#so hopefully that number is higher now

[captainjonnitkessler]

I think being on the internet has given a lot of leftists a drastically skewed view of how popular our beliefs are.

Most politicians support Israel because most Americans support Israel - only 8% of the population thinks the US should publicly criticize Israel.

Bernie didn't lose the primaries because the Democrats were just too scared of having a real progressive in office so they rigged the election, he lost because socialists are the least-electable people in America and because fewer people voted for him. That's how elections work. ( In b4 'but everyone else dropped out in a coordinated effort to concentrate votes behind biden!' - yeah, if your candidate can only win when the vote is split eight ways that's not a viable candidate. And I voted for Bernie!)

As of 2021 only about 15% of Americans support defunding the police, 47% would like to see increased police funding, and the number of people who think violent crime is a "very big" problem jumped 20 percentage points up to 61% in one year.

And it's just really frustrating to see internet leftists being super condescending as though everybody should already know everything and be on board with this stuff or else they're a Bad Person, driving people away from leftist ideology or making people too afraid to ask questions lest they be branded as a Centrist or worse, a Liberal, or refusing to engage in politics until they're being specifically catered to even though that would be political suicide (and would therefore not accomplish anything anyway.)

And like. It's fine to think that people who support Israel or more police funding are bad people, frankly I think a lot of them are. But I think even more are just misinformed or not really informed about alternatives at all. And not everyone is in the headspace to do education or outreach, but when you're only 10% of the population I think you need to make a choice about whether you want to feel good about being right on the internet or whether you want to be effective. It's frustrating to have to walk someone step-by-step through why genocide is bad, but it's a lot more likely to change minds than shouting at someone that they're obviously just a genocide-loving racist is.

#feel free to call me a neoliberal bootlicker if it'll make you feel better #i just think that effective action and harm reduction are more important than Being Right On The Internet #and I also don't think the Grand Revolution is going to happen. I think we need to work with what we have. sorry. #also i was having trouble finding recent stats about the i-p conflict #in general sympathy for palestine was hovering around 30% earlier this year #but i don't know if that actually translates to supporting palestine in the conflict or how that might have changed after the Oct. 7 attack #that npr poll was the most recent but it was less than a week after the attack when misinformation and sympathy for israel was at a height #so hopefully that number is higher now #us politics

[hyuckmov]

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 2 of 3

wc: 18k (yay!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), a bit of fluff warnings: wet dreams, jerking off, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, making out, praise kink, strength kink (? he's strong...) crying during sex, dirty talk, aftercare...? petnames (baby, princess), and ... names needs to be read after part 1 i think! a/n: shorter warnings list lmfao anyway.... i....this took me awhile but i really hope u enjoy this and the way it reads. let me know what you think and please be kind :) thank you thank you THANK YOU to every single one of you on my taglist and if you've sent me an ask, reblogged, or left a comment. i could not have finished this without u

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — especially to you. 

he knew what he was doing each time he showed up around you at a party, love bites staining his skin and hair messy and wild. he noticed the way you recognised the perfume on him with a crinkle of your nose, or the slight flicker of sadness in your eyes when his phone would vibrate against the bedside table, wandering to the names on his phone. he could feel the way your shoulders tensed when he smiled blankly at you, track your movements as you looked away when he was cozying up with someone else. 

and most of all – he knew that beyond that, you couldn't go to him for all your hurt. and that was what would be most painful, the knowledge that everything you had to suffer was unjustified, feelings not tied to reason, because he never made you any promises.

haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — and he always hoped that his touch could be a good enough apology. 

all throughout rehearsals, when they took the trip to the venue, back to when he had woken up that morning, something had stirred in his chest. he was never nervous before shows, but this time he fiddled with his guitar mindlessly, wandering over to the bar and ordering just a few drinks to hopefully dull the way his heart was racing in his chest, alcohol burning a path down his throat. he picked at the way his hair fell over his eyes, re-doing his makeup before the show with the black eyeliner that he couldn't hold without thinking of you. his bandmates watching him carefully, not knowing what had changed. he wouldn't be able to tell them if they'd asked. 

it was only when the girl in the bathroom had stumbled away on shaky feet, leaving one last slick touch on his arm as a goodbye, when all his feelings that had ached in him that day came crashing down in his chest, that crushing weight he couldn't ignore each time he tried to breathe. 

you had kissed him — and it felt like a promise. 

it was this thought that now stung at him, as he watched the numbers on the screen of the elevator flick higher and higher. he had made his way to your apartment as if on autopilot, driving down streets now too familiar. he always knows the hurt he causes you — and he feels it now, like retribution, because even now he has no right to be angry at you. no right to blame you for his hurt, because while he had never made you promises, in reality you hadn't either. 

but the reality was he was here now, knocking on your apartment door. 

"y/n?" 

there's warm light seeping out under your apartment door, he can see all your shoes on the rack outside. jaemin's not home, but you definitely are. 

he knocks again, a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"y/n, i know you're home." 

his hand curls into a fist, and he hits it against the door, twice. he thinks he can hear something beyond the door, a clink of something like keys, so he raises his voice, the tone of it rough. 

"are you happy now?" 

mark has told him he gets vindictive when he's hurt or scared, has urged him to think before he speaks. 

"does it make you feel like you have the upper hand? standing me up?"

but haechan can't distinguish what he's feeling right now. 

"because i don't care at all," he spits, lies he'd never rehearsed, the alcohol mixing with thoughts he didn't even know he had, to inflict the cruelest hurt. "at least i know the girl i fucked didn't feel any different." his voice dips low, cold freezing over each syllable. "i hope you know even if you went, i still would've picked her. it didn't make any difference." 

the night is still, and quiet. his words seem to swell in the air, ringing around in his head. he stands in front of the door, head lowered, hand still lingering on cool surface, breaths dragged out of his lungs painfully. he waits for so long, that he wonders if he was speaking to no one at all — if you'd been asleep, if he imagined the sounds beyond the door.  

but then there's a soft click, and the door drifts open. 

the moment haechan sees you, he feels it like a shot to his chest, because something was terribly wrong. 

it's not just the tears running down your cheeks. 

your face is blotchy and red, dark circles under your teary eyes, your hair mussed up and tangled. you're wrapped in layers of clothing despite the cool summer night, your body still trembling with cold, and when you speak, your voice is so hoarse and broken that it makes goosebumps break out over his skin — and an achy tone he never wanted to hear from you ever again.

"it didn't make a difference?"  

his lips part. he tugs on his jacket, trying to to close it, to pull up his collar a little higher, but it's too late — your eyes are already reading the marks on his skin, drinking in every last detail of him. 5 minutes ago he had wanted nothing more than for you to open the door and see him exactly like this — lipstick smudged lips and fucked out eyes, the smell of fake roses clinging to each fibre of his clothing, the rips in his jeans tugged this way and that.  

and all at once he knew — you had wanted to go, and he just accused you of the worst thing. you were going to go, and now he was forcing you to look at him like this. if the trip here made him feel vulnerable and bruised, he knew it must have felt like this for you too on the nights he didn't ask for you — the two of you sharing feelings that you weren't supposed to have, that you couldn't justify.  

now haechan sees the way your face crumples, tears gathering on your waterline. you lift your hands to wipe them away, and it's like he can feel the way your chest shakes with wounded sounds and choked sobs, your fingers clenching into fists as you bite your lip to keep from bursting into tears.  

"y/n-" he breathes. "are you…is everything —" 

"s-so you didn't mean it? when you invited me?" you're trying to steady your breathing. every second that passes where he's watching you fall to pieces in the doorway feels like it's searing into haechan's skin, the heavy feeling in his chest increasing tenfold with guilt. he swallows, as he watches you take a few deep breaths. "i thought… i thought it meant…when you invited m-me you said you weren't making empty promises —" 

"i wasn't." he bites his lip, taking a step towards you. "y/n —" 

but you back away. "i was going to go, haechan. i was really going to go –" 

"i know." he knew now. 

" — but i've been sick since yesterday, and it wasn't getting any better, i couldn't leave the house –" 

"why didn't you tell me?" he desperately wants to run away, but he knows it's worse for you. 

your voice is small. "i don't have your number."

it had slipped his mind. it was something so stupid, something so small – how he never wanted to give you a way to talk to him, or give himself an easy way to access you, didn't want things to be too easy. all of it had slowly built up to that feeling each time he glanced at his phone that night, clutching the lifeless device in his hands. 

the last thing he should do, if he ever wanted to see you again, is blame you. he bites back his question of why you didn't ask jaemin for help, wrapping his jacket around his body self-consciously, running a hand through his hair.  "i forgot," he whispers. hurt flickers across your face again. 

"i d-don't know why i thought this would be different." you wipe at your face, biting your lip again to keep from trembling. "i hoped that maybe, even if i couldn't show up, you'd come here and take care of me. when i heard you outside the door…" 

the words have a bitter bite to them, and you spit them out like you hate the taste in your mouth, hate every memory associated with his care. 

"i'll take care of you," he pleads, quickly, stepping towards you. 

he doesn't know what he expected, if you'd showed up. maybe he'd play for you, and leave with your hand in his. maybe he could have taken you in his car, or in his soft sheets at home. brought you out for a late dinner, sit with you and let you pry him open as you always did. or maybe he'd say nothing at all, and nothing would have changed – he didn't know. 

his touch has always been his apology, always his way of reaching you through the only sure thing the both of you wanted from each other. but the look on your face tells him that the brush of his fingertips against your skin is only cruelty. 

"you're fucked up if you think i'm letting you take care of me now," your voice is grating, rough on his skin. 

"but i-"

"you'll hold me like this? force me to stare at the marks on your chest? breathe the perfume that isn't yours?" your tone is harsh and accusatory. he takes it all. "what were you going to do, if i showed?" 

and for once, haechan can't help but be honest. "i don't know," he mumbles, and he sees the words hit you like a strike to your face.

"you knew i wanted more," you whisper. "you knew i wanted to be close to you, but you always…you always –" 

"wanted?" he asks, quietly.  

"you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. whatever person lies behind all that…" your tears have stopped, your voice unfeeling. the numbness in you mirrors his own. "i want nothing to do with him." 

he can't think of anything to say. he reaches out a hand, and for a moment you let his fingers graze your arm, fear and hurt in the way they curl around your wrist, begging you to hold on to him too. you're scaring him, and he doesn't know how to go back, but he knows he deserves everything you're saying to him. deserves the way you shake free of his hold and close the door, his feet stumbling over themselves as he backs away. 

you said you didn't want to know him, that you didn't know him at all. but he can't help thinking that's not true, because you knew him enough to know exactly how to hurt him through the walls, through the boy he pretended to be, right through his chest and past his ribcage, right into his aching heart. 

—

ever since your fever broke, your life had been quiet. 

you go to all your classes. you cut down on coffee by getting sleep at night. you take walks with jaemin around the neighborhood, falling back into old routines. movie nights, and grocery trips. he was coddling you, and you felt it every day — coming home to warm meals, the way he was more forgiving over little disputes. you didn't deserve it, watching him slip out of the front door quietly, camera bag slung over his shoulder. 

you didn't deserve it, because you ached to follow. 

some part of you was still trapped inside your room, heady and aching, desperately trying to reach him. needing his apology, needing him to recognise the way he hurt you. you couldn't look for answers in your memories, but you played each scene back in your mind like a looping film reel, letting images suffocate you — his jacket falling open, love bites marking his skin, all the times he's slipped from your grasp. and yet, other fragments come back too — the warmth of his hand on yours in the car, the slight tilt of his head as he brought his gaze level with yours, seeking you out when things got too much. his quiet answers in the dark, the slow smile that spread across his face that made you glow, knowing you'd made him happy. 

"he got off lightly," you tell jaemin one night, the both of you on the floor by the couch. ice cream and wine drip condensation on the table-top, and the both of you are too heavy with the rush of sugar and alcohol, the clock ticking in the silence of the room as you sit.  

"you just want to see him again," he'd replied, quietly. "don't you?" 

"i just wish we could have talked." your voice is small. you and haechan never truly talked, except for some nights in the dark, lying in his arms afraid to breathe, afraid of breaking the tenderness that swelled in the room, afraid of turning on the lights to see who you were holding in the shadows.

"and then what? you'd be together?" jaemin glances over at you, and the concern in his eyes makes you shrink back even more. you were supposed to be doing better. everything in your life was right, it was exactly the way it should be — but why did you feel empty? 

"then i'd at least have closure," you mumble. "i'm never going to get any answers unless i talk to him." 

a brief expression of discomfort crosses jaemin's face, but it's gone when you blink. 

"i just don't want you to see him again, and forget all the ways he hurt you." 

you don't say a word. both of you knew that it was something too likely to happen. 

—

it's dark in haechan's room. the boy liked it shadowy, black-out curtains drawn over the windows, the air cool from air-conditioning, an air humidifier spewing light blue mist in the corner. the boy sitting in bed had his guitar in his lap, picking at the strings quietly, his phone face-up on the bed next to him, recording his ideas. he was swaddled in a large hoodie, swallowing his frame, shorts riding high on his thighs as he curls into himself. 

he doesn't look up when mark shuffles in, closing the door behind him quietly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the low light. 

"jaemin's outside." 

haechan nods. "i heard you." his voice is a soft sound, boyish. mark has heard it enough growing up, that he knows haechan is scared. he knows haechan is waiting for answers, waiting for the verdict.

"he says he'll only continue to work with us if you stop seeing… y/n." 

the name trips in his mouth, clumsy. it feels strange to use it, especially around haechan, who knows you more than any of them do, like he's saying something he's not allowed to, a boy using an expletive he doesn't understand. haechan's body tenses when he hears your name in mark's voice, predictable, almost laughable — the slight tightening of his nimble fingers on the neck of the guitar, slip of his fingers on the guitar pick. 

"okay." and the boy goes back to playing. 

"you'll stop seeing y/n?" 

"yeah." mark moves closer to the bed, sees haechan's lower lip caught in his teeth. 

"haechan, stop." 

the boy shakes his head roughly, plucking at the strings a little harder. 

"what happened? what happened between you and y/n?" 

"i'll stop seeing her." 

"stop acting like i don't know you," mark mumbles, finally sitting down on the bed. haechan stills, as mark pulls the guitar away from him, his hands going limp as he lets mark set it down at the foot of the bed. "i hate it when you do that."  

"i'm sorry." a beat, then haechan buries his face in his hands, pulling at his features, before letting his arms drop down to the bed again. "could you…could you at least tell her?" 

"tell her what?" 

"that jaemin told me to stay away." haechan fiddles with the hem of his shirt, head still lowered. "i…i shouldn't be the one avoiding her. she should be avoiding me." 

"is there a difference?" 

"yeah." he mumbles his words, plush lips barely forming each syllable. "because i hurt her. i can't hurt her and then ignore her…that's…that's not right."

"so you want to keep seeing her?" 

"i just want…" his voice is hollow, and when he looks up at mark — the dim light in the room catching on the features of his face, mark can finally see the way his lips were raw, skin torn and bitten. his eyes, usually sharp and piercing, are puffy and swollen from crying, dazed pupils blinking up at him. "mark, i don't think i've ever hurt someone like this before."

mark wonders what he could have done, but he doesn't ask. "do you want to make it right?" 

"i don't know how." he swallows, throat bobbing. "i don't know if i can." 

"maybe avoiding her isn't the best thing…" mark starts, putting a hand on haechan's arm, but haechan flinches. 

"the band will kill me. jeno will kill me." mark opens his mouth to argue, but already haechan is leaning back against the headboard, head lowered and looking down at his lap. "i'll do it. i won't see her again."

"it'll be fine" mark reassures, softly. "in a few weeks, after a few more people, you'll forget all about her." 

neither of them really believed it. 

—

as jaemin sits on the couch — jeno sprawled on an armchair with jisung perched on the armrest, mark sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, he thinks about how these boys have become his close friends. he fits in with them in a way he never has with his other clients — evenings spent photographing them, understanding them through the lens of his camera. cycling trips with jeno, bringing out mark's competitive streak as they drank in the kitchen, babying jisung and taking care of him when the other bandmates weren't around to do so. 

and of course, getting to know haechan — teaching him how to use a camera, chatting with him easily about the city. if jaemin was to be honest, haechan intimidated him a little with how guarded he was, every sentence he spoke to jaemin felt like it'd been turned over a million times in his head, each word careful and poised. he also disappeared for long periods of time, sometimes never there during parties. 

now jaemin knew what the time had been spent on. who he'd spent it on.

"we're really sorry." it's mark who speaks up first. jisung nods in agreement, while jeno looks on. 

"i don't need you to be sorry," mumbles jaemin. "it's not your fault." 

"still…" mark scratches the back of his close-cropped hair tentatively. "he mentioned it."

"what did he say?" 

"he didn't tell us everything," jisung says, voice hushed. his hair falls over his eyes as he ducks his head in thought. "mostly just told us to stay away." 

"did he sound like he wanted them to be exclusive?" 

mark and jisung exchange a glance, but it's jeno's voice that answers just as mark's lips part. 

"no." when jisung bites his lip, jeno raises his eyebrows, annoyed. "are you kidding? he just said he fucked her more often, and that we should fuck off." 

jisung looked wounded. "he didn't say that." 

"but that's what he meant." 

"mark?" 

jaemin calls out to the boy, bringing him out of his thoughts. mark was staring at his own hands, a frown creasing his face.

"haechan agreed," he says, slowly. your name lingers on the tip of his tongue as he says it, like he's tasting the sound, the unfamiliarity of it in his mouth. "i…i think i might know what's going on with haechan, but it's up to him to explain, not me." 

"so he won't see her anymore?" 

the words come easily to jaemin. he knew it was the deal he was going to make the moment he texted mark to ask if they could talk. he was willing to lose his growing friendship with the rest of the boys if it could give you peace, if all of you could go back to the way things were. 

he think back to how he found you — struggling to head out of the door the previous day, barely able to make it to the door, the fever burning up your brain and making your bones ache. he thinks of coming back home to you after he'd went to the pharmacy to get you medicine, slipping his shoes off at the door and immediately knowing that something had changed, from the tears streaming down your face. 

"how did this happen?" 

"he came to see me" you mumble, struggling with the sleeves of the thick sweater you were trying to pull your arms through. the moment you straighten, you wince as a dull pain throbbed through your head, hunching over again as stars blinked in your vision. 

"haechan?" 

he sets down the bag of medicine on the kitchen counter, picking up the thermometer and pointing it at your forehead. the light on the screen blinks red, and his eyebrows furrow, the displeased expression on his face only growing stronger. 

"why did you open the door?" he asks, slowly. "i thought we talked about this." 

"i thought…." your voice is scratchy, as pressure seems to rise inside your skull, pain that made your eyes tear up. it's laughable that you thought he would take care of you, and instead he ripped you to pieces. tears well up in your eyes again, and your lips part, only to let out a small sob. 

he grips onto your arm, gently but firmly, steering you back towards your room. you don't have any strength to fight back, it felt like the temperature in the room was at freezing point even though jaemin was only wearing a thin shirt and shorts, and the ache in your bones made every movement shoot pain through your nerves. even after lying down on your bed, swaddled in blankets, the dim light slightly easing the pain in your head, you were too weak to lift your head, stretching your fingers out over the blanket and crawling towards where jaemin's hand rested on the sheets. 

he held your hand and listened to you talk, knowing you needed to let it all out. he didn't judge, he didn't make faces. just listened with his eyes closed as you told him about meeting haechan, the way he pulled you away from everyone else and how you'd followed. he observed you quietly through his lashes as you sniffled, breaths breaking up your words. 

the story got harder to tell when you recounted moments of his tenderness — when he'd call you his, when he took care of you, when he'd promise to be harsh with you but never went through with it, the way his face fell when you cried. you stuttered and hesitated through it all, because you didn't know if any of it was real or just imagined.

jaemin knows he could have hurt you further — broken every last illusion, pierced through the image of haechan you had in your head. but he didn't have the heart to, so this was the best he could do — making sure it stopped. 

"it's done," mark nods, but he looks unhappy. 

jaemin doesn't feel the weight lift from his chest like he thought it would. he feels jisung move to sit next to him, a hand on his shoulder as he observes his face. 

"i'm really sorry," he mumbles, lips barely moving. 

"it's not your fault," jaemin replies, leaning back against the cushions, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

—

haechan is dreaming again. 

except it's more memory than dream, the way you're laid up against the pillows, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaves kisses on your inner thighs. it's so vivid, the way you taste, the twitch of your muscles as you tense around him, the small gasp as he pulls away to sit back on his knees. 

"please-" you whimper, needy from being teased. scrabbling, you bring your knees to your chest, hands trembling as you hook them on your thighs, tears smearing your cheeks with a dewy glow. you were trying to keep your voice quiet, small sounds barely escaping your lips as you bit down on them, pleading with him through murmurs and barely coherent words. his shirt on your body crinkled everywhere from how he'd been grabbing at it, the long sleeves falling over your palms. it was straight out of a wet dream, which it now was, as you begged him to fuck you, your wet folds slick with spit and arousal as you bared yourself to him, pleading with him to sink into you. 

in memory, he croons. he gives you what you asked for — pressing your weight into the mattress as he pushes into you, feel you pulse around him as he goes in hard and deep, feel your body trembling against his. 

but in dream, he can be honest enough with himself to admit that it scares him when you cry. that his stomach twists when he hears you beg, like missing a step on a staircase, a second where he's rushing into nothing — not knowing if he'd made you like this, not knowing if he was hurting you. from the girl shaking against him, clumsy hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and you now — hips rocking into nothing, desperate for him. 

"i'm here," he whispers, gently taking your hands and slowly lowering your legs down to the bed. he kisses you until your breathing calms and slows, your hands now on the sides of his face, caressing his cheeks. he likes how you touch him as if you could ever bruise him, loving brushes of your fingertips, urgency making your fingers curl into his skin, hesitant scratches on his shoulders that your hands skitter away from. 

in dream, he pushes into you slowly, watching the way your lips part, breath caught in your chest, eyes fluttering closed as you take him in. wet sounds fill the room as he begins to move his hips, your face shyly tucked into his chest, your ankles sweetly hooked against his lower back as you melt together. the feelings in his chest intensifying the pleasure he feels from you wrapped around him. his eyes meet yours as you blink up at him, and it's so real — the way you glow against the sheets of his bed, eyes all soft and sparkling with tenderness. 

but then he wakes in the same bed: the feeling of you under him, the crash of his heartbeat in his chest, all of it hanging in the dark, a lingering tattoo on his body. 

—

so it's almost like a dream, when he opens the door to the stranger's bedroom, to see you slumped on the floor. 

the din from below echoes through the hall, the sounds of the overwhelming crowd seeping into the room and reminding him of why he was here. he'd been looking for a quiet place to be alone — the constant eyes on him making him feel self-conscious and jumpy. 

back at the apartment, jeno had said he wasn't being like himself, that he hadn't been himself in a long time, the memory of his laugh ringing in haechan's ears as he climbed upstairs. when has a crowd ever bothered you? when have you ever hated attention? 

he didn't know the answers. 

now haechan stands in the doorway, not believing his eyes. there was no way you'd known he would be here, alone. you're curled in on yourself on the floor, leaning against the bed with your knees tucked to your chest, eyes shut. your body is still, and for just a while longer he lets himself watch you for just a moment — drink in every single detail he'd missed even if it felt like teasing open his own wounds with fingers caked in salt. the rise and fall of your chest, your hair mussed up and falling over your face, the slope of your shoulders, your arms. 

and suddenly he's back in his bed, your weight the only thing he was sure of against his chest, drunk on the soft sounds you made, lips barely forming his name. 

you don't know he's here yet. he could walk away, leave you by yourself. but something in him told him he couldn't leave you like this in the middle of a party, barely conscious in a stranger's bedroom. before he knows what he's doing, before he can fathom the consequences, he's kneeling before you, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your body. you reek of alcohol, stirring when you feel the weight of the leather on your body, your tongue numb and heavy in your mouth, eyelashes feeling stuck to your cheeks as you struggle to open your eyes. 

"y/n?" haechan whispers, choking on the sound of your name. 

"haech-" you trail off, fingers coming up to rub your eyes sleepily, the jacket slipping slightly. "haechan." it's the way you say it, like your tongue is too afraid to form the syllables, like something you can't bear to say. 

"i-i'm going to find someone," he mumbles, backing away from you, clumsily trying to get to his feet. "you stay here, i'll –"

"don't go-" the words almost get lost from the way you're slurring, lips barely moving, shaking your head as you reach for him again. your fingers slip on the sleeve of his shirt, before curling and holding on tight. "please don't leave." 

"i…" pain flickers over his features. he bites his lower lip, body moving towards yours instinctively, your hand crawling up his sleeve and grasping for his arm, fingers digging to the bone as you tremble. but then he feels your breath on his neck, and he pulls away again. 

"what happened, y/n? did someone hurt you?" he feels like a hypocrite. 

"no," you say, meekly. "i think i just had too much to drink." 

"did you come with jaemin?" 

you shake your head, nuzzling into him in a way that makes his heart pulse painfully in his chest. "i don't know anyone here." 

he still thinks he should get help from any of the girls downstairs. even as you meld yourself a little closer to him, he's almost certain you wouldn't be acting this way if you were sober. 

"y/n, i can't. please just let me call jaemin–" 

"want you here." you reach for him again, trying to pull him impossibly closer, fitting his body against yours. "don't want jaemin to see me like this." 

it dawns on him that besides jaemin, he was the only one you felt comfortable around like this. it wouldn't be the first time he's taken care of you when you were vulnerable or weak, and his body reacts out of habit — pulling you into his arms, his hands gently patting your back as you blink back tears in the crook of his neck. but it still didn't feel right, knowing he was the one who had caused this, and yet he was here holding you.

"let me talk to someone downstairs – i'll see if they can take you home," he murmurs. you bury your face deeper in his neck, shaking your head. "just 5 minutes, okay? i just need 5 minutes —" 

"don't want someone to bring me home," you rasp, and his gut twists painfully when i feels your tears damp on his skin. "i don't want to go back to my place. i want to go with you." 

"you're going to regret this," he says, softly. to him it's the truth you're not sober enough to see, even if it hurt to tell you. "you don't really want this, y/n." 

"is it because you want to find someone else?" your words are soft-edged, lips forming the words carefully, but it pierces him all the same. "is it- is it because you want to bring someone else home?" 

"no," he answers, quiet. "i haven't…not in a while." 

"so you just don't want to be around me?" 

his mind is racing, desperately trying to think of how he could help you, but his mind was coming up with nothing. that same feeling he always had around you — protectiveness intersecting with the ache in his chest everytime your eyes met his, all of it roaring in his ears, louder than the cacophony from any party. for all the times he's claimed he knew what was good for you, he's begun to realise that he has a terrible grasp on how not to hurt you. 

"you don't want to be around me," he corrects, but his fate is sealed when you let out a small sob, muffled against his shirt. 

and he takes you home. 

—

you watch him through your lashes, as he swipes a cotton pad on your face, cleaning off your makeup. 

"close your eyes," he mumbles, a slight pout forming on his lips from how hard he was concentrating, trying to be gentle with you. his touches are far too light, and you're sure your makeup is still on your face, but you let your lashes flutter shut anyway, feeling a featherlight brush against your eyelid as he holds it against your eye. dropping the used pad into a small bin, he brings a warm, damp towel up to your face, the material of it soft against your skin. 

"can you brush your teeth?" he holds a toothbrush up to your face, but he withdraws it once your hands come up to hold it, completely misjudging the distance and landing on his shoulders instead. "open," he coaxes, parting his own lips so you'd mimic him. he smiles fondly as you open your mouth wide, a hand coming up to hold your face in place. "good girl," he mumbles, and you preen at the praise that shines through your drunken haze, following his instructions to rinse out your mouth.  

there's a short pause. having brushed out your hair, removed your makeup and brushed your teeth, the only thing to do next was to get you to bed. 

your legs squeeze around his hips, your back against the mirror on his bathroom counter. "haechan," you mumble, tipsiness making you swallow your words. "don't…my clothes…" 

"i'll leave them on," he promises, ignoring the way your tight dress looks uncomfortable and unclean to sleep in. "don't worry." of course you don't feel comfortable around him, not after everything.

but for some reason, you're shaking your head, two clumsy hands closing in on one of his and guiding them to your back. "take them off. please–" you add, when he hesitates. "please help me."

"of course," he murmurs, familiarity sparking in his fingertips as they grasp for the zipper, a sense of dejavu in how he drags it down your spine slowly, your back arching slightly. you look at him, drink in the proximity like the first taste of rain after a heatwave — the pretty cut of his eyes, the way his pupils float upwards as he focuses on your back through the mirror. the round tip of his nose, and finally the plushness of his heart-shaped lips. it feels like reprieve, the ache in you finally soothed by the way his breath fans over your cheeks, a gentle balm on an open wound. you lean forward slightly into him as if drawn by a magnetic field, one of your hands coming up to trace the arches of his cupid's bow. 

"y/n?" you can feel his lips move, soft like rose petals on your fingertips. "what are you doing?" 

"you haven't called me baby all night," you blurt out. "or…or princess." your thumb dips to brush against his lower lip, before he's catching hold of your hand and pulling it away from his face gently. 

"i shouldn't," he mumbles, pressing a light kiss to your fingertips before letting go. "i can't."

your dress has gone loose around your body, and you push the sleeves off your shoulders with your hands, letting the fabric drop to your waist. you observe him, watching the way he swallows, throat bobbing when his eyes dart to your chest, lace draped over your curves. 

"haechan," you murmur, but then he turns, hands now fumbling with a pile of his clean clothes. he holds out a clean shirt to you, bunching it up at the collar to slip your head through it, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. 

"i want that one," you say, softly, pointing to a long sleeved shirt you'd remembered wearing before in the room he'd shared with the boys. something flickers in his eyes, his hands curling into fists before he picks it up. he's putting it over your head, the soft cotton hanging off your shoulders, his hands coming close to your body to guide your arms into the sleeves, until you can't take it anymore. 

"haechan, don't you want me?" 

his lips part, his hands stilling, slowly unfurling his grasp on you and placing his palms on the counter. "y/n…" 

"why aren't you-" you look up at him, biting your lip, your tongue too slow to form the thoughts your mind was racing with. "why haven't you touched me yet? do you not want me like this?" 

his heart splinters and fractures. you were so used to it — used to all his touches leading to kisses, kisses leading to him all over your body. "you're drunk." it's the only thing he can say. 

"i know what i'm doing," you fire back, but your words lilt and smear together. "ask me anything and i can answer you right now." 

but all he does is resume putting your arms through the sleeves, your limbs pliant against him as always, and soon you're completely covered up, and he can breathe a little easier. his strong arms grip your waist, and you're like a ragdoll in his grip as he guides you to stand, the dress at your hips falling, the shirt brushing the top of your thighs. 

it gets worse when he sets you down in his bed. in another universe, this might be a moment of bliss for him, something romantic and sweet in the way your body curves against his pillows, sinking down into them and blinking up at him hazily. but guilt still thunders in his chest, his vision split by lightning bolts of fear. you would wake up hating him. he would never stop hurting you. you would never want to see him again. 

your arms slide up his, grasping for him. "please," you plead, your voice small. "what did i do wrong? why don't you want to touch me?" 

"you didn't do any wrong," he murmurs, as he lets his weight sink into bed next to you, feel you curl up against him. just for a minute he tells himself — just until you fall asleep. your weight on his chest feeling like someone had doused his body with warmth, a comfort that made his eyes prickle with tears. "y/n, you're perfect," he whispers, the words melting into the dark.

"don't say that." he feels tears wet against the soft fabric of his shirt over his chest. "stop saying my name." 

"baby," he amends. "sweetheart, go to sleep." 

you hum. "haechan." 

"don't," he echoes. 

"what's wrong?" you mumble, your question heavy with sleep. 

he grips onto you tighter, holding you fiercely as tears cloud his vision. 

"i'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "i'm so so so sorry." when you don't respond, he nuzzles into your hair, freckling wet kiss on your forehead. "i'm sorry," he repeats, long after you've fallen asleep. 

—

you wake up to the sound of laughter ringing out against the walls. 

the room is as dim as it was last night — dark curtains drawn and the lights turned off. time seemed to have come to a standstill, you couldn't tell if it had been days or weeks or even months since you'd fallen asleep. your body ached, still heavy with sleep while your mind cleared — it had been a while since you've slept this well.

blinking your eyes open, you slowly sit up, feeling sheets warm and soft against your skin. you sit there, dazed, getting your bearings as you survey the unfamiliar room again. your clothes, folded on a small couch next to the window. your jewelry on the bedside table, your phone plugged in to the charger. 

the only thing you recognised was the long sleeved shirt unmistakeable on your body, the familiar smell of perfume and body lotion in every fiber of the sheets.

stumbling over to the bathroom, the warm light brings back every memory — the party, the drinks, stumbling upstairs into a room as your consciousness slipped away, and then haechan, haechan, haechan. haechan leading you out of the party, taking you home in his car, taking care of you. your fingers ghost over your forehead, where you swear he kissed you just before you woke up.

you turn off the tap. in the silence, there's another round of giggles, bright like a child's, and then —

"baby, don't move!" 

haechan's voice rings lighter than you've ever heard it, and the smile in it is evident. this is a voice without shadows, fondness in every lilt and inflection. with something like urgency, you dry your hands on your shirt, padding out of his room, hesitantly blinking into the sunlit living room. 

you almost don't believe your eyes. 

haechan is sitting on the couch, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pink lips stuck out in a pout. sitting on the floor, cross-legged between his knees, was a little girl — her hands busy with a doll, while her own hair was being meticulously braided and arranged by the boy…whose head snaps up the moment he hears the creak of the door. 

"you're awake," he blurts out, and the girl looks up. 

"hi!" she waves shyly, leaning forward towards you, but whining as the motion tugs on her hair instead. "hyuck! it hurts…" 

his eyes finally dart away from yours. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, lightly massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers. 

"you're making it messy —" 

"right, sorry." he grabs a sparkly pink hairbrush and combs through her hair gently, beginning to rebraid. the girl goes back to her doll, settling back down and quickly losing interest in you. 

his eyes flick up to yours again, the tiniest hint of blush on his cheeks. "did you sleep well?"

you nod, feeling like you'd walked in on something you weren't supposed to. 

haechan studies your face, a strand of hair falling from his grasp before he tucks it in diligently. "are you hungover? there were painkillers on the bedside table, i don't know if you saw…" 

"i'm fine," you croak out. 

"and there's breakfast on the table," he murmurs, ducking his head back down to focus on the impressive french braid he was attempting. he looks back up when he feels you staring, as if fixed to the ground beneath your feet. 

"is she…?" 

"this is my baby sister," he answers, smiling softly. "sorry, i didn't know she was coming over today. her kindergarten is near here so sometimes i walk her to school." and then, with a nod towards the table, "please eat — i made too many sandwiches." 

the girl smiles, mumbling softly to herself. "hyuckie makes the best sandwiches." 

you can see 'hyuckie' blush at that, his lips pressed together tightly to keep in his smile as he pokes the little girl's cheek softly, going back to the braid. you cross over to the dining table, feet shuffling slowly, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the two siblings, watching the fondness in haechan's eyes. quietly pulling out a chair, you sit down and pick up a sandwich, holding it gingerly between your fingers. 

a hushed voice breaks the silence, and you turn to see his sister, cupping her lips against haechan's ear whispering so loud that her words fill the room. "is she your friend?" the girl asks, pointing her pinky finger at you, head tilted with curiosity. haechan's head tilts too, but his eyes wander over to yours as he hesitates. 

"yes, she's my friend," he says, slowly. "we're…good friends." sliding the hair ties from his wrist, he finally finishes tying off the braid, before giving the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder. "you can play for 5 more minutes okay? hyuckie needs to talk to his friend." 

her round eyes blink at you as she slowly gets to her feet, before tottering over to the window, where another pile of dolls lay. haechan clears his throat, before shuffling over to you and sitting down in a chair next to yours. 

although he adjusts himself to face you, he keeps his distance – legs drawn in under the chair, hands placed carefully on his knees in a way you'd never seen him do before. it feels like the space between the both of you spans for entire oceans and continents, an invisible force field that holds weight against your limbs, keeping you from leaning in, incapable of even moving your fingertips. 

"are you sure you're okay?" 

he looks at you — his expression soft like wax melting around a candle wick. 

"do you…do you remember how you got here?" 

you nod, taking a deep breath. "the party?" 

"i'm sorry that you're here like this," he says, quietly. "i didn't know you were going to be there, i wasn't trying to corner you, i swear." 

you nod, dazed. 

"are you upset with me? for bringing you here?" at the conflict in your expression, he adds on, hurriedly, "i-i know it wasn't the best thing to do. i could've called jaemin, or mark, or anyone downstairs…it's just that i didn't know…i didn't know if it would be okay–" 

" — i'm not upset," you cut him off, the pressure easing as you raise a hand jerkily to place it over his. "i believe you. thank you for taking care of me last night."

he exhales slowly, and when he speaks he sounds even more troubled than before. "you…you shouldn't thank me. you shouldn't thank me for anything."

his eyes dart over to his little sister, checking in on her, and the sense that you're intruding on something creeps up on you again. 

haechan had been right — there was so much of him you didn't know. you hardly recognised the boy sitting beside you, despite a vague sense of comfort and familiarity in the slightest traces of his expression, the look in his eyes, his thumb absentmindedly stroking yours. it scared you. 

you withdraw your hand, pushing your chair a little further from his, the scrape of it dissonant in your ears. "so, uh, i'll just wait downstairs for the taxi if you don't feel comfortable —" 

"taxi?" he looks at you, confused. 

"i…i should go now, right?" 

"i wasn't going to ask you to go," he says, his voice small. "i was…i was hoping we could talk." 

"talk?" you echo. after weeks of nothing? "now?"

"i mean, not right now-" he glances over at the clock, wincing. "but can you stay today?" 

there's a pause. you don't think you've ever been able to read him — you've spent days second-guessing every emotion you thought he had, the meaning behind each expression, whether he ever told the truth. but something about him like this makes you hesitate, made your breath catch in your throat. all the ways you've tried to learn how to be immune to his words and his touch slowly melting away, because that was your defense against the version of haechan you thought you knew before. 

"i'll understand if you say no," he says, quietly. "but i have things i need to say to you. please." 

you don't know what to do. 

"hyuckie?" 

you both turn. haechan's baby sister is waddling over, her fist clenched around her hair ties as the last remnants of the french braid unravel from her head. she sniffles. "it fell." 

haechan's eyes dart back to you quickly, before refocusing his attention away. "it's okay-" he soothes, taking the hair ties from her as he swipes the pad of his thumb on her cheek, brushing off the teardrops that have begun to spill from her lashes. his lips jut out into a pout, his head tilting to meet her gaze. "let's just tie it up and go to school, hm?"

"but i want it in a braid…"  

"i can't finish it in time," he says, gently, touching the strands of her hair. "i'm sorry. i promise, we'll do it next time, okay?" 

her lip wobbles. "but…"

"let me help," you say, suddenly. 

he turns, round eyes wide. "what?" 

"i'll do her hair. you still need to get her things right?" 

he nods, a little dazed. "really?" 

"i'll stay," you murmur, and you slip the hair ties from his loose fingers and sling them around your wrist. "i need to talk to you too." 

you can feel his eyes on you as he coaxes his sister towards you, the girl shyly hiding her face in your hands as you swiftly braid two pigtails down her back. he still watches you out of the corner of his eye as he packs her bag, noting the way you listen to her babble on about her days at the school, the way you help adjust the straps of her backpack onto her tiny frame.

he looks at you like he's never seen you before. you think you know the feeling. 

— 

the bed dips under his weight as he sits down. 

"hey," you hear him murmur, and you stir. his hair falls over his face, and he's changed out of his clothes, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perches on his dainty nose. it's foreign, and new…until he pushes back his hair boyishly with an open palm, flicking his head like a puppy after a swim, and the skip in your heartbeat feels all too familiar in your ribcage. 

"did you get her to school?" 

he nods. "i got us lunch too. and stopped to get groceries." studying your face, he leans in. "i didn't want to wake you up so soon. do you feel better?" 

you hum. the morning now seemed like just a dream — haechan and his sister, the breakfast sandwiches. he'd left to walk her to school, telling you to rest in his bed until he got home. now, late afternoon light seeps into the room through the open door, until haechan gets up to close it, once again sealing the room in cozy darkness. 

"may i…?" he lifts up the corner of the covers, and you nod, easing yourself to the side as he gets into bed, leaning up against the headboard, his eyes trained on his lap. you lay on your side, that same feeling — as if you couldn't reach out and touch him, as if he existed in a world of his own without you, slowly settling in your body like a familiar ache. 

but then there's a shift — and you can feel his gaze warm on your skin. you blink up at him, his pupils focused on yours, pools of the darkest molten brown sucking you into his world. he wets his lips with his tongue nervously, taking a shuddering breath. 

"y/n, i'm really sorry." 

your heart squeezes a little in your chest. "for?" 

"for what i said that night…when i thought…when you didn't show up." he takes another breath. "and for not trusting you, for going to your place after i...." his fists clench the fabrics of the sheets, twisting it in his hands. 

you bite your lip. "haechan —"

" — i'm not done." he swallows, voice dipping low. "you were right. i knew you wanted more, i always knew exactly when i hurt you. but i never tried…i never tried to change anything. i'm sorry." his hands reach towards yours for a second, but he hesitates, dropping them back on his lap. 

"what would you have changed?" you ask, softly.

"i could have stopped seeing you," he murmurs. 

you smile, sadly. "i'm not convinced that would have hurt any less." that was something you knew for sure. 

"and i don't think i could have stopped myself," he admits. 

"haechan," his eyes move to yours. "why did you invite me?" his breathing picks up, and you want desperately to comfort him, to curl up on his lap and soothe him, but you knew the both of you were afraid of what would happen if you touched. knew the possibility that you'd try to find answers in skin-on-skin, lips-on-lips, and the possibility that it would all be lost in translation again.  

"i'm sorry, –" he looks at you sadly. "i think i was just trying to get you to stay. i…" he chews on his lip, glasses sliding a little lower on his slender nose bridge as his head dips. "i regret what i said, but some of it was true. i don't know what i would have done, and i don't think i was ready for…for what you thought it was." 

you nod, cheek rubbing against soft sheets, thinking about what he said. "haechan, i don't regret not going. i only wished i'd done it intentionally." 

"yeah?" he whispers. the sound sticks in his throat. 

"if you hadn't found me yesterday…would you still have looked for me? talked to me? i'm not hurt that you didn't find me sooner-" you cut in, when you see the guilt on his features, the parting of his lips in apology. "time apart….time apart was good. i needed it to clear my head. i….i couldn't stop myself around you." 

he doesn't say anything, for a while. "jaemin came over," he says, slowly. "and he said i couldn't talk to you or he would stop working with the band and it was decided for me." 

"he what?" 

haechan shakes his head. "i don't blame him. i'm not going to pretend that i couldn't have still talked to you if i really wanted to. i'm selfish enough to do that, i'll admit. i didn't reach out because i didn't know what to say, and i didn't know what i wanted." 

"and now?" 

he closes his eyes. "time apart was good," he murmurs, echoing your words. "it gave me a chance to go back to a time before." 

your breath catches. 

" — but i couldn't. i don't think i can take it any longer. i missed you, y/n. i miss you now, even as you're here." 

"you miss me?" 

something bothered you about it, hearing him say those words. when he'd pulled you away repeatedly in the weeks you've known each other, when he came for you time and time again, was that missing you too? were things different now? 

"i miss spending time with you," he says, almost timidly. "not just…not just sex. everything. i know it's selfish…" his eyes blink open, and he pushed his glasses up, avoiding your gaze. "i didn't mean to pressure you to come back. you can forget i said that." 

he shakes his head, trying to clear it. 

"i just wanted to tell you i'm sorry for hurting you." 

you'd never dared hope for a real apology from him. some part of you expected, or even secretly wished, he would find you again after that night, lie through his teeth to win you back. and in the weeks that followed, you took his silence to mean he didn't even care enough to do that.

and now here you were, sitting with him. after days and nights, he's had time to really mean his words — he wasn't himself, which is maybe why you believed he was telling the truth.

you think you know now, why he refused to let you in. why he hadn't wanted to take your first time, something so intimate and romantic that it would have pierced right through the layers he'd built up around himself. why he drew away so many nights when your touch lingered on each others' skin, when you wanted him to stay. 

"haechan," you say, quietly. "i need you to understand that i…that i've learned how to be hurt by you. i don't want to go back to how we were before." 

he nods, quickly. "of course." 

"and…you say you knew i wanted more. so you know that i wanted to be with you…romantically, right?" 

"i know." the words are so quiet, you barely catch them. 

"if…if i come back, i don't think i want that anymore." you say, gentle, but firm. jaemin was right — you couldn't let yourself forget all the ways he hurt you. "i associate us with too much hurt. i can't trust you with my heart, can you understand that?" 

there's silence. he's nodding, but when his lips part, he's wordless. 

"haechan?" 

"i understand," he murmurs. "i'm…i didn't…" he breaks off, fiddling with the covers, lip caught in his teeth. "whatever happens next will only happen on your terms," he says, softly. "i only want to do what you want to do, okay?" 

your brow furrows. "but haechan, if you don't feel comfortable with something –" 

"i'm fine as long as you still want to see me," he whispers. 

"if you don't want to let me in, i won't push anymore." you realize you truly mean it when you make the offer out loud. even if it hurt to know that you may never see him like this again, you press on, jaemin's advice resurfacing in your mind again. "you don't owe me any more of yourself. if you want it to just be sex, we can do that – but you have to commit to it too. so no more getting jealous, or —"  

" – that's not possible." 

"you're not making any sense." you should've been hurt, but sitting here now — looking at him, the way he melts into his room, fuzzy at the edges, soft curves of his face, you can't feel any of it. finally, you're beginning to see that he's just as lost as you are. his head is still bowed low, taking in every word you say like a weight he carries upon him. 

"it's not possible because you already know me. you know enough of me that i couldn't perform with you in the crowd, can't be myself around you at a party. i can't stand there onstage, do things like eyefuck girls and play the guitar and pretend to be someone else, while feeling your eyes on me. you'd see right through me."

he sounds like he's on the verge of tears, his voice achy and raw. and as you look up at him, tears are smudging on his waterline, his cheeks glistening as he sniffles. 

"i said i'd be fine with anything," he breathes shakily, as he starts to cry, sharp inhales punctuating his words. "and i am, i really am. i-i'm not in the position to set terms. it's fine if you don't want to know me, but i can't pretend we're just strangers anymore. i won't be able to." 

words you'd said to him — you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. 

for a moment, you entertain the idea that you've hurt him too. 

"i don't think i can pretend either," you murmur. "i hated it when you pretended like you didn't know me. like you'd never seen me before." 

i'm s-sorry, he chokes, but the syllables scattered across his sobs. he claps a hand to his mouth as his breathing speeds up even more, tears wetting his shirt, achy sounds muffled against his palm. and finally you sit up, limbs still clumsy and heavy from sleep, and you wrap your arms around him, and arm slung over his chest, another around his waist, just like you wanted to all this time.

his breath shudders against your palms, warm body against your skin. you bury your face in his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him that changed no matter who he was or whoever he was pretending to be, until his breathing slows and his sobs come to a shaky stop. 

"i missed you too, haechan," you breathe. he shakes his head. "i did-" you insist, but he shakes his head again, a hand coming to touch your arm on his waist, squeezing tight. 

"not haechan, donghyuck," he whispers. 

"donghyuck," you correct, stroking the side of his cheek lovingly, your fingertip stained with his tears. "i missed you." 

"i missed you too." he says it like the words are dangerous, hushed and quiet. "are you…are you really coming back to me?"

"do you think we can be friends?" you ask, tentatively. not lovers, not strangers. this was the only in-between you knew that could do justice to the ways you knew each other, the only way you could see yourself holding on to him now.

he looks at you for a long time, until you forget your question. his nose is tinted pink, his eyes still watery as he drowns in his thoughts. 

he swallows. "are you sure?" he asks, softly. "your first time being with someone…and it's not even a real relationship." 

"you're doing that thing again," you murmur. "where you tell me what's good for me. how i should do things." you soften when you look up, seeing the guilt in his face, as if he had been caught red-handed. "i'm asking you again," you say, slowly. "do you think we can be friends?" 

this time, he nods. "yeah," he murmurs. "friends who…"

you nod too, feeling your cheeks burn, and then you lean in — slotting your lips against his. 

for a second, he doesn't kiss you back, and your stomach swoops. 

but then his mouth is moving against yours, soft and gentle. a close-lipped kiss, just the feeling of his soft lips on yours, the brush of your noses together, your eyes slowly fluttering shut to focus on the feeling. and even though you'd just agreed — even though you were the one who suggested it, a part of you wondered if you could ever only want to be friends with lee donghyuck.  

—

you sit at the dinner table, and haechan's entire body aches with a longing that crests over him like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from his lungs. 

he recalls the way he'd felt earlier, walking back across the park from the kindergarten, stopping by the grocery store and wandering the brightly-lit aisles, turning over pasta sauce and soup stock in his hands. the knowledge that you were in his home, sleeping, that he would turn the key in the lock and you would be waiting for him — burned down his throat like alcohol, a bonfire in his stomach. it felt like playing pretend. he was afraid to even drive you back to your apartment, to walk you to your door, to look at you too long in the moments after. and yet here he was, tipsy off the sweetness of being able to come home to you. 

after the talk, neither of you had gone much further than kissing. 

"i missed you so much," he murmurs – his voice crumpling under the weight of his own words. 

"do you want to show me?" your tone is lightly teasing, dipping low as you keep your smile on your face. the warmth coursing through your body has nothing to do with the blankets pooling around your thighs, and everything to do with the boy sitting across from you — doll-like legs with miles of silky skin splayed out over the sheets, back slouching against the headboard, all crumpled in and soft and worn. 

if you had gone to the bar weeks ago, let him guide you to this home, to this bed, you might already be familiar with this soft mattress in a whole different way.  

neither of you can deny the way your minds wander there still, despite everything. him missing your body framed against his, you craving the sink of his chest, the curve of his waist.  

there's silence, as his words register in the boy's head, pain flickering over his features. if he was feeling more like himself, he would pulled you in, caged you under him. tugged at that side of you that was always so pliant and easy for him and watched you unravel under his fingertips. the words are on the tip of his tongue — i'll show you. did you miss me too? kiss me. stay with me.

instead, his fingers withdraw, and gently touch the soft cotton of his shirt's hem, warm light flickering in his eyes. "not like this," he murmurs quietly. "not…not now."

you let out a breath, tension dissipating. "yeah," you'd murmured. "you're right." 

you'd gone to take a shower while he prepared dinner. there was something terribly domestic about all of it — you padding into the living room again, each fiber of your being smelling so much like him. the way he turned from where he stood guarding the soup bubbling on the stove to see you in one of his shirts, a towel draped over your shoulders. the feelings he hadn't learned to pin down, hadn't had the time to sort, intensified in his chest, an ache lodged inside him. 

friends. he'd introduced you to his sister as his friend, watched you braid her hair and laugh with her softly, heard your sweet voice wishing her good luck with school. the nights he'd spent with you by his side — talking about the band, about his tattoos. asking about how he did during the show, seeking your praise, wanting to know so badly how he appeared in your eyes. the way you somehow reached right through him and made him listen, made him stop. was that friendship? 

now with all the plates cleared and washed, the sounds of your clothes tumbling in his washing machine in the background, the smell of black nail polish prickled his nose as you leaned over. your fingers brushing his, holding them in place. 

"should i make it a little messy?" your voice is light. 

"it's usually messy because i get my sister to do it," he tells you, softly. "you don't have to mimic how it looks." 

you nod, a small smile on your face as you dip the brush back in the bottle. there's silence, for a while, as he watches you, studying the way you look with your head bowed, feeling each careful touch of your fingers, and then — 

"do you want to talk about rules now?" 

you look up at him just briefly before going back to the task. he swallows. 

"sure." 

another pause. and then quietly, "you can't get jealous anymore, you know that right?" 

"i know," he murmurs. "you told me to stop before…but i didn't. i'm sorry." 

you nod. "you can't be possessive of me, either." 

he hesitates. "so…no marking?" 

slowly, you let go of his left hand. "you can still leave hickeys and bruises," you mumble. "just don't…don't call me yours you know?" 

he didn't know if he could do that. "okay," he says, softly. "i'll try." and then, slowly and carefully, he asks, "are you going to keep coming to our shows?" 

the slide drag of the brush on his nail stops. "do you want me to?" 

he bites his lip. "i want you there," he says, slowly. "but i don't know if i'll be okay with having you in the crowd." 

"oh." 

"maybe you can watch from backstage. or the wings. i want you to," he adds, when you look troubled. "please." 

"are we still a secret?" 

his lips part. he wanted to say yes — but it was the way you'd asked it, like it was something you feared, that made him hesitate.

"because," you continue. "it didn't feel good, keeping it from jaemin. and as i said, i hated it when you pretended we were strangers." 

he felt your hands leave his, capping the bottle of nail polish as you leaned back in your chair, tucking your knees to your chest. he keeps his hands splayed on the table, taking a deep breath.

"no more secrets," he agrees. "and stop going to those parties, y/n. if you want to see me, just tell me." 

you raise your eyebrows. "we're not exclusive," you point out, slowly. "i don't go to the parties just for you. haechan, if you don't think you can do this…" 

"i can," he says, hurriedly. "i'm sorry. if i see you at a party…i'll say you're my friend. i'm sorry, it's just that i…i'm just…."

"it's okay." giving him a small smile, you get to your feet, shuffling over to the kitchen. you don't hear him come closer as you fill up a glass of water on the kitchen, only know of his presence as his hand touches your shoulder carefully. 

"don't go," he murmurs. his arms slide around your body, gently pulling you towards him, and you turn slightly so you can see his face.

"i'm still here," you respond, softly. 

but he shakes his head. "don't go." 

you turn around in his arms and your lips brush, his own parting against yours, seeking permission. all the time he wonders when he'll stop kissing you like he's swearing an oath — devoted in the way he wraps his lips around yours, patient and true in the way his tongue moves against yours, and even now, something loving in the way he murmurs your name into the cavern of your mouth. his hands move carefully on your skin, nail polish still drying on his fingertips, and if either of you question the way you kiss, you keep it to yourselves. 

—

it's different, watching haechan perform, when he's not performing for you. 

you saw the way his eyes flitted through the crowd, making and breaking eye contact so fast it was hard to keep track of, each twitch of his expression rehearsed and calculated. a teasing part of his lips, sinful face fluttery and slack as the music crashed all around him, like he could physically feel it. he was right — you didn't see him the same. you knew it was the performance, that he was really the one trying to please the crowd, riding off the pleasure of attention. but despite seeing through it as he had said, it still had you feeling tightly wound inside, pressure building up inside you, a craving for his touch intensifying with each time his hips shifted against his guitar. 

and even worse was the way your heartbeat would trip over itself every time haechan's eyes flickered over to you. never during a song, but in the moments between — mark's voice speaking through the mic, the rest of the boys checking on their instruments or interacting with the crowd. he would look over at you briefly, almost shyly, his heart-shaped lips creasing into a smile. 

"friends?" 

the moment you'd arrived home, you had pleaded with jaemin not to be upset with haechan, but it turned out you didn't need to. haechan had left a message the night of the party, and when you'd walked in looking more well rested and collected than you'd had in days, jaemin knew that you had been safe. you'd reassured him too, when he asked if keeping you from him only made things worse. both of you had needed that time to come to this conclusion. only time would tell if it was the right one. 

"so you're going to be friends with benefits?" jaemin raised his eyebrows. "was this his idea or yours?" 

"mine," you mumble. feeling the need to defend yourself, you raise your voice just slightly. "i just think that…i want to keep seeing him, and i want to get to know him…but i don't want him in that way. anymore," you add, when jaemin bites his lip.

"did you really lose feelings, or are you just not ready?" he asks, quietly. 

you force a laugh out of your chest. "you think i'd still have feelings for someone who hurt me that much?" you try to say it sarcastically, but you don't have the heart to. the words have no bite, and instead truth echoes in the spaces between.

"that's not the worst thing in the world, y/n." his voice is steady, and calm. "it's okay to take your time. if you remember that lying to yourself will only hurt more." 

but there are things to soothe the ache. 

"did you like the show?" 

haechan roughly tugs off his jacket, letting it slump off his shoulders and onto the floor. the moment the last song ended he'd rushed off stage and right to you, eyes blazing under his heavy makeup, the both of you stumbling into one of the small storerooms backstage. 

a single small lightbulb barely illuminates the small space, bathing you in warm light and shadow. shelves of boxes line most of the walls, except for a sliver of space that currently presses against your back, your fingers touching the cold surface. 

"it was good," you murmur. 

"yeah?" 

he's still hungry for more. you can see it in his eyes — for all his good girls and you're perfect, you knew he craved to be adored too. 

"you were right," you say, softly. "it feels different, watching as your friend." 

his smile falters.

"i…i like it more," you continue. "being in the wings…makes me want to get your attention." 

"you have my attention now, princess," he points out. he touches a hand to your waist. 

it's almost scary, how you slip back into old patterns. a heady rush filling your senses, slowly dragging you under. this is why i couldn't stop, you think, as he leans in ever closer, his eyes glazed over as his gaze slides to your lips. 

there's a beat. 

"i forgot to ask," he mumbles. "no possessiveness right?" 

your mind clears, just a bit. you nod, breathlessly. 

"what else?" he asks. looking at you, timidly, he asks. "can i…are pet names okay? can i still call you baby?" 

"baby's fine," you whisper. 

"princess?" 

"hmm?"

"no," he smiles fondly at you. "i was asking if calling you princess was okay." 

you want to bury your face in your hands. or his chest. "princess is fine." 

his smile grows wider, before he suddenly turns serious again. "are we starting anew?" he asks, hesitantly. "can i…can i bring up things from before? or are we pretending that this is our first time…" 

"no more pretending," you murmur, feeling like a hypocrite. "why? did you want to bring up something?"

"kind of," he nods towards the door. "just thought you're going to love this," he says, slyly. "hearing stage crew and bandmates walking by, knowing that at any point someone could hear us, someone could come in…"

and now you do bury your face in your hands, and when he reaches around to hug you, you lean against his chest, feeling his laugh vibrate against you, feeling you with warmth. 

"it's okay," he murmurs, as his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. "i won't play with them this time, baby. today's all about you, hm?" 

his hands falter, perhaps realizing the words were too tender, a little too loving for what you both claimed this would be. 

"lets try not to do anything…romantic?" you mumble. 

you regret the words as soon as you say them, your teeth biting into your lip sharply. 

haechan's face has shuttered down. you can't read his expression, as he nods, taking your hands in his and kissing them. 

"please." you look at him, this time taking the dive, feeling yourself free-falling towards that familiar desire, letting the current swallow you whole. "i need you." 

in spite of everything, haechan's lips are as gentle as they've always been. 

his lips brush yours, once, twice, before he locks in his kiss, hands trembling slightly as he touches the side of your face, cups you in his palms. you want to ask him what's wrong, pulling away slightly, but he makes a wounded sound from the back of his throat, pressing you against the wall, his head dipping to kiss you fiercely. his tongue slides against yours, and he groans low against your lips. 

your hands fumble on his shirt, skimming his broad shoulders, strong arms. he pants into your mouth when your drag your nails down his chest, breaking away. tugging his shirt roughly over his head, he grabs your hands and places them on his chest before leaning in to kiss you again, this time working his way down your neck, his wet kisses making your body shudder as you cling onto him for support. 

"please," you murmur, wondering why he was staying so silent. "please-" 

but he shakes his head, fingers tracing your jaw, tilting your head up so he lap his tongue over a newly formed bruise. the room is silent save for the sound of his lips, but you crave his voice, his words guiding you through everything, the lilting cadence of it. 

"haechan-" a foreign feeling spikes in your stomach as he ignores you, continuing to kiss his way down to your collarbones, fingers tugging your collar wide open. it felt like he wasn't there at all. 

he breathes heavy against your skin as he curls his hands around your hips, holding on tight. still he doesn't say a word, or even make a sound, as his caress the back of your thighs.

"stop-" you blurt out. roughly, you take his hands in yours, gripping them by the wrists. 

he lifts his head. 

"haechan," you start, but he just looks at you. your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. 

"haechan, you're scaring me." your voice is panicked and tight, the tension so overwhelming that tears begin to blur your vision, your chest rising and falling faster. 

"baby?" he asks, alarmed. "what's wrong?" 

"please talk to me," you beg, wiping away the tears on your cheek. the ache has soothed slightly at his voice, but you need more. "why…why aren't you talking? you always…you always used to-" 

"i'm sorry," he whispers, pulling your body into his, wrapping his bare arms around you. "i'm here," he soothes, in your ear. "i'm here," he mumbles again, and again, until your breathing calms down. 

"i'm sorry," he repeats, kissing you softly. "i'm here now, baby, okay?" 

you nod, and now you guide his hands to your thighs, feel the way his breathing hitches.

"can i…?" 

"please," you say, breathlessly, and his hand cups your warm core. 

"fuck," he blurts out. you were so warm, the seat of your panties completely soaked through. he slides them to the side with nimble fingers, inhaling sharply as he strokes your folds. 

"how are you so wet? fuck-" 

"take them off," you plead, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your skin. immediately, he tugs your panties and skirt down roughly, almost frustrated, barely waiting for you to step out of them before encouraging you to spread your legs wider as he strokes you, fingers dipping to catch at your entrance, your swollen clit. 

"so fucking wet," he marvels, groaning slightly as he swipes his fingers softly . 

"from watching you perform," you say, softly. 

the words send pleasure thrumming low in his navel. "yeah?" he murmurs, eyes meeting yours. 

slowly, he drops to his knees, and suddenly you feel hypersensitive — his breath on your thighs, hands gripping you tightly. he suckles a kiss close to your core, and you whine, loudly, the sound too loud in the small space. 

he looks up at you, sultry eyes framed in dark eyeliner. "let me hear you, baby," he coaxes, easing your legs open. he sticks out the tip of his tongue, and gives your clit a gentle flick, your hips bucking into his face before you can stop yourself. "i've been dreaming about this," he sighs, before he closes in and suckles on your clit. 

he lapped at you like all he'd done in your days apart was think about how best to do it — alternating between suckling on your clit, licking your folds with his tongue wide and flat, and prodding at your entrance. one hand keeping you pressed against the wall, his other slips around your entrance, sliding in one long finger, the way your walls suck him in making him moan, vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. you can feel the jut of his finger joints, the pad of his finger curling against your walls, while his tongue focuses on your clit, drawing shapes and letters expertly. 

you slump further against the wall, the pleasure making your legs shake, unable to hold yourself up, your hands tangled in his hair, knotting them around your fingers. 

"i can't stand-" you're cut off by a moan, as he bites into your thigh, licking up the wetness that stains them, a mix of your arousal and his saliva. "please," you wish you were on a bed, wish both of you had had more patience to go somewhere and do this right, feel the whole weight of his body on yours. 

"cum," he pants, sucking on your clit with his plush lips as he coaxes another finger into your warm, now mimicking a vibrating motion with his hand as he pushes in hard and fast. he doesn't break away even as he moans out, now curling his fingers languidly against your walls. "fuck, baby, i need you to cum now because i can't wait any longer-" 

his tongue presses onto your clit, and the pressure pushes you overboard. his hand the only thing keeping you upright, pushing roughly into you, he eats you out until your orgasm is over, kitten licking your clit as his head moves this way and that. you open your eyes and see him staring right at you, desire pulsing in his pupils, eyes blown out and dark. 

"good?" he breathes, both hands now gripping you tight. you nod, swallowing and gasping. his face is smeared with you, mouth and nose shining and glossy. he licks around his lips, mouth hanging open as his eyes glint. 

"more?" he asks, and you nod, gasping, falling to your knees. now, you're finally able to touch him, as your body crashes into his, causing him to nearly tip over from how he kneels, sitting back on his ankles to draw you into him. you kiss him deeply, letting his lips wrap around your tongue just the way you loved it, feel his hum vibrate against your own chest. 

his hands ghost under your shirt, and you help him pull it off, his hands cupping your breasts with his familiar touch, sucking kisses down your cleavage as you gasp for air. his hands roam your body indulgently, as if he was afraid you'd dissolve if he wasn't mapping your skin with his palms, his tongue, his lips. one hand trailing up and down your back, unclasping your bra, while the other squeezes the back of your thighs, resting his hand on your ass. 

he suckles on your nipples like he had all the time in the world, as if you weren't in a cramped store room feeling as if you were about to explode from his touch alone. gentle tongue drawing circles around the bud, eyes staring up at yours with devotion. your hips move against his, and his eyes flutter shut as he sighs, his hips starting to grind up against you as well. 

"turn around," he mumbles. "now, princess." 

"i want to see you," you protest, hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly walks forward on his knees, pushing you towards the wall. 

"i'm sorry, baby-" he kisses you, placatory and sweet. "we'll go again in my bedroom later, okay? need you like this now."

you let him maneuver you until you're facing the wall, legs spread apart as he kneels in between. trying to soothe you, he rubs a hand over your stomach, reminding you of his presence the entire time he rids himself of his jeans and underwear, rolling on a condom, tension building with every small sound, until you can feel something thick and heavy press between your legs. 

"haechan-" you pant, your back arching just slightly as you lean towards the wall for support, feeling his hand squeeze your hip. 

"i know," he mumbles, making slight shushing sounds as he eases himself against you. "i know, baby." 

even though he was behind you, you knew the face he would make as you felt his tip slowly push past your entrance, the way his eyebrows would float upwards as his eyes went unfocused, lips parting in a lovely 'ah- ah' that he tried hard to contain behind hisses and bitten lips. part of you still wants to see it, but all thoughts are lost as he fully sheaths himself into you, feeling him deep inside from the position. his hand on your hip creeps over to your navel, and he pushes gently over where he was buried inside you, the pressure somehow intensifying as you feel full from all sides. 

slowly, his body presses you further into the wall, and you gasp as the cool surface brushes your chest. he kisses the nape of your neck, and your body trembles, shifting against him and whining as you clench around him from sensitivity. behind you, haechan mumbles out a string of curses, hips jolting forward unsteadily before he stops himself. 

"please move," you whisper, and he moans, finally thrusting into you. he finds a rhythm that's slow and deep, feeling full and stretched out each time you throb around him. a particularly harsh thrust has you whining, your hips tilting towards the wall, trying to get away, but suddenly the solid weight of his body presses against you ever harsher as he rolls his hips, his chest pressed to your back. he feels stronger, and sturdier than he ever did before, as a hand creeps down to your clit and begins to rub slow and lazy circles, his body attuned to yours. you jolt away from the simulation, ass suddenly jolting back against his length, making you cry out again, sandwiched between pleasure. 

"don't run from it," he coaxes. "just take it, hm?" 

you had nowhere to go as he fucks himself into you, wet sounds filling the small space, and you're sure the floor is wet with your arousal, can feel your next climax approaching fast, making you forget about the ache in your knees and in the way your head pressed against the hard wall. you begin to shake in his hold, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock while he bullies your clit relentlessly, but once again his chest presses into you, strong arms holding you firmly in place as he overflows your body with pleasure, a hand slowly grasping yours and squeezing.

"i missed you, baby," he says, quietly, voice surprisingly steady despite the way he was ramming into you. "i really missed you." his lips brush the shell of your ear. 

you cum unexpectedly, crying out, squeezing tight around him as all the muscles in your body tense. your hand squeezes tight around his as the other rubs quick circles on your clit, working you through your orgasm. you can feel him still behind you as he cums too, whining in a pitch and tone you'd never heard from him before, desperate and achy as you clench around him again from the sound, so sensual that it rekindles a fire inside you despite the soreness in all your limbs. 

your weak hands fumble against him, scrabbling against his strong grip. he pulls out with a hiss, helping you turn around to face him. in the semi-darkness, you can see the concern pooling in his eyes, bright and scared. 

"was it too rough?" he asks, breathlessly. his hands skim your frame, pulling you onto his lap. 

you shake your head, nuzzling into him. you're torn between watching that silvery glow in his eyes, makeup smudged around all his corners, and burying yourself deep inside his chest until you can feel his heartbeat on your cheek. 

"baby? are you alright?" he rubs gentle circles on your back, as you nod. "use your words, please," he says, softly. 

"you got stronger," you blurt out. 

"did i hurt you?" he moves against you, something protective in the way he holds you that makes your body sing with warmth. 

"no," you say shyly. "i loved it." 

you lift your head just quick enough to catch the way his face crumples. before you can ask, he leans in and he's kissing you again — soft, gentle, sweet and almost shy. when you part, he looks dazed, eyes drifting down to your lips and wandering back up to your eyes. 

"you deserve better," he says, quietly. 

he looks down, at the way you're sitting in his lap, and then tilts his head sharply to look around the store room, as if he meant you deserved better than this for your first time back with him. as if this was about sex at all. 

you take a deep breath, and shake your head. "haechan, you're exactly what i deserve." 

the name rings out in the space. it seems to ground him, and he shakes his head to clear it, slowly untangling himself from you as he gets ready to help you up. 

you swallow. "take me home," you tell him. "take care of me." 

he does exactly as you say. 

—

attention simmers on your skin, a palpable heat you're unable to shake. 

girls circle the kitchen island like sharks, eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights, but they're never able to come close as it's so clear haechan's focus is entirely on you. haechan's back is turned to the party as he sits on the counter, long legs spilling over and the muscles in his thick thighs accentuated by the way he sits, denim stretched tight and each gaping hole making you doubt your decision to come to the party here, instead of going over to his home. 

it was his party, and he should go. the fans would be upset if he didn't at least show. now you were seriously regretting it, as you ducked your head to avoid the glare of another crowd as they passed by, while haechan knocked back another drink. 

he had been alight with energy ever since the show ended — agreeing amiably when you suggested going to the party, his smile only wavering when you reminded him he couldn't get jealous. and while your eyes wandered around the party, drinking in the scenes you hadn't seen in awhile, he was doing everything in his power to keep your attention on him, camera strap hanging from his neck as he clicked through the photos, pointing out the parts where jaemin had helped him, explaining the stories behind the pictures. 

"i didn't know you were into photography." it's a stupid statement, that you want to retract immediately. of course you didn't – you didn't know much about him at all. but it makes him smile a little proudly, clicking on the dial to speed through the photos. 

"yeah well, i've never taken a photo of you." he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. "i know for sure because when we…you know…when we weren't seeing each other, and i missed you…" his cheeks are burning up, his mouth barely moving as he tries to fumble through the rest of the sentence, plush lips swallowing his words. "i couldn't find any photos of you. on my camera or in my phone or…" he trails off. 

your heart thrums harder in your chest. "yeah?" 

"do…do you have photos of me?" he asks. timidly, softly. his eyes trained on his camera, unseeing, breath held in his chest waiting for your answer.

"of course i do," you murmur. you hope he can hear the smile in your voice, know that it's for him.  "rockstar." 

his fingers twitch, and he looks up at you, a searing intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before, flames licking at your cheeks as you hold his gaze, a warmth that sparks down your spine like fireworks. the sounds of the party fade away, sealing you in the vacuum of his attention.

"y/n,"  his voice drops an octave, all the softness drained out of it. 

"haechan?" 

"let me take a photo of you," he murmurs. "please." 

"now?" 

"no, not now," he says, slowly. "you know what i mean, princess." 

but you never get to clarify, because someone taps you lightly on the shoulder. haechan's eyes flicker behind you, all the intensity faded out, and it feels like your lungs fill with air again as you turn to see jisung, holding two cups in his hands, one of which he's holding out to you. 

you're torn between crushing guilt, and relief that he doesn't hate you. 

"j-jisung," you splutter. "jisung, hi." 

"hi, y/n." he smiles, nudging the cup towards you again, and you take it. almost against your will, your eyes dart over to haechan, but his face is impassive and neutral, camera laying forgotten on his lap as he turns quickly to survey the party behind him. was he trying to offer you privacy, or was he upset? 

you sip from the drink, trying not to make a face at the overwhelming sweetness that floods your tastebuds. the boy had barely put any alcohol in it. your hand almost inches towards the cup haechan made for you, wanting to balance out the taste, before you stop yourself. 

you didn't want to hurt his feelings again. 

"it's been a while," you say, sheepishly. "and again, i'm really sorry about last time."

"it's okay," he says, cheerfully. "haechan already apologised. besides, you can make it up to me on our date."

jisung's words have a physical effect on haechan. you feel him tense up behind you, body going stiff as he turns back to watch you, eyes trained on the side of your face. 

"you still owe me a date." you don't know if it's determination, or sheer recklessness, that inspired jisung to say this to you as you stood in the kitchen with haechan just inches away, the side of his thigh still brushing your waist. "are you free tomorrow night?" 

you try your best not to look at haechan. he had no right to care, you didn't owe him anything. you didn't know what you wanted to see on his face either way — whether his jealousy would make you angry, whether his sadness would hurt you instead. 

"i am," you agree, hesitantly, and jisung's close-lipped smile blooms. 

—

"you know there are other boys out there right? that there's a world beyond the band?" 

"shut up, jaemin," you mumble, checking your reflection in the dressing room mirror one last time. 

"this is good for you." his tone has changed, as he leans against the locked door. "jisung is nice. i hope it works out." 

tonight's show had been different. jaemin had reluctantly confirmed that it wasn't just your imagination — the way haechan was quieter throughout, more self-conscious in his performance, eyes barely scanning the crowd, taking longer glances at you throughout the show. jisung's confidence, on the other hand, poured off him in waves, his jacket unzipped, gums showing as he smiled wide. 

"i know." you sling your bag across your body, adjusting your skirt, as you turn to face him, taking a deep breath. "i'm really giving him a chance, jaemin. i'm…i'm taking this seriously, even if you don't believe me." it wasn't a lie. you barely knew anything about jisung, and jisung barely knew anything about you — but he was always sincere and sweet, quietly brave under his shyness. you couldn't forget the way he looked at you even with haechan by your side. it made you want to give him a chance too.

"i believe you," he reassures. "good luck, okay?" the door unlatches with a small click, and he gives you one last wave before heading out into the corridor. 

your eyes dart back to your reflection one last time before you turn back, satisfied with your appearance, and start towards the door. you barely take a step before there's a creak, and you think it's jaemin coming back, or perhaps jisung, wondering why you took so long. 

but of course, things are never easy. 

a familiar face enters the room, pushing the door open wide. he doesn't bother to close it, just takes you in for a second — eyes sweeping your frame, taking in your jewelry, the hints of makeup on your skin, your clothes, your neat hair. dejavu crawls over your skin, remembering the first time you'd met jisung, the way haechan had cornered you in the dressing room after, too. you tense your shoulders, preparing for the fight. 

"you look nice," he says, quietly. 

your lips part. "haechan-" 

but before you can speak, he's blurting out his next words. "j-jisung's going to love it," he stammers out, shadows flickering in his gaze as he swallows, throat bobbing. "i… i just came here to say good luck." at your surprised expression, his lips curve up into a sad smile. "that…that's what friends do, right?" 

"yeah." your hands grip onto the sling of your bag tightly, afraid of what your hands would do if you let go. 

"i'm going to go now," he mumbles. "i…have fun, y/n." 

there isn't a trace of sarcasm in his tone, his eyes soft and fond. he leaves before you can say another word, not closing the door behind him. you can hear his boots all the way down the corridor, can hear him disappear up the stairs. 

you try not to think about his voice, as you take the back exit out of the venue, see jisung standing in the warm summer night, smiling under a streetlight. try not to dwell on the fact that haechan might have actually wished the best for you – no more layers of pretense under pretense, no more feelings without reason. 

it's easier said than done.

—

two hours pass, your food gone from your plates, only the dregs of your drinks left in their glasses, before jisung finally clears his throat. 

"this isn't working out, is it?" 

"i'm sorry," you say, biting your lip. you'd walked to see a movie, something jisung had picked out, but had been mind-numbingly dull to you. you settled to watch his reactions instead, the way his hands flew over his eyes at the more intense scenes, the way he bit down on his fingers when the tension spiked. it was cute, but less so when he started asking you questions about the movie, and you had to admit you didn't remember any part of the plot past the first 20 minutes. 

late night dinner hadn't been better, each topic running itself to the ground quickly, your opinions and lack of opinions causing each conversation to crash to an uncomfortable halt. good things take time, had been jaemin's text to you when you asked for help. you were sure that jisung and you weren't acting like your true selves, the prospect of the date altering the way you talked and responded to each other, until you'd finally come to the conclusion that perhaps you just weren't compatible. 

"i really thought this would work out," jisung says, a tinge of sadness coloring his words. 

"i wanted it to," you confess. selfishly, you had almost been excited at the prospect of things working out with jisung — needing confirmation that you could still feel for others. excited for the date leading to the next, to fall in love with surety. 

excited to find the first relationship, the first 'you and i' that haechan seemed to think you deserved. 

"it's okay," jisung reaches out, pats your hand clumsily, shyly, as if surprised that reaching towards you meant he actually got to touch you  "i didn't know much about you when i asked you out, anyway. just thought you were really pretty." he looks mortified again, and it makes you laugh — everything about him still endearing.

"do you want to just be friends?" you ask, gently. 

it's like a weight lifts from the conversation, and he sighs, relieved. "yeah," he echoes. "friends." 

the silence that follows is a lot more peaceful. jisung slumps slightly in his seat, like the tension has left his body. his deep voice somehow still manages to sound timid when he speaks up next. 

"since we're friends…" 

you nod, encouragingly, taking a last sip of your drink. 

"can i ask…do you like haechan?" 

you nearly choke. jisung was looking at you carefully, although he smiled at the expression on your face. 

"a-are you sure you want to talk about this?' you stammer. 

he shrugs, but there's something unreadable in his expression. "i'll always be curious about it, and i guess this is my chance to ask." 

you don't have the heart to answer him directly. 

"i…i used to," you say, slowly. "but that was when i didn't know him." 

"know him?" he asks, confused. 

you nod. "yeah. i didn't really know him as a person….just…knew the performance, i guess." 

jisung still looks confused, but he nods along. "well, do you know him now?" 

you think of the sunlight in his living room. the faint dimple on his cheek as he showed you a photo of his sister running towards the camera, her face alight as she called out for her big brother. his arms around you in the kitchen, as he asked you to stay. the slope of his neck as he turns towards you at the end of a song — the fading sound of his guitar as his eyes sought yours. 

"maybe," you say, softly. 

"and?" jisung prompts. "could you like him now?" 

you don't answer him aloud, but your unspoken words ring in your head. 

—

it's different this time, haechan tells himself, as he grips his phone in his hands. 

it's different this time, because he knew where you were. he knew why you weren't calling. 

he slumps back against his bed, his body heavy with alcohol but his mind racing wild, each thought outpacing the next. 

the apartment was silent and empty. both jeno and mark were gone for the night. haechan hadn't bothered to go to the party, knowing that he would feel jisung's absence like a pain lodged in his ribs. he wonders if jisung will bring you home, here, whether you'd let him, even if he knew jisung wasn't the type of boy to go further than hand-holding on the first date. he thinks of it anyway — of hearing your sounds through his bedroom wall. whether it would make you needier to know haechan was listening. 

he feels like a loser. he's never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin, more unclean, more ashamed. but then again, there's no one around to know, as he lets his mind wander a little farther, away from you and jisung, away from his phone, sinking deep into the last time he'd touched your skin, images and sensations jumping out eagerly at him when he closed his eyes. flicks through moments that caused a heat to lick down his spine, the familiar hum of pleasure buzzing low in his navel — your legs on his shoulders, your hands in his hair. your taste, the patterns he would draw on your body so you'd shake just the way he liked, the spot on your neck he could kitten-lick to feel you tense up all around him. 

that night, even after he'd fucked you in the store room, you had been insatiable. 

he'd tried to touch you like the other girls he used to play with — never speaking much, preferring to use his mouth for other things, let their own imaginations run wild with what he could be thinking behind his hooded eyes. he'd taken you with your face turned away from him, pleasure without intimacy, sucking bruises as a keepsake for you after the night ended, not as if you were his to keep or to lose. 

let's try not to do anything romantic. 

but then you'd begged him to talk to you. told him to take you home. he'd hated it — hated the way you folded for him, like someone had given him powers he couldn't help abuse. do you know how tender this is for me? he'd wanted to ask, as he was touching you again in his sheets back home, racing to meet your every demand before you asked for it. 

your legs parted for him as he entered you, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure to watch your every expression, the look he'd been dying to see — your eyelashes fluttering, lips parted silently, the sharp gasp as he found your soft spot, your hands scrabbling against his skin. he held your gaze even as he let you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles locked in a sweetheart's cross behind him as he pushed your legs even higher, letting him in deeper. he'd never imagined himself with anyone like this before — a position so full of love and closeness, feeling your body and ripple against his, leaning in to kiss your lips softly, kiss away your desperation. 

he'd almost gone crazy when you found your voice amidst all the pleasure. 

"donghyuck," you'd breathed, saying the name like a prayer. "feels so good." 

he had stilled, slowing to a stop, even though he was painfully hard in you. his heart racing in his chest, pounding so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

"you," you mumbled, slowly grinding your hips against him. "you make me feel so good, 's like no one else-"  

"yeah?" he picks up the pace again, tilting your body at an angle now so he could go even deeper, watches the way your face changes. he was the one who pulled that sound from your chest — sated but desperate at the same time, needy but satisfied. "i make you feel this good, right? i'm good for you, everything's for you-" he babbled, not making sense to even himself, your praise burying itself deep inside him like a siren song. 

you'd choked out more praises, pretty words tumbling from your parted lips, your eyes never leaving his. 

"more, hyuck-" you pulled at him, nails scratching down his back. "hyuck-" 

it's like he can hear your voice, as his hand slides down to his hip, down to his leaking cock. 

he jerks himself off like that — to the images of you pressed under him, your voice calling his name. he does it fast, with no finesse — tugging roughly, the slide too dry, but he doesn't care about drawing out the pleasure, doesn't think it matters if you're not here with him. 

he feels even filthier after he finishes — peeling off his soiled shirt, as he stumbles to the bathroom. he knows he won't hear from you tonight, that you wouldn't do that to jisung, but still he keeps his phone unlocked with the ringer on next to his bed as he lays down again. 

maybe he would wake up, and you would tell him he could never see you or touch you again. his mind wanders in another direction now, away from your body, away from pleasure — to the ways you made his heart squeeze tight in his chest. when you said his name. when you'd comforted him as he was crying, the kindness in your eyes despite all the ways he hurt you. sitting on the kitchen counter, thinking of ways to keep you with him as your eyes wandered off. look at me, he'd wanted to beg. think of me. just me. 

he goes to sleep thinking about how this could be the last night before you'd really only exist in memory and fantasy, before everything changes.

@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35

#haechan smut #fic: rockstar haechan #haechan angst #haechan fluff #haechan au #haechan x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct smut #nct angst #haechan scenario #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst #donghyuck smut

[bakanokiwami]

TOP 10 TV SHOW FANDOMS ON AO3 BASED ON NUMBER OF FANWORKS, SINGLE CATEGORY VERSION (2009-2022)

If you want to see the TV Show bar chart with the multi-category fandom tags included, please check this post.

To make these bar chart race, all series titles in the TV Show Category on November 29 (or the closest date to it) of every year were copy-pasted from Wayback Machine to Google Sheets, rearranged according to number of fanworks, manually filtered for fandoms belonging in only one category and then inputted to Flourish to turn into a bar chart race.

Locked fanworks aren't included in the count because Wayback Machine can’t view those, only Ao3 users can.

Jossverse was in the top 10 from 2010-2017 (Top 2 in 2010 and 2011). In 2018, it was removed from the TV Show fandom list and works tagged with it show up in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV) instead so I’ve excluded it from the bar chart.

Thanks for understanding and hopefully I didn’t mess up anywhere! 🙏

ETA: About Doctor Who: Doctor Who actually has 2 tags with ranked higher (Higher than Doctor Who (2005) even) on the list. Unfortunately, they were both multi-category tags: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms was also in the Other Media category thanks to the Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio), and the other tag Doctor Who was also in Books & Literature thanks to Doctor Who - Various Authors. You can see them rank in the top 10 TV Shows multi-category bar chart race linked above.

About Stargate: The Stargate - All Media Types tag is actually interesting because unlike most All Media Types tags, it’s only listed in the TV Show category. That’s why it still turned up in this list. This might just be a lack of tagging its other categories (like Books & Literature) on AO3, however. Now that I checked its subtags, it actually had at least 2 Book & Literature only subtags: Stargate Atlantis: Legacy Series - Various Authors and Stargate SG-1 - Various Authors. So it probably should not have been in this bar chart race. Apologies for the oversight.🙏

#archive of our own #ao3 #supernatural #teen wolf #sherlock #bbc sherlock #stranger things #game of thrones #stargate #merlin #once upon a time #doctor who #good omens #glee #the 100 #buffy the vampire slayer #stargate atlantis #stargate sg1 #torchwood #due south #angel the series #battlestar galactica #house md #the x files #now this bar chart has more interesting results than last weeks unfiltered version doesnt it #strngr thngs sudden surge in 2022 #the untmd is actually 3k away from overtaking good omens #in 2022 #but with good omens releasing a 2nd season it might not be able to #special shoutout to twitcherpated for requesting this version

[reasonsforhope]

"At HarperCollins, a lot of attention and thought is given to deciding exactly what combinations of margin measurements, font, and layout feel most appropriate for the genre, and writing style.

But in a case of do-your-part environmentalism, designers at the publishing house have now standardized a series of subtle and imperceptible alterations to normal font style, layouts, and ink that have so far removed the need for 245 million book pages, totaling 5,618 trees.

Telling the story in Fast Company, representatives from HarperCollins, one of the four largest publishing houses in the world, explained that the idea first arose in Zondervan Bibles, HarperCollins’ Christian publishing division. Being that the Bible is 2,500 pages or sometimes more, saving ink and pages was not just an environmental consideration, but one of production costs.

A new typeface called NIV Comfort Print allowed Zondervan to shave 350 pages off of every Bible, which by 2017 had amounted to 100 million pages, and which, as Fast Company points out, would be four times higher than the Empire State Building if stacked.

The production and design teams then wondered how much they could save if they applied the same concepts to other genres like romance and fiction. Aside from the invention of the eBook, publishing hasn’t changed much in the last 100 years, and the challenge was a totally novel one for the teams—to alter all their preconceived ideas and try and find a font and typeface that resulted in fewer pages without being harder to read.

They eventually standardized 14 different combinations their tests determined were the most environmentally friendly, and which delivered an unchanged reading experience.

But the challenge didn’t stop there. Printed books, one might not know, are printed in large sheets which are then folded into sections of sixteen pages, meaning that Leah Carlson-Stanisic, associate director of design at HarperCollins, has to calculate the savings of space, words, and ultimately pages with the help of her team to fall in multiples of sixteen.

Nevertheless, they have been successful with it so far, and in the recent print run of one popular book, 1 million pages (or a number near 1 million that coincides with the 16 times tables) were saved.

“We want to make sure our big titles, by prominent authors, are using these eco-fonts,” Carlson-Stanisic said. “It adds up a little bit at a time, saving more and more trees.”"

-via Good News Network, April 4, 2024

--

Note: Great! Waiting to see this on the rest of their books and at the other big publishers!

Actually, though, it's worth noting that this may not come quickly to the other large publishers, because Harper Collins almost certainly owns that font - meaning that other publishers would have to pay HarperCollins in order to use it, on an ongoing basis.

More on publishing shit and more realistic solutions here below the cut!

What I'm hoping for and think is more likely is that this will inspire the development of open source eco-friendly fonts, which would be free for anyone to use. That would make it far more likely other publishers would adopt eco-friendly fonts.

I'm also hoping it would inspire other publishers to create similar eco-friendly fonts of their own.

Ideally, there would be a whole new landscape of (hopefully mostly open source) eco-friendly fonts. And/or to see calculations of the eco-friendliness of popular existing fonts, compared to each other.

If we could have a publicly accessible list of calculations for different fonts, including fonts designed to maximize eco-friendliness, I really do think that it would affect which fonts publishers choose to use. Here's why:

Most people in publishing are on the left (notoriously, actually) and really do care about the environment

People in publishing are plenty aware of these issues re: paper and trees, I promise

Shorter books means smaller production costs - and possibly smaller shipping costs as well, over time! So it would save them money too.

Eco-friendly fonts could also be combined with other measures for greater effect, such as bamboo paper (already in use for a lot of projects where page color/quality is more flexible) and thinner paper (aka paper with a lower weight) that uses less trees.

Don't expect books to all move to just one or two different fonts, though. Publishers and typesetters and font designers will innovate to create more options instead, though it will take longer. This is because different books really do use different fonts for various different reasons - one new font to rule them all isn't really a solution here.

"Every book is in the same font" may sound like a "whatever" deal to a lot of people, but as someone who works in publishing - trust me, it would actually make your reading experience worse, even if you could never quite put your finger on why.

#publishing #books #book publishing #bookblr #harper collins #fonts #font design #eco friendly #sustainability #conservation #trees #deforestation #good news #hope

[risingoftime]

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER ⟡ HOBIE BROWN

Hobie runs into you after his show at the local pub. The both of you haven’t seen each other since the phone call and things get steamy in the alleyway.

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on the part i! wrote this on my train ride home. hopefully i can make more time to write₊˚ෆ 18+

part i | part ii

It was hard to avoid Hobie after the previous night's incident when you worked at the pub the Spider-Slayers performed. They were given residency after you introduced the band to your uncle, the owner. The band gained popularity through you, and the pub was always packed on Friday nights due to them. They were making your job that much more hectic. The music made your ears ring, and the bass from Hobie’s guitar vibrated through your whole body. Hobie mainly wrote the piece for the Spider-Slayers, and It was as if you could feel the passion he put into every song. You filled pints of beer and fulfilled orders at a record-setting speed. You were one of the top bartenders at the pub, and the tips reflected that. It could also be the push-up bra and revealing tops helping you along the way, but you liked to think it was your charming personality. Tonight, you wore a mini skirt, so the tips were even more generous than before. 

Punk rock blasted from outside the bar as you lugged the trash from the back door into the alleyway. Once everything was discarded, you reached into the side of your bra and dumped the receipts with phone numbers from customers who failed attempts to hit on you. 

“Hope you’re not throwing out my digits as well.” 

Hobie leaned against the stonewall, observing you casually with a crooked smile. He wore his signature studded leather vest, fingers clad with chunky rings, and his guitar strapped behind his back. Hobie sent your senses in a craze, flashbacks of last night with his lewd moans and whimpers flooded your mind. Hearing Hobie softly whisper your name through the phone made it impossible for you not to satisfy your dirty desires. Last night you fucked yourself shamelessly with your fingers alongside Hobie. Urging your fingers to go deeper than they can. His words edged you closer to a climax that you never reached.

Things got cut short when you were caught red-handed. The moment you heard “Hello, love.” You panicked and ended the call without a second thought. You knew that, regardless, you’d have to face Hobie the next day. And here he stood in all glory, waiting for your response. His statement was dubbed as innocent, but you knew better. You gave him a pointed glare and smiled sweetly before meeting his earthy brown eyes. 

“Who said I had your number to begin with?”

Hobie took a couple of steps closer towards you, closing the gap between the both of you with these long strides. “After last night, I would’ve assumed it was saved.” He adjusted a loose curl that was out of place on your head, using any excuse to touch you. “It takes more than that to gain a spot in my cell,” you stated. 

“Oh, yeah?” Hobie placed his hands on the brick wall on either side of your head, trapping you in one spot. His face was mere inches away so that you could see his piercings and striking features up close. The image of him you conjured last night was no competition for the real deal. Keeping eye contact made breathing hard, with your heart beating so loudly that it rang in your ears. “Yeah,” your voice came out an octave higher and shaky; You could barely be heard over the music coming from inside. But Hobie still heard it loud and clear. 

“Can I change your mind?” Hobie was now barely inches away from your face. You could smell the mint on his breath from the gum that he was chewing earlier on stage. Before you could pause to think clearly about what you agreed to, your head nodded on its own accord. Hobie unzipped and unbuckled his pants swiftly with one hand.  His hands began to slip under your skirt. The mere feel of your bare skin made Hobie’s dick throb. He pulled your underwear down just enough to rub his tip against your clit in circular teasing motions. The warm contact of his skin along your folds was a sensation you’d been craving. You both marvelled at how wet you had become from the simple movement. Your clit pulsates with each brush of his dick. Hobie’s breath hitched as he held back a soft whimper. 

He planted small kisses at first, his breathing growing heavy. Until his lips entirely overtook your own, the cold feel of his lip ring felt amazing. Inviting him to deepen the kiss, you could feel his tongue moving against yours while he guided his dick dangerously close to your hole. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around Hobie and played with the curls on the nape of his neck.  

Hobie only broke the kiss to hoist you up against the wall. “Hobie—“ you gasped out. You couldn’t hide the shock at his strength and capabilities to balance your weight swiftly. “Shhh, just let me… I just need….” Hobie couldn’t even complete his sentence as he guided his erection to your entrance. He took his time entering inside you, allowing you to adjust to his thick length. Hobie was bigger than you had imagined. 

“God, you’re taking me in so well,” Hobie groaned as he watched his cock go in and out of your pussy. His member was already glistening from your wetness. His calloused hands gripped your ass firmly while he did so. Fuck, you were like putty in his hands. “I want this pussy all to myself,” he said more to himself than to you. Hobie’s eyes glazed over as you moaned in his ear, “It's all yours.”

Hobie’s head lowers onto your shoulder as gentle groans fall from his lips. He left small kisses and love bites on your neck as he pummeled into your pussy. All that could be heard in the alley was your moans and the music wavering from the bar. “Shit, Hobie—you feel so…” You've never experienced something like this. The way Hobie filled you and stroked your walls made your pussy wetter the longer he continued. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as he thrust into your creamy pussy. 

You tightened your walls around his dick and gripped Hobie’s shoulders for balance. Hobie fought to hold back his orgasm whilst whispering “cum for me” against your lips. It’s as if he was stripping your defences one by one. You didn’t resist him, wholly at his mercy, to fuck you how he pleased. Your convulsing orgasm ran through the both of you like a warm current. At that moment, all that existed was just you two. Grasping bodies and breathing in each other's air like it was your last. If Hobie wasn't holding you up, you knew you'd slump down from weariness. No one has made you cum like that. 

Hobie pulled out of you hurriedly; his dick remained hard, and yearned for more. Still, in a daze and with shaky legs, he gently lowered you onto your feet. 

“Make sure you save my number this time.”

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie spiderverse #hobie x black!reader #hobie brown #hobie brown fic #hobie x you #astv hobie #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #astv fanfic #astv fic #hobie x reader #atsv hobie #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman astv #spider punk #smut #hobie smut #⟢CREATION OF TIME

[jgracie]

talking about pjo x f1… WHAT TEAM WOULD DO YOU THINK THE CHARACTERS BE IN?!

OFF TO THE RACES — PJO/HOO + F1 TEAMS

masterlist | rules

↳ part 2! (i can only put 10 pics in a post 😣)

an anon i got SO excited when u sent this so obviously i had to make it a whole post 😇 love u so much ! also i only included the relevant teams sorry not sorry i was not ab to find some random person to put in kick sauber or wtv it’s called now 😭 should i write reader x driver chars?!?

FERRARI’S DRIVER LINEUP CONSISTS OF . . .

OO1 — PERSEUS “PERCY” JACKSON

after placing 3rd in his rookie season of formula one, percy jackson quickly became a fan favourite amongst newbies and old timers alike! he had no trouble receiving a contract from ferrari at the end of last year, much to williams' dismay, and now seems to be bringing a team that we once thought was having its downfall to the podium! now, he seems to be on his way to winning his first ever world drivers' championship. hopefully, jackson remembers that the higher up you're sitting, the more people there are to tug you down...

OO2 — LUKE CASTELLAN

ferrari loyalist luke castellan has been the italian team's main driver for the majority of his career. none of his teammates could ever beat him - sneaky and speedy, he knows exactly how and when to comeback after a not-so-good weekend. if you're anywhere near castellan on the track, you should be extremely worried. now that ferrari have signed percy jackson in his second year, will castellan be able to hold his ground as their number one guy, or will percy eliminate him like he did the rest of the grid?

RED BULL’S DRIVER LINEUP CONSISTS OF . . .

OO1 — JASON GRACE

if you know red bull, you must know jason grace, who's been part of the red bull family ever since his days in formula four! grace seems to have been born with a god-given talent on the track, his smooth and precise takeovers catching the eyes of all sorts of people in the industry. despite receiving various contract offers left and right, grace stuck with red bull. in recent years, however, fans are beginning to believe that jason's heart simply isn't with them anymore...

OO2 — ANNABETH CHASE

after many years of persistence and hard work at haas, annabeth chase finally managed to catch the eye of red bull's team principal. people were hesitant to warm up to her at first, but she earned their love in no time by consistently placing on the podium and even landing a couple wins! clever cookie chase will do anything to be standing in front of the crowds, champagne bottle in one hand, trophy in the other - even going as far as disobeying team orders and overtaking teammate grace in some occasions, which might prove to be a sticky situation in the coming season

MCLAREN’S DRIVER LINEUP CONSISTS OF . . .

OO1 — LEONIDAS “LEO” VALDEZ

joining mclaren this year is none other than last year's formula two driver's championship winner, leo valdez! with quite the knowledge in machinery as well as fiery speed on the track, leo is definitely a force to be reckoned with. unfortunately, he hasn't been able to produce the results we've all become accustomed to from him, often dnf-ing and barely scoring any points. this might be getting to him, but oh well, all da ladies luv leo anyway!

OO2 — TRAVIS STOLL

completely juxtaposing his teammate and proving that the mclaren car is an absolute beast, travis stoll has quickly become a familiar face to see on a podium that was once a blur of blues and reds. despite this, he's managed to stay humble, insisting the praise should go to his younger brother and race engineer - connor stoll. the two are well known for silly banter and heartwarming singalongs during races. however, recent news of the younger stoll being jealous of his brother has started circulating...

#percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x reader #jason grace x reader #annabeth chase x reader #leo valdez x reader #travis stoll x reader #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #pjo headcanons #hoo headcanons #f1 x reader #f1 x pjo #cynwrites #idk what else to tag this with LOL #˖◛⁺⑅♡ luvletters #anonymous ೀ

[pinejayy]

╰┈➤ Buggy the Clown that has a S/O with a higher Bounty

summary: headcanons of buggy reacting to their lover having a higher bounty on them.

warnings: this is just buggy being a jealous clown, curse words, buggy threatening you, maybe some angst, fighting, buggy slaps you, crying.

WHAT!? HOW COULD YOU HAVE A HIGHER BOUNTY THAN HIM?! WHAT MAKES YOU SO SPECIAL?! BUGGY IS MORE CAPABLE OF BEING DESTRUCTIVE?! HE WAS PISSED OFF!

Your bounty was 25,000,000…

“What makes you so special? Why do you have a higher bounty than me?!” He said, hissing at you. And you just shrug not seeing the problem and this would piss him even more.

He would most likely avoid you, and you don’t understand why he’s so butthurt over some dumb bounty.

Buggy hates the fact that your more dangerous than him, he should be the dangerous one in the relationship! Not you!

Heck even his crew mates mock him for it. “Oh no here comes the Boss! Oh wait since Y/N has a higher bounty should we make them our new boss?” They mocked and laughed at him.

They would laugh at him. And he would flip out. Lashing out on them.

When Buggy is around you he’s pissed off, and you still don’t understand why he’s taking this whole bounty thing to heart.

Who cares right? Both of you were wanted people. Who cares if someone had the higher Bounty. “Buggy Sweetheart, come on. I don’t understand why you’re so worked up over some dumb bounty.”

And he would snap his head towards you, walking towards you. His body towering over you. “It’s not that! You don’t understand!” He hissed at you.

You rolled your eyes. “All I can see is that your being a huge cry baby!” You spat out, and all of the sudden he slapped you across the face. And you were shocked.

Before you could react he grabbed your face roughly and forced your face closer to his, you could feel his breath against you. “Shut the fuck up! I could literally kill you and collect that bounty myself!” He said. You whimper out and began to tear up.

You’ve never seen Buggy this upset, and he’s never laid his hands on you. All this for some dumb bounty. Letting out a small sob you push him away and run out of the room. Leaving him there alone. He was thinking about what he did, clenching his fist. He took a deep breath. God he felt like an asshole right now.

All of the sudden he pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket of his pants. He opened it up and it was your wanted poster. And he sighed, frowning.

Sitting down by a near by chair, he stares at your picture. You were always so beautiful! Why did you ruin everything by getting a high bounty number!

He was jealous yes, but in reality Buggy was worried about you, what if someone goes after you?! What if you get killed! He didn’t want the only person he cares and loves being taking away from him. And he couldn’t bring himself to tell you why he was so upset he didn’t want to seem weak.

You had a huge target on your back. And bounty hunters are constantly going after you.

Buggy would stare at your wanted picture and he sighed. A few tears fell onto the paper. Wait! What was this! Buggy wasn’t familiar this kind of feeling. Was he crying.

Oh he definitely was crying. Tears fell onto the paper. As he cried softly, he bit down on his tongue so no one could hear him cry.

He definitely ruins his make up with all his crying.

After awhile he crumpled the paper and threw it across the room. He wipes his tears off, he had to apologize to you. He had too…he felt like a dickhead for snapping at you. And he felt even worse about slapping you…

Buggy fixes his makeup, and he walks out looking for you. And hopefully you could accept his apology. He was just afraid to lose someone he loves.

“God I’m so sorry Y/N….I hope you can forgive me.” He mumbled to himself.

#one piece live action #one piece #op #opla #opla buggy #buggy #buggy the clown #x reader #Headcanons #angst

[captainpricelover]

Spiderdilf

Peter b. Parker x f!reader

Word count - 2k

Warnings: Profanity, large age gap(18-39) infidelity. Smut!!! P in v sex. Slightly rough sex, Peter cheats on MJ with Mayday’s babysitter

Names used: Angel, Doll

You babysit part-time to help pay for tuition but also lashes and nails. I mean who isn’t a high-maintenance girly nowadays? This isn’t your first babysitting job but it is your hardest. The child you babysit, Mayday is very special she is basically Spiderman but that isn't the hardest part of this job, the hardest thing is probably the thing in her dad's pants every time he sees you.

You never thought you would spend 20 minutes attempting to get Mayday down safely from the ceiling, but here you are. The chair under you wobbles as you stretch your limbs trying to grab the ginger child.  Peter walks in, and the noise from the front door startles you, causing you to lose your balance. Mayday finally decides that she's bored of the ceiling and jumps down into your arms. All this causes you to lose your balance, you squeeze your eyes shut and tighten your grip on Mayday bracing for contact with a hardwood floor. But it never happens instead, you find yourself being carried bridal style by Peter.

“Don’t worry I got you, kiddo,” He smiles while squeezing your thigh before placing you down on the floor and taking Mayday from you. Peter’s hair is slightly messy, and the jacket from his suit is tossed over his shoulder while his tie hangs loose around his neck. 

“Where’s MJ?” You ask slightly tilting your head. 

“Work emergency,” He laughs “Taste of my own medicine I guess, I’m the one usually running off halfway through the date due to work,”

“Was your date still good?”

“The food was delicious, got some in a box in the car, you can snack on while I drive you home if you want to wait in the car. I'll be there in a few minutes,”

“I mean you paid me for a couple more hours so I don’t mind helping you put her to sleep and cleaning  with the uh-mess”

 The house was a state, Mayday’s toys are scattered everywhere, and her costumes completely cover the sofa, crayons on the walls and even the ceiling. It wasn’t a one-person job barely a two-person job but hopefully, you and Peter could make it work. 

“It's also partially my fault your house is like this, so I’ll feel guilty if you make me go now”

“Don’t blame yourself, Mayday is a handful. The number of babysitters who quit within the first few minutes”

“Minutes?” You laugh

“Sometimes its seconds, Mayday is pretty picky but she seems to like you,”

Neither of you has noticed the fact that she's fast asleep in Peter’s arms but when you do your conversation stops, slowly down both of your movements making sure not to make any noise that would wake Mayday up. Peters nods his head, signalling that he's off upstairs. You smile before heading over to the lounge as you begin picking up Maydays toys and putting them in a basket. A few minutes pass before you hear Peter walking down the stairs but he doesn’t come into the lounge instead you hear the front door open. Shit. There's probably a spider-man related emergency, you carry on cleaning but are surprised when Peter comes back through the front door, carrying his leftovers in a white plastic bag

“You hungry?” He smiles slightly lifting the plastic higher into the air

“A little,” To be honest you were staved looking after Mayday drains all the energy out of you.

Peter puts the food in the microwave before pushing some newspapers and files into a pile, clearing a space for you to sit on his island. You happily sit on one of the stools as the microwaves bing. He takes the food before sitting on the stool next to yours, placing the food in between the both of you. You admire the domesticity of the scene, you never had a man cook for you before (Microwaving food is 100% what Peter considers cooking) There's always been a feeling of admiration for Peter, but seeing him now and being alone in his presence, you’re starting to believe you might have some actual feelings for him. 

“So, you got a boyfriend?” Peter asks trying to make small talk 

“Uh- no I don’t” You take a bite of leftover steak

“Good,” 

“Good?”

“I-I mean,” He stutters for a few seconds “It's good because I would feel guilty for keeping you here when you could be spending time with him as well. Any reason don’t you have?”

“I guess I’ve never met the right, all the guys at my school are right dickheads,” He cocks an eyebrow “What? I bet you were the same in school?”

“Oh god no I was a right nerd in high school. I would never even talk to a girl as pretty as you, let alone be mean to one,” He laughs and you join in

“I could never see you being a nerd with the whole Spiderman shebang and the whole dilf thing you got going on” 

“Dilf?”

“You don’t know what a dilf is?” 

“I know what a milf is, so I’m going to guess it has a similar meaning.

You carry on the small talk while you both finish the leftovers. He entertains you with stories about him taking down villains and you get him up to date with all the latest school drama. The rest of the chores are split up between the two of you. Peter’s job is to clean the drawing on the ceiling. A job that's impossible for you since you lack any superpowers. You end up washing the dishes. The conversation between the two of you has died down so you put in some AirPods and listen to music. While scrubbing some stubborn stain you feel a pair of rough hands latch on to you, it's Peter. He gently guides you to the side so he can access the cupboard under the sink. His touch sends an eclectic shock through your entire body, especially to your lower abdomen where you can already feel pressure starting to form. You take out one pod and look up at Peter

“Sorry, didn’t want to disturb you listening to your tunes” He laughs his hands still on your hips

“Oh no, it's fine. You just startled me,”

“Are you tense? It seems that I’m always scaring you. Something on your mind? I’m always here if you need to talk, angel,”

Your heart skips a head at the new nickname he has given you, you stutter out some appreciative nonsense before he lets go of your hips, and your body craves his touch. It was only a small dose but now your already addicted. He squats down and grabs some supplies before shooting a web at the ceiling and launching himself at it to continue cleaning.

Half an hour passes and the house is completely spotless. No evidence of Mayday’s wild escapades is left. Peters decides to head inside the panty to grab a sweet treat to congratulate him on a job well done. You follow him. The pressure inside your lower abdomen has gotten stronger over time instead of going away, so you are most likely blinded by lust when you decide to ask him

“Did you really mean it when you said I was pretty?” You question while leaning against the frame of the entrance to the pantry 

“Of course, I did, your gorgeous,” He smiles as a million impure thoughts appear in his mind “But you’re too young for me angel,” He sighs but before you could feel any sense of rejection his lips crash into yours. His hand attached itself to your hair at the crown of your head while the other one finds its way up your baby tee and being to fondle your breast. He pushes you against the wall, deepening the kiss but as quickly as he begins kissing you he ends it.

“Oh god angel, shit I’m so sorry,” He apologised as he let go of your hair “I don’t know what came over me. I-”

 He is about to remove his hand from your breast when you interrupt him 

“I liked it,” You smile 

This time, its Peter who is shocked

“I want you Peter,” You confess and it sets this man off like a bomb. His hands are back on your body exploring every crevice he can over your clothes. You return the favour as you begin fiddling with his belt, it takes a few seconds but you finally undo the belt and his zipper. Before you could pull his bulge out of his boxers he start humping himself against your hand

“Fuck angel you are so perfect!” He whispers in your ear 

He pulls frantically at your pair of denim shorts, desperately attempting to get them off. It takes a few tugs before he figures out he needed to undo the button but when he does your shorts are off in one quick movement. His middle and index fingers quickly find themselves inside your panties as Peters uses his digits to explore your folds.

“Fuck me, doll. How are you this wet, I have barely even touched you”

You manage to help his cock escape its confinement you were shocked at the size. How was he hiding this thing under his Spider-Man suit? Before you could ask him the question yourself, he's picked you up. Instinctively you wrap your legs around his waist as his fingers dig into your thighs. 

“Are you sure that you want this?”  He asks as he lines up his tip with your entrance. You nod.

“Words, darling.”

“Please, Peter!” You practically beg 

With that, he does a singular powerful thrust into you making sure that his entire shaft entire you on the first time. After a few seconds to make sure that you’ve adjusted to his size he begins to thrust at a fast pace. Your brain is scrambled all you can let out is a set of incoherent moans. 

He moves one of his arms to the small of your back to make sure you are steady as his lips meet yours again and you start a hungry kiss. His lips interlock yours perfectly, he's a pro at this which makes up for your lack of experience. 

Each of his thrusts is more powerful than the last. This man is fucking you like there's no tomorrow. He's needy too which makes you wonder about his current bedroom life. I mean if you were MJ you would never leave your martial bed. He lifts you up slightly which changes the game completely as every time his cock enters and leaves, he hits your g spot. You wrap one of your arms around his neck for extra support as you use the other to rub your clit.

 After a few minutes of thrusting, you are close to reaching your orgasm, Peter knows this. His spider senses are going crazy. He slows down his movements, making sure to drag out the amount of time his cock spends touching your g-spots with drives you over the edge. You cum almost instantly after he does this. Your walls clench around him getting him closer to reaching his high when the front door opens, It's MJ. Shit! 

Peter tightens his hold on you as he ploughs into you with a god-like speed trying to finally get his release. He moves one of his hands over your mouth attempting to quiet down your moans so that MJ won't hear. You listen closely as you hear her taking off her shoes. His movements are rougher. She enters the lounge and Peter finally cum, moving the hand which was located on the small of your back to the crown on your head as he sets you on the ground. He pets your hair gently as he gives you a quick peck before pulling his pants up and going to greet/distract his wife, giving you enough time to make yourself look presentable and to pretend to be preoccupied with something.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker #into the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #atsv smut #atsv fic #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv spoilers #spiderverse spoilers #peter parker #mayday parker #peter x mj

[scientia-rex]

Hysteria isn't a fucking thing

ok fun fact: I'm rapidly becoming a cult favorite doctor among our local privileged elderly white ladies, which I have mixed feelings about, but the #1 reason is that I just don't leap to "anxiety" as an explanation for symptoms unless the patient tells me "I am anxious, and then I feel these symptoms, and when I am not anxious, I don't feel these symptoms."

The sheer number of women I've seen who've been told for years to decades that the only thing wrong with them is anxiety is fucking staggering, in this Year Of Our Lord 2023, and I just keep digging. We checked a basic lab panel, sure. CBC. No anemia. CMP. Kidneys are fine. (Electrolytes are basically always going to be fine if someone is well enough to walk into my office under their own power to talk to me. Exception is mild chronic hyponatremia.) And we check thyroid. TSH and free T4. We check blood sugar. A1c, if the fasting is a little weird. Fasting insulin, if I'm still suspicious. We check cortisol. Inflammatory markers--ESR and CRP.

And eventually, if the symptoms support it, or right away, depending on my level of suspicion, we check rheumatological labs for abnormal autoimmune function. Anti-nuclear antibody. Rheumatoid factor. There's at least a dozen you can check, and which ones you should check is always a matter of debate and also of expertise that I 100% lack. We are out in the sticks. There are no "local" rheumatologists for me to send people to.

But a couple of weeks ago I found a woman--she has bipolar disorder and has been told for decades that's all that's wrong with her--who has an anti-centromere antibody titer that's fucking through the roof. I found an anxious 19-year-old with an ANA of 1:1380. And yesterday I found out why a sweet elderly woman I've seen for a year or two now started feeling crappy months ago: her rheumatoid factor is over 90.

Rheumatological disorders are always difficult. Our understanding of them varies from "pretty good, actually, and here are useful treatments" to "Well I Guess That Exists." Labs aren't always a slam-dunk and even labs plus symptoms can give you misleading impressions. Your immune system can decide that virtually any short chunk of protein is an enemy, and the problem with that is that your body is made up of many, many, many short chunks of proteins, so the odds that you'll develop some kind of antibody against yourself just keeps going up over your lifetime. Immune disorders tend to travel in packs; there's a clear genetic element to it, so the more first-degree relatives (parent, sibling, child) you have with any kind of autoimmune disorder (including Type 1 diabetes), the higher your risk of any kind of autoimmune disorder is, and if you already have one autoimmune disorder, you're at higher risk for developing another one.

But I think it's precisely because they're difficult that a lot of mainstream primary care prefers to pretend they don't exist, rather than try to sift through the utter fucking mess that is Mixed Connective Tissue Disorders, a title that has fallen out of favor since I learned it in my third year of med school. And women are at higher risk for autoimmune disorders than men. And older women are at higher risk than younger women.

So if I, as a family doc, just keep digging, just keep poking at the tangled knot of symptoms, there's a decent chance I will uncover something interesting. Hopefully something treatable. Sometimes we have nothing to treat with, and I just get to offer someone more understanding of their disorder, which feels pretty paltry but is better than the casual dismissal of "You're just anxious."

Never, ever, ever take anxiety as a diagnosis for a symptom other than anxiety. Not even as a rule-out. Keep those symptoms as an open question mark on the patient. Don't say "anxiety" just so you can close the door. And damn sure don't do it to women.

I'm actively working on learning more so I can be more helpful, in our Rheum-less community, so if you have good lectures or books, please drop me a lead.

#the attending dr. kristophine

[teenandbeyond]

Yautja x Fem.Reader

Edit: I see someone wants a part two, if ya'll get this to 200 notes by next Saturday, I'll totally do it. I'll give ya a little extra if you make it to any number higher than that, even by one. *genuinely intrigued about how this'll go* Edit 2: Here it is babes, Part 2, Part 3

I hear people are looking for this so, here. Also, this is my shitty attempt at a dark fic, because I wanna try one--even though it's faaaar from my regular style, I'm far from a darkfic writer, but I like challenges-- and it seems many people have been craving a dark fic of Yautja more than not, so I'll hopefully help y'all out (I wrote this when I was sleepy so idk how it was). *puts all smutty writing experience into this*

Want more from me? Ask or check out my Masterlist!

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Breed (Predator)

Warning(s): Probably the smuttiest smut I've ever smutted, noncon details, breeding, rough, unprotected, a creamy little pie, size difference, triggers (so do not read if they apply to you), this turned long asf.

You survive with a Predator who killed all of your friends...but it seems the Yautja have taken an interest in you and don't plan to let you leave...

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You groan out, tossing your head to the side.

What makes you realize you aren't in your bed is a few things.

There's an echo.

It feels like you're laying on a hard table.

Your wrists are bound to your chest.

Your ankles are weighed down by something heavy, which after moving around your toes you realize are cuffs connected by a chain, where most of the weight came from.

And most importantly, you can't see, you noticed as your lashes fluttered against a cloth.

"Where am I?"

"Above earth," an amused, disembodied voice responds.

A familiar voice, one of your friends.

"Ester...? I thought you died..."

"What you didn't see didn't happen."

"Hey, can you take this stuff off me?" you grunted as moved to shift your arms to no avail.

"Why would I do that? I put you there."

Your brows furrowed, "What?"

"You see. That whole thing was a setup, I was working with them this whole time."

"But why? They killed your friends! Our friends!"

She chuckled, "Oh, that's what you believed. I was just doing my job to survive. To find them the perfect specimen."

You grunted as you struggled and failed to loosen your restraints.

"You see, they've been for years, creating more advanced creatures to hunt. They've already tried to with another species, Xenomorphs--the ones that spit acid. But they wondered if they could try such a thing with humans..."

Your blood ran cold, "Please don't tell me..."

"They realized they could, they hunted for the perfect human, one who possessed certain genes that had a high percentage of handling a Yautja seed. And when one wanted to kill me after hunting all my allies a few years ago, I offered to do anything. Now I've found you."

"So-ugh--then what? They're just gonna let you go?"

"Well, my part of the deal is finished. There's no other use for me."

"Exactly, idiot," you muttered.

Suddenly you heard a loud thumping sound.

"Ah, here they come."

You moan in despair as you try to move, the cold metal biting against your ankles, "This is hopeless."

"Here's the human you left with, she's perfect, she's worthy of you due to her survival."

Yes, you remember.

Suddenly you found yourself helpless, the two...Xenomorphs you supposed, had terrorized your college class during your international trip to the Daintree Rainforest.

The other creature--the...Yautja had killed a few security guards and three of your friends. As you grew to understand this Predator, you realized it only killed something that seemed to be a challenge, everyone that was killed by it had a weapon at some point.

But you, you're a tough one. You survived, and the Yautja gave you weapons to aid it, you managed to kill a Xenomorph on your own.

You had enough education about tribal tradition to know when it smeared some of its excruciatingly burning blood on you, it found you worthy in a sense.

Or he, since as far as you know most creatures bred with the opposite sex.

"I can leave now, right? If you want I can tell you where I can be dropped off," Ester happily spoke up.

You heard a familiar sound slice through the air, his weapon.

"W-wait...what are you doing? I did what you--what you asked...No! No! No-!"

You heard a body thump and a strong smell of blood fill the air, you knew the smell with little effort after the last two days.

There was some shuffling, you guessed she was being dragged away to be dumped by another one of them.

Then the thumping footsteps started up again, getting closer. Until he stood next to your... examination table.

You tried to shift away, not being able to do much but hold yourself up and not fall halfway off the edge. Only for your arms to get tugged and move you back to the more comfortable position.

"Please...I can't--I can't provide you with anything."

You jumped as you felt a nail trail down your jaw before a scaly hand--that was still surprisingly smoother than you expected--gripped your chin, twisting your head left and right.

You couldn't help the shiver that ran down your spine.

A thumb brushed against the acid mark he gave you on your cheek.

The only sound you heard was a sharp grunt, in disapproval or satisfaction, you didn't know.

His thumb dragged across your lips before his hand went lower...

You stiffened when the wandering hand paused, before yelping at the sound of a blade moving through the air.

He slowly sliced through your long-sleeved shirt and bra, your breath hitched as you felt the cold metal graze your skin. If there was any more pressure, he would've sliced you open.

You let out a breathless sigh as the restricting bra released you. You hated bras sometimes.

You could feel him move and tried to shift away, only for him to catch you by your neck and slide you back into the position you were in.

With a quivering lip, you felt curious hands explore your breasts.

"Please, just let me go..."

You bit your lip at an experimental squeeze.

You couldn't seriously be reacting to this? Could you?

But when you felt something brush against your sensitive bud...

Your breathing skipped.

Another pause, before it was tested again.

Your hands tightened into fists.

Then without warning, he relentlessly rolled the hardened bud between his fingers.

With a whine, you tried to move away, only for his grip on your neck to tighten.

You tried to keep as much self-control as you could, but that changed a few minutes later when his hand moved, your stomach jumping as it came and went and stiffening as the hand stopped at the band of your pants.

"Please...don't..." you desperately pleaded.

There are a few seconds of dragging his thumb back and forth against your hip, as if deciding, but ultimately tearing it all off in one motion.

You squealed at suddenly being exposed, trying to clench your thighs together.

He denied you of this, effortlessly opening your thighs to expose for him to fully see.

You decided to be defiant as you felt him shift onto the table.

"This is--isn't going to work. Humans and Aliens aren't going to be able to--do this," you tried to move your legs, the heavy chain helping you none, "I'm not even remotely aroused--"

He interrupted you as you felt him lean closer to your wetness, feeling his breath hit the sensitive area.

The clicking sound he made almost sounded amused, before making you gasp as he rubbed a curious finger against you.

"Mm--stop--you--you can't--!"

Shuddering as a finger slid into you, you attempted to wriggle out of his hold. Only for his grip to tighten a little more, at this point, he was definitely warning you.

You felt embarrassed by the light squelching sound you heard. At least you didn't have to see.

Then two more were added.

"I can't--that's too much!" you cried out.

But when his wrist brushed against your cilt, your body completely surrendered.

He realized how greatly that affected you and decided to continue learning.

With a shaky breath, you desperately tried to hold back. Tried to deny your body's pleasure with your mind.

You clenched your thighs together at an attempt to stop his hand, but all it seemed to do was piss him off and force your legs apart, his originally slow and curious pace becoming rougher.

You bit your lip hard, keeping in any sounds.

But in the end, your body betrayed you, and with a long whine and bucking hips, you released.

He pulled his hand away and for a moment you thought he was done for now.

Until you felt something rubbing against you, something you could tell already wouldn't fit.

"That's not gonna--!"

You whimpered as he effortlessly slid in with a gravelly groan, the stretch stung.

"It's not gunna--It's not gunna...Take it out...."

Your head thumped back onto the table.

Without a break in movement, he kept moving, the chain connecting your ankles lightly clinking.

You let out a little sob as you bit your lip, you didn't know if it was from the violation or the pleasure, possibly both.

Every time he thrust forward, you could feel the stretch.

"It's gunna...gunna..."

He slid his hand up your throat just enough to push down the lip your teeth dug into with an index finger.

He wanted to hear you.

But with defiance, you swallowed every sound you made.

Until the speed changed, the cold metal rubbing against your back from the table, a stark contrast to the heat you felt.

Finally, he started getting little sounds out of you, whimpers, pleads.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you empty, before easily moving the weighted chain that felt like a ton to you and flipping you over on your knees.

You winced as your face smacked into the table. Your arms still bound in front of you.

You groaned into the metal as he completely filled you again.

As he moved, you felt more force behind each thrust.

"I can't--It's too--too much-ah!"

He slammed harder, which made you try to cushion your face.

Your heard a few sharp grunts, yet not of effort, which didn't surprise you. You were probably a warm-up.

Your body gently quivered from the force.

And the chains loudly clinked in time with him.

"I--Mm--hah--Lemme..."

Combing his fingers into your hair, he tugged you back, landing seated in his lap.

He sat motionless for a few seconds, a throaty groan was let out.

You made one last attempt to wriggle away.

And you think that made him completely snap from annoyance.

And you knew this because when he moved again, it was like he'd decided to completely destroy you.

With roughness you never experienced before, a deepness you never felt, a speed you didn't know was possible, he pounded into you at least a few times before your skin even slapped against his again.

And it seemed he was satisfied, every sound you hid before was milked out until you couldn't even process where you were anymore.

All you could feel was him, the pleasure, that stretch, all you could hear was the squelching of your wetness.

Your mouth couldn't even close anymore, completely drunk off him.

Your thighs shook terribly, barely able to handle him.

And you wouldn't even be surprised if he still went easy on you.

You were close.

When he tightened his grip, cutting off your breathing that was it.

Your hips bucked wildly as you released for the second time, a long moan ripping out of you.

Clenching around him so deliciously made him follow after. Filling you to the brim, and dripping down his length.

You sighed, as you began to settle only to whimper when you realized...

He wasn't done yet.

#yautja #predator thirst #yautja thirst #predator x human #predator x reader #yautja x human #yautja x reader #yautja x female reader #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #predator #predator smut #yautja smut #yautja dark fic #dark fic #predator dark fic #size difference #here yall go #dark fantasies #monster fucker #alien vs predator #yautja breeding #slashers #slasher #predator x you #male yautja #predator movies #horror flicks

[luckthebard]

So this is a very niche rant that is probably only something I've noticed or been annoyed by, but:

The longer Critical Role has gone on and the more changes they've made/content they've created, there's been an increase in weird people who are desperate and determined to prove that changes or content they don't like are "an objective failure" - but often lie or deliberately misunderstand viewership statistics to do so.

There are a few big "facts" I see repeated by people to argue that CR has "gone in the wrong direction" that are just plain wrong, and I think what annoys me most is seeing so many people engage with those "facts" without bothering to double-check them or push back against the certainty with which people state them. An example of one I keep seeing now is "twitch streaming numbers are down" and it's like, yeah, sure, in comparison to when they didn't simultaneously air on YouTube. If you add up the YT and Twitch numbers these days it's about the same as mid-late C2, but people love to act like YT streaming doesn't exist to make a point that "people don't like C3". And I tbh don't care if people like or dislike C3 but why this determination to falsely quantify and validate a personal preference?

The earliest I saw this was an intense agreement on reddit that Exandria Unlimited was a "failure" for CR, "unlike Undeadwood," because viewership numbers were lower. And it was tbh baffling to not see pushback against that narrative, because it's just objectively untrue. Original EXU's VOD streaming numbers are higher than every single episode of Undeadwood, and it premiered literally years later. It also has a lower "drop-off" in viewership (comparison of how many views episode 1 vs the finale has) than Undeadwood, despite frequent claims to the contrary. And don't mistake me here, I really enjoyed Undeadwood, but it actually was a viewership misstep for CR to the degree that they didn't try anything like it again for a while after and significantly changed how they approached marketing and airing miniseries. (A big one being: don't air a long miniseries simultaneously with the main series, it's too much content for most people to invest in during a week.)

(Sidebar, but another great miniseries CR did that didn't get a lot of viewership love is the Elder Scrolls Online trilogy, so I'm going to plug it here. It has some weirdly low viewership numbers on episodes 2 and 3 and I promise you they're both well worth it.)

The other one I keep seeing is "4 Sided Dive has lower numbers than Talks" which is also just not true. Most 4 Sided Dive VODs have nearly twice as many views as Talks VODs (and I'm using the ones that aired directly on the CR channel as a metric here, not the ones re-uploaded from G&S which lost numbers in the change-over). And I'll tbh chalk that up to the fact 4SD airs much less frequently - people are more likely to think it's necessary to watch whereas with Talks if you weren't interested in the guests you might skip a week. I'm not making any claims about the quality of either show, but the use of false viewership statistics to support "one of these sucks" is so rampant and so weird.

All this to say that yesterday I saw a weird viewer-hungry YouTube clickbait video titled "Midst a FAILURE for Critical Role!!" with a truly absurd confidence on what the VOD streaming numbers for the Midst YouTube videos mean for the series mere days after the premier and snapped.

tl;dr, people just make shit up and say whatever on the internet all the time and we hopefully all understand and expect that BUT (and here's the more annoying thing) 9 times out of 10 people just engage with that WITHOUT LOOKING INTO IT THEMSELVES

#rant #critical role #long post #cr discourse #I guess? #as always I am begging people to fact check and question stuff that's just stated as fact by randos online

[raz-writes-the-thing]

DW Prompt Drabble

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader (fluff)

Summary: sentence prompt drabble based off number 12 from this prompt list.

32. "What did you do?" / "Nothing you can't get me out of jail for!" / "Not again!"

Requests are: OPEN

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“What did you do?” The Doctor has his brow arched at you through the bars. He doesn’t look particularly impressed, but he also can’t quite hide the glint of amusement from you. You can see him trying not to split into a teasing smile despite himself. Oh, he knows it was something stupid all right, but just not what. 

“Nothing you can’t get me out of jail for!” You reply sheepishly, doing your best to avoid the question. When his brow arches just that little bit higher and he tuts at you, you know you’re going to have to spill. “I might have, uh, gotten a bit excited at the bar and-” You pinch the bridge of your nose, knowing exactly how this is about to play out. “Stolen someone’s prosthetic arm.” 

“Someone’s what?” The Doctor asks, jaw dropping open in pure shock. A laugh bubbles out of him before he can stop it. “You stole someone’s arm?” 

“Listen,” you say, avoiding eye contact. “I- I thought it was a weapon. I thought I saw it start flashing like- shut up-” The Doctor starts howling with laughter now, holding onto one of the bars for support. “Like it was gonna explode or something,” you try to explain, an embarrassed grin starting to spread. You couldn’t help it, he was just so infectious. 

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, before adding- “Turns out it was just his watch alarm.” You knew how it sounded, how absolutely ridiculous but when you travel with the Doctor, you begin to wonder if ordinary things are in fact ordinary things after all. 

The Doctor wipes a tear from his eye, doubling over with no signs of stopping. You’re not sure how being so loud is going to keep him from being discovered and remanded into custody too for breaking a prisoner out, but it’s whatever. The two of you always managed a miraculous escape somehow. 

“Not again,” he wheezes, trying to get ahold of himself. “I can’t always be coming around to save you.” 

You roll your eyes and come over to the bars, poking his side through them as best you can reach. He gives you a quick little “oi” and moves out of the line of fire.

“Yeah, look- we both know what I’m like. The odds are that this won’t be the last time you have to get me out of something,” you take a second to think. “Though hopefully, it’ll be the last time for stealing an innocent man’s arm.” 

The Doctor gums at his lips for a moment to stop himself from starting all over again, knowing it wouldn’t be long before you’d have to get moving.

“Alright, look- can you unlock the gate now, Spaceboy?” 

“Hey, that’s Spaceman, thank you.” The Doctor pulls out his screwdriver and unlocks the door for you, shaking his head amusedly and gesturing for you to take the lead.

“After you, you little thief,” he sticks his screwdriver back into his coat pocket and looks in the direction he wants you to go. Presumably towards the exit. You just know he’s never going to let you live this down. 

“You’re not going to let me forget this, are you?” You ask, taking off with him following close behind. 

“Oh, no,” he replies enthusiastically. “Never!”

#david tennant #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #doctor who #doctorwho #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #david tennant x reader #10th doctor #10th doctor x y/n #10th doctor x you #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x y/n #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x y/n #doctor who x you #ten x reader #ten x y/n #ten x you #the doctor #the doctor x y/n #the doctor x you #the doctor x reader #david tennant doctor #dt doctor #allons-y #fluff

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "Your true colors - (6/7) Indigo"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a message for you from the color indigo, the sixth of the 7 rainbow's colors. in this serie of readings about the rainbow's colors, I will try to channel about your true colors, so to help you look inside and see your most beautiful self, appreciate yourself more and hopefully provide some type of guidance if necessary. as cindy lauper would say: "your true colors are beautiful like a rainbow", so let's look at them and hear what they have to say to you and how they (you) can help you look at things in a more positive way.

indigo is the color of wisdom, intuition, spirituality, inner awareness, planning, fairness, power, vision, insight, dreams, perception (third eye chakra)... in this reading, I'll try to analyze this side of your character.

you can find the other colors' readings in the pacs list in my pinned post

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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pile 1

You have a target, or you are moving towards a specific point in your life. You're not someone who gives up easily and honestly I think you're totally climbing up towards a higher knowledge, or your dreams, or an higher/more stable connection with your spirituality/above. I think it has mostly to do with your intuition not always being on point (or you feel/fear so). You may feel this path you're going through is filled with ups and downs but it's all part of the process, so try to stay balanced and accept all this. Accept that it won't always be smooth and there can be times in which you'll feel like you made no progress ever, even if you did. And there may be times in which your intuition may not be 100% and that's okay too. Understand that our energy may fluctuate for the most various reasons, and that's fine. Take a break and get back at it once you feel in touch with yourself again. Honestly, you have all the power you need to make your reality, you can get where you want, you can have a better connection with above too (for some of you, you may struggle getting in touch directly with your Guides or you want to get in touch with someone now in the 5d: you can. You can also ask for suggestions to readers if you need). Take time to look inside of you first. I do feel you can do it, even if you may have some doubts here and there or insecurities about what you're doing and even more if you can make it or it's possible for real. Honestly yes, it is possible for real. Practice more and also try more ways to connect with your inner self, so to be able to have better and clearer downloads in your life. Find ways to connect with the 5d/your Guides by experimenting: tarot/oracle cards (you can make your own decks at home with paper+pen), pendants (you can use one you own as a pendulum), one word notes you can pick through intuition, ask for angel numbers or specific signs/comfirmations (just don't overdo: learn to trust yourself too even if you fear your intuition being wrong... if it comes from within and you have no control over it, it's for a reason; it may carry another type of message, maybe even a message about healing a certain side of you so to be able to be more in tune with yourself and your inner guidance, but also with the guidance from above). Let go of the control (it just biases/blocks your intuition) and don't be afraid. Maybe you're trying to move fast somewhere, to reach an "ending point" or a result, as said in the beginning, but right now it's time to stand still and get better at listening (your Guides may be talking with you a lot, try to listen to them; you may get messages through words or music too, not just hear words in your mind). When we learn something (whatever it is), when we realize we can do something "easily", we try to rush it all to the end to owning that something asap, but that's not always the way to do things properly, the way to learn well. We need to stop here and there on our path and get better at something specific, we need to go slower and to really take time to understand even a little insignificant topic (you never know what is its importance in the future). Not stopping when it's time, not taking time to learn something (even if it takes us longer cause it's a tougher topic or subject, or it takes patience cause we feel like we're losing time on something "useless" like testing your intuition daily or something) may mean our result won't be as perfect as we'd like to. While at times, if you stop and enjoy the present, if you stop and focus on that little thing, you can even get a greater result. Do not rush things, go at your pace, respect yourself. You'll get where you want. Your intuition is part of you and you can get in touch with it anytime, just give yourself time to make it. You're pretty gifted, but gifts/talents at times also need to get polished through a bit of effort and patience.

song: freeze tag | terrace martin, robert glasper, 9th wonder, kamasi washintong, dinner party, phoelix; moonchild | rm

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pile 2

Some of may be very aware of the spiritual world and all that's hidden, even of your spirituality in general. But I think there may be something you're not analysing (or learning) on purpose or you're getting away from it: not sure if it "scares" you (maybe also cause of some type of trauma) or you feel like you don't need that or just need a break. You're just putting a wall here anyway. Honestly for some, you may be even entirely blocking your spirituality: maybe you got told that you need to follow a certain dogma and you fear abandoning it or that you cannot leave it or mix it with other practices; or you fear certain subjects (e.g. "witchy" stuff -it's okay to fear what we don't know, but you can know more of it if you want... unless it triggers certain sides of you. If so, take care of you and heal those triggers if you can, even ask for help); or maybe you find it hard to believe, which is okay (it could be that you tried once but you felt like you got let down or something, and now trusting again has gotten tougher; it could be a religious trauma tbh). Still, you know you have a very good intuition, and it's like... it's telling you to move in a certain direction, to still live and move around spirituality (in fact you're also here reading, hi). Maybe you want to learn more, to trust, to dig more, but something is blocking you, like your mind, your past, your fears... Try healing this emotional wound you have. Try to talk about why you felt let down or why you feel like you cannot surpass this point you reached in your spirituality (I think whatever is your situation atm you can get further and you may feel it too). You can talk with others into spirituality or you can find online all the knowledge you need. Try to be more open about the chances, about different reasons of why something happened or not (it wasn't because of you), about what can go well despite all that has been. Spirituality is a very personal endeavour and ofc I cannot tell you exactly what to do. It needs to be natural, it needs to come from within you. But if you feel even a little push from inside that is willing to move you further into it, to discover something new, even just for pure knowledge/fun, listen to it. You never know what you can find. And it won't be something scary nor something you will regret. Time used for personal development (and learning about anything you want) is always time well used, even if you won't find an answer or what you're searching for. It may come to you another time anyway, when you're ready for it. For those who are already into spirituality but are needing to get away, get a pause: if you feel used and abused because of your abilities, learn to build boundaries. Sure, you are here to share your abilities but you need to take care of yourself too also in order to be able to give properly. You need to receive too, and give from the abundance you got. You're not needy for wanting to receive.

Close away from all the noise inside and outside. Find yourself again, focus on you. If someone is annoying you or draining you, tell them off: and if they get angry, it's their trauma speaking. It's not you. If it's a belief blocking you, try to understand why and maybe move away from it if you need or try to look at it in a different way. Find your peace, find your balance, find yourself again and listen to yourself and your intuition. You need to be more fair with yourself, regain and reassert your power. Find some peace of mind, stay in a silent/dark environment if you need and for as long as you need (I do feel you need as you may be stressed by too many words and emotions around, by what others expect you to do or you fear they want you to do -but your life is yours, and especially your inner world is only yours, you get to decide its rules), and focus on your breathing. It's okay. Sometimes we may get carried away, but it's important to be aware of that, take a break and regain control. You don't have to go (back) to spirituality/religion asap, it will always be there, no matter how many pauses you'll need to take. You get to decide everything here, you can, you have that power.

(if you are called also by pile 3, feel free to take a look)

song: go! | santigold ft. karen o; nights like this | kehlani ft. ty dolla $ign

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pile 3

Pile 3, I think you may be able to get (and be more or less aware of this) important downloads from the 5d through your dreams. I think you may see stuff, get guidance, occasionally even get prophetic dreams (that you may consciously forget but live anyway irl -similar sensation of deja vus). I think you may be pretty connected with the spiritual world anyway. You probably can use clairs and are very intuitive especially at your best. I keep hearing "grounded" and I am not sure if you are already or you need to ground more, especially when it comes to your intuitive side. Maybe you lack some trust? (Reminds me me the Blue color reading tbh). Or maybe you fear something. Do these downloads kinda make you uncomfortable cause you feel like you cannot control them or are losing control onto something? It's okay, when you go through some spiritual awakening and it's sudden, it does get uncomfortable and scary. Take your time to grow acquainted with all this, and ask for suggestions to those who you think have been there already and can guide you through. I do think you can envision a lot, especially during meditation. And ofc maybe not all of you can really meditate for long or at all, but it may be worth to try and slowly get to it. You don't have to meditate for 10-20 mins from the start, you can start for 3 minutes and try daily, and once it gets easier you can move onto 5 mins and so on. It can be a slow process, we don't have to always rush things as we're taught since when we're born (honestly it's so toxic). But I do believe it could help you a lot in envisioning and planning better also your life and manifestations. And it could help you ground too, if you need. If you feel overwhelmed by infos/downloads and need some time off. Or if some of them aren't so clear at first. At times you may forget about the light you carry within or you would want to dim it out of fear, but you have it and it's a gift. Ofc I'm not here to tell you what to do: it's your life and if you feel like it's not something you can afford now (or at all), take your time/get away from it (if you'll ever want to get back, it will be there still). But one thing I can surely tell you is: do not be scared of it. It won't hurt you ever. Meditating could also help you find your inner light anytime you lose contact with it, and learn to use it to deal better and more boldly with all the darkness inside and what you cannot see (which at times may kinda block you and your intuition/connection to the spiritual world too -for those who actually would want to get more in touch but may feel kinda lost. But if not, use it for yourself at least, to help yourself dealing with your problems and fears). Meditating, could also mean doing some yoga exercises for example. If it's hard for you to stand still and envision stuff for a while without having your mind wandering around, you can start by focusing on slow movements of your body: it may help you focus on you again and be more aware or your inner side (inner awareness), and it may help you calm down and reconnect with your intuition too. Bring more love to you, also for all you've endured so far. There are many meditations and yoga series online, you can search for some (just go slow and let yourself guide you through which movements can be good for you and which not).

If you feel stuck in a rut, despite your soul is calling for you to move somewhere else, again meditating or finding any other way to ground yourself could totally help you re-balance any excess of emotions that may cloud your visions and also your downloads (or your understanding of those downloads: at times we may not fully grab them cause of our fears not letting us get the real meaning of what we're hearing or seeing, or not listening to any message to start with). You're powerful and strong btw, never forget it. Not even when things seem to be too crazy.

(if you're called also by pile 2, feel free to take a look)

song: my body is a cage | peter gabriel; amygdala | agust d

#pac #pick a photo #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a card tarot #pick a picture #divination #clairs readings #psychic readings #colors readings #free tarot reading #tarot readings #tarot reading #intuitive readings #tarotcommunity #tarotblr

[weskin-time]

@weskin-time

I have a request...🥺👉👈

I was wondering if u can make scenarios about The (shy) reader confessing (any REV) members *COUGH* (wesker) that they luv them for the first time and there like shock about it bc likeeee the reader is not really good at showing there feelings and there finally have the guts to say ittt to them. hopefully you understand what I'm meaning... 😅 

IM SORRY MY GRAMMAR IS SO BADD OMGGG

HI THIS IS CUTE AND I HOPE I DID WHAT YOU MEANT!! HAHAH (also sorry for taking forever)

i got carried away with an idea on Weskers sorry not sorry <3

RE CHARACTERS X SHY!GN!READER

Characters- Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, Sheva Alomar

not beta read

Chris Redfield

(drooling over this man frfr)

Chris is a good man and a great boyfriend. He knew you were shy, it’s what drew him to you in some sense, he’s been through so much and he thought your personality was a great change of pace compared to what he was used to. He asked you out and the rest was history.

About 3 months into the relationship is when he first said “I love you.” and boy howdy did it send you into a flustered spiral. You wanted to tell him it back but if felt like you were choking on the feelings in your throat, like you were frozen. Chris understood your hesitation, he’s never going to tell you that he finds it cute, but he never pressured you into saying the big words. But wow did you feel like ass for not being able to tell him you love him just as much as he does.

3 months have passed since then, you’ve tried to show him that you love him in other ways and right now you were helping him work out. ‘Helping him out’ as in sitting on the side lines and watching him all while providing conversation and water, sometimes you joined him but your whole body hurt watching him do those hellish burpees.

You helped him keep count all while staring at your boyfriend. The way his muscles flexed under his tight dark green athletic shirt, the way his biceps tensed as he pushed himself up, only to jump up and drop back down to the floor again where you counted the number higher. Chris was a good looking man, but my gods was he one of the sweetest men you’ve ever met in your life.

He cared about you, really cared about you. He listened to everything you said even if he could sometimes barely hear your mumbling when you’re out in public he would listen and respond to you instead of pushing you aside like a doormat. He cherished you and you him. Yes he did all the things normal boyfriends do for their partners but he went above and beyond to make you happy. Too scared to tell the cashier what you want? He would tell them what you wanted with a smile on his face. He never looked down on you for being anxious and shy, he respected you, he loved you for who you are and never got upset at you. He would comfort you in hard times, not yell at you to grow up or brush it off and live in the real world, he would tell you it’s okay and never push your limits. You loved him, and in turn you did anything for him.

“I love you Chris.”

It was out before you could even get a second thought in.

Chris almost fell to the floor in shock at the sudden outburst and confession all while your heart was racing in your ears and heat swarmed your face like flies to honey, the lump in your throat returned but this time of embarrassment.

Your boyfriend on the other hand looked awestruck. His eyes open wide and a smile spread upon his face. It made him look younger, the spark in his eyes, he almost looked like a different person.

You on the other hand we’re dying in your seat.

Suddenly he rushed over and pulled you up and into a hug, all while laughing like a drunk man had won a war, his hand cradling the back of your skull while his other went to your midsection to pull you as close to his sweaty body as he could. You laughed too as your arms wrapped around his neck. His hands changed positions as he pulled back to give your forehead a kiss, they both secured themselves around your waist and hoisted you up off the ground into a spin hug.

To say he was smitten with you would be an understatement.

———————————————————

Sheva Alomar

(Woman by Doja Cat starts playing bARK BARK my wife.)

You may have fallen for Sheva the day you met her, honestly.

The two of you met through a mutual friend and the two of you just hit it off instantly. She was strong willed and loyal, kind and soft but could kick your ass in more ways than you could even know, not to mention she was radiating beauty with every breath she took.

She seemed to be curious about you at first more than anything, in her line of work she rarely meets shy people. She instantly respected you and didn’t ask you to speak up or act different, she listened to every word you said and didn’t poke fun at you. The two of you became fast friends, you asking her to teach you some fighting moves to which she agreed, and one thing lead to another and she asked you out on a date to which you of course said yes after almost dying in a sea of flustered mess.

2 months in is the first time she said ‘I love you’. She took you home from a date and as she gave you a kiss goodbye she said the three words. When you started your relationship you let her know before hand that emotions were hard for you to express, that they get caught in your throat and are blocked by your flustered tongue, she understood and still agreed to start a relationship with you, so she didn’t expect you to say anything back and she left with you standing at your door speechless.

3 months have gone by, nice and easy. Every time she says ‘I love you’ you respond with ‘you too’ like she’s telling you to have a nice day. You felt bad that you’ve yet to say it even though she told you it was alright you still felt bad about it, which in turn made your shyness worse, like a snake eating it’s tail. So you thought ‘fuck it’ and you were going to tell her tonight even if you exploded, she had to hear the words.

You took her to have a picnic and watch the stars. A lantern in hand you two hiked up a hill in the middle of no where, where light pollution wouldn’t ruin the view. She could tell the entire night that your nerves were on high, slightly shaking as you ate, a wobble in your voice, not to mention your cheeks radiated heat that could burn her if she touched them.

The stars were beautiful. The light dancing in the sky was nothing compared to your girlfriend. The two of you talked about nothing important, you could barely hear her over the sound of your heartbeat in your chest and the rushing of blood in your ears.

You looked to her, and he turned her body to face you, to stare at you with her beautiful dark eyes that the stars made its home, her hair loose and ticking her face, she was beautiful.

“I love you.”

The words spilled out of your lips before you told yourself to don’t even think about it. You instantly wanted to curl into a ball and evaporate, or maybe go to the hospital because your heart shouldn’t be beating this fast to be healthy.

She laughed, a smile as bright as the stars in the sky tugged at her lips, “I love you too.”

————————————————————

Albert Wesker

(putting him into a blender i hate him /lh /hj)

Excella Gionne wasn’t always the Regional Director of Tricell, she was given that spot thanks to Albert Wesker, and thanks to him you became her assistant.

You’d first meet the man the day you became her assistant, Excella telling you it’s important to meet everyone you’d be working with along side her even if you’d be stuck at a desk job most days. This was days after she became the head of the Bio-weapons devision, before Jill Valentine, before Irving was hired, before the BSAA had their nose in Africa.

Excella practically forced you into a room to meet him, regardless of your stammering she never jumped in to help you make acquaintance. Through mumbled words and not looking at him the entire time you stated your name and that it would be a pleasure to work with him.

A pleasure it was indeed. It was funny in some regard to see your boss throw herself at a man who clearly had little to no interest in her, how she begged him to look at her and want her but his eyes never even looked at her for anything less than a glance. She wasn’t important to him, he was just using her, everyone and their grandmother could see it, you felt kinda bad for her in some way.

Wesker seemed to like you though, and not in the same way he ‘liked’ Excella. He teased you about your shy nature a lot, to where you think he made it a game to see how flustered he could make you, awkward social situations, bumping into you and ‘accidentally’ making you drop papers, asking if you have a fever or if you’re feeling alright. It was unending and yet he grew on you. Your shyness soon was doubled as you began to grow fond of him, even thinking he was attractive and yet you feared you were acting like Excella.

One day as you were dropping off samples to him and he asked you out. You thought it was a joke at first to get you to fluster but he was serious, so you agreed.

Dating your bosses businesses partner didn’t really go over well. Needless to say she fired you but thankfully your new boyfriend hired you as his own assistant, which honestly wasn’t fun because Excella still was his lap dog and just flirted with him to spite you knowing you would ‘never grow a backbone’ as she had put it once. She sucked.

About 4 months into your relationship it took a turn. You reminded him that it was time for his injection of the prototype virus, which he asked you for help with. You agreed and he taught you how to prepare and safely inject him with the serum. The next time he needed it you did it by yourself, which you were proud you didn’t shake and stab him in the wrong spot but as you were injecting it he made you look at him and he confessed.

Now if Albert Wesker was the embodiment of emotional constipation what did that make you?

2 months later he invited you back to his place for a three course dinner and desert. Fancy ass. Everything was set up, everything was fancy, your favorite food was brought to you first and the desert melted in your mouth and was so good you almost wanted to cry.

You stood with Wesker on the balcony of his penthouse, the night air cool against your skin as Wesker pressed you against him. He could feel how tense you were.

“Are you alright dear?” He looked down at you.

“Yea i’m fine don’t worry.” you gave an unconvincing chuckle.

He just cocked a brow at you as you breathed a little deeper and shook your head, trying to calm the beating of your heart and the nausea of your emotions.

“Hey Al?” You asked with your eyes screwed tightly closed.

“Yes my sweet?”

You opened them and turned your head to look at your boyfriend. “I love you.”

He seemed to freeze for a second, his eyes searching yours as you died inside fully embarrassed before he relaxed somewhat.

“I love you too dearheart.”

#tezi post #albert wesker #resident evil #resident evil x reader #ask! #resident evil imagine #wesker #albert wesker x reader #wesker x reader #albert wesker imagine #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #sheva alomar x reader #sheva alomar #re5 #resident evil 5 #chris redfield imagine #sheva alomar imagine

[wrensartstuffs]

It's Soap Saturday so I bring you a(fairly scattered) Soap analysis

"Oh she only has OCD and no more she's written badly" I HAVE OCD AND WHILE THAT DEPICTION WAS EXTREMELY DAMAGING AND COULD'VE BEEN DONE BETTER, IT'S UNFORTUNATELY ACCURATE FOR SOME PEOPLE(it's me I'm some people). SHE OBSESSES OVER EVERYTHING AND BEING A SOAP BOTTLE PROBABLY DOESN'T HELP SINCE OBJECTS ARE EXPECTED TO ACT ACCORDING TO THEIR OBJECTS

She can't HELP IT!!! SHE TRIES TO GET BETTER BUT LETTING GO OF YOUR HABITS IS DIFFICULT ON YOUR OWN AND AGAIN, AS A BOTTLE OF SOAP, SHE PROBABLY FEELS MORE SOCIETAL PRESSURE TO BE GOOD AT CLEANING!!!! SHE FIXATES ON EVERYTHING BECAUSE IT'S ALL SHE FEELS LIKE SHE CAN DO TO HAVE ANY CONTROL OVER THE SITUATIONS SHES IN!!! Besides cleaning, she has ONE coping mechanism, and it's one that everyone else HATES(singing). So no WONDER she ends up just cleaning. For hours. And hours. And hours. To the point where it's irrational

ALSO THAT'S ANOTHER THING!! Having control over situations is very big for me, and fixating is one of those things that helps. For Soap, being in a clean space and cleaning the hotel helps her feel like she can actually be calm and helps control her emotions, because without her cleaning? The hotel would be in shambles! If SHE wasn't helping, then everything would fall apart!! Sure, this isn't reality, but for her? Someone who has tried again and again to make things better but just making them worse BECAUSE of her impulses? She needs to feel like she's doing SOMETHING or else she's nobody. Just another stereotype ignored by the narrative

It's not HER FAULT that she has OCD and it's not HER FAULT that societal pressures force her to be who she is. Besides, after Tissues got eliminated, she could've thought that SHE had a higher winning chance because he got eliminated for his trait being. Well. Sick. So, as the opposite, the fans should love her!! Right? So, she goes further, she puts soap on the pizza, she has a musical number while fixing the hotel, she does all of these things to not only give herself a sense of stability, but also to hopefully boost her appreciation from the audience

And it didn't work

The moment she STOPPED cleaning, it didn't work. She told Mic to listen to her heart when walking through the portal, but if we're being honest(and if we see the comics), she went right back to cleaning. The moment she tried to be less impulsive, she was eliminated. And there goes her control once again

As of now she's likely right back in that loop, cleaning endlessly despite being asked not to as it isn't needed, but she won't, because if she's not CLEANING, then she doesn't have a purpose. She can't just pick up a new hobby, this is her LIFE, and if she can't sing, then she only has one option left

Or maybe I'm just reading too much into a one note character, who knows

Happy Soap Saturday

#Soap Saturday #inanimate insanity #ii #character analysis #soap ii #ii soap #this was written by the self-proclaimed 1 Soap fan #textcorner #textpost

[thebisexualdogdad]

A Lucy Chen and party boy reader! Lucy and Aaron get called to Y/Ns house one night for a noise complaint and he flirts with Lucy, but then a few days later he get attacked by someone (maybe an ex) and Lucy is one of the officers that answers the call

Lucy Chen x Male!reader

"7 Adam 15 we've got a 415 reported near your location at 1923 Oak drive," a dispatcher says through the shop radio.

"Dispatch show 7 Adam 15 responding," Lucy replies through the walkie.

"Looks like we are about 5 minutes away," Aaron says from behind the wheel, looking at the address that popped up on their GPS, "that address sounds so familiar."

"Well it is right in the heart of Beverly hills, maybe you partied there once," Lucy jokes.

"You know what now that you mention it, I think that is Y/N Y/L/N's place, he was two grades ahead of me in school but he and I ran in the same social circles," Aaron explains.

"Of course a party boy would get a noise complaint called on him," Lucy laughs.

"To be fair Y/N isn't as much of an entitled douche as the people he hangs around, he just has a lot of money and parents who were always traveling for work leaving him alone in a big empty house perfect for partying in," he goes on.

"Hopefully since you know each other he makes this easy on us, it's not even midnight yet and night shifts can be miserable when all you deal with are obnoxious drunks," Lucy tells him.

They arrive at your house which has loud music blasting and lights flashing from inside.

It takes a couple knocks for you to actually hear them but you were all smiles when you answered the door.

"Welcome to the party-" you start when you recognize a familiar face, "no way, Aaron Thorsen is that you? I heard you were a cop now, good for you man."

"Y/N, good to see you again but unfortunately we got a noise complaint for your party," Aaron informs you.

"Damn, it was Dave again wasn't it, he's been on my ass since I was a kid and he was pissed when my parents moved back east and left me the house," you huff.

"Uh is that a pig?" Lucy questions as a pig casually walks by behind you.

"Oh yeah that's Bubba, he's my buddy Josh's," you reply, "and what's your name gorgeous."

"You can call me officer Chen," she responds, trying not to let it show that she's attracted to you.

"Well officer Chen, you want to come inside and join the party so we can get to know each other a little better… maybe you can even tell me your first name," you tease.

"Just turn the music down okay," she says rolling her eyes, "if we get another call we will have to arrest you but something tells me you would like being handcuffed."

"If you're the one putting me in handcuffs then you are absolutely right about that," you smirk.

Lucy chuckles and turns around to walk back to the car.

"Dude Aaron you think you can get me her number?" You ask when she's out of earshot.

"Goodnight Y/N," he laughs following behind Lucy.

–

"Anything exciting happen on your shift?" John asks when Lucy and Aaron enter the bullpen in the morning to switch shifts.

"Lucy was getting flirty with a guy I used to party with," Aaron teases.

"I was not," Lucy scoffs.

"Was he cute?" Celina asks, both Aaron and John looking at Lucy waiting for an answer.

"Alright sure he was cute," Lucy admits, "but it's not going to happen, there's nearly four million people in Los Angeles what are the chances we even see each other again."

The chances were a lot higher than she thought because two weeks later her and Aaron are partnered on another shift responding to a bar fight which you just so happened to be a part of.

They enter the bar and see a guy punching you repeatedly in the face.

"Woah hey, that's enough," Lucy says, pulling the guy off of you.

"Officer Chen, we've got to stop meeting like this," you say smiling up at Lucy, slightly dazed with blood running down your face.

She helps you get off the floor while Aaron tries to calm down the guy you were fighting.

"Y/N, what a surprise, are you going to tell me how many drinks you had tonight or am I going to have to get the breathalyzer," she asks.

"I haven't had anything to drink I just got here! That asshole threw the first punch," you explain.

"Because he slept with my girlfriend!" The other guy yells as Aaron is putting him in handcuffs

"She told me she was single, I swear," you state.

"Okay let's get you cleaned up," Lucy says grabbing some napkins that were sitting on the bar to wipe away the blood dripping off your chin before turning to the bartender, "you got a towel or something?"

He looks behind the bar and finds a rag, handing it to Lucy who drops the bloody napkins and switches to the rag.

"Ouch," you wince when she wipes blood off your upper lip.

"I think your nose is broken, we should take you to the hospital," Lucy tells you as another pair of cops walk into the bar after hearing of the commotion over the radio, "Aaron have them take the other guy to the station, and grab some ice to help the swelling on the way to the hospital."

Aaron nods and hands off the guy who punched you to the other pair of cops and asks the bartender for a bag of ice as Lucy guides you out to their cop car.

Aaron comes out a minute later handing you the bag of ice in the backseat before shutting the door, him and Lucy getting in the front to take you across town to the hospital.

"So did you really not know she had a boyfriend?" Aaron asks during the quiet drive.

"Hey I have some standards you know, I don't hook up with girls in relationships," you state, wincing again when he hits a pot hole and the bag of ice hits against your broken nose.

"How noble of you," Lucy laughs.

"Do you have a boyfriend officer Chen?" You ask.

"No I don't," she responds.

"So that means you and I can go on a date," you say.

"You think you're charming don't you," she chuckles, looking back at you.

"I've been told I'm very charming… and you didn't answer the question," you grin.

Lucy doesn't know what to say but she's saved by Aaron pulling into the hospital parking lot.

An hour later you've got your nose put back into its proper place and a discharge order from the doctor.

"Are you going to be pressing charges?" Lucy questions.

"No it's okay, I can't blame him for punching me," you reply.

"I'll call the precinct and tell them they can let him go," Aaron says, taking his phone out and walking away from your bed in the emergency care area leaving you and Lucy alone.

"So about that date," you say raising an eyebrow.

"If I say yes to a date will you stop getting the cops called on you?" She jokes.

"I make no promises," you laugh, "but does this mean you will finally tell me your first name?"

"Lucy, my name is Lucy," she smiles.

"I like that name, I look forward to our date Lucy."

#the rookie imagine #lucy chen imagine #lucy chen x reader #x male reader #fic