she sets it down in front of him. Maybe he’s been leaving bigger tips than is appropriate, maybe he made sure that the money in the jar on the counter would be going to her at the end of the day, a quiet conversation with Sal while she was in the back of the kitchen. 

He lingers. Always an endless to-do at home, ignored in this instant, stealing a little extra time sitting at the counter, watching her flit and flicker around the regulars. She’s good with people, big, bright smiles that don’t quite round her eyes, laughs light as air, and as empty too. And he sees the quick slump of her shoulders when the customers aren’t looking, when she’s passing through the swinging door to the kitchen. Turn it on and turn it off. 

But there’s someone new eating lunch at the diner today. One of those climber-backpacker types, all wired-down, tan muscle against shock-white teeth, flicking back his sun-bleached flop of hair, putting on a real show for her when she drops off his burger at his booth. It’d be rude to just keep looking, to turn around on his stool and stare the man down, so he listens instead. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. Can I ask you something?” Like something small and slight being held in a fist, close to breaking or bursting, a cracked chirp of her answer, clearly flustered when she says um, yes, yeah. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a town like this?” That same sound, like she’s trying to make a laugh happen, though it comes out more like a held breath that finally gasps into an exhale. 

“That’s kind of you, but I need to get back to work, excuse me.” 

“Oh come on, where’s that midwestern hospitality you all seem to have?” 

“Do you– can I get you anything else?”

“How about a smile, sweetheart? Just a little one, for me?” For a moment, it’s silent. Joel curls his fingers in a fist, over and over, flex and extend, his back still turned. Something hot and tight closes up in his throat when he hears the man sigh, and then laugh.

“There you go, prettiest thing I’ve seen since I left Denver. I’ll be thinking about you while I’m climbing this afternoon, sweets, thank you for that.” 

“Shouldn’t be climbing in the afternoon.” He says it before he can stop himself, turning around on his stool, a thick flare of hate, maybe meanness, when he sees the uncertain curl of her shoulders and the slanted smile on the man’s face. 

“Excuse me?” The man slings one arm over the back of his booth, body splaying and slumping toward Joel, trying to take up more space than he’s worth. A little bit of preening, a little bit of plumage.

“You’re likely to get yourself caught in a storm up in the mountains this time of year. I’m surprised such an expert man like yourself didn’t know that.” Arrogant, artifice, the man grins, eyes swooping back over Dolores as he picks up his burger with one hand, a wolfish bite that he tucks into the side of his mouth, the slow roll of his jaw as he focuses back on Joel. 

“I don’t mind trying my luck. I usually come out on top. But thanks for the tip, pal, appreciate it.” He takes one more bite, half of his burger gone in two gnashing mouthfuls, all bright white teeth. With that, a quick clap of his hands together, fast heat rubbed between his palms, he pulls out a wad of cash from the front of his pack, leaving a crumpled fistful on the table before he stands with a sigh. 

“Better head out. Thank you for the smile, sweetheart, I’m gonna remember that.” He tucks a smaller fold of bills into the pocket on the front of Dolores’ apron, and Joel can see the way her stomach tenses, curling back from the suggestion of touch. The word no flashes big and battering in Joel’s mind, though there’s nothing to be done, the man already shouldering his pack and sending a slippery slide of a smile his way before he’s swaggering hips-first out the door. 

“You alright?” She doesn’t quite meet his eyes, even when he ducks his head down to try to catch her beneath her lashes. All he gets is a nod and a pointed sniff, and then she sets herself back into motion, ducking into the kitchen to pick up someone else’s order.

Dolores doesn’t like men, something he learned pretty quickly about her. The first time, when they went to the drugstore together and she wilted like a wan flower under Rod’s friendly conversation, that same curling up of her shoulders, that same drop to her eyes. It happened again when she met John one day at the small grocery store in town. She had been smiling, an easy conversation about palisade peaches being in season, quick to fall and fade when Joel introduced her to the man. Even John, with the disposition of a feckless golden retriever, had gotten that same reaction out of her. 

She tolerates the customers at the diner, lots of nervous laughter and quick movement, her sneakers squeaking hard on the chipped linoleum floor. Warm with the few children in town, the women too. But no, she doesn’t like men. All uncertain angles, folding herself up close and tight and away. Honestly, it’s a small miracle she’s softened that snap, that shrink-back around Joel. Comfort in the known, he supposes. He’ll take it. 

“Hey, you alright?” Again, he catches her on her way to another table, a quick flicker of her eyes and a nod, shrugging the trays held in her arms a little closer, already moving again. Softened, but still there, cagey, careful, and now coaxed up to a higher degree by that man, that fucking man. 

Joel leaves soon after, not wanting to corner or crowd her. Back to routine. Back to the barn and the coop and the animals and all the things that must be done around them. Fall inches ever closer, a time that demands preparation. Work that promises completion and satisfaction when done well and right. Not easy, but simple. Maybe he’s careful to keep an eye on his watch, timing his drive back to the diner right before dinner, just as Dolores is stepping out of the storefront, her face furrowed down to the bills she’s counting in her hands. 

“What’s this?” His turn to drop his brow when she gets into the passenger seat and holds out a thick fold of money to him across the console.

“This should cover the clothes, and that drugstore trip you made for me.” He stares at the money, his fingers curling tighter over the steering wheel. That was two weeks ago, nearly three now, and she’s already trying to make even. 

“You don’t– I’m not keeping score. That’s yours.” Fast fall, flustered, a stuttered exhale, not what she expected, not what she wanted, her hand staying suspended between them, shaking the money lightly as if to entice him into taking it.

“But, I can’t. I–” What he’d like to do is reach out too, curl his hand over hers to close her fingers around that money, make it all hers. But she doesn’t like touch, even the accidental kind, something else he has learned. That quick tightness, that smalling if he brushes behind her in the kitchen in the morning, so he doesn’t. If their hands reach for the radio in the car at the same time, little fire passed between fingertips, and then her immediate recoil, so he doesn’t. And he doesn’t now either.

“You don’t have to. I was happy to, no score. That’s your money, Dolores.” Like she just swallowed something bitter, her face scrunching and then slackening as she nods, careful and quiet in settling her hand, and her money, back in her lap. 

“Could I at least help with groceries?” A small compromise, for her to look at him again, if for nothing else. 

“Okay.”

Here is what makes a town. Two blocks proper, a church at one end and a bar at the other. A second hand shop that sits slumped against the post office. A library that gets new books once every two years. A restaurant, the only other one besides the diner, the downstairs of a newly-established bed and breakfast that most of the residents have turned their noses up at. A police station that sits next to the simple steeple of the church, how fitting. And a grocery store, a small one, the nearest safeway a two-hour drive east. Joel had to look up what an IGA was when he first moved here. 

And because everyone knows everyone, a trip to the grocery is never in and out, always getting stopped in the produce aisle, asked after while picking up a gallon of milk. Today, no different. 

“Hey there, you two. Can I expect to see you at the little thing at the bar tonight?” The little thing Patty is referring to is the fact that it’s the end of the month. A peculiar tradition, not a party, just an agreed-upon herding of one another. Joel has thought to himself on multiple occasions that its real purpose is to make sure no one quietly died while people weren’t paying attention, a once-a-month census.

“I don’t know, Patty, maybe I’ll drop by, keep folks from talking too much.” Dolores’ confusion is clear, searching between him and Patty. Why he’s trying to keep this from her, he’s unsure.

“Well, I hope to see the both of you there.” Patty is a particular kind of woman. Here long enough for her word to have some power behind it. She lives above the secondhand shop alone, though Joel knows she has two sons, shown pictures of them, arms slung across her shoulders, that same slanted smile of hers on both of their faces. They don’t visit. And Patty doesn’t seem sad for it. She orders a specific kind of red hair dye once a month, Joel always seeming to catch her at the post office picking up the box with a distinct logo stamped on its side. Nice enough, a little brash maybe, but she’s always been open-armed with him. And she’s been kind to Dolores too. No questions, at least not to her, no staring or stirring, like it makes the most sense in the world that Joel suddenly has a woman staying with him that he has never mentioned before. So she doesn’t press now, leaves it at that, leaves them to the produce aisle, an easy greeting and goodbye. 

“Are you gonna go?” Her hands are deft and discerning, cracking open and peeling back a pale green corn husk, a hoard of it on sale this year, fine silk tassels and that sweet, crisp, smell. 

“Oh, probably not.” He holds open the produce bag for her, a quiet yeah when she asks if four ears is enough. 

“I would go, you know, if you wanted to.”

“Do you want to?” She shrugs, the slight swing of the hem of her dress as she walks alongside him, zucchini and tomatoes.

“Patty seems like the kind of person who’s used to getting her way.” She doesn’t say it mean, only observation as she tucks two tomatoes down in the cart. He can feel a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth.

“She certainly doesn’t like the word no. We could stop by, if that’s alright with you?” 

It is alright, and after dinner, summer spoils sweet and sated, he waits for her on the porch while she changes out of her uniform. It’s getting darker earlier, the sun already cracking and dripping between the mountains, everything hushing down orange and purple. Soon, it will be time for the sheep to spend their nights in the barn, and in the day too, during that deepest, tightest fist of winter. But for now, it’s quiet, save for the dull thrum of all the small, crawling things, air that’s only a relief in its coolness, not a worry. 

“Ready?” Pretty, he thinks. Hasn’t seen that before, he thinks. Crisp white with fine little flowers embroidered along the neckline and the sleeves. The neckline, a new expanse of her sternum on display, the fragile flutter of it when he stares just a beat too long. 

“Uh-huh, yeah.” Ready, dark enough that the headlights need to be flicked on, flooding yellow down the bare brush and scrub along the road. And then the bleeding neon glow of the bar on the edge of town coming into focus. 

Shoes sticking in the syrupy grime of a few decades past, dim lights and a perpetual haze of smoke, something sad and slow drifting in on the jukebox. No pretense, no pretending that folks are here for anything other than getting a little drunk at the end of another day. 

Patty is happy to see the both of them, offering a bottle that Joel accepts, and one that Dolores politely declines, though she still allows herself to be pulled along by the older woman, leaving Joel to make his rounds. The same questions, asked and answered, health and hearth and how are you. Fine, just fine. Except, a little distracted, quick glances over to the bar where Dolores is sitting. Patty still there with her, still getting her to smile, so fine, just fine until the next time he looks over.

Not Patty. Him. Big, bright shark tooth smile, fang and flare. Even more tan, skin tight and taut against quick-jumping muscle, all pumped and puffed out from his afternoon climb. A wiry arm slung around the back of Dolores’ chair, her whole body slanted and steeled toward the side as he leans in, lips pulled back in a sneer of a smile. 

Whoever Joel was talking to, he’s no longer listening, no longer even feigning interest as he watches, trying to piece together whatever that man is saying to her by the way his jaw pulls with each of his words. Waiting, really, for any excuse to step in, to make this wrong right. 

And then, enough, already in motion as he watches the man reach out, the backs of his knuckles brushing against her clavicle before she can jerk away. Gotcha, got you, gonna get you. All the ways the human body can recoil, say no, and all the ways it can refuse to listen.

He doesn’t catch the end of whatever the man is saying, words coming out on a quick bark of laughter that makes Dolores flinch harder, knuckles all curled up in her lap. He doesn’t care to know, a thick wash of no drowning it out. The thing is, Joel can get big, and loud, and mean, so mean. If he needs to. He can roll back his shoulders and set his jaw in a hard grind. He can make a fist and then make contact. He can make a man get small and get gone. But not in front of her. Another body to account for, a shivering down small body, a body that cannot bear any more violence. So he must settle for something else, a quiet heat, an expression on his face that he hopes is no enough.

“Is there a problem?” The man glances over his shoulder, all smile, all teeth.

“Hey, pal. No problem here. I was just telling this pretty thing about the climb I got in, wasn’t I?” He asks it with a duck of his head, trying to steal her gaze that she keeps on her hands in her lap. A habit of hers, the skin around her nails picked and pulled raw, soon to bleed with the way she’s worrying at them now. 

“I don’t think she’d like to hear any more of what you have to say, pal.” A flicker of something animal, the man sucks his teeth, mouth screwed to the side before he sighs. Fire needs fuel, and he’s not getting any, certainly not from her. Something that sounds like not worth it as he sways himself out of the bar. Joel knows this kind well, blown in and out in a day, maybe two. Not a problem, not really, and he won’t let it become one. 

“Thank you.” She gives Joel her eyes, a quick nod as he sits down beside her. Careful distance kept between them, space for her to spread back out, to unfurl, and she does, leaning back in her chair, a quick roll of her shoulders like she’s trying to shake off that shiver.

“I have no patience for people like that. Think they’re hot shit for hiking up a mountain when they’re just a nuisance.” Maybe he said too much, tempering his words with a swig of his beer, though Dolores seems to receive it, turning slightly toward him so he can feel the ghost of her knee brush against his.

“I just don’t like men like that.” He sighs, because what could he say to that? What hasn’t already been said in the slow fade of the bruises on her arms? 

“Drink?”

“Yeah, please.” 

It’s quiet between them for a while, each nursing a beer as the din around them lulls and lifts. He drums his fingers against his thigh, something steady while he tries to work a thick flood of words into something that might make sense, something that won’t make her recoil. 

“Can I ask you about it?” She doesn’t look at him, focused on her thumbnail working the sticker off her bottle. But she does nod, lips pursed, long sigh like she needs to make room for what she’s about to say.

“All of it?”

“If you’re okay with that, yes.”

Yes, she’s okay with that. No, her husband wasn’t always the way he is now. He was kind until he wasn’t. Quiet until he wasn’t. The first time, silly. That’s what she calls it. A silly, stupid thing. The windshield of his car had gotten chipped while she was driving it. And she saw black with the way his hand guided her skull into the wall of their bedroom when she got home. Silly, she says, a wave of her palm like, no big deal, because not the worst of it. His stomach slurs and sickens. 

She was a teacher, her lips curling around the memory like it tastes sweet. And then he told her to stop working. Command, not question. Gave her a careful fold of money each morning, like a child’s allowance, like a leash choked close and tight. What friends she had left told her to leave him, lovely sentiment, with what money? With what, with what, with what?

And then he got a gun. Waved it around like a second dick. A strange swagger, what the weight of such perfect destruction does in a man’s palms, slung on his hip, never far. 

“Did he?”

“Once, right here.” Two fingers pressed to her temple, her eyes unblinking, expressionless. Though it’s gone just as quick, her fingers flexing and curling into a quick fist before settling back in her lap, unmaking memory. 

She left then. With what, with what, with what? Nothing. A book in the passenger seat and a vague conception of the west meaning something like hope.

“You like to read?” Anything else will come out too harsh, too big with anger, so that will have to do. She seems relieved for it, shoulders settling and smoothing.

“Yes, I do.” 

“We can get you a library card, if you want.” 

“I’d like that.” 

…

They go to the library the next day, and the man who works there just seems happy that there’s anyone new to give a library card to in the first place. 

Dolores has already begun reading the first book in the small stack she checked out, quiet in the passenger seat the whole drive home. And later, when he leaves for his overnight shift, she’s on the couch, already halfway finished, lips parted and moving with the page. 

“I’ll see you in the morning then.” Still startled by his voice, quick to shut her book and look at him, and like so many other times, he wishes he hadn’t said anything, had let her stay suspended in that ease.

“Alright, thank you again.” He’s still not very good at accepting that from her, a nod and a shrug of his shoulders, out the door. 

Lately, these shifts have gotten tinged sour. Something anxious, something angry. Waiting, maybe. Willing. Wanting that car to come zipping past him on the black strip of the interstate. Wanting to chase it down. Wanting to do something that he shouldn’t want to do. He’ll come, he thinks. They always do. Men like that won’t give up the thing that makes them feel big so easily. 

For now, Joel hunkers down in the car, radio off, quiet, waiting with all the other languoring animals for something that will sate. He replays what she told him in his mind, lets something dark curl around it, poison thoughts. But he has to ask himself why. All this care, all this concern, and all this anger, why? For a perfect stranger, who’s not really a stranger now. Been living around each other for nearly a month, so no, not a stranger anymore. 

He likes her. An answer both simple and devastating at the same time. And is he just as bad as any other man? Finding a scared thing so very pretty. No, he cannot like her like that. He cannot like her like watching the rise and fall of her sternum, and he cannot like her like stealing glances of her every chance he can get. Because that is the last thing she needs. But care is allowed. Making something wrong the smallest bit right is allowed. A friend, a familiar thing, a comfort. All things he can do for her. 

…

The sun is just starting to heft its golden belly over the mountains when he gets home, pale blue light and mist rising cool and shy in the brush. Usually, at this hour, she will already be up, making breakfast for the both of them that he always feels a bit bashful accepting. 

But it’s quiet in the house this morning, still. Her book rests on one side of the couch, a rumpled blanket beside it. He doesn’t hear the old pipes groaning with the task of running water, the floorboards crackling with the fact of shuffling feet. And he shouldn’t but he does. Panic like a tight fist, like a heavy stone in his gut. 

He knocks on her bedroom door, a quiet call of her name. Nothing. And he shouldn’t, but he does. So careful, so quiet in cracking open the door. Nothing. Bed still made, untouched. She must have spent the whole night on the couch. Why does that make his heart kick and quicken in his chest? The thought of her reading right through the darkness, the singular glow of the lamp tendriling out into the night. 

Not here though. Did she? Could she? Would she? He feels drunk off this reality. But scared things have always been known to flee, haven’t they? To pretend at fragile trust until they find an opportunity to escape. Did she feel like she needed to escape from him? His palm tries to rub that thought out of his chest, real ache, real pain at the idea. 

Fresh air, because his skull is already starting to throb with this. He steps out onto the porch and tries to imagine all the ways this leaving could have been done. He hates every possibility, every phantom flight that he can conjure. But no time to let it sting or steep, because laughter, a sudden, foreign peel of it. Hers, he’s never heard hers before. But there she is, rounding the corner of the coop, a few of the chickens following close on her heels, already their favorite between the two of them. And she’s talking to them, quiet murmurings from behind a smile, another quick burst of brightness. 

“Hey, good morning.” Saying it to him, smiling at him, the biggest, best relief. He joins her, only a little grumble at the way the chickens squawk at his sudden intrusion. 

“You figure out names for them yet?” One eye dropped in a squint in the brash wash of morning light, still smiling.

“I have some ideas, yeah.” 

She’s here, how wonderful. And how awful, how quickly his heart seized and shuttered itself up at the thought of anything else. He can’t think about that too much, what that means. What danger that creates and threads through his ribs. So he focuses instead on breakfast, close in the kitchen, coffee for her with cream and a spoon of sugar, how he has found she likes it, silent sliding it across the counter to her where she’s stirring eggs in the pan. Always a thank you. 

The table in the kitchen is so small that he has to keep his chair scraped back so his knees won’t brush against hers, making space for her to spread out. 

“Thank you, for letting me stay so long. I know it’s not– you’re probably–” She stops herself, a sigh, chin tucked down. He could almost laugh, because here she is thanking him for what he was so afraid she didn’t want. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad you’re here, for as long as you’d like to be.” Trying to make it clear that this is not a cage, though the words still feel thick and foolish coming out. She swallows a careful bite of her breakfast, not looking at him, and again, he finds himself bracing for flight.

“I like being here.” 

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taglist: @casssiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @darkroastjoel @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @softlyspector @noisynightmarepoetry @csarab615 @beskarandblasters

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller au

[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Four)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Angst, Hanahaki!AU, swearing, self doubt, tears, sweet older brother vibes Jeonghan, (yes that is a warning), Mingyu being a brat (yes that also is a warning)

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: I’m back with another update! This took me 3 hours in one sitting while I sit here and wait for the Ima-Even If the World Ends Tomorrow MV to come out! Let me know what you think! 🫶🏼🩷🌸

- Tae 🥰🩷✨

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It takes another hour or so for the rest of the guests to arrive, in which the entire time you’ve spent locked away in your bedroom. You’re devastated. You’re the only one down there besides Junhui and Chan who is single. Unlike them, though, you have found your soulmate. You know who he is. He just doesn’t want you back. In short, it fucking sucks. You know you’ll get over it eventually, but for this little moment in time, you want to grieve the life you won’t get. The soft smiles and longing gazes, the spontaneous dates and the sleepless nights wrapped in each other's arms. You hate that you built up such a perfect little fantasy in your head; you hate that years of preparation came crumbling down in one fifteen second interaction. You’re beginning to hate soulmates and love, and everything that comes with it as you blink away more tears that are brimming behind your eyelids.

Of course, Jihoon can feel what is happening. His Poker Face is good, none of the boys downstairs think anything is amiss as he lets himself listen to the conversation of the others, a somewhat content smile on his face. To Jihoon, it feels like he’s constantly grimacing, but no one else seems to notice or if they do, don’t care. He watches as Seungcheol and Seokmin place 5 boxes of pizza on the little coffee table near the slumber party set up alongside some homemade dishes, only for Soonyoung to excitedly grab one whole pizza box for himself, solely for the fact that ‘the birthday boy gets everything he wants on his birthday!’ The TV has been set up with a Marvel film that the birthday boy has chosen himself, smiling happily as everyone settles in with their paper plates and drinks, letting the all too familiar red logo fill the TV screen.

If he’s honest, he can’t focus on the movie. All he could think about was the look of hurt on your face and the betrayal that you felt. He knew he had no right to feel worried or concerned for you, he knows that. He was the main cause of your pain, after all. But Jihoon isn’t a monster. He has some form of compassion and sympathy within him, if he feels your sadness and pain 24/7, of course he’s going to worry about you. It’s only natural. (Or it’s the invisible soulmate bond that is forming between you both. Jihoon refuses to believe that.)

He can hear hushed voices coming from your brother and his soulmate in the dining area as the film plays in the background, and Jihoon can’t help but glance over to hear the tail end of the conversation.

“Trust me,” Jeonghan is smiling reassuringly at your brother, kissing his cheek. Jihoon blushes. No matter how many times he sees it, PDA is a bit daunting for him. “I’ll get her down here.”

“How are you so sure?” Seungcheol frowns, hand on his hip.

“I have my ways.” Jeonghan gleams, pushing him towards an empty spot on the couch. “Just go and relax, darling. I will be back with my little Lady Bug in tow.” Seungcheol concedes with a grumble and a pout before his soulmate gives him one final peck on the lips before making his way up the stairs.

Jihoon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the nickname. Isn’t it Love Bug?

You’re startled by the sound of Jeonghan opening your bedroom door and strolling inside, giving you a smile.

“Please, do come in.” You mumble dryly, leaning back against your bed frame and staring blankly back up at the ceiling.

“Lady Bug..” the unwelcome guest sighs, sitting down at the foot of your bed. “You can’t hide up here forever. It’s Hoshingie’s birthday, he wants to spend his day with the people he loves.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want to have someone who dampens the whole party down there.” Your lip quivers before you press the heels of your hands into your eyes to stop the tears from coming.

“I love you, Bug, but frankly I think you’re wrong.” Jeonghan’s hand rests on your shin, but you don’t look at him. You know if you take one look at the worried man, you’d fall apart again. “It doesn’t matter what mood you’re in, little one, all that matters is that you, someone Soonyoung loves with his whole heart, is there to celebrate with him.”

You hiccup, and Jeonghan sighs. He scoops you up and pulls you into his lap, letting his hands comb through your hair. You let your head rest against his shoulder, but keep your hands close to your chest as you sniffle.

“Why don’t they want me, Hannie?” You whimper, and Jeonghan’s heart breaks, only pulling you closer. “What’s wrong with me? What did I do wrong?”

“Sweetie, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He reassures you.

“Clearly I did, or else h-he wouldn’t have flat out rejected me.”

He. Your soulmate is a boy. Jeonghan pauses only for a moment before resuming his comfort.

“It is not your fault that you got rejected, Bug.” Jeonghan’s voice is firm. “If your soulmate can’t see you for the amazing, beautiful girl you are, then he is an idiot and it’s his loss.” He rests his cheek on top of your head delicately as you frown.

“I’m not either of those things.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” The volume of his voice startles you, and you pull back quickly. “No, Choi Y/N. Don’t you ever amount your worth to how someone else perceives you. Have I taught you nothing, silly Bug?” He pulls you up to your feet. “I thought I raised you with your brother to be confident with who you are, and not to let someone else define you. Because at the end of the day, only you can define who you are. Do you understand me, young Lady Bug?”

Your eyes are wide, the last few tears escaping your eyes as he reaches out and cups your cheeks, wiping them away.

“Sorry, Hannie…” You whisper, lowering your head as Jeonghan sighs and pulls you into his arms once again.

“You can make it up to me by coming with me. I have wanted to do something with you ever since I met you all those years ago,” you laugh to yourself - it really wasn’t that long ago. “I promised myself I would do this as soon as you could see colours, and I’m going to do it.”

“Right now?” You frown, and Jeonghan nods his head quickly.

“Yes. What do I have to do to get you out of here and downstairs?” He asks in an exasperated tone. After a brief pause and smirk from you, he balks. “Oh no.”

“Yah! Is everything okay up there?!” Seungcheol yells out at the sound of a shout from Jeonghan, looking over the back of the couch to try and peer up the staircase.

“You won’t see them from there, hyung.” Seokmin doesn’t even glance in his direction, eyes focused on the TV as he speaks.

“Oh yeah, and how would you know?” He sasses back, eyebrow raised.

“The amount of things Minnie and I have done down here without being noticed while you and Hannie-hyung have been upstairs is unspeakable.” Soonyoung smirks.

Jihoon’s eyes widen at his best friend’s revelation, a laugh escaping his body as he watches his friend’s reactions.

“BABE!” Seokmin squeals, ears turning bright red as he sinks under the blanket.

“YAH!!! TOO MUCH INFORMATION!” Mingyu squeals, throwing a pillow at a now laughing Soonyoung as Wonwoo laughs loudly with him.

“My virgin ears!” Chan howls, falling dramatically against Junhui, whose mouth is hanging open in shock.

“I promise you, Sollie, they’re not always like this.” Seungkwan is whispering loudly to the newest edition of the group, who just gives an amused grin in response.

“… I don’t even want to know.” Seungcheol mutters dryly after a long bout of silence, eyes still on the staircase.

“Staring won’t make them come down any faster, you know, Hyung.” Chan speaks up again.

“I still feel bad.” Seungkwan sighs, leaning his head on Hansol’s shoulder. “If it wasn’t for me, she would have been down here having fun with the rest of us.”

“Don’t feel bad, Kwan-ah.” Soonyoung smiles, patting his shoulder. “To be honest, I think she’d be more hurt if you didn’t tell her. Trust me.”

Seungkwan is about to respond when the soft click of your bedroom door can be heard. Jihoon, along with the others, glance toward the staircase as you make your way down. You have an amused smirk on your face, and Jihoon feels uneasy. What is that look for?

His questions are soon answered when a giggle erupts from Mingyu. Jeonghan trails downstairs behind you with a grouchy look on his face, his long dark hair now pulled back into two pretty braids tied with pink elastics. Jihoon covers his mouth to hide a laugh, watching you proudly gesture towards Jeonghan.

“Wow, babe,” Seungcheol grins. “You look so pretty!”

“Shut up, you.” Jeonghan huffs, glaring at all the people who laughed. “It was the only way she would come down, so you’re welcome.” When you’re not looking, Jihoon notices Jeonghan looking at the amused look on your face, letting the playful glare fade into a fond smile, winking at Seungcheol, mouthing. “I told you I could get her down.”

“You did this all for my birthday?!” Soonyoung, always the drama queen, grins excitedly. “Oh, Y/N, you shouldn’t have!” He giggles loudly, jumping up and before you can react, he scoops you up and spins you around, making you scream.

“Yah! Put me down, you heathen!” You swat at his arms.

“NEVER!” He bellows, starting to move towards the couches before Jeonghan grabs a hold of your arm, effectively stealing you from Soonyoung’s gasp.

“Nuh-uh! She promised me she would do this with me first.” He places you at the dining table, pulling out a small box from underneath the table. “Once she’s finished here, she can join you for the movie night.”

“I’m sorry, who’s birthday is it again?” Soonyoung huffs, puffing out his cheeks and crossing his arms.

“I’ll be there soon, Soonie. Promise.” You call out. Soonyoung seems pleased by your response as he settles back in again, cuddling up to his soulmate’s side. Jihoon can see it in his best friend’s face, he’s just happy you’re down here at all.

He glances over to your brother, who instead of watching the movie, is watching his soulmate take out nail polishes and taking one of your hands. He has a fond smile on his face, watching the confused look on your face as you stare at Jeonghan.

“My nails? Why would you want to do my nails?” You ask quietly, and Jihoon can’t help but think you look cute as you tilt your head.

“I’ve always dreamed about doing this.” Jeonghan explains, starting to coat your thumb nail with a light red. “Teaching you all about colours and making it fun like this.” You watch with wide eyes as he begins to paint each nail a different colour delicately and with precision.

“But.. why me?” You frown, and Jihoon frowns with you. Did he really hurt you so far to think you didn’t deserve something as small as this?

“I taught my little sister Soobin about colours when she found her soulmate the same way. I don’t see her much now, since she moved to Jeju with him. When I found Cheol and met you, I knew that as soon as I saw you, you were meant to be my second little sister. My little Lady Bug.” You’re blinking away tears now, biting down on your lip. “Do you know why I call you Lady Bug?”

“No..” you mumble, eyes staying on the way Jeonghan paints your nails.

“You’ve always been called Love Bug. Everyone around us calls you that, right?” You nod quietly. “I couldn’t use the same nickname as everyone else. I needed it to be unique. Something that symbolizes us. My little young lady. My little Lady Bug.” He beams proudly. “Only I can call you that. I need you just as much as I need Cheol. You know that, right?” He asks softly, smiling gently as you weakly nod your head. “Promise?”

“Yeah.” You use your wrist to wipe at the fresh tear that slipped down your cheek, and Jeonghan grins at you.

“We have a little bond that no one can take from us. Sure, your brother is my soulmate, but you’re my bonus sister. I think that’s just as special.”

He starts on the second coat over your nails as you just stare at him in wonder, a small sparkle of hope running through your veins. At least someone loves and cares for you on this stupid planet.

Jihoon spots Seungcheol reach up and wipe a quick tear away from his eye, staring at the scene unfolding in front of him. Both your and Jeonghan’s soulmates are the only ones not watching the film in front of them. Instead, they’re watching you both together, too enamored to look away.

“There. What do you think?” Jeonghan smiles at you as you look at your hands. Your nails have been painted to make a pretty pastel rainbow on your fingers, and your cheeks start to lift as you, for most likely the first time since you met your soulmate, smile a genuine smile.

“Look.” Seokmin whispers to Soonyoung as everyone glances at you, smiling and staring at your hands. Soonyoung gasping softly as he looks excitedly at Seokmin.

“What’s happened..?” Hansol asks quietly at your closest friends all tearing up at one silly little smile.

“It’s just,” Seungkwan smiles softly. “This is the first time she has smiled since everything happened.”

Jihoon watches you, and it almost seems like the room started to glow brighter as your smile filled the room. His cheeks flush pink before he quickly turns his head back to the TV.

No, Jihoon. You need to be better. Ji-ah is your girlfriend, not Y/N. Get it together.

“I love them. Thank you, Hannie-Oppa.” You smile, giving him a quick hug.

“I’ve missed that smile.” Seungcheol grins after you, reaching down and ruffling your hair.

“Yah, leave me alone.” You huff, smacking his arm as you’re all but dragged by Soonyoung to the mattress on the floor, directly at the feet of Seokmin, and Jihoon who is seated beside him. You share the mattress with Chan and Junhui, all the others having made camp on the couches above you.

“Finally!” Soonyoung grins, leaning down and planting an annoyingly loud kiss on your cheek, laughing at how you shove him off. “Now we can start the movie night properly!”

“Thank you, babe.” Seungcheol smiles as Jeonghan settles beside him, leaning his head against his chest.

“Anything for you and my Lady Bug.” Jeonghan simply replies, a content smile on his face as he watches you pull the blanket up over your body.

Jihoon does his best to keep his eyes off you, but finds himself absentmindedly glancing at you on occasion. Each time, you’re staring at your freshly painted rainbow nails, a soft content smile on your lips. He smiles softly to himself in unison, before letting his focus go back to the movie.

As the film starts reaching its climax, Wonwoo finds himself chuckling at how invested his soulmate is in the plot, an amused smirk tracing his lips.

“You enjoying the movie, baby?” He chuckles as Mingyu nods excitedly.

“Mhm!” He chirps happily, snuggled up against his side.

“But you’ve seen it like 3 times already.”

Mingyu gasps, stopping and turning to Wonwoo. “And I’m not allowed to still love it?!”

“Well you can, but you already know what’s going to-”

“How dare you?!” He wails, pushing him playfully. “Are you… making fun of me, hyung?!” He pouts as Wonwoo only grins with amusement at his soulmate’s outburst. “You ARE!” He points his finger at him.

“Aww, baby…” Wonwoo pouts playfully, a teasing glint in his eye.

“AIGOO!” He whines. “Y/N! My soulmate is being… MEAN TO ME!” He howls and fake sobs, crawling onto the mattress, pushing his overgrown body into your lap.

Jihoon feels your heart begin to race, your body locking up as Mingyu makes himself comfortable in your lap, crying loudly and dramatically as he hugs you tight.

“Oh, Gyu,” You play along, gingerly reaching up and patting his hair almost robotically. “There, there.”

Your soulmate eyes you from the couch, observing as you look worriedly at Wonwoo, who simply gives you a wink, giving you permission. He knows you’re not going to try and take his soulmate away. He’s known you for years, and quite frankly, you’re not the type of person who would do that. Instead Wonwoo simply nods his head at you. “Give the baby his bottle.”

“A BABY?!” He cries out again, making a giggle come out of you as you relax a tiny bit, patting at Mingyu’s hair.

“You are a Baby.” You laugh as he starts grumbling, staying curled up in your lap, Jihoon feeling you crumble bit by bit as you comfort the overgrown puppy in your arms.

Jihoon keeps his eye on Mingyu unconsciously, his glare evident as he intensely watches and keeps his emotions intact to try and get a reading of what you’re feeling.

As the movie wraps up 20 minutes later, a huffy Mingyu, at your insistence, begrudgingly climbs out of your arms back to his soulmate, pout on display as Jihoon feels a little relief run through him.

“I’m sorry for being a brat.” Mingyu flutters his eyes at Wonwoo, who just grins and opens his arms for him.

“I was just teasing.” He chuckles as Mingyu settles into his arms once more with a kiss on his forehead. Wonwoo glances at you, giving you a little smile of appreciation, in which you nod in response.

“Okay, next movie!” Soonyoung cheers as he queues the next film to begin, a smirk on his face as your eyes light up.

“Howl’s!” You squeal happily as the familiar anime - Howl’s Moving Castle - begins.

“In TECHNICOLOUR!” Seokmin booms dramatically as you laugh loudly, the sound pleasing to Jihoon’s ears. You settle in comfortably, leaning back against the bottom of the couch. Your excitement stirs in Jihoon, and he finds himself thinking he could get used to that feeling. He lets a little smile form on his face as the film plays.

“Howl is beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes. “But Turnip Head is just a perfect character.”

The movie had been playing for about 40 minutes now, the party growing a bit quieter as tiredness settles in on every one.

“Oh yeah, well why doesn’t Sophie pick him at the end then?” Junhui questions you. “She is his true love, she broke the spell! Why didn’t she get with him?”

Jihoon tenses at this question. He finds the character Turnip Head to be all too familiar; the way he constantly goes out of his way to follow Sophie to keep her safe, all for it to amount to nothing at the end; her choosing Howl over him. He eyes you worriedly, waiting with bated breath for your answer.

“Well it’s not Sophie’s fault, nor is it Turnip Head’s.” You hum. “I suppose, the heart wants what it wants. You can’t change that.” You’re a bit quieter now, curling up and hugging your knees to your chest. “I mean.. Calcifer did let Sophie into Howl’s heart. Figuratively and literally.”

Your words start drowning out in Jihoon’s ears as his mind begins to consume him once again. Goddamn it, you’re too good and too likable. How the fuck can you be so understanding and so… so good? You should loathe him, be kicking and screaming at him and turning the whole world against him for what he did to you. Instead you sit there, you let him walk all over you and apologize when he has to even interact with you. Jihoon feels like shit, for treating you like shit. You’re one of the most forgiving and understanding people ever, and he doesn’t know how to take it.

He doesn’t know how long he has been sitting still on the couch stewing in his thoughts before he feels something soft against his knee, snapping him back to reality. He blinks before his cheeks flush a deep pink as he realizes what has happened. You, despite trying your hardest to stay awake, unwillingly let sleep take over you, your head drooping and landing softly on Jihoon’s knee.

“Sorry, Jihoon-ah.” Seungcheol whispers to your soulmate. “I’ll move her-”

“No, hyung.” Jihoon replies quickly. “U-uh.. it’s okay, really. She must’ve been exhausted from today. It’s no harm.”

“Are you sure?” He asks again, and he nods quickly.

“Positive.”

Seungcheol nods and settles back down against Jeonghan, who eyes Jihoon silently from beside his soulmate, eyes narrowed slightly as he watches him glance down at you once more, peacefully asleep against his leg with a small, and what Jihoon thinks is unseen, smile on his face.

Real Eyes, Fake Lies Taglist

@enhacolor @jojowantstocry @changbinisms @scarlet789 @i-dont-give-a-fok @im-gemmy @shookyungsoo@friendlywraith @kawennote09 @coupddeongie @sunooschubbycheeks @zgzgzh @mar-627 @side-angel @kuleo26 @deltamoon666 @snowgirlfallen @lixiel0ver @phenomenalgirl9 @weebotakuboy @vixensss @seokmatchu

Couldn’t tag: @etaerealboy @sumzysworld @ametheyistheart @cinnamoroxie @mikachu-chu

#seventeen angst #seventeen woozi #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #woozi #woozi x reader #Lee Jihoon x reader #woozi fluff #woozi Angst #Woozi au #Lee Jihoon #woozi x you

[sumeruin]

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!!

♫♪: warnings: written by a minor, afab reader, professor x student dynamic, slight blackmailing, kinda hate sex but not really, overstimulation, let me know if i missed anything!! <3

♫♪: pairing: professor alhaitham x reader

♫♪: a/n: ok this is the last one i’m posting today i promise. i will more than likely be posting more tomorrow though <3

latin professor alhaitham, whose class is notoriously hard to stay in. he assigns so much work, and his lessons are always so hard to follow, it’s almost impossible to keep a high enough grade for the whole semester. so, when your grades start to drop and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’re kicked out and moved to a different class, you immediately go to your professor during lunch to beg for another chance, you just want some help, maybe a couple tutoring sessions, and you promise you’ll do better.

latin professor alhaitham, who thinks you look pathetic, sitting in front of him with your eyes brimming with tears you desperately try to blink back, you voice slightly whiny and cracking. he wonders how you even got into his class in the first place. he sighs and eventually takes pity on you, telling you to visit him after classes let out and he’ll figure something out for you.

latin professor alhaitham, who spends the rest of the day thinking about all the ways he’s going to ruin you when you go to his office after school. he has to force himself not to get hard in front of the rest of his classes, and he just gets that much more frustrated at what you’ve done to him.

latin professor alhaitham, who greets you with a cold glare, and the shame you feel at having to ask him for help is almost enough to make you turn back around and tell him to forget it. he notices, and quickly tells you to sit down, he’s not gonna let you back out that easily. he just stares at you for a second, his green eyes still narrowed, and he tells you that he found a way for you to improve your grades without even studying more, just agree to his personal little stress reliever and he’ll consider it extra credit. it would be a win win, he gets to fuck a cute little thing after his stressful job every day, and you get higher grades. though he could just kick you from his class if you’d prefer that.

latin professor alhaitam, who actually smiles for once when you hesitantly agree to his proposition, telling you to sit on his desk while he starts to pull his pants down, revealing the daunting size of his cock. he orders you to pull down your panties and you quickly do, not used to your usually passive professor being so aggressive.

latin professor alhaitam who rails you within an inch of your life, making you cum over and over just because he likes the feeling of you clenching down on his cock.

latin professor alhaitam, who cums deep inside your cunt and tells you that if you keep it inside he’ll give you even more extra credit.

latin professor alhaitam, who sighs when he sees you after he’s done, the faraway, glossed over look in your eyes and the mindless whimpers you let out telling him that you’re not gonna be in any state to leave anytime soon.

latin professor alhaitam, who moves your body over to his couch while he finishes up his work, pulling your panties back up so that if anyone comes in they don’t suspect anything :((

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ angel’s creations ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact smut #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader smut #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x reader #al haitham smut #al haitham #al haitham genshin #al haitam x reader

[violetsteve]

“And that doesn’t scare you?”

Steve gives a half hearted shrug, his hands still stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and his shoulders slowly starting to crawl towards his ears.

“I don’t know. Kind of, I guess?” Steve’s eyes finally kick up from the floor, meeting Eddie’s gaze with so much open vulnerability that Eddie feels his chest go tight.

“Mostly I just like being with you, man. You have this way of—“ Steve cuts himself off, shrugging again like he can’t help it. “I don’t know. Making all the bad shit disappear for a while? Or maybe not disappear, not really, but more like…you make the big stuff smaller. Like yeah, sure, the worlds fucked and we all have enough trauma to fill marinas fucking trench, but also I look at the way you light up when I reference your nerd game, or the way you put on a fucking show without even thinking about it when you can sense one of the kids needs a distraction, and it makes me feel…” he trails off again, eyes jumping around for a moment like he’s trying to find the right words, before they finally settle back on Eddie. “Whole. Hopeful. Safe. Like, sure, we’ve lost a lot to the upside down, but we haven’t lost everything. I mean, your terrible sense of humor is still intact, after all.” Steve finishes his small speech with a wry twist to his mouth, like he was going for a joke to lighten the mood and missed by a mile. 

Eddie feels his chest burst with static, an overwhelming sense of something for this man in front of him. He should be offended—or at least play offended at Steve’s last few words, but he can’t find it in himself to pretend at this moment. There’s so much to unpack in everything Steve’s just said, least of all the fact that he called the Mariana trench marina—which Eddie finds so endearing. He’s aware Dustin finds the slip ups to be annoying at best, but, lord help him, Eddie thinks they’re cute. He thinks Steve is cute.

And here Steve is, standing in front of him and telling Eddie that he makes things less scary—that he makes all of Steve’s biggest problems feel so much less daunting just by existing. He’s standing in front of Eddie telling him that Eddie makes him feel fucking safe and cared for, and oh, fuck he’s so, so unbelievably in love with this boy that it makes him dizzy in this moment. Eddie extends a shaky hand to grip the back of the couch just so he doesn’t fall over.

He’s staring into Steve’s completely unguarded eyes and feeling like he might throw up with the affection and absolute fear he feels in this moment because—

Because it’s absolutely undeniable at this moment.

The sky is blue.

The sun rises in the east, sets in the west.

Eddie Munson is head over heels in love with Steve Harrington.

#sorry this little idea would just NOT leave me alone #what is the context??? no idea! #what were they doing before this started? you decide! #maybe I'll actually flesh this out eventually #lots to think about #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fan fiction #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson fanfiction #my writing

[alphajocklover]

Hey bro, I have a bit of a strange situation going on. You see, I’m a big nerd, like playing dnd, good at math, into card games nerds. And I never really questioned it. But recently, I’ve found myself wanting to be more active, I’ve been wanting to become something I am not, a big strong guy. And it all stared when I rediscovered the Xmen through the show and upcoming movie. Could you, I mean, would you mind helping me become like my ideal man, Wolverine?

I want to be the small hunky and hairy beats he is, oozing with libido and sex appeal.

It's a little strange, but I’ve been getting a lot of superhero requests recently! Not that I’m complaining, I love writing about superheros. They’re interesting characters who have long histories and decades of lore to use. Plus they’re usually hot as fuck. And Wolverine is one of the hottest. Muscular, with a thick layer of hair, and gruff as can be. He’s traditionally a loner, but he has a certain rough charm to him. There’s a reason he’s been a part of almost every superhero team at one time or another. People can’t get enough of the guy. It could be his inventive power set, his ability to change with the times and still remain interesting and relevant. Or it could be that he’s an incredibly manly hunk whose animalistic nature makes people weak in the knees. He’s everything you ever wanted to be, or at least everything you’ve wanted to be since you saw those new X-Men cartoons. When you watched them, something awakened in you. And now… you’re becoming just like him.

You’re not becoming him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Whatever is happening to you can’t give you claws like Wolverine or coat your skeleton in adamantium. I mean, in our world adamantium doesn’t really exist, and even though some transformation methods could turn you into a perfect replica of wolverine or add onto the periodic table, this one won’t do that. It’s more fun to be a stud without the responsibility of being a superhero anyways, especially since one of his main powers is to survive incredibly painful situations. Now you get all the pleasure, none of the pain, and an absolutely studly body.

One common fun fact that people like to bring up about Wolverine is the fact that he’s… while he’s short. Really short. Since Hugh Jackman is over 6 feet tall, people tend to forget that in the comics Wolverine is a complete shortstack, standing at 5’3”. So, I’m afraid to say that you’re going to shrink quite a bit. Luckily, being shorter just makes your new muscles look even bigger and better. Your biceps are enormous, your pecs are amazing, and your abs are almost inhuman. That, plus a heavy layer of manly, thick hair, and you look like you walked right off the pages of a comic book. Or out of a very suggestive movie. Of course you don’t want to just look like Wolverine. You want to be like Wolverine. Which means a few… adjustments to your personality.

That might seem daunting or scary at first, the idea that your personality is going to change. But you won’t feel that way very long. Nothing is going to faze you anymore. Just like Wolverine You’re tough as nails and you act like it. Literally nothing throws you. You’re a certified badass. Yes, you have a sensitive side like the real Wolverine, but most people aren’t gonna see that. Most people, from your manly new friends to the girls you hook up with, are going to see the manly man, the strong warrior, the beast.

There are some small differences between you and Wolverine of course. The main one being that the guy in the comics doesn’t hook up with people very often. Too busy saving the world. And when he does get a love interest, the feelings between them are pretty serious. You don’t have the same patterns. You’re the type of guy who has a new girl every night and is constantly looking for more pussy. You can’t help it, with a massive cock and an even bigger libido. You’re the best at what you do, and what you do is fuck.

**Hey guys! Hope I did Wolverine justice. He’s a super hot character and I had a lot of fun writing a tf inspired by him. Hope you enjoyed!**

#muscle growth tf #biker tf #muscle tf #superhero tf

[ofallthingsnasty]

What would croco and doffy do if you wanted to leave your job?

post referenced

tw. workplace harassment, mentions of mental illness, manipulation, yandere vibes, gn reader, minors dni

That's the thing in this scenario: They know damn well that you won't up and leave until something truly grave happens. That's how it is with depression/anxiety disorders (at least for me) - you won't change a single thing even if you fantasize about beating your forehead bloody on the work bathroom's sink every morning on your commute. It's all about slowly pushing your boundaries, even a fucking flashy bird like Doflamingo gets that. You're the frog in the pot and the heat is slowly increasing, you won't even notice just how bad things are turning until you're already gagging on Doflamingo's cock or being called 'sweetheart' by Crocodile. But early on, the other option - getting a new job, maybe quitting without another place lined up (because you see... it's hard to send out applications with the way they're working you to the bone... or at least that's what your tired brain tells you) - that is way more daunting than simply spending another week in that familiar hell, maybe even another month. You tell yourself that you'll brush up your CV during your week off - and then waste that week simply counting the days until you have to go back again, constantly torn between fretting and sleeping. Others would call you lazy and stupid, but it's how your unmedicated brain works; and they both know it, could smell it on you the moment you shuffled your starched shirt into that interview way back when.

Now, if Doflamingo played his cards wrong - and he forced you under the table too early, or if Crocodile laid into you with gusto and too much anger one day - yep, you'd leave. But both know that good things come to boys who wait; and in this case it's a malleable mess of a person, perfect to mold into whatever shape they desire. For Doflamingo, it's some simple psychological torture lunchtime fun, for Crocodile it's someone he can boss around for the rest of his life, a guaranteed little doll who'll only ever aim to please him. But that wasn't your question, was it? Let's say you have friends, maybe family who help you, who encourage you to leave and support you with everything you could ask for - that get you to finally put in your resignation. Oh. Oh. There will be hell to pay. You see, you don't ditch a man like Doflamingo just like that. He'll be furious, that carefully created, perfectly maintained facade of the cruel, calculated yet sunny big shot cracking to reveal the spoiled little boy he can be deep, deep down. He decides when you're done playing, not your sorry little ass who can't even raise your voice to tell the waitress she's brought you the wrong meal at the cheap fucking diner you eat in on Sundays. You don't get to have agency, you don't get to walk before he is done wiping the floor with you and laughing all the while. He'll give you acid, the wildest tongue lashing you've ever had in your life - and he'll make sure to get your name blacklisted, to have you crawling back into whatever shithole you came from or moving away entirely. He wants you ruined, he wants you desperate, he wants your name so encrusted in shit you'd have to get new skin to rid yourself of the stench. Only if you come back to him, tail shaking in between your mangy legs, then he'd consider forgiving you for ever having the gall to think that you're somehow on the same playing field, on the same level as him. And if you don't do just that because of your pathetic little support system - well, you better hope you never cross his path ever again. Crocodile won't be any less furious, his anger just takes on another form. You see, while his ego won't be as bruised by you putting in your two weeks - the stakes were higher for him. He wanted to keep you around, after all. And now you're slipping through his fingers, take your sad, wet eyes to another one who'll get to exploit them and play you for the perfect fool that you are. Oh, that won't do. Instead, he'll stun you with a counter offer: more money, less hours, hell, he'll give you a shitty gift card for some grocery store once a month; anything to keep you around. He'll break out into an entirely new direction, chooses to play the grumbly yet lovable boss all of a sudden. It's jarring. And it probably works because it's so bizarre. (Of course, he's still himself - he just figures he'll catch more flies with honey instead of vinegar and he can play pretend for a little while, can hide that arrogance and temper because he has a plan. In true Crocodile fashion, he'll be nice and let you off the hook for a little bit, letting you weigh yourself in a false sense of security.) He knows you were ready to leave once - now he has to step it up a notch before you'll truly pull the plug. And isn't a little office party where he'll feed you some spiked drinks and has you waking up in his bed the perfect move, then? A little bit of love-bombing, then putting a little bit of that pressure that made you crack before back on - it'll have your messed up little head spinning, feeling cornered and like a fish out of the water. It won't be his preferred way of doing things, sure, but he can't let you leave. It'll be so out of character, will blind you like a flash granade until you're suddenly stuck in that same old rut, only this time with a ring around your finger and your former boss in your bed.

#you know think back to alabasta and how croc (kinda shittily but he did play) played pretend there. do you see my vision lol #it might feel ooc but he can be pleasant when he wants to be. or at least i like to think that haha #yandere one piece #tw.yandere #/crocodile #/doflamingo #/one piece

[colealexart]

how did you first get into cr?

i can't remember if i've told this story on here before but here we go: i was really into the last of us, especially part 2. it came out just a couple weeks after my grandad died, so i was using that as a way to process my grief. probably not the best idea given the games themes, but hey.

shannon woodward (who plays dina) started streaming on twitch. i regularly watched her and became an active member of her community (and eventually became a mod) and the people in there would talk about this d&d show with ashley johnson and laura bailey that was on every thursday. i tried watching for ashley and laura, but i just wasn't into it. i couldn't really focus on 4-5 hours of people just sitting around a table playing dungeons and dragons (a game i'd never played before and didn't know the rules for.) the thought of having to watch hundreds of hours to catch up was daunting, even though i really really wanted to. i think i made it to episode 3 of campaign 2 and stopped.

a few friends who i gamed with (who are now my best friends) would talk about it constantly, and they eventually convinced me to try again. they told me about the animated recaps and said that the story really kicks off in the 20s so i was like fuck it. i had nothing else to do because we were in the middle of a pandemic, i was still grieving, and i had been looking for a show to put on in the background while i tried to work on my art. (tried being the key word here. i really was ready to give up on my art before i found critical role.)

anyway yeah, i became obsessed. i binged the entirety of campaign 2 in a few months. not only did i find joy in watching them play, but it pulled me out of my grief induced art block and helped me actually like what i was creating again.

i didn't get to watch the finale live, but i did watch it when i'd fully caught up and cried all the way through. i didn't realize just how attached i was to the characters until i didn't have them anymore. in a way, it helped me process my grief for my grandad. if i could say goodbye to them, i could say goodbye to him.

when campaign 3 started, i watched the premiere live but i said that there was no way i could stay up every week to watch it, since it airs at 3am here. i was very wrong lol. getting up at 3am on fridays is my favourite part of the week. and i'm very thankful for finding critical role when i did :)

#ask

[lamemaster]

A Penance Unwanted

Request: Hi!🙂 How are you? ❤️Can you please spin the wheel for Gwindor? Thanks 💝✨️

Pairing: Gwindor x Reader

Genre: Timeloop au

AN: @mairablue Thanks for requesting!! Gwindor is awesome gotta love him. Such a fun concept. (What in the Hell is Happening Event)

“God dammit! You should have held him.” You groan watching Beleg die for the 25th time. Gwindor winced next to you. And from a distance you both watched Turin lament in the same low groaning pitch for the same 25th time. 

“I couldn’t have done that!” Gwindor replied indignantly. “Beleg wouldn’t listen. Look at these arms, do you think I can stop Cuthalion? You should have killed the orcs and then hit Turin on the head or something.” 

There had been a time when Beleg’s death daunted both Gwindor and you into silence. But now, it was a recurring event. Painful but numbed by the inevitable recurrence. 

You were back at it again. Stuck in the storyline of Turin and Beleg’s tragedy. Whatever deity found this funny had a messed-up sense of humor. 

"Next time, take Beleg through a longer route," you muttered, forming yet another plan, your voice heavy with a weariness born of repetition. "I'll try to find a way to poison the orcs, and hopefully, knock Turin out before he…" You trailed off, the futility of the task gnawing at you. But giving up wasn't an option. There had to be a way to break the loop, a way to alter the story.

"I swear to god if this is damned Melkor," you muttered, waiting for the inevitable reset. For both you and Gwindor to return to the past, to relive Beleg's death, and Turin's despair.

Knocking out Beleg, setting traps, and almost battling the thought of driving your sword through the emo king of Arda. This stupid loop tested you in every way. And most of all Gwindor who, unlike you, couldn't escape the grasp of Melkor's evil. The weight of his struggle, the subtle changes in his personality with each loop, filled you with a cold dread.

“Melkor can only so long imprison the children of Illuvatar,” Gwindor replied gently. His voice- so peaceful despite the pain he witnessed every reset. Taking your hand in his he continued, “We will find a way. One way or another you will return to your world and I will come to bear my fate.” There was this amazing elf. Comforting you when the hell broke loose around him. 

There was something truly extraordinary about this elf. Here he was, trapped in an endless cycle of loss, yet he offered you comfort when the world around him crumbled.  You couldn't help but wonder if it was the same unwavering faith in the good that led to his capture in the first place. 

It wasn't the scars or marks of torture that marred his once-handsome face that hurt you most, but the sheer unfairness of it all. He, who deserved a life filled with music and laughter, was trapped in this nightmarish cycle, forced to relive his torment while offering you solace.

"It isn't me you should be comforting," you chuckled, the sound hollow even to your own ears. "This is my penance. A fate that has led me to this nightmare, a well-deserved one." You didn't remember much of your world, only flashes – the resentful faces of strangers contorted in anger, the screaming voices that echoed relentlessly in your head, driving you to the teetering edge of insanity. You remembered everything but Gwindor from the rotten book you found in your dingy cell, the only companion in your solitary confinement.

The same one who now sat beside you, his hand warm against yours, a beacon of comfort in this unending darkness. "I deserve this. You don't," you whispered, the words heavy with a self-loathing you couldn't quite explain. He, who you sometimes questioned was real or a figment conjured by your fractured mind.

No. You wouldn't accept this twisted fate. You would break the loop, not just for your own sake, but for Gwindor's. Even if it meant defying the very fabric of this story, you would find a way to free him from Melkor's clutches.

Fuck Melkor, Ocrs, Turin, Valar, Illuvatar, and his wretched song. You were going to tear it all apart.

#silmarillion x reader #what in the hell is happening event #gwindor x reader #timeloop au #Beleg #Turin

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚆𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 - a Han Jisung short au!fanfic

PART 5

💫PART 6💫

Driving to Felix's place to drop him off feels a little nerve wracking. You try your best to keep a neutral look on your face and nod along whatever he's saying, low fi music playing in the background helping you fill in the gaps in between your chats so it doesn't get too silent and awkward.

Felix being Felix tries to hold your hand at a red light a few times while it's idle, and you adore his delicate touch, usually, but after last night's events you feel so deeply bad for him every little touch of the skin urges a lump to rise up in your throat. Guilt. Slowly but surely obstructing your airways.

Once you park in his driveway you sigh quietly, slight relief, very slight relief. The blue haired boy hesitates before opening the car door on his side, he turns to you with sad, puppy eyes: "darling is everything okay? You've been so quiet yet so jumpy". Now what are you supposed to say to that? Of course he would ask, of fucking course.

Your swallow the strain in your voice and smile weakly at him, even daring to grab his hand and patting it gently as to reassure him, "I haven't slept much, I'm a little bit restless, that's all, don't you worry your pretty little fairy head", you joke and he smiles, it doesn't fully reach his eyes but it's a start. He reaches forward over the console to give you a hug and the minute his arms are around you you know you're going to burst into tears.

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you squeeze your eyes shut, everything in you screaming to hold back those pesky little droplets at the corners of your eyelids. "Rest up okay? Please text me once you get home so I know you're safe", he says quietly, rubbing your back soothingly, and you nod vigorously for you're afraid he's going to hear the emotion on your voice if you dare speak more than a few words.

Your home feels hollow and cold, daunting even. Much like your body. Funny how things work out, in the span of 24 hours you went from being surrounded by other warm bodies, kissing your friends left and right, feeling Han's skin so close to yours the memory of your muscles still buzzes at the thought, to now being completely alone. Alone with your thoughts, most of all.

You slump down on your couch and close your eyes. The fresh images of last night still cursing through your mind. It all happened so fast you still find it difficult just to grasp what happened. Han. Han happened. If kissing your friends kindled a light, warm fickle in your chest, kissing Han felt like being on fire. He ignited you from the inside out, took back his rightful place in your heart and your head like he never left to begin with.

Cause he didn't, in fact, he never left.

Moving in auto pilot, your fingers unlock your phone and start typing:

Today :[3.55 pm] From: y/n to: Han

i didn't see you this morning before I left with Felix. Are we going to talk about what happened last night

[4.12 pm] From: Han to: y/n

feel like utter shit today, don't have the energy to. Raincheck?

[4.13 pm] From: y/n to: Han

tomorrow then

[5.08 pm] From: Han to: y/n

yeah

September. Monday, 9 :[1.03 pm] From: y/n to: Han

hey, are you up already?

[3.16 pm] From: y/n to: Han

guess not

September. Tuesday, 10 :[5.19 pm] From: y/n to: Han

i tried to call you this morning.. are you okay?

[11.21 pm] From: y/n to: Han

i hate doing this as much as the next person, i promise, but ignoring me won't solve a thing

[11.23 pm] From: y/n to: Han

i can't talk to you and i can't talk to Felix and it's driving me insane

September. Friday, 13 :[12.43 pm] From: y/n to: Han

this is so unfair, Han. I don't know what i did to deserve this you can be mad at me but at least fucking let me know if you're okay

The familar ringtone resounding loudly in your otherwise silent bedroom startles you awake. Is it still night? Is it morning yet? Is it noon already? A phone call, you think in your still hazy state. A phone call. Han. HAN.

You scramble to reach your phone as it rings and vibrates on your nightstand, the back of your hand hitting against the drawer making you splutter a cuss word when you can't properly reach your phone. "Hello?", "good morning sunshine!". 

Your heart sinks deep within your chest. You exhale. The only other person you haven't heard from in a while is Felix. Currently on the other end of the line, the joyful brightness in his voice so apparent even through the speakers. You had tried to keep your conversations with him to the bare minimum ever since the infamous night, it's been a week already filled with despair, emptiness, confusion.

You long for your friendly dates with him, your casual hangouts or just the long after work calls where you talked about anything and everything. Hearing the deep husk in his voice after so long makes you feel so warm yet so miserable at the same time. You could tell he was eager to talk to you, to see you, to have just a little bit of you for the shortest amount of time.

It's like you had woken up all of the sudden and started noticing all the little things that gave him away, all the little details that clearly highlighted how much he cared for you and you couldn't just unsee them. You were now hyper aware of his feelings and terrified of hurting them. Talking to him now felt like walking on eggshells, which is the worst considering how easy and flowing your conversations usually were before Han had you pry your eyes wide open.

"H-hello, good morning", you mumble tiredly, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles, "did I wake you up?", he asks giggling, your heart breaking with every little high pitched sound he makes, "it's okay my alarm was just about to go off, anyway", "haven't seen you in a bit, I'm sorry I have been so busy with work! how about we go for a walk and your favourite frozen yogurt place to make up for that later today?".

Of course he would feel bad, sorry even, of course he would apologize first for being busy when you have been the actual distant one this whole time. You have to swallow down the lump in your throat and muster up everything in you not to burst into tears right then and there, you're dying to see him and talk to him and give him the biggest hug but you find yourself at such a crossroad with your situation with Han and your feelings for him you have no idea how to go about it.

You have no idea if Han even meant half the things he said, considering how he was now blatantly ignoring you.

"Oh.. I'm so sorry Lix, I have... a few errands to run that piled up over the course of the week, I-I've been picking up extras shifts at work and-and yeah. I can't make it. I'm sorry". LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE. The distant mocking chant replaying in the back of your head rings too loud right now. He doesn't deserve this. Not in the slightest. You hate lying to him and you hate knowing you might be hurting him double the amount with you avoiding him with the lamest excuse.

"That's okay". Felix sounds slightly disappointed, rightfully so, and the brief puse in your conversation makes you want to bite off your fingers, swallow your own fist out of both anger and misery, mostly at yourself, in part at Han as well. "Hey are you sure you're alright? We haven't talked much these days and... I don't know... I guess you are really busy", he says softly, you can hear him fidgeting with something in his hands, switching his phone from one side to the other, as though he's putting you on speaker, waiting for you to talk his ear off.

How much you wish you could tell him. How badly you wish you could confíde in him, recount the events of that strange, god forsaken night and tell him you've never felt this strongly about someone yet so confusedly at the same time. How you feel like you're going insane cause you haven't been able to stop thinking about it all, how all of your memories with his best friend are constantly replaying in your head at night, before going to bed, and they all swirl together in one big blob that eventually bursts into fire, the flames licking up at your body, your fingers tracing the invisible tracks Han left on them.

"I'm alright". Lying through gritted teeth. "I'm - I'm going to sort this out". Fakely reassuring yourself. "We'll catch up soon, I promise". Making promises that you can't keep. LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE.

🥀PART 7

#stray kids #hanjisung #hyunjin #bang chan #changbin #jeongin #lee felix #lee know #lee minho #seungmin #Skz #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz stay #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #straykids han #skz han #skz han jisung #han jisung #straykids fic #straykids fluff #straykids fanfic #skz fic #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz ff #straykids imagine #straykids x reader #straykids imagines