#hand prints in concrete

[inthecityofgoodabode]

October 2022: Sunday Walk

Seen while walking: 

Pinky, Charlie, Ray, Tuffy & Betha. Impressions in concrete by 2 children & 3 dogs: 

I normally enter the wasteland from the South but today I entered it from the North: 

Pooling rainwater stained with tannins: 

The abandoned oasis: 

The most photogenic of the puffballs that I saw: 

#seen while walking #fall color #autumn leaves #hand prints in concrete #paw prints in concrete #holly #utility lines #clouds #blue sky #the wasteland #water beetle #tannin stained water #the oasis #aster #wild aster #banana blossoms #wildflower #seedheads #fungus #puffball #turkey vulture #birds #life in memphis

[harmonysanreads]

Idée Fixe

yandere!lyney x reader

cw(s) : yandere, lyney, written before fontaine release

wc : 2.6k+

two dorks psychoanalyze each other. might kiss out of spite.

“For as many hearts as you steal, how many do you keep?”

The smooth texture from designed cards is felt across the tips of your fingers, your eyes capture the patterns printed on them through the filter of silvery moonlight and the sound of steps falling in sync with yours assure you of the verity of this encounter.

You don't even need to look up to picture the twinkling amethysts, the widening curve of lips that never convey anything concrete and a sudden bounce in the magician's steps ; the visage painted in your subconscious like the motifs on the cards your fingers fiddle with in intrigue.

The chilly night breeze are but twirls of playful edge,“You make it sound like something else,”

If you cared to look up, you would've noticed the subtle dance of his brows. Lyney begins to walk a step ahead of you in the midst of his short speech, through prolonged scrutiny that'd rival that of the most skilled jeweler's ; you've associated this change of pace to either be in preparation for his usual trickery — or, in the few sparse occasions that go as soon as they come, a casual introduction of another subject to eliminate the previous one. While one could accuse you of reading too much into things, you've long since learned that when it concerns the eccentric magician, the tell-tale details will reveal what he will not.

“Oh really? Perhaps it's your mind imagining insinuations that do not exist, you do have a creative brain.”

“Ouch, only you could insult and praise me in the same sentence.” Lyney places a hand over his heart to cradle it from the jab, though his choice of words should indicate offense, the delivery makes it clear he wouldn't have it any other way.

“Why, thank you, though you're gravely mistaken if you think that will change the subject.” with a swivel of his cape, Lyney spins to walk facing you, his strides (albeit backwards) unchanging in confidence and only when your lift your head to lock eyes, does his expression lighten.

“Well, to answer your question, the ones that are worth keeping, of course.”

The magician chuckles at your eye-roll, “Don't play coy, you know precisely how I meant that question.”

Lyney hums in pretend contemplation, gaze still fixated on your moonlit form, the beat of both of your steps grazing against the pavement and making it seem like a strange parade. Your question holds substance unknown to the rest of the world, but translucent to the magician.

It is both his frustration and delight that you're never bent by his charming words and theatrics. Your firm stare and insistence on the topic confirm his suspicions that you're searching for something particular, something uprooted from the very depths of his soul and he could bet his entire career that you won't stop until you've wrung it out. The answer you seek is nothing he can't give, it'd be simple as well, but precisely due to this knowledge the magician opts instead to test the limitations of your patience.

Truth be told, Lyney never likes it easy and neither do you.

For a miniscule lapse in the boundless confines of time, it's as though both of your world has separated from the existing one. For an amount that'd otherwise be uncomfortable, all exchange is made through your locked eyes. Like a secret shared between no other soul — despite your better judgement, the realization sends a jolt of thrill through your veins and you cannot help but wonder if the magician feels the same.

Seemingly out of thin air, Lyney twirls his magic wand in a wanton pattern, small sparks of light clash with the moon's glow before waltzing past your hair — you pause for not a second, knowing their goal lies in catching you off-guard. If Lyney was given the chance, he'd spend the rest of the night in determining whether you looking back to the cards in your hands was merely an expression of boredom or a brag of how accustomed you are to his theatrics.

Lyney dabbles between the lines of reality and illusion as a profession, blurring them without his audience's notice to make them believe a miracle. It's a simple trick he's succeeded in transforming into an art, so he was confident you'd be privy to the delusion as well. Whether it's due to you doing the same as him or the opposite entirely, Lyney's persistence in solving the puzzle piece named you only grows more tenacious day-by-day.

Sensing the magician's uncharacteristic quietude, you abandon the cards to his backwards marching form and the cheeky grin plastered on his face has you wishing you hadn't at all.

“Ah, but you see, the information you seek is confidential and I fear for prying ears. How about you come a little closer, and I'll tell you the amount?”

Lyney's face is a perfect replica of the grin-malkin cat he adores using as prop, a cloud obscures the moon's vision from seeing the act down earth and the shimmer of Lyney's eyes become pronounced in contrast to the shadow. In comparison, your visage that'd scream ‘preposterous!’ if it could looks nothing short of a circus.

Your steps come to a halt in unison, a breathy chuckle echoes throughout the dead of the night, “Aw, why that face? I don't bite~”

You blink in surprise and suddenly the magician's presence is way too closer than you recall ; he bows down to your ear and the heat of his breath almost makes a shiver run down your spine.

“... but, I might nibble.”

You catch his impish smirk from the corner of your eye and if Lyney notices how you choke in the formation of words, he could snag an award for acting like he didn't.

“Are you that fixated on creating a scandal? Must you always be so shameless?”

At that, Lyney leans away with a pout, hands folded behind his back and swaying back and forth on the heels of his shoes like a reprimanded child.

“Come on now, don't be such a killjoy. I went through all that trouble to whisk you from that boring party and this is how I'm thanked?”

The magician's words are a drawl, each one competing to be more irritating than the last. You have to take a deep breath and hold your tongue from reminding him that the escapade had been without your choice. The world places limitations on all sorts of things and you're not morbidly curious enough tonight to know the extent of the magician's good graces. A beat of tense silence passes, Lyney takes note of your averted gaze and it positively irks him.

Lack of eye-contact means a number of things ; nervousness, insecurity, hesitancy, guilt. For a performer like him whose pride resides in keeping his audience's eyes hooked on his every move, such a gesture is bitter tasting. But when it concerns you, it pricks and wounds his very soul. Lyney's sigh is one of weight and it inclines you to raise your head.

“By asking how many hearts I keep, you hope to know how many matters to me.”

The magician takes his hat off and moves forward to place it atop your head, his speech is not an assumption, nor an inquiry, but a statement. You straighten your posture when you notice the absence of a smile on his face, the sight so alien it has you on edge. While his gesture may be plain to an inexperienced eye, you know that he does it as an extension of his affection. For all the valued items he keeps dangling by the rim of that hat, he surrenders it all to you in a heartbeat.

But you still hold your breath and as expected, the solemn expression of his proves to be transient. Just before the hat grazes your locks, he tips it back, gives the vacancy of its inside an inspecting look and does an emptying gesture as if to prove its.. well, emptiness. There's a flicker in his eyes you're not given the time to catch as he brings his hat just above your head and does the same depleting motion again ; the scent of fresh roses engulf your senses as a thousand petals cascade down from the hat. As if on cue, the winds pick up and waltz them down upon your form.

Here's the thing ; while you may pride yourself in being experienced in discerning Lyney's tricks, it becomes a task to maintain a straight face as he never repeats his previous sleight of hand. What you can try to do instead is search for patterns, patterns reveal genres and genres reveal intentions. Lyney is a celebrated magician of the Court, his capabilities lie far from simple card tricks, so for him to resort to elementary jugglery instead of some grand spectacle, it can only mean he's trying to distract you yet again.

You feel the weight of his hat on your head at last, shifting all the cards on your left hand, you raise your right to adjust its position slightly.

Your encouragement for him to elaborate comes in the form of confirmation, “That'd be correct,”

The magician's lips curve up in fondness, a playful hum escapes him as you resume your walk, him returning to stride facing you again. It's a skill he's mastered in the duration of your acquaintance, for the purpose of stunts apparently. You have your suspicions — but then again, who doesn't when it concerns Lyney?

“Very well. You accuse me of being such a thief, yet, I think you are the guiltier one between us two.” the errant strands of the magician's hair sway, his eyes keep you captive.

He takes the inquisitive tilt of your head as incentive to conclude, “On the topic of hearts and all, I must ask first, when do you intend to return mine?”

The night winds pause, your brain processes Lyney's question until it blanks upon realization. Your eyes dart across his face that is void of all teasing cues, his eyes glazed over and you can tell he's holding his breath. Any consideration of his behavior aligning with trickery is eliminated just as quickly, because if anyone were to want to understand Lyney as intricately as you, they'd first need to learn to be able to distinguish his flirtation from fact.

“... Do I have to?”

You find yourself half concerned and half entertained as the magician narrowly avoids being hit by a pole, him having to maneuver to regain his footing. Both of your steps come to a halt as your laugh echoes throughout the dead of the night. Lyney sheepishly places a hand on the back of his neck but that sight is all too evanescent. The signature smirk of his returns with enthusiasm.

“Not at all,” he purrs, eyes flickering towards your restless ones that have settled on his magic cards again.

“In fact, mold it to your will, toss it to your whim and hold it captive as though it's a supplement of your own, if you may.”

Your ears hang onto each of Lyney's words but your eyes find no courage to look at the mirth that you're certain is plastered on his face, you take the moment to properly inspect the motifs on the cards with some distraction from the shadows of the night : the grin-malkin cat, a miniature Lyney sticking out his tongue, a tea cup, a penguin and—

You're left stupified as the card is abruptly snatched from your grasp, Lyney bounces back a few steps and confirms to be the culprit. You brisk walk to reach the magician and that turns out to be your biggest mistake.

The card is at first held between two of Lyney's fingers, him shaking it left and right in provocation and in the spur of the moment, you take a leap. You feel the wind of the card being propelled upward, the magician holding it out of your reach. Your desire to obtain the piece of paper exceeds your awareness of the sudden decrease in proximity between you both. You shift to your tiptoes and feel the surface of the card, one look through your peripheral at the magician's smile and you realize a little too late that you've fallen right into his trap.

“Now, let's see, the question that started this all : the number of hearts this magician holds dear is the answer to this riddle—”

You expected Lyney to make the card disappear or shift higher if possible, but instead his hand wraps around yours and you find yourself twirled a full circle. The motion catches you off-guard but the magician stabilizes you by placing a firm hand on your waist and pulling you to his eye-level. You find yourself out-of-breath and unable to look away as the moon shines its light on you two again.

“—Placed above, it makes greater things small. Placed beside, it makes small things greater. ” the magician tilts your chin up in his preferred angle with the card, the cool temperature of its margin contradicting the heat of your skin.

“In matters that count, it always comes first.”

The faint rustle of your garbs against his is resounding, your own reflection stares back through amethyst lenses.

Lyney's voice is but a whisper against your cheek as he concludes, “Where others increase, it keeps all things the same. What is it?”

Your frenzied mind momentarily dreads the scenario wherein someone catches you two in the midst of this rendezvous, from incipiency to this apparent climax ; it's built up to be nothing short of scandalous. But the magician has no care for that outcome, inching closer, closer and closer. As if sensing the new wave of worries that fill your mind, he halts but makes no attempt to lean back, his eyes regain their usual shine.

“Quite easy, don't you think? But, if you believe it to be so, you'll be mislead. After all, that is how the simplest magic bewilders the audience. Blink, and you might miss it.”

The magician dives in and your breath hitches. Your eyes are forced open when you feel yourself stumble forward. The first second is wasted with no action, the second one you register that you have the card in your hand — pressed to your lips, on the third you notice the absence of Lyney's presence and the forth brings down all the embarrassment crashing down on your poor heart.

You pull away the condemned card from your lips, heavens know what anyone would think if they saw you kissing a piece of paper in the middle of nowhere. Your face flushes in the lovely shades of pink, heart hammering against your ribcage.

I could've sworn that I felt...!

The magic card crumbles slightly by the edges because of your grip, the prickle of its corners remind you to take deep breaths and calm your raging thoughts. You shake your head with vigour, but you're unsure if it's to recollect the memory or to brush it off. You're left alone to ruminate the aftermath of the bizarre encounter in the cold winds of midnight and you almost want to drown yourself in the darkest depths of the sea as recollections of your reactions rapidly pass through your mind — you can practically hear Lyney's snickers in your head.

Your attention is then grabbed by the catalyst of your current predicament, you turn over the card and finally inspect the motif printed on the card ; two hearts, bounded by a shackle and a lock. You trace your thumb across the hearts and your mind retraces Lyney's cryptic words. If all interactions, encounters and memories you share with the eccentric magician of Fontaine would form a pinnacle for you to see the truth from ; you'd know that behind the veneer of charisma and humor, Lyney hides something far less innocent. And yet, regardless of the foreboding creeping up your spine, you find yourself unable to snap the tether of connection.

Because as it is, that which is mysterious, captivates us all.

may all lyney wanters be lyney havers<3

#enjoy the whimsy until i (probably) give him the venti treatment(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠) #this is so self-indulgent and i'm not going to apologize for it #yandere #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere lyney #yandere lyney x reader #lyney x reader #lyney x you #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x you #yandere x reader imagine #male yandere #genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #lyney fluff #lyney

[streetsofdublin]

YOGA LESSON SCULPTURE BY MICHAEL DISLEY

Outside the Arches Centre in Belfast Michael Disley’s highly visible and cheerful Yoga Lesson sculpture is made of concrete and depicts a child in a flower-print dress performing a hand stand.

View On WordPress

#ARCHES CENTRE BELFAST #child in a flower-print dress #Concrete Sculpture #Fotonique #Infomatique #Ireland #Michael Disley #northern ireland #performing a hand stand #William Murphy #Yoga Lesson sculpture

[prissygrlsorority]

everything you need to make your own personal beauty binder 🎀

disclaimer: this post is heavily inspired by @tomb-of-ligeia and @daphne-dauphinoise, and early 2010s beauty youtubers. it’s always kind to credit your inspo <3

inspired by the lookbooks and makeup charts used by makeup artists designers at high fashion runways shows and childhood bratz coloring and activity books. the law of attraction is at use heavily with this binder (writing down goals and wishlists)!

you should be keeping diy recipes you find in here.

*you don’t need a physical binder. some people function better with digital mediums. i prefer anything physical and concrete. but you can do all this in something like a notion, or your notes app, etc.

why? 🎀

a cute girly hobby (esp for type A, anal retentive, or analytical personalities/extremely creative, hands on people) to keep track of your routines, motivate you to keep yourself maintained, and figure out what works best for you. it’s nothing too serious, just a girly pastime for people that maybe buy too many products, slip up on routines, or don’t what looks best on your features. have fun!

what to record in your binder? 🎀

an intro sheet 10 different topics divided by tabbed sections: your personal features, makeup, body, fashion, skincare, hair, fragrance, nails, treatments/procedures, salons/spas/referrals/contacts 🎀

intro sheet 🎀

here, you should keep your goals, desired look, and how you want to perceive yourself.

your personal features

a chart of your color season. mine is cool winter. you can use color season for whatever, i choose to apply it to my makeup.

your natural body shape. this will help you choose the best clothes to flatter your silhouette.

a close up, unfiltered clear photo of your bare face. note your skin type, color, undertone, and any other things that stand out to you.

note what you wanna enhance and what you wanna improve. this will help throughout your binder.

makeup

put on a light layer of every lipstick/lip gloss/etc. you have and make kiss shaped swatches in your binder. note the shade, brand, and finish. then the mood/occasion in which you’d wear it.

swatch all your lip liners, again leaving the details of the product.

swatch your foundation shades. note the finish, name and brand.

make a sheet dedicated to all your “holy grail”, essential products.

swatch your eyeshadow palettes. i have all my shimmer pigments swatches and it’s the prettiest thing to look at.

do you have any go to makeup looks? your casual look, going out look, no makeup makeup look, etc.? do these looks and take high quality pics. make personalized face charts by printing them out and noting the steps and products you used.

take c*nty pics of your lashes after trying on all your mascaras/falsies. note the effects and when you would be most likely to wear them.

print out any pics of interesting makeup looks and products you wanna try.

try on lip combos and kiss swatch them. i’m doing this because i do amazing lip combos all the time but i forget which products i used, and it’s hard to replicate the look.

body

take a stick figure-esque picture of yourself and print it out. any outfit you want to buy, print and clip it out first and see if it’s something you’d wear and actually like.

are you experiencing any skin issues on your body and trying any products? keep track of the issue and how the products are doing.

if you don’t already have one, brainstorm workout routines and general wellness/fitness goals.

what are your fav body products? what products did you buy, and hate? TRACK THEM!

any detoxes/diets you’re doing should be recorded in this section.

record “beauty enhancing” foods and drinks here. mine include matcha, lemon water and acv shots.

fashion

outfit planning! take pics of pieces you already have and clip them out. (i’m doing this currently and keeping them all in a little pocket in my binder).

make a moodboard of your personal style(s). how do you want your closet to look? try to see what details, colors, additions are consistent throughout. when shopping, these are what you should keep track of.

print out your signature clothing color palette if you want to have one.

dedicate a page to accessories you have/want, and how you’d style them.

*this can be expensive but the fashion girls will prob love this* go to the fabric store and buy little swatches that you like. take note of what the fabric is and why you like it.

dedicate a page to all your signature details. all the little specific things that scream YOU and NO ONE else! that means do not write pink, girly, etc. here. that is not exclusive to you, hun.

skincare

take a current filter free photo (make it glam! tie your hair up in a ballerina bun and put on some cute earrings) of the state of your skin. if your skin is perfect, i’m jealous and how does it feel to be god’s fav? if not what problems are you experiencing?

log your current skincare routines and how they’re working.

make a page for your skin type, how it feels when you wake up and how it feels and looks by the end of the day and research tips to deal with your personal skin type.

skincare wishlist! list any products you wanna try and what they are for. sample them from ulta or sephora if it’s possible.

dedicate a page to the skincare ingredients your skin loves the MOST! mine are retinol, bha, and vitamin c.

i have a page for all the extra cute little skincare devices i want. on it there’s a stainless steel gua sha, an ice pack, facial steamer, and pink foreo.

hair

what’s your hair type, density, porosity and curl pattern?

write down any hair goals you have. mine is frizz free tailbone length caramel brown hair with honey blonde highlights by the end of this year.

what’s your signature hairstyle? do you have a signature? brainstorm here.

clip out hairstyle inspo from pinterest and insta and try to recreate all the looks!

what are your fav hair products? i keep track of the best curling creams and leave in conditioners for my hair personally.

take note of any trending products you wanna try.

fragrance

make a moodboard of how you wanna smell. after this, research notes and how they work together.

now track your fav perfumes, your most complimented, etc.

note what fragrances go with what occasion and how they make you feel.

make your perfume wishlist! my fav part!

nails

swatch all your polishes. label them and their finish.

what’s your signature/go to nail look?

do you have any pics of your fav mani + pedis? print them out and write the details you loved the most.

write down your at home mani and pedi routine and it’s frequency.

write your fav colors and styles to wear on your nails. mine are glittery pink, pale pink, white, cream, french tip and pink frenchie. a hyper girly twist on the classics.

treatments/procedures

take note of any surgeries or procedures you want done and what they do.

anything you leave the house to have done regularly, keep track here.

don’t limit yourself! forget your budget! what are some high maintenance treatments you wanna experience? manifest it.

references

write down the sources of which you find great info for beauty and fashion

keep addresses of your fav salons and spas.

keep business contacts of your fav estheticians, stylists, nail techs, etc.

use my branding yourself guide to assist in your beauty binder! so much inspo and so many good resources! 🎀

#prissygrlsorority #my posts #beauty binder 🎀

[gamermattsgf]

Silk ribbons // sub Chris

Warnings: major sub Chris / mommy kink / blindfold kink / restraints kink / overstimulation / praise kink / cum kink (I literally have no idea what to call this lol, you’ll get what I mean tho… hopefully) / degradation / slut shaming / male masterbation / hand job / female masterbation (if u squint)

Summary: chris invites you around to bake brownies, but after a slight mishap with your underwear he finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything but the sight of them.

Author’s notes: this oneshot is literally the physical embodiment of training wheels by Melanie Martinez ugh, it matches the vibe perfectly. You guys wanted sub Chris so I delivered, enjoy yourselves thirsty hoes ;)

“I love everything you do, when you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do… I wanna ride my bike with you, fully undressed, no training wheels left for you…” - Training Wheels, Melanie Martinez

Chris thinks he’s a little strange.

Ever since he’s been young he’s loved all things to do with the colour baby pink, and he’s always led a life of soft aesthetics, pearls and strawberry shortcake daydreams. He’s grown up looking around at other people and thinking there has been something wrong with him because there’s no way a man should have been this obsessed over all things soft and delicate.

But he couldn’t help it.

He just couldn’t resist the gentle look of soft pink bows, used for both accessories and decor, and he really loved his mom’s antique pink china tea set, so much so that whenever she offered to make him tea he’d always shyly request it to be poured into one of those cups. He just liked the look of them, that’s all.

He also loved his mom very much, he was for sure a momma’s boy, but unfortunately her affections and coddles rubbed off on him a little too well, which left him as a touch starved 20 year old… absolutely terrified of being asked to top.

Truthfully, he really had no idea what he was doing in the bedroom, he didn’t like the control or the freedom to do whatever he wanted.

Within his sexual fantasies he’d much rather have been the subservient one to whoever was willing to entertain his strange desires.

Because he wanted to be babied, he wanted to be degraded, he wanted hair strokes and wrist ties.

He had met you at his local skatepark whilst sitting on the edge of a ramp.

Biting his lip, he had been peeling off the paper from the sticky side of a hello kitty bandaid that he had needed to use to cover up a graze. His nostrils had flared and he had hissed at the rawness of it on his skint kneecap. He knew he should have worn his jeans that day, not his jorts.

Whilst securing it onto his cut, the skateboard that he had been sat on top of creaked gently underneath his weight. Suddenly, the wheels to another skateboard had filled his ears whilst he focused in on the calming pink colour of the bandaid, admiring the soft little white cat print. The gritting sound of them on the concrete had forced him to look up to you, who had now stepped off of your own skateboard and kicked it up into your hand.

You had smiled down at Chris cheekily, curious but shy in front of him. Fondly laughing, you had pointed to the hello kitty plaster on his knee that had covered up his cut as he sat before you on the floor. ‘Nice bandaid.’ Chris had swallowed nervously, thinking that this stranger was about to tease him about the girly looking bandaid… but - to his bewilderment - you had sat down next to him instead, your perfume a waft of sweet roses that again, readily attracted Chris because of his acute love for all things light.

‘Got a spare for me?’

And after that day you two had just clicked.

You’re not really sure if you were friends or something more, but Chris undeniably felt attracted to you, partly because when he had muscled up the right amount of nerves to invite you around to his place, you had excitedly freaked out over his coquettish room, marvelling at its cuteness and flopping onto his bed to grab his monkey stuffed animal and cuddle it into your chest.

Chris had been so fucking terrified that you would have been weirded out by his taste in room decor, but on the contrary- you had found it extremely interesting, that someone as masculinely set and attractive as Chris had such a unique aesthetic.

You had never really met anyone like Chris, and that excited you. His room was queer, a perfect mix of both boyish and girlish things. His skateboard was always leant up against the door to his closet and random pictures of rappers haphazardly dotted themselves about his walls. Additionally, a desk with a pc sitting on top of it took up the left hand corner of his room whilst his blue and white headset constantly rested on top of his Xbox.

Oddly, you hadn’t expected his bedcovers to be a pearly silk pink when you had first entered the threshold, nor expected the white fluffy throw blanket draped lazily over the side of it, but you hadn’t complained. You had loved it.

Looking back, it didn’t surprise you much. He did wear an awful lot of pink. A deep pink puffer jacket, pink t-shirts, a pink button down for formal occasions and he had even doodled pink swirls onto his white Nikes with acrylic leather pens. He usually skated in them, and one day when you asked him where he had gotten them from he had told you did them himself. This only made him ten times cooler in your eyes.

On this occasion, you were around at his place to hang out downstairs. Chris had suggested baking brownies and you had been quick to agree with him, finding a recipe online and opening different cupboard doors to select ingredients.

For some reason however, sexual tensions between you two had been high. You felt it hit you extra hard whenever your sides brushed or whenever Chris flicked his powdery blue eyes to meet yours, before he shyly averted them and cleared his throat. Multiple times you had looked down to his arms to see that the soft hairs of them were raised to attention, and whenever Chris’ palms touched against yours to help you stir the mixture you felt them to be clammy with sweat. It was only when you bent down to grab another mixing bowl that you realised something was truly up, because Chris had gone silent.

Why you ask? As you had bent down, your soft white sweats had slipped from above the handles of your hips to reveal the tight waistband of your lacy underwear pinching against your skin perfectly. Chris’ throat had gone dry. Fuck, he had felt like such a pervert looking at the soft cherries of your ass cheeks that were covered over with your sweats, but he couldn’t help the way the butterflies shooting through his gut quickly traveled past his own underwear and right to his cock.

You were wearing lacy pink underwear.

Chris was a naturally anxious and nervous person that liked to overthink. Immediately his mind drew itself to a bunch of different conclusions over something probably meaningless. Were you wearing that set because you knew that you were going to be around at his and that the colour pink reminded you of him? Or was it just a coincidence that you chose to wear literally the most tantalising pair of underwear that you could have in his presence.

He wasn’t sure, but his mind overwhelmed himself with these thoughts whilst his eyes greedily drank in the eyeful you had given him. Reacting quickly, he thought it necessary to speedily dart behind the other side of the counter before you could turn around and see how embarrassingly hard his cock had gotten. He felt wet, his tip hot and soaking as he quickly plummeted into humiliation at his lack of self control. He pressed his hips into the counter, flustered with a stupidly obviously blush dusting lightly over his cheeks whilst he held his breath, trying to conceal any noise he might have been tempted to make at the rub of the hard-wooded counter against his flushed cock.

You had turned back around, completely oblivious to what had happened and unconsciously pulling your sweatpants back up by nature.

After quickly edging his way to the exit of the kitchen and rushing an ‘I’ll be right back’ shakily, he stumbled his way up the stairs, practically cupping his length so that you couldn’t see it before sprinting into his room and closing the door behind him.

*

Chris has never felt more embarrassed in his life. You are still downstairs and he still has a raging boner.

Panicking, he doesn’t feel like he can get rid of it by willing it to go down with just images in his mind, so he worriedly comes to the conclusion that he’s going to have to touch himself.

His heart races, and his cheeks flush a humiliated red, getting even hotter the more he meekly pads over to the side of his dresser with his cock throbbing and his balls tight. He frowns when all his mind can do to help is cast 3D printed images of your ass snuggled into the pair of underwear you were wearing right in front of his field of vision, evidently making his stiffy now much worse.

He slaps his clammy hand to his forehead, his fingertips lightly brushing over the yellow bandana that he has on to pull back his hair. His shoulders heave as he squeezes his eyes shut in disbelief.

As he reaches out his other hand to his top dresser drawer, he swallows when noticing it’s shaking with nerves. He can’t believe he’s going to have to do this whilst the girl he normally thinks about when he strokes himself is actually downstairs in his house.

The thought makes Chris want to throw himself out of the window, because he’s generally embarrassed wanking off with his family in the house, no less with the girl that he likes as more than a friend residing just downstairs in his kitchen. But there’s no other way to get rid of it, and wouldn’t it be more embarrassing for him to be parading around you with his cock proudly on show than for him to quietly sate his horny hunger in the comfort of his own room?

Sliding the drawer out, his jittering hand goes straight for the tube of lotion, knowing that he’s going to have to make this as quiet as possible so that you don’t get suspicious as to where he’s actually gone.

Rapidly sliding off his sweatpants, he takes a shaky breath at the feeling of the fabric rubbing against his sensitivity before the soft material drops down to his ankles and he has to step out of them.

Kneeling onto his bed, it squeaks quietly underneath his weight and Chris has to cringe in both guilt and arousal.

Inconspicuously worming his bottom half under the silky pink covers, he tunes in his ears to make sure that the house upstairs is silent and that there can be no creaks of floorboards heard before blinking and flipping open the cap of the lotion.

He squirts a heavy amount of the sticky clear liquid onto the palm of his sweating hand before gulping and arching up his hips so that his spare hand can thumb itself into the band of his white boxers. Pulling them down he pants a little and shamefully looks at his twitching cock, his tip a bright red and his skin a needy pink whilst the thick vein on the left side of his shaft bulges outwardly.

Before he begins, a surge of sexual excitement hits his nervous system and has adrenaline pulsing through his blood. He decides to grip onto the hem of his shirt at the last minute so that he can tuck it into his mouth and bite down on it as a last ditch effort to suppress any noises he knows that he’s going to make.

Another thing Chris is embarrassed about is how loud he gets, and this statement still rings true as the already cherry red flush on his face seems to thicken even more after he looks down at his cock to observe the way his hand spreads the lotion along the hot thickness of his girth.

At the first touch, his back arches slightly, and he has to take in a laboured breath at the feeling of his cock, rock hard in his grip and begging to be stroked by his hand.

‘Ugh fuck…’ he moans breathlessly into the bite of his t-shirt, humiliation swarming him in waves as he starts to jerk his hand up and down. It was like torture, being forced to listen to the sticky slickness of the lotion moving upon his throbbing skin as he whimpered and spread his legs slightly with the current of pleasure that came with it.

‘Fuck… fuck… f-fuck…’ he stutters quickly through more pants, his fist tightening perfectly as he feels the slimy texture of his guilty filth run over his hand. His back rests against the headboard of his bed but it doesn’t stay there for long intervals at a time because of how much it arches.

He sweats, and breathlessly feels like he doesn’t know what to do with himself the more he stimulates his cock. His other hand grapples and fidgets, first clutching onto his thigh, but then moving restlessly around to grope his pearly pink pillow, only to then move once again up to his headboard. His arm extends across the expanse of it whilst his fingers knuckle the wood.

Chris’ head tilts and hits the wall with his eyebrows furrowed when his thumb comes up to quickly swirl over his tip before he whimpers into the air and allows his t-shirt to drop down out of his mouth and crumple back into its original resting place. He simply cannot hold it within the bite of his lip anymore because all his mouth does is lay slackened and open.

He then allows himself to tune out the rest of the world, only focussing in on his pleasure until playing with his slit becomes too sensitive.

Looking down once again in fascination at his hand working against his cock, the erotic noise of the lotion lubricating his skin makes him mumble a quiet ‘Jesus Christ…’ before he’s shutting his eyes again.

This time however, when he shuts his eyes an almost incriminatingly foul image crosses his mind, and he wants to slap himself for thinking such a dirty thing about such a sweet girl.

But suddenly, he sees visions of an elegant you, lying down sprawled across the other side of his bed. An elegant you that seems to be wearing a matching two piece set in baby pink…

The bra is see-through, allowing Chris to fantasise about what your nipples may look like whilst your tits lay perfectly nestled in between the sheer silky material with bows and pearls decorating the pale pink lace, he also seems to imagine it being one of those pretty bras where the fabric is detachable from the wires so that Chris can easily suck on your tits, drooling all over them like a lovesick puppy.

The panties are indeed too, lacy and decorated with a little bow on the top, however, scandalously attached to the sweetheart underwear are sensual-looking garters, that pull up knee high white socks with tiny pink love hearts stitched into them, the frills at the top also being a matching baby pink.

Chris moans again at the image and pants into the air at the thought he fantasises just for himself. His absolute dream underwear set on you.

But that’s not all. Because along with the temptress-esque underwear he has you wearing, your knees are also propped up with your legs spread out, one hand perched lazily on the covers. You lie there, with a somewhat helpless look on your face, whilst your other hand slips down your bare navel to in between your spread legs so that you can delicately play with yourself.

The noises Chris imagines you let out are soft, and you almost purr desperately, looking at him with lustrously hooded eyes and your hair fanning out around you like an angel.

‘Aren’t you going to play with me Chris…?’ His imagination pouts gently to him in the warped voice of you, your finger circulating where Chris wants to touch the most before you hiss quietly in pleasure.

‘I want you to touch me… please… be my good boy, I’m aching for your cock…’ you whine again, panting quietly whilst Chris moans once more, whimpering this time a pathetic ‘mommy…’ that more so comes out like a babbling baby’s whisper, before he dares to look down at the image he’s conjured up in his mind once more to help himself get off.

‘I’m dripping Chris… please… I need you angel boy… I- I- I wish you could just stuff me full of your cock. I’ll always be your sweet girl, I promise! Haven’t I been a good mommy? Do I not deserve it?’ You coquettishly pout once again, your big beautiful glassy eyes almost welling up with tears as you perfectly demonstrates the balance between sadness and sexual desire. You look like his strawberry shortcake daydream… and Chris so badly wants to sink his teeth into your flesh.

This almost pushes him over the edge, his legs spreading the furthest they can go to make sure that his hand can get the best access to his cock whilst the covers that he once had concealing his embarrassed sensitivity now rolling down his legs.

The bed squeaks as he fucks his hips upwards gently into his hand. The more he gets carried away within his groans of struggle and hitched breathes of a long awaited high, the more agressive he gets with his grip.

All of his incoherent speeches are drowned out by the squeaking groan of his bed and the sticky stroke of his cock. Now, the red blush from his cheeks has spread to pretty much his whole entire face, his sinful act also feeling so so fucking addictive. And he feels like he’s swimming in ecstasy, mumbling your name in pleasure, over and over again. That is… until there is a gentle, almost timid knock at his door, the cupped fist most likely belonging to the only other person in the house at the moment. You…

…oh fuck.

‘Chris what are you-’

You suddenly burst into his room, completely unannounced after your knock, because you had heard the guttural stutter of your name…

And there Chris sits, like a deer caught in headlights, frozen with his lower half naked and his boxers clinging to the skin of his thighs. You clock the discarded bottle of lotion on the left side of his bed covers and then gawk at his glistening cock, wrapped up within his right fist.

‘Oh- fuck, sorry!’ You yelp suddenly, yourself unable to look away and Chris too stunned with embarrassment to rush and cover himself up. There would be no point now anyway, it was so fucking blatantly obvious what he was doing.

‘N-no please it’s my fault. I- I just didn’t want you to see. Thought I could get rid of it quietly’ Chris stutters back at you, now finally gaining the common sense to cover himself up by draping his duvet over his nakedness so that he could regain some of his decency back. But his decency quickly crumbles once again when you let out a huge breath. You relax, your eyes blinking as you cock your hip to the side. ‘Why’d you stop…?’.

Chris swallows nervously and his jaw goes slack at your question, he furrows his brows, slightly confused, ‘why’d I- why’d I stop?’. His voice sounds hoarse and he has to clear his throat ever so slightly in awkwardness.

‘Yeah… doesn’t really bother me to be honest’.

His hands are shaking underneath the plushness of his silky covers.

‘Umm… well I just thought you’d be a little weirded out by it that’s all… s’that not normal?’ He chokes out, feeling it very queer to be having a conversation with you like this, still hyper aware that his cock is painfully hard and that you can probably still see it poking up from under his bedsheets. He squirms around at this thought, his cheeks red and emanating heat.

You just shrug. ‘I mean… for some people probably, but not me’ you smirk ‘what were you thinking about?’. As if Chris isn’t embarrassed enough already, this question makes everything so much worse. ‘Umm… well I- uh’ he bumbles stupidly, struggling to find the words, which just makes you even more smug. You’re not stupid, you had heard him mumble your name from the other side of the door before you had burst it open.

‘C’mon Chris be a big boy now and spit it out’ you chided him, walking towards him a little. In response to this he shuffles further back up his bed, trying to get away from the overwhelming burden of having to admit that it was you he was thinking about.

‘Umm… just- stuff’ he jitters, and you roll your eyes. ‘Don’t bullshit my Chris, you and I both know that it was me… believe it or not you weren’t dealing with it as “quietly” as you thought you were’. Chris knows there’s no way to possibly skirt around this, so his chest deflates and he sighs. Fucking curse him for being too noisy. His eyes shyly look to his bedcovers, refusing meet yours. ‘Fine… it was you. Sorry… I just couldn’t help it’. His hand not covered in a thin layer of lotion comes up to his eyes and pinches them shut.

‘Don’t be sorry. I’m flattered to be on your mind. Because you sound so pretty getting off to the thought of me…’ you smirk when Chris snaps his eyes open, his misty blue irises flicking about your face to scan for any hint of a lie. But there’s none there to detect because you are being genuine with him.

Chris is a very interesting person, so you feel like he’s the kind of guy to have interesting kinks… I mean… look at him, so feminine yet so fucking masculine at the same time. He’s the kind of person that anyone would be lucky to taste before they die.

‘Yeah? You think about me with your hand down your pants often Chris?’ You taunt him, your heady smirk working him up into a flustered state of stuttering. ‘No! Well- I- yes… but it’s not like-’.

He vigorously tries to defend himself but he only makes a mess of his speech pattern, so you do him a favour by hushing him softly. You’re now towering over him, his big eyes trained on you and his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. ‘What do you like Chris?’ You ask, leaving the question opened ended. This could have been about anything, but of course, you only have one goal in mind. You want to know what gets him going, gets him hard, gets his back arching and his legs spreading…

‘What do you mean…?’ Chris decides to play dumb, his shyness seeping through every pore in his body. ‘Chris you know what I mean. What keeps you up at night… what do I do in your imagination that makes you want to touch yourself until you’re making a mess all over yourself hm?’ Your voice is light and gentle whilst you bravely reach your hand out to cup underneath his jaw. You lift his chin gently, the weight of his head softly resting on your hand as he swallows again.

‘I like…’ he mumbles breathlessly, struggling to get the rest of the words out before you are peeling back his sweetie pie pink covers to expose him. You look down to see his thighs twitching slightly at being revealed to you once again. ‘Oh Chris that looks sore baby…’ you coo, and his hips squirm. ‘Keep going’ you respond to him, wanting him to finish answering your question. But this time, you reach out your hand to grasp onto his cock, his texture warm and damp.

Chris bites his lip and feathers his eyes closed, his head tipping back and a boiling hot surge of pleasure scalding his gut as soon as you start to work your hand against his slick skin. ‘Um… look- look in my bedside drawer…’ he moans, his voice struggling to crawl up his throat without a whine tinging to every single word. You furrow your eyebrows, keeping your hand on Chris as you lean over to use your other one, which wraps around the handle of his drawer slowly.

Sliding it out, you look inside to see all of the typical things kept in a man’s nightstand, as well as some girlier things like a bundle of different pearl necklaces, but you’re not interested in that.

You’re more interested in the pink silk ribbons, that are long enough to wrap tightly around someone’s wrists and restrain them there.

‘Chris… are these for…’ you trail off, subconsciously squeezing his cock a little harder as your eyes sparkle at the cheeky silk ties. Chris nods, filling in the gaps for you and answering your suspicions with an ‘uhuh’.

Your hand dives in without a moment to lose, fishing out the exiting looking toys that you can play with. ‘Chris you little slut’ you giggle with a surprised air about you, admiring the way he looks at the ribbons as you place them on his bed.

‘Hey! M’not a slut!!’ He snaps his head back up to look at you, whining in offence, but you shake your head, finding that so fucking hard to believe.

‘Is that so… well, in that case I’ll just have to make you into one using them then’ you slur seductively, before slinging your leg over his naked lap. Chris nearly chokes at your fast actions whilst you fully straddle him and push his back into the headboard. Wrestling one of his wrists up to the holed wood Chris pants and slides his bottom half further down onto the bed so that he can lie on his torso whilst you tie his hand to the headboard. Chris doesn’t put up a fight… he wants this.

He’s wanted it for so long.

The second one doesn’t come long after.

He hisses suddenly at how tightly you had tied them, his wrists practically unable to move in their awkward position slung up over his head and pinned to the headboard. The pretty pink silk brushing against his skin delicately makes him ache, and he admires your work.

‘Where’d you learn how to do that?’ He utters in breathless wonder whilst you find it hard not to smirk at what you’re going to do next. ‘Practice’ you muse whilst Chris shuffles about, unable to get comfortable. Your hands then shoot out and come to rest on the yellow bandana neatly pushing back his long wavy hair.

‘W-wait, what are you doing?’ he stutters as you use them to gently slide the fabric down over his eyes. This conceals his line of vision, and you watch the way his fingers and arms flex helplessly, his mind immediately trying to move his hands to push the bandana back up onto his forehead. But it’s no use, and he moans in frustration when he realises that there’s no way he’s going to be able to slip the bandana back up because his wrists are restrained.

‘Fuck… t-that’s not fair!’ He cries out in defiance but all you do is snigger, getting off of the bed so that you can admire the way his long legs stretch out to the bottom of his bed and kick about restlessly, his cock still red and throbbing whilst his colourful t-shirt rides up just above the curves of his slutty little waist. Strands of his soft looking hair fall over the yellow bandana that rests on the delicate curve of his nose whilst he twists his neck from side to side, his wrists bending and yanking helplessly against his silk ties.

‘Oh really? If you’re going to be a naughty boy and touch yourself like that without my permission then you’re going to be treated like a naughty boy’

Chris’ cheeks flame at how much he enjoys this degradation, his prick now painful and needing to be touched once again.

‘You got anymore requests before I give you what you want baby boy?’ You quip, extremely excited and getting wet at the fact that Chris has absolutely no idea what you’re going to do to him because of the blindfold obscuring his vision.

Chris hums, debating on whether or not to reveal to you his deepest and most yearned for sexual fantasy.

You don’t skate around his debate though, ‘Chris just say it, I think we’re a little too far into our friendship now to judge each other’. He sighs at this and stops biting his lip in contemplation.

‘Can I- can I call you mommy? Please’ he shyly requests and your stomach squeezes at the idea of being called mommy. You’re not surprised that Chris has a mommy kink, it’s pretty obvious with the way he carries himself, his actions are always so soft and delicate.

‘You can call me whatever you like Chris’ you say, before crawling back onto the bed. Chris’ back arches at the freedom you give him and his head twists from side to side yet again, trying to look in vain to see if there is anyway he can possibly clock where you are. But it’s no use. His makeshift blindfold has completely obliterated his sense of sight, equally, his sense of touch is also limited which heightens his other senses tenfold.

Running your finger tips up the inner sides of his thighs, he shivers with his breathing hitched and his shoulders heaving. He looks so sweet practically defenceless before you.

‘Go on then Chris… call me mommy… beg for it’. Chris whines into the back of his throat when he feels the pad of your thumb slowly sliding over his weeping tip. ‘Please mommy- call me a slut, I don’t care… just- just touch me’ he breathes, a surge of power flowing through your veins at the way you can make him unravel at the sound of your voice. Even the faintest of touches to his cock makes him worm about pathetically.

‘There’s a good boy’.

Finally, you find it right to praise him, and by god does it illicit the desired reaction. Chris’ lips curve up into a proud little smile, his legs spreading and his head throwing all the way back to put his powerful jaw on show, his masculine neck heavily contoured and highlighting his strong throat structure within the dim lighting of his room. ‘I am a good boy mommy’ he meekly responds back whilst your hand rewards him further by wrapping itself around him yet again.

He feels nice in your palm, warm and thick, precum dribbling down his tip and mixing with the lotion that is still making him sticky enough to easily slide your hand over him. And doesn’t he just look like the sweetest darling, all messy and panting beneath you?.

‘You like the way I touch you? Is this the kind of thing you dream about baby?’ You muse as you work your hand along him to stimulate his prick. You know he’s not going to last long, he had edged himself enough already before you had interrupted him. And you know that he is most likely going to have the most earth-shattering orgasm at your touch.

He nods shakily, his hips thrusting up accidentally to get more friction. ‘All the time’ he states, this time a little more confidently, and you hum in satisfaction.

‘You look pretty in pink baby boy’ you suddenly compliment him, and this makes Chris the happiest he’s been yet. He gets flustered and shy, especially after you stroke his ego with telling him he looks nice is his favourite colour. Something about someone complimenting him in that way makes him feel soft and light. ‘Thank you mommy…s’my favourite’ he shyly peeps, his voice as smooth as butter and making your thighs quiver. You’ll definitely be around at his place a lot more often after this to get even more of his strawberry goodness.

‘I know sweet boy… and that’s why you look so pretty in it’ you praise him even more, and he moans uncontrollably, his cock twitching within your hand. ‘Fuck, is my good boy ready to cum already?’.

He hums vigorously. ‘Y-yes mommy… so bad’. You sigh, feeling sad that this moment is over so soon, because he just looks so pretty tied up and blindfolded below you, but you conclude that he’s suffered enough already with having to hold on for this long, and so you let him cum.

‘Okay then sweet boy, you cum when you’re ready’.

And cum he does, a fuck load. It melts and drips all over his stomach, and Chris curses into the air after every time your hand works down his length with a squeezing motion to get rid of as much cum as you can. After the sticky strings of them are spent and Chris whines in overstimulation, you let go of his cock.

Chris thinks it’s over, and he cools down with his chest heaving and his mouth panting, that is, until you unexpectedly place your hands on his stomach, right into his puddle of cum.

Chris chokes when your hands start to make a slow ascent up his stomach, past his happy trail and up to his chest, absolutely covering him in his own cum. He moans at this, feeling your sticky fingers trailing over his rib cage. You smirk at him.

‘Thought you weren’t a slut Chris…? Good boys don’t like this kind of thing’.

His tilted head snaps back up, cutting his enjoyment short with a pout and a pitiful ‘but I am a good boy-’, his blindfold still completely concealing the way his eyes are probably glassing up with worry. ‘Really? Because I don’t think so…’ you tease once again, knowing that it’s just going to get him even more worked up. Gathering up a dollop of his cum onto two of your fingers you sneakily gravitated them up to his mouth whilst he fusses about underneath you.

To shut him up, you use your spare hand to open up his mouth fully and slot your two fingers onto his tongue. ‘Shhh, suck on this baby, you just focus on how you taste and I’ll worry about everything else, that’s what mommy’s are for yeah?’.

This quiet babying seems to work to get Chris to calm down, and his needy figure relaxes whilst curling his tongue around your two fingers and licking off his own cum. He swallows it all in one go. Removing your hand from his mouth, finally, you let him see once again by pulling off the yellow bandana, leaving his hair in a ruffled, fluffy mess.

His lips are blood red and his cheeks are a light pink, his silk ties matching his sheepish complexion whilst he watches you unravel them. After they’re removed, you look to see the red marks they’ve left on Chris’ wrists from how tightly they had been tied and equally how hard Chris had been tugging against them within his pleasure filled trance.

Suddenly you begin to giggle. And you can’t stop. A tired looking Chris gazes over at you in confusion, his stomach and chest shining with a trail of his own cum.

‘What?’

He shuffles around insecurely, his shyness once again blocking up any other emotion.

‘Nothing… it’s just… I kinda always knew you had a mommy kink after you mumbled it in your sleep one time I was staying over. Think you were having a wet dream’.

Chris goes red once again, his eyes widening as he smacks his lips, grabbing his fluffy white pillow and affectionately hitting your head with it at not telling him sooner that you had actually heard something you shouldn’t have.

This of course, initiates a playful pillow fight between the two of you, which slowly transitions into somewhat of a messy make out session with your tongues twisting against each other’s and your noses brushing before you both collectively hear the sound of the smoke alarm going off in the kitchen.

You gasp and pull away from Chris’ sugary lips.

‘FUCK, THE BROWNIES!’

Author’s notes p.2: phew that was a lot. Can u guys tell I love the colour pink?? I’m lowkey obsessed with coquette baby girl Chris ngl, he’s literally the male embodiment of a Melanie Martinez song. I hope u guys enjoyed my take on sub!Chris, but request and ask me anything as always!! :) @luverboychris this one is for you wife, I know you’ve been waiting for it <3

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#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sub matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #mommy k!nk #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

[g1rld1ary]

unlucky ; luke castellan x reader

➻ synopsis: when clarisse mixes up her days, her physio appointment clashes with the exam she was supposed to drive you to. lucky for you, she's got a friend who owes her a favour

➻ word count: 2570

➻ content: swearing, anxious!reader, fluff

➻ not sure how i feel about this but it is written which is more than I can say about all my other wips so...

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were going to ace your exam. There was no other option, you’d prepared for everything. Your flash cards were colour coded and worn thin from revision, your cheap printer had basically had a fit from how many practise questions you’d printed out, and your whiteboard was crammed with revision notes. There was no way you were going to do anything less than stellar, you’d planned out every last detail of the day.

“What do you mean your exam is today?” Clarisse asked you as you stood in front of her, fully dressed and bag all packed. You hadn’t planned on this.

“Clar, it’s Wednesday. My exam is on Wednesday. I need you to drive me or I won’t get there.”

“Oh, Gods. Dude, I totally mixed up the days, I can’t drive you, I’ve got that physio appointment I told you about, the one that has a five month waitlist. I’m so sorry,” Your roommate groaned and you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. The Ubers around were hopeless, cancelling at the last minute and never actually picking you up — and it wasn’t you, your rating was perfectly high, for the record.

“Fuck,” You both cursed as you tried to figure out a solution. You wanted to be angry at Clarisse, but you knew you couldn’t. It was an honest mistake on her part, and she had to go to her appointment if she wanted to have any shot of getting back into the boat next semester and retain her rowing scholarship. Mostly you were mad at yourself that you didn’t have any backup plans, especially since you always had at least two. You were about to give up and start running across the city to try and make it in time when Clarisse’s eyes lit up, snapping her fingers excitedly.

“I’ve got it: I have a friend who I know for a fact won’t be doing anything right now and owes me a favour. I can get him to drive you?” You hesitated. On the one hand, Clarisse’s friend was probably the only way you were going to get to your exam punctually, but on the other, being in a car with some stranger would drastically heighten your anxiety and throw off all of your routines. With one more moment of thought you swallowed your nerves and nodded yes. Clarisse got on her phone, hurriedly dialling her friend. You watched in uneasy anticipation as she argued with the boy, referencing a myriad of situations you knew nothing about, clearly emphasising how much he owed her. You bit back a smile at that, Clarisse would always keep tabs on who owed her.

Finally she nodded at you and you couldn’t contain your grin. As much as the thought of navigating city traffic with a strange boy made your stomach churn — and not in the good way — your anxiety was completely outweighed by your desperation to get to your exam.

Waiting for him to arrive was a whole different story. Clarisse’s appointment was earlier than yours and so you had to wait on your own, frantically going over your notes again as you sat on the stoop of your apartment building, converse grinding into the concrete anxiously. To his credit, it wasn’t long before he pulled up, pulling into the parking space in front of you far too fast for your liking.

You observed the car skeptically. You didn’t want to judge when he was doing you such a big favour, but it was an integral part of you. The car was old and a bit worn down, but not so much in a ‘the owner’s a slob’ kind of way, more that you could tell it was well loved and had had its share of adventures. You could say the same for the boy inside it. He was beautiful, but you could tell he wasn’t really the type to think about his appearance too much. His shirt was clearly well loved, worn slightly thin from use, and he had a thin scar running down his cheek from his eye. You tried to smile sociably as you climbed in the passenger seat.

“Hi,” You said, introducing yourself quietly as you gripped your notes tightly.

“I’m Luke,” He replied, shooting you a quick smile.

The two of you sat awkwardly for a while, conversation at an uneasy halt. Luke had asked you a few polite questions, but your growing anxiety over the exam made it hard for you to think. At least until Luke had the bright idea of bringing up your roommate.

“So, how do you know Clarisse?” He asked, and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips.

“She’s my best friend!” You grinned, “We were assigned to be roommates in freshman year and ended up getting along surprisingly well for, well, the type of people we are. When it was time to move out of the dorms and get an apartment together, it just seemed natural that we’d continue to live together. You must be part of her other friendship group, then?” Luke was glad you’d started to come out of your shell, the chatty version of you that Clarisse had inspired made the battle against traffic much more bearable.

“Yeah, we all met through the sports program. I was kind of a package deal with Chris, so when they got together she got the blessing of hanging out with me too,” He joked, “How come we’ve never met? I know Chris tells her to bring you all the time.” Your cheeks flushed at being caught out avoiding the group.

“I’m not really good at talking to people, I feel so awkward. Plus I need to study, I don’t have the fallback of sport that Clar does. The times that she’s hosted have been actual coincidences though! I was visiting family the last time you all came to the apartment — promise I’m not actively avoiding you all.” Luke smiled at your bashful expression, tapping along light-heartedly to whatever grunge rock he had playing.

You conversed more easily for a while, you wanted to learn more about him, and Luke was a good conversationalist. He talked about his course in a way which interested you like it never had before. You didn’t think it was possible for economics to sound so fun. Whilst it took your mind off the exam for a while, Luke returning the questions about your major made your anxiety return tenfold, foot beginning to tap incessantly.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I go over some of my flashcards just before we get to campus?” Luke agreed of course, piping in with questions to make you expand on what you’d learnt. It was irritating, but only because you knew it was a brilliant way to revise.

You hadn’t expected Luke to be so helpful or so amiable. Although they’d been friends for a year or two, Clarisse rarely mentioned him. Usually the focus of her tales were Chris or Silena, Luke usually featured as the poor boy making a fool of himself through one stupid act or another. Maybe you really would start going out with them if all Clarisse’s friends were so nice.

The closer you got to your exam hall, the quicker you started speaking, words tumbling out so fast Luke could hardly understand them. You were whipping yourself up into a frenzy, and the boy next to you did not know what to do. None of his friends ever got this concerned about their academics, and he had little practice in comforting anxious girls.

When he pulled up to a parking space, you were borderline hyperventilating, shaking hands making the cue cards threaten to spill everywhere. Despite all this, you forced yourself to stop for a moment, making yourself connect your eyes with Luke’s.

“Thank you,” You said, voice surprisingly steady given the moments prior. Luke was admittedly slightly taken aback, but brushed it off much too casually. You weren’t so easily deterred.

“Seriously! You picked up a neurotic girl you don’t know with literally five minutes warning. You let me talk your ear off and basically saved my grade. You’ve got to at least let me, like, get you dinner sometime.” Luke looked like he was gonna argue with your praise but thought better of it, simply shrugging and revealing a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You hopped out of the car, pulling your arms around yourself tightly as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for the exam ahead. When you heard your name being called you turned back curiously, to be met with Luke sticking his head out of his passenger side window — how tall was this boy?

“Good luck!” He yelled, cheeky grin on his face. You gave an exaggerated huff, smile creeping onto your face despite your unease. You rolled your eyes, waving goodbye before rushing into the hall, running to catch up with one of the girls you knew from class. Luke smiled, laughing to himself as he pulled out of the park.

The exam was awful. Like, dogshit terrible. Hot flushes of embarrassment shot up from your toes, burning tears sitting in your lash line as you made inane complaints to some of your friends from your cohort, hoping desperately they couldn’t tell how devastated you were.

It all just felt like a waste. After all that revision, sleepless nights and study groups with people you didn’t even really like, the exam was still awful, and you were one more minor inconvenience from a full-blown meltdown. You said goodbye to your friends, and there came the inconvenience: with all the anticipation of getting to the exam, you’d forgotten to figure out how you were getting home.

God you wished you had your license. Or adequate public transport. Before you could talk yourself down from a frenzy you were crying, and sat yourself down on the steps outside the exam hall for a private moment.

The honking of a car made you look up, and the sight of Luke’s old Toyota had your tears turning to ones of relief. You sprung out of your seat, wiping your tears hurriedly as you practically skipped over to his car.

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but laugh, embarrassed at your dramatics.

“Couldn’t let the academic weapon walk home across the city all alone could I?” You shook your head enthusiastically, smile erupting on your face as you hopped into the passenger seat.

You sat in somewhat awkward silence as Luke began the drive. Whilst you weren’t still actively crying, it was excessively obvious that you were distraught. Luke didn’t know what to do or how to comfort you, but he was never one to stop trying.

“You know what the best thing about Chris being pre-med is?” He said, and you looked up curiously at the random topic. You shrugged, using the mirror attached to the sun visor to wipe away some of your smudged mascara. “I now know for a fact that chocolate makes serotonin, and that makes you happy. So what d’you say we go get some ice cream?”

Luke took you to an adorable little ice cream parlour a few blocks from campus and bought you both cups of chocolate ice cream, calmly ignoring your protests. Sitting in a booth together it was remarkable how quickly your mood had shifted. Luke was shockingly charming, and seemingly knew exactly what to say to get you to open up, and before long you were chatting as if you’d been friends for years.

He told you dozens of stories of his and Clarisse’s friendship group, recounting all the wild nights and stupid adventures they’d had. You loved it, you’d heard most of them from your flatmate but an alternate perspective made you cackle all over again.

“How did you know when my exam finished? It was three hours long,” You said when there was a lull in conversation. Luke looked uncharacteristically bashful, suddenly avoiding eye contact with you and focusing intently on his ice cream.

“I’ve just been hanging on campus,” He confessed, “I took a lap at five past the hour to try and catch you.” You couldn’t help your grin.

“You are such a softie!” You squealed, shoving his shoulder lightly. He shook his head aggressively but you could have sworn that the Luke Castellan was blushing.

It wasn’t long before Luke was driving you home, the two of you scream singing to Kelly Clarkson (you’d taken over the aux, but Luke didn’t seem to mind that much). You felt a little betrayed that Clarisse had been friends with him for so long and yet you’d never crossed paths. You also wondered how you’d never noticed how hot the guy in all of her Instagram posts was, but that was neither here nor there.

As you pulled up in front of your apartment building you almost felt sad, but for a completely different reason than you were an hour before. All thoughts of your shit exam were gone, replaced by thoughts of Luke and the lightness in your chest he’d caused.

You sat in the car together, clearly hesitant to go. Finally, you knew you had to leave and reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” He said. You stopped. “Our group is going for dinner tomorrow night, uh, you should come. If you want.” Luke was looking anywhere but at you, and you felt your beam even if he couldn’t see it (he could, but for his sanity he was trying really hard to pretend he didn’t).

“Yeah,” You replied breathily, “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” You thanked him again for the lift and the ice cream before hopping up the steps into your apartment. Neither of you could control your giddy grins for an embarrassing amount of time.

When Clarisse got home that evening she was all apologies for her mix up, but when you of all people brushed off her disorganisation she figured something was up.

“So, how was Luke? Not too scary?” She asked as you both sat on the couch, Love Island rerun playing. You tried to answer noncommittally, eyes locked on the screen.

“He was nice,” You said, immediately forcing a laugh at whatever bullshit one of the boys in the villa had said. You could feel Clarisse eyeing you suspiciously, you would never be so vague — especially not when today was such a huge deal for you. Nevertheless she hummed in agreement, sparking a plan in her head.

“Hey, so the group are going to dinner tomorrow, you should come. It’ll be me, Chris, Silena, maybe a few others. Luke’ll be there too, I think.” She feigned innocence, counting them out on her fingers.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll be there,” You replied, trying to play it cool despite never having once agreed to go out with her friends. Clarisse’s raised eyebrow told you all you needed to know about your acting.

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ #love #fluff #luke castellan #pjo series #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson show #percy jackson tv show #pjo #luke castellan pjo #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #percy jackson #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you

[writersblockedx]

Just Material

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary - When Fred finds Y/n wearing a jumper which isn't her own (and certainly isn't his), he can't help but question who it must belong to. Warnings - Bit of angst, mentions of stress Words - 1.5K

Masterlist

It was a jumper. It was just a jumper. A bit of material, sewed together by needle and thread with absolutely no deeper meaning than such. At least, that's how Y/n saw it. Fred, however, saw the Hufflepuff title over the jumper, the smell that still lingered and the initials which were still printed into the label. Just two letters which taunted him: C.D

Fred had made it abundantly clear from the moment the two made their title of couple official, that Y/n was his. His hand seemed very so delicately glued to her, his eyes trained on her (even when she wasn't looking) and constantly trying to be at her side. This was mostly because of the great feelings he felt for the girl; feelings of which, sometimes, he struggled to comprehend. But there was too a small part of him which did it to ensure no one else got any ideas.

The boy wanted to make it out to be as if there was no point in trying. If he was to ensure that their relationship was shown to be as concrete as it felt, then no one else would try to slip their way between them. And Fred's plan had been working; it had been working bloody brilliantly. Well, that was before now. Because, as it turns out, the Weasley boy had walked into the library, set to meet Y/n, only to find her sat at a table with friends, dressed in a jumper which wasn't her own - and certainly wasn't his.

She was sat there, a book flicked to a page Fred knew she definitely wasn't reading as she quietly giggled with her friends. Friends of which Fred knew weren't Quidditch players who he also could assume wouldn't thus own Quidditch jumpers. So, the question which came to Fred's head, was simply: Who's jumper was it?

He had been standing at a halt in the middle of the Libary, so deep in thought he didn't have it in him to get Y/n's attention. That was until she caught his sight, smiled, then lost her smile as she noted his discouraged expression.

The girl retracted from her table and wandered towards him, "Hey," She flash a grin which wasn't returned. "You okay?" She asked him, brushing her palm against his forearm in hopes to ease whatever was eating him.

"New jumper?" He sneered through a firm frown.

Y/n looked down as if she were just reminded of what she was wearing, "Oh yeah, I ended up getting some bulbadox juice on me in potions, so Cedric offered me his jumper. Quite embarrassing actually." The girl laughed the story off as just one of them silly things, but Fred had made no move to loosen his ever so stern expression.

He just nodded stiffly and said, "So it's Cedric's?"

Y/n huffed. She knew that Fred could be...protective. It was an attribute which she did adore, but there were times, more recently, when she was finding it more difficult to deal with. If she were to talk to someone else for too long, or laugh too hard at someone else's joke that wasn't his own, she'd feel Fred shift at her side. Y/n knew he never meant it in a nasty way, it was just who he was. Not to mention, with exam pressure and such, any emotion between either of them seemed to become amplified.

"It's just so I didn't look stupid for the rest of the day." She attempted to assure him, but it seemed too late; Y/n had already lost him to his sea of doubt and troublesome worries. "Fred," She said through such a soothing tone, "It's just a jumper."

He shook his head and muttered, "It's not." Before turning his back on the girl, leaving her no chance to get in another word.

She watched, empty pupils and a blank stare as he walked away. Y/n wasn't sure what more she could have said - or even if there was much more she could have. So she settled in her stance, not daring to drag her sights away from the redhead until he had completely exited the Libary. Her thoughts raced. She couldn't leave it like this. Not when it was an argument that never needed to happen.

Before her plan had fully been conducted in her head, she was already walking. Of course, she couldn't be sure where Fred had run off to, but Y/n made a guess for the dorms as she wandered the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room. She slipped through the entrance and found herself in the quiet confinements of the room.

There was a fire cracking in the corner, some vinyl playing quietly and a few students dotted around in their usual places. She scanned the room. Unlike the rest, she wasn't fitting into the tranquil atmosphere that the room created. Instead, she was pooling in worry and haste to catch Fred before this situation got worse. Her pupils found George, sitting closest to the vinyl player and having his gaze pulled to Y/n from the moment she had walked in.

The other twin pushed himself from where he was seated to meet the girl in the middle. "He's in his dorm." He informed and her eyes flickered to the stairs. "I don't know what happened, but just be kind on him, the O.W.L.s aren't have got him stressed."

Y/n nodded in understanding, "The thing is, nothing happened. Nothing really." She shrugged as she felt her gaze being pulled towards the stairs she knew led to Fred. "I just need to talk to him."

George flashed a smile that was soft and sweet, "He needs you, Y/n." He said in full confidence.

She returned the smile, already beginning to walk towards the stair way. "Thanks, George." And with that, the girl slipped away and wandered towards the dorm room she had been in too many times to count.

Her feet slowed as she reached the door, finding that the wood taunted her. Her breath ached against the air and she almost thought about avoiding this situation. She considered turning her back and running. As much as she adored Fred, this conversastion was one of which she knew they would struggle to get through. But it was one conversastion of which couldn't be silent.

So she brought her knuckles into a fist and patted them against the door. Y/n waited a moment or two before hearing an uncertain, "Yeah?" From the other side.

One last breath leapt from the comforts of lips before she swung the door open and entered the dormetory. She stood awkwardly in the doorway as she met Fred's eyes, sat with his legs flung over the bed side. Neither of them broke an expression. Their eyes were blank and empty, waiting for the other to make the next move in this chess game they found themselves in.

"What are you doing here?" Asked Fred as the girl took a step forwards, shutting the door behind her.

She shifted on her feet slightly, "Came to talk to you." Y/n answered as she dared to move further into the room. She watched as he huffed, shaking his head in dismay. So she too huffed and uttered out a, "Fine."

Fred's brows knitted as Y/n wandered to his waredrobe, reteriving one of his own hoodies, one of which the girl had stolen before. From there, she slipped from the one Cedric had loaned her and put Fred's on, his familar scent brushing against her nostrails once again. Then she turned to the boy and raised a brow, "Better?"

He dragged himself from the bed and met the girl in the middle of the room where he looked down on her, "It wasn't just about the jumper." He told her.

She reached a hand out, letting it cup the side of his face - something of which he had effortlessly eased into. "Then what is it?"

His own hand grasped the one which comforted his cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to her palm. "It's just-" The words choked his throat as he pushed them out. "It's when you wear mine, when you go around with my jumper on, my number on your back, in Griffindor colours, everyone knows it's because you're mine." He paused and Y/n waited for him to gather his words. "So when you wear someone else's, I can't help but think it's the same."

Y/n would be lying if she didn't admit to the fact that her heart was fluttering, but still she comforted the boy and flashed him a soft smile. "I am yours. But a jumper, a bit of fabric, doesn't get to decided that. We do, Fred" She assured him as their pupils seemed tangled together - just as their hearts were.

Fred leaned his forehead forward until it met the girls. And there, through the silence of Fred's dorm, he whispered, "Mine."

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter #Harry Potter universe #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #hogwarts #george weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley #draco malfoy #x reader #imagine #fanfiction

[eilidh-eternal]

Touch Up

Part of the Martyr in the Making series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

| 18 + MDNI | TattooArtist!Ghost x f!reader | cw for dub con/non con themes and heavy implications of grooming |

There's an insatiable itch beneath your skin that has nothing to do with the fresh ink and plasma that seeps from punctured flesh, and everything to do with a smug bastard named Simon fucking Riley.

Five days earlier…

“How ya doin’ sweetheart?” He has no right to sound this way. No right to let honey and smoke mix in his throat and spill from his lips in dark, dulcet tones. You blame the buzzing in your head, ricocheting off of your skull with each searing stroke of the needle he wields.

“Fine,” you say in a whispery breath. The hum of the needle goes quiet. That’s okay. The trilling heart in your chest is doing a fine job of replacing it. 

Pools of liquid amber, dark and rich like brandy, slide from the nearly finished linework to your face, half hidden in your hoodie, and flood your gaze with an intoxicating warmth. There’s no running from it, from the fire he’s started. The flames he fans and tends to with each murmuration of praise licks up your spine in searing tendrils, smothers the remnants of a fragmented rationale in a blanket of smoldering cinders.

A pierced brow glides up towards the fraying hem of his black knit cap as he straightens from his hunched over position. “I’ll ask one more time, an’ I expect an honest answer—d’ya need a break?” Amber petrifies under his scrutiny, as if you’re some antediluvian creature, suspended in the thrall of his gaze. Something pretty to perch on a shelf and marvel at.

Your eyes dart away, searching the patterns in the woodgrain of the cabinets for answers, divining particle board like a tarot spread. As if any of them would sound less pathetic than the truth. 

His hand slides, branding weight upon your skin, away from your waist and you fight the whine clawing up your throat. Swallow it down with the rest of the bad ideas right behind it. Plastic wheels scuff across fading concrete floors and the frayed edges of distressed denim replaces wood. Black, like everything else he wears, down to the powdery gloves and surgical mask. Bet his boxers are black, too.

When your eyes dare to meet his again the flames licking up your spine splutter, send sparks dancing up your vertebrae in shivery, glittering plumes. “I’m okay. Could use some water,” you settle on. It’s a shaky truth, flimsy and liable to crumble, but a truth nonetheless. You’d rather suffer whatever consequence comes with lying to him than lay yourself bare.

As if you aren’t already half naked in front of the man. As if he hasn't been toying with the waistband of your thong the entire session.

Your admission seems to mollify him, but the black titanium bar curving through a dusting of blond twitches. Remains cocked as he rocks back, leans across the counter in a truly obscene display, long tee clinging to every dip and curve, and plucks your water bottle from your bag.

It looks silly and small in his hand, dented metal covered in a collage of overlapping stickers, no trace of the scratched black paint besides the exposed underside. The tendons in his forearms shift beneath fabric as he turns it over to study the sticker Gaz had given you, ‘141 collective’ printed in a gothic font. There’s a similar font inked across the sliver of skin peeking out at his wrist, black ink still richly pigmented even though it looks to be more than a few years old. Must not get a lot of sun.

“Open.” You blink, several times, and come to the hazy realization that while your eyes have been busy mapping every groove and plane, tracing the prominent veins on the back of the hand draped over his knee, he’s maneuvered the water bottle to your lips. 

They part at the subtle pressure of the spout, and he tips it forward, pressing plastic between chapped lips that close around it to take a hesitant sip.

“Another,” he demands, and you try not to notice the way his focus settles on your throat, tracking each contraction of delicate muscle as you drink. “Good girl.”

You nearly choke.

And he pays it no mind. Gives no pause to the widening of your eyes, pupils flared to the limbus, or the palpable heat radiating from your skin. He merely sets the bottle back on the counter and folds his arms over the bulk of his chest.

“Just water?” he questions, and you start to nod in answer, but quickly remember your—or rather, his—rules. 

“Just water,” you echo in confirmation, and it’s received with a critical grunt. Like he can see through the paper thin restraints you cling to, the only thing keeping your lips from speaking on behalf of those between your legs.

He shifts back to his tray of inks with a glint in his eye that makes you wonder if maybe you should have said something more. Feigned hunger or fatigue.

“Just this section here–” He taps at the remaining carbon stenciling over your hip. “–and we’ll move on to shading.”

“Okay,” you mumble, and a gloved thumb brushes over raw, freshly tattooed skin. Traces his work in a gesture akin to reverence, sweetened by the lingering sting left in its wake—and you fail to stifle the moan that’s been building in the back of your throat for several hours.

When he repeats the motion and receives an identical response, the mask stretches over his face, pulls taut over the prominent bridge of his nose, and he curls his fingers into your hip. His chest rumbles with muted laughter at the whine that punches out of you, thighs clenching around the pillow wedged between them. 

“Gonna need ya a bit closer,” he croons, and gives you no warning before he hooks his fingers through the elastic pulled taut over your waist, giving it a sharp tug. “C’mon, on your tummy for me…atta girl.” He takes to arranging your limbs how he wants them, left leg practically in his lap to keep the skin from creasing, ass on full display.

You bury your face in the pillow and crook of your own arm, vehemently ignoring the way he grips your backside to work on the remaining outline, and the surge of wanton arousal warming your neck and cheeks.

Present… 

Delicate, looping letters, woven seamlessly into the outline. Hardly noticeable if you aren’t looking for them. 

They glare at you in the mirror, the memory of strong hands a phantom touch against the surrounding tender skin.

S.R.

Simon fucking Riley.

It’s not enough that he’s under your skin, he has to be inked on it too.

“Well, angel, I know you come often, but I didn’t expect to see—”

“—Where’s Simon?” You cut John off, in no mood for his dilatory remarks, and he cants a quizzical brow.

“He’s finishing up a consult right now, is there—”

“—I need to speak with him. Now,” you demand, trembling fingers curling into fists at your side. 

You couldn’t care less what he’s doing presently. You’ll drag him off the studio floor by that stupid spiked bar in his damn brow. He’s going to—

“Hey, hunny bunny!” Kyle appears behind him, walking out of what you assume to be an office with a tablet in hand and his usual sunny disposition. Rhinestones and pointed canines catch in the studio lighting when he smiles and tucks his tablet under his arm, coming to stand beside John. His gaze dips to the healing skin of your thigh. “That the piece Si did?” It’s barely visible below the hemline of your skirt.

“Yeah,” you grit through your teeth, jaw tense with the effort to maintain a modicum of decorum. “It needs touching up in a few places.”

His eyes catch on something behind you, and you’re about to reiterate your demand, but you fall short when an all too familiar weight settles on your nape. 

“‘S all this fussing about?” Simon questions, and you jerk away from his grasp.

Your first mistake.

“You—” you hiss and lift the hem of your skirt, “—need to fix this.”

He tilts his head to study the healing tattoo. “What about it?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” You know he does because the smug bastard is smirking beneath his mask, fabric stretched tight over his jaw and eyes narrowed in amusement.

He motions towards the hallway, “Let’s have a look, then,” and doesn’t wait to see if you follow him. Knows that you’re on his heels as he leads you back to the same private room. You don’t sit on the chair, electing to stand beside it instead with your arms folded tight to your chest, and you scowl at where he leans against the counter, posture mirroring yours in a decidedly mocking manner. “What’s got ya all riled up sweetheart?”

Definitely mocking

“This isn’t the design I agreed to,” you huff indignantly.

“Sure it is.”

“No, it isn’t.” You take a step closer, the toes of your sneakers nearly touching his beat up combat boots. “I never fucking agreed to have your name tattooed on me. I’m not some tramp for you to—”

“—‘S not my name,” he corrects, and you don’t know what heats your blood more; the fact that he has the gall to correct you or that he isn’t even trying to deny what he’s done. “Jus’ my initials.”

“Same fucking thing,” you seethe, jabbing an angry finger into his chest.

Your second, and final, mistake.

Calloused fingers curl around your wrist and pull, yanking you further into his space until you’re standing chest to chest. He holds you there by your wrist and the firm grasp he has on your jaw, cheeks pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

“Someone needs a reminder about manners,” he tuts, and you whine against the pressure on your jaw. “A reminder about her rules.” His hand drops from your face to settle on your shoulder and the scathing retort coiled on your tongue withers to ash amid disbelief when he pushes down against your shoulder, forcing you onto the stool beside the chair. “Stay,” he warns when you shift forward, already halfway onto your feet again, and the undercurrent of a growl is warning enough.

“What are the rules I gave you last time?” He leans back against the counter again, arms folded loosely over his chest, and his fingers tap rhythmically against his bicep, staring down at you expectantly. 

You glare up at him, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt on top of your thighs, and he cocks that stupid pierced brow.

This is ridiculous. 

But if there’s any chance at getting him to erase the brand he’s inked into your skin…

“Give a verbal answer,” you bite out.

“And?”

“Tell you what I need.”

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He stalks forward to press a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his when you don’t deign to look at him. Amid the infuriating rush of warmth to your core, you briefly consider what would happen if you were to rear back and bite him.

“No,” you admit reluctantly, and he hums low in his chest, clearly pleased with your answer. 

“So tell me what you need.” His thumb sweeps over your chin, traces the contour of your bottom lip, and you press your legs further together. 

All the anger, hot and swirling in your chest, mixes with the smoky whorls of his words until you can't distinguish between the two. Can’t untangle the intrepid need to rebel from the desire to yield in supplication to the enigmatic man towering over you. 

“I- I want…” Your words get tangled up with it, coming out in a stuttering mess. “Fix it.”

“Fix what, sweetheart?” The way he stares into your eyes is nothing short of maddening. Fathomless pools of amber, beckoning you to bathe in their warmth, and like a moth to a flame you go willingly.

“Fix me,” you croak, and he shakes his head. “Please.” 

“Don’t need to fix ya, sweetheart. You’re mine–” He crouches down before you and slides a roughened palm over your knee, up your thigh to the tender skin beneath your skirt. “–Says so, right here.” He traces each letter of his initials inked onto your skin. “And what’s mine is perfect. Just the way it is. Understand?”

No. But you nod anyway.

“Words,” he insists. “Need to hear it.”

“I understand,” you murmur, still sifting through the haze in his eyes.

“Good girl,” he croons, sickeningly sweet, and pets a hand over your hair, thumb tracing the shell of your ear and sending a shiver skittering down your spine. “All soft and sweet for me, told ya we’d get ya there. Just need a little training, hm? Gonna let me train that pretty, empty head, aren’t ya?”

“Yeah,” you respond absently, and his eyes flare with a molten, ravenous desire.

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #ghost x f!reader #cod fanfic #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw #dub con #cw self harm #non con #grooming

[titan-senpai]

Let me go Valentino..

A Sinner that signed a contract with Valentino to work for him just like Angel.

[Inspired by the song: Valentino, Olly Alexander]

More of my Hazbin/helluva content ? [xxx]

Warning: Cursing, Smoking, toxic relationship, Abuse, NSFW, smut, spitting, chocking [GN Reader]

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Sitting on the soft bed with camera's flashing around me as I was barely naked. crying on the inside as I knew I didn't have a choice. " Places everyone." Valentino said, clapping his hands. As he sat down taking a puff of his cigarette.

"Let's take everything from the top." he exhaled as i stood up entering the scene as the cameras flashed red recording everything i did. Acting a scene. The Shark guy sitting on the bed as I got to my knees and sat between his legs. as he put a collar on me. looking at him forcing a lustful look. " You've been bad haven't you." He pulled the collar making me flinch as he stood up and crawled behind him.

Patting the soft bed as I sat obediently " You're a good boy/girl/Puppy Aren't you." he smiled grimly. as i looked up " Yes.. I am at your command." I looked at him like an obedient dog, he gave me a tooth grin as 3 other guys walked in with Bondage, a mouth gag, leather whips. "Who do you listen to.." he smiled with his friends. " You Sir." I looked at them as one put one mouth gag on me as the other pushed me on the bed trying me down.

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Arching my back on the bed as the last guy finished inside me." That's a wrap." Valentino said as he stood up. The guy pulled out the white liquid dripping out on me as i layed there bare naked. As everyone left the studio my body layed there in the freezing cold. "My Doll.. " He said, exhaling smoke. as I sat up wearing a white robe. "Come.." He curled his fingers, signaling me to follow him to my changing room.

Entering the room as he shut it loudly. his slim body walking behind me as his hands run on my body. " Sit" he said as I sat on the cold concrete floor " Open" He put his fingers between my lips as I opened like he asked as he spat in my mouth on my tongue. as he sat down pulling me with a pink smoke chain around my neck as I tugged at it in pain. " Don't tug at it." he said as i crawled to him between his legs as he opened his fly revealing his purple cock dripping in pre-cum as i swallowed as i never took him in my mouth.

I opened my mouth as he grabbed a fistfull of hair pushing me down to his base. letting out a loud moan as he pulled me back just barely on his cock, quickly pulling me and pushing me down his cock a couple times. as he sped up choking me every time I went down to his base. Finally he let go and pulled me up for air. Now his cock covered in my spit as I caught my breath he stood up choking me against the wall smashing his lips on mine as he took off my robe with his other hands and the other his shirt.

feeling the cold air on my body as he slowly inserted his cock tip in me without a warning he slammed his whole cock to the base in me as the lack of oxygen and his cock in me led me to my orgasm cuming on the spot as he sped up. my eyes rolling back as he let go of my throat kissing me still holding me up against the wall as my hands reach for his back my nails scratching his back as he spun me around pushing my face into the wall as he tugged on my hair as his moves became sloppy, my breath shaky as he pulled me my back on his chest as he grabbed my neck painting my insides white as he buried his head into my neck.

Finally letting go, dropping me on the cold concrete floor now white liquid dripping out. i layed there shaking as he left the room shutting the door. slowly getting up looking at myself in the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. My makeup ruined, Bruises and hickeys on my body. and the worst of all. His hand prints on me.grabbing a robe and tying it around my body. Sitting on the bed i should be used to this but i wasn't, softly sobbing on bed hands on my face as tears fell on my thighs.

When will i be free... let me go Valentino...

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#hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino x reader #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel smut #valentino smut #hazbin hotel valentino smut #valentino lemon

[kuni-is-daddy]

Switch!Wanderer x Female Reader

Birthday Special

Ft: Mentions of nahida. Word Count: 1.32k

|Scaraficlist!|ScaraNSFWAlphabet

:// Spoilers for his lore if your not updated. Use of Darling, Good girl, Soft wanderer, subtle grinding. Kuni tries to be dom. Aftercare

CW: Minors do NOT interact past the cut! This is a NSFW POST!!

Wanderer was bored. So he decided to go to the sanctuary of Surasthana while you we're 'busy running errands at the akademiya'. Or, that was the story you went with. "Errands?" Nahida was sitting on her swing while flicking through the pages of a colorful animal book. Slimes, Whopper flowers and even vishamps were all printed in bold along the pages with pictures and definitions in the corner. "Hm.. But I thought she was getting ready for the surpri-" Nahida stuttered and bit her tongue. Wanderer noticed. "What is it?"

he insisted and she nervously closed her book. "Well Uhm.. I know your stance has changed, But shouldn't you take some time off to compose yourself? Its your-" "My birthday." He said sarcastically. "I don't celebrate that Irrelevant holiday; it wouldn't even apply to me as I wasn't even given a concrete date of birth. Who cares, It's just a waste of time when I could be doing other things." Nahida got up. " Well, if you're comfortable, maybe you can give a gift to someone else? Someone you care about! You know.. your thes-" Wanderer groaned. "Yes buer. I know my thesis is due. Youve reminded me. SEVERAL. Times." She smiled, now that Wanderer was attending lectures and studied at vahumana, the little archon was eager to read out his findings. Nahida then waved him off as he turned away. 'A gift..' He immediately thought of you. What would you like this time? Make-up, Clothes, should he take you out on another date? He didnt have much mora on him at the moment, But didnt care since it was for you. Wanderer sighed, He'd just have to go off his own idea.

Wanderer fumbled with his keys. You probably still weren't home anyway. He thought. He did tell you how he felt about his birthday. For all he knew his existence was just a hinderance. His mother, Niwa's suffering… The deaths in the clans…. Wait. Is that why you stayed in the akademiya for so long? A pit began to swirl in his chest and eyebrows furrowed at the thought. Nahida was obviously holding out on something when she referenced you. He tsk'd then turned the doorknob "Y/n?" and was greeted to your shared house covered in decorations. Wanderer fell completely quiet as he looked around the house, there we're teal and white decorations along the walls, A feast on the table, then gifts neatly tied in a bow. He took off his kasa hat, hanging it up by the door. Many gifts we're lined up along the hallway. Two we're in sparkling green wrap. 'From Nahida, To hatguy' Was written on the tag. While 3 other gifts we're from you. He Opened the door to his room; Light came from underneath. "Y/n. Darling? Are you-" "SURPRISE!!!!!!" You yelled and jumped off his bed, Kuni blinked as he heard a pop and watched shreds of confetti fall onto his head, one on his nose that he blew away a bit annoyed. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!" you ran up to hug him, practically jumping into his arms as you hugged him tightly.

You then pulled away as he looked you up and down. You wore a f/c dress, Stockings and a blue bowstring tied on your right wrist. He grinned and tugged you by his arm, pulling you closer and into his grasp. Before you could react his arm was already wrapped around your waist. "Hm. So all I have to do is indulge in this stupid holiday to have you wrapped up for me like this?" Kuni's gazed stayed focused on your now flustered expression with your body pressed against his, He trailed his free hand down to the hymn of your dress, Rubbing his fingertips along your clothed thigh. "Well..it is your birthday so I thought id-ah-give you~ something~" A small moan escaped your lips as he rubbed his hand along your ass, He scoffed a bit when he felt the latex of your stockings. "Oh? And what was that? This perfect body of yours that I can have whenever I want?" You nodded and stumbled in his touch, "Fuck.." Kuni let out a raspy breath. Your knee pressed against the forming tent in his pants. "If your done playing around, Im going to unwrap my gift now."

---

Kuni scooped you up properly, then placed you onto the bed. You looked at him eagerly as his pupils began to glow a fainter purple. He hastily took off his open chested kimono and bodysuit, discarding his vision as it dangled off the side of the bed. "Lay down for me." Kuni ordered. You complied and got comfortable, kicking off your flats and laying on the middle of the bed. He sunk his face into your neck and bit along your shoulder before leaving petals of kisses along your neck. You moaned softly into his ear and pressed your knee up a bit further, Stimulating him through his pants. "You- mn Slut. Rutting against me like this." Kuni bit harder, Sucking on your neck and creating red patches along your skin. He pulled away from your neck and smashed his lips against yours, His tongue eagerly intertwined with yours, Your lipbalm softly smeared against his own lips in friction as you moaned into his mouth. Kuni's hands shifted down towards your breasts, Cupping them harshly through your dress cloth. His member began throbbing through his pants, You wanted more. Touching him like this wasnt enough. Kuni pulled away and you whined. "Shh shh..Be patient my love." Your heart rate increased at his sudden sweet nickname, And as you we're distracted he pulled you near the edge of the bed and spread your legs. "K-kuni- wait! my stock-"

He tugged at the cloth and ripped it, Holes formed in the stitching near your thigh. Kuni's eyes widened a bit, You also had lacey lingerie on underneath. "Shit..You've been plotting this all day huh? To have me fuck you with these on?" His fingers pressed on the cotton, and slowly pulled your lingerie off as well. Your pussy was already glistening from his remarks and Kuni bit his lip. "God..I need to taste you right now darling, You look so good for me~ My perfect gift." Kuni leaned down in between your legs and licked along your folds. He was going to drag this out as long as he could. He took more short licks along your clit, Occasionally Licking at your bud while gripping you closer. Your legs twitched from his teasing. "Kuni..Please~ More~! I need it~!" You pleaded and kuni finally inserted his warm tongue inside your pussy. "Mn You taste s' good darling~" kuni's tongue licked along your walls and You bucked your hips a bit softly into his tongue. He then sunk farther in-between your legs, giving you a hazy sight of him pulling his bangs out of view and rubbing your clit against his lips. "K-kuni! wait your tongue~! Its-" "Loudher slut~ Mm-let me hear how good im making you feel~" You moaned into your hand while gripping tightly onto the bedsheets. Out of desperation to chase your high you pressed his head in between your thighs, Suffocating him in your taste. Kuni was so used to training himself how to breathe he forgot he was a puppet; He felt a bit lightheaded but couldnt help it as his length began throbbing so hard in his pants he felt as if he was going to cum untouched while rubbing your clit as you moaned out his name.

A coil snapped and you came undone, Letting out a muffled cry as you coaxed his lower face and tongue in your Juices, Squeezing your thigh one more time as your high subsided. The deafening silence blinked you out your daze as kuni got up from in-between your legs, Panting and his hair completely messy. "I- Kuni Im so sorry! Are you okay I didnt-" As you looked further down you noticed the wet stains coming from his shorts, He pulled the string and slid down his shorts and boxers, finally freeing his aching shaft. "Mmm..Fuck..You really are my slut arent you. My Pretty cocksleeve~" Kuni pulled up your dress finally over your head, frazzling your hair slightly and he panned your locks back in place with his thumb. "Spread your legs again for me.. darling And dont you dare-Hah..Get quiet again. Okay?" He said between panted breathes, you nodded and parted your legs again then held them up a bit until his tip grazed softly against your wet entrance, The puppet was already twitching from the contact and his precum smeared along your clit. Kuni looked up at you again, "Are you ready doll?" You hummed and he immediately plunged himself inside you, Moaning and groaning at your warmth.

"Ah~ F-fuck y/n." He bucked his hips up and down slowly. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as he kissed under your neck with your head rested on his pillow. Kuni let out heavy pleasured sighs in sync with your moans as you chased your second orgasm. With his face dug into your neck he searched for your hand, gripping at the bow then intertwining his hand in yours. Your body arched further as his bed began to creak from his quickening pace. His ornament and kimono fell off the bed with a slight clink, But kuni was in a daze from your walls clenching around his cock. "Y-your so tight y/n i- im fuck~! Gonna cum~!" Kuni tilted his head up, biting harder into your neck while your nails dug into his shoulders. You quickly came again, shuddering from your second orgasm as you coated his cock. Kuni soon came after, bucking himself balls deep into you with a harsh thrust, Ropes of his Cum gushed into your womb, Painting your walls the color of his seed.

Wanderer panted into your chest, The only sounds coming from him we're soft sighs of relief from his pent-up orgasm. He tried getting up, slowly pulling himself out of your stuffed pussy and fetching a towel. He then held your hand softly, gracing you up as he wiped any sweat or fluids off your body. He was deafly quiet and focused on cleaning you up. He sighed and got up until you gripped tightly on his hand. "Stay with me kuni…Please~?" Your eye lashes fluttered, Blinking out the small dry tears. The puppet stared at you as you held his hand. He was never showered with this much affection. Nonetheless for his birthday, He didn't know whether to get emotional or frustrated. And chuckled to himself at another one of his fatal flaws that he couldn't understand. "Heh. So needy arent you? Fine. I'll stay." Kuni then laid down with you ontop of him, planting a kiss on the crown of your head while you rested on his chest.

The next morning you woke up limp with your knees wobbling. You stumbled out the bed, noticing a pair of clothes sitting by the edge with a small note attached. "Not bad, I guess cooking is another thing Your reliable on. Lessor lord Kusanali is having me attend another Boring lecture, She says its 'important' But I don't really care. Ps. Check my desk when your done, Then meet me at the Akademiya. Hurry up."

On his desk was a bouquet of flowers….And another note. 'Thank you for the birthday gift darling.'

A/N: I Havent wrote in like...WEEKS omg :( Ty all so much for your patience and HAPPY NEW YEAR!. Thank you for reading!!!

#genshin smut #genshin impact #scaramouche smut #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x female reader #wanderer smut #wanderer x female reader #wanderer x you #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x reader

[jayflrt]

against the world

PAIRING ▸ park sunghoon x fem!reader x sim jaeyun (ft. park jongseong)

GENRES ▸ fluff, angst, psychological, horror, thriller

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, murder, descriptions of gore, unrequited love, found family, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, mc is an unreliable narrator

SUMMARY ▸ if you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting park sunghoon.

WORD COUNT ▸ 14,064 words

PLAYLIST ▸ back to black by amy winehouse • the french library by franz gordon • perfectly splendid by the newton brothers

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! this fic is a rewrite of one of my first horror fics that i’ve written :') it badly needed reworking and i completely changed the ending. i hope you guys enjoy my spooky szn contribution ♡

THE TRUTH WAS, YOUR LIFE BEGAN TO FALL APART EVEN BEFORE YOU MET SIM JAEYUN. 

You realized this as you woke up, face pressed against the ice-cold, concrete floor of a holding cell; when the guards dragged your uncooperative, limp body into an interrogation room; when you were face-to-face with Detective Lee Heeseung and handcuffed to a cold, metal table as he read your Miranda Rights. The handcuffs dug into the flesh of your wrists, but you only fought against them once and gave up as soon as you realized they wouldn’t give in. You just wanted to thumb away the crusted blood staining your hands and pick out the flakes under your nails.

The room was foreign to you. It was something you’d seen in movies and read in books, but you never fathomed the idea of being in an interrogation room yourself. There was a two-way glass that you aimlessly stared at, wondering who was listening in on the other end. 

You couldn’t figure out just how you ended up in this situation. Everything was smooth in your memory up until your supposed arrest—a tear in the fabric of your recollection. You hardly remembered what happened on the way to the police station or when you were getting booked in. You dug your palms into your temples and then pressed against the soft flesh under your eyes, frustrated by the stunted gears in your head. As much as you begged than to click and start spinning, they remained stuck and rusted in place. 

But you couldn’t ask the brooding man standing over you. You couldn’t look up into his cold, unforgiving eyes. After all, he knew you were a murderer. 

“There’s no use in lying to me, Y/N,” Detective Lee said gruffly with a gaze like steel, “the prints match.”

You drummed your fingers against the table—a habit that was rooted in your anxiety. Your fingers were stained and pruned like roses, and as hard as you tried to paint the table red, it only flaked off. You were sure your heartbeat was faster than the tapping of your fingers, your mind perhaps speeding off twice as fast.

Your stomach twisted. If Jaeyun was going to prison, too, then you could no longer protect him.

There was a limit to how much he could take; you knew that being thrown in the slammer would be intolerable for him. You knew you needed to get to him immediately because Jaeyun was the guy who felt too little and too much at the same time—the guy who looked for the part of him that ran away, who self-destructed when he felt the world closing in on him.

After all, Jaeyun was a stick of trinitrotoluene lit at both ends. 

You worked up the courage to look Detective Lee in the eye, which made him stiffen up, biceps flexing under his white button-up. 

“Where’s Jaeyun?” you asked. 

Detective Lee’s lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Cutting into his pale cheeks. You decided that couldn’t be a good reaction. 

You continued, “He didn’t do anything, I swear. He was just there. He didn’t do anything.”

“If you cooperate with us, then you can see Jaeyun again,” the detective answered in a clipped tone. “I can sit here all day and wait.”

Cooperate. You hated that word.

You knew Detective Lee was just trying to sugarcoat your betrayal. You knew he was looking down on you, ready to push you to your limit. 

But there was nothing you could do in this room. There was no way for you to escape or talk your way out of it to see Jaeyun. You knew quite well that staying silent would only prevent you from making sure your boyfriend was okay. 

You had no other choice but to work with Detective Lee. 

“Will you at least make sure he’s not hurt?” you inquired, to which Detective Lee agreed with a nod.

“I’ll ask again: Will you cooperate?”

You stayed silent. You despised your old habit of shutting down like this, but you couldn’t help it.

Detective Lee sighed and sat in the chair across from you so that you both were eye-level with each other. “Listen, Y/N, you’re young. This murder investigation—this is serious stuff, okay? We just need to know the full story before we jump to any conclusions and make a false arrest. Can we start from last night?”

Deep down, you understood. But it’s all too fresh—too soon. The grief had yet to settle. The recollections of blood and lifeless eyes poisoned your head; it was all you could see when you closed your eyes.

You sounded hollow when you said, “It didn’t… start from last night.”

Detective Lee acknowledged this and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “Then let’s hear it from the beginning.”

If you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting Park Sunghoon.

Your first meeting was at the age of fourteen. Moving schools was an unexpected shift in your life, and you didn't expect to find many friends at your new school. Starting new in the beginning of the year was one thing, but entering unknown territory with people already acclimated in their respective groups was another. 

People flocked to comfort, and you were sure that no one would want to step out of their comfort zone to bring a stranger into their friend group.

And then Sunghoon swooped in, like an angel sent from the heavens.

Initially, he was awkward. You were both fourteen-years-old and going through the initial stages of puberty—all voice cracks and awkward intervals of growth stunts. Sunghoon was soft-spoken and didn’t have many friends when he approached and befriended you. 

It started when you both found out you shared a love for novels. You spent hours talking about your favorite books, and Sunghoon shared his dream of wanting to craft the perfect story. Oftentimes, Sunghoon would share some of his writing with you, and then his eyes would sparkle upon hearing your feedback. 

You two were classmates, sitting right next to each other in the back of the classroom, conveniently right next to the door. You got to know Sunghoon slowly—the same gradual feeling of starting to care for someone. You knew his boundaries, though, because you were aware that you could never be the closest to Sunghoon. He and Park Jongseong were attached at the hip, and you couldn’t lie to yourself; you felt like a third wheel in the beginning.

But there was some comfort in the security of your friendship.

“It’s you and me,” Sunghoon would tell you, “the two of us against the world.”

You knew you should have been grateful to have made friends in the first place, but you didn’t exactly know if you belonged with them. As comfortable as you felt, there was always a whisper in the back of your head, telling you that you would never be their number one.

You would never be anyone’s number one.

“I don’t understand girls,” Jongseong said one day, hands tucked behind his head as the three of you were hanging out in Sunghoon’s room. You were flipping through some comic book that Sunghoon had laying around, and you shifted uncomfortably upon hearing the question. 

“You don’t have to.” Sunghoon’s eyes flitted from you, and then back to his phone. He swiped through some apps, but you could tell he wasn’t really paying attention judging by the glazed-over look in his eyes. “Girls make no sense at this age.”

Jongseong nudged you. “You have anything to say about that, Y/N?”

To be honest, you didn’t understand yourself much either. You were just starting to go through puberty, and it wasn’t ideal for a teenager as young as you to only have guy friends. You couldn’t relate to any of the girls your age, nor could you ask them if they were going through the same changes you were. 

You were acquainted with several girls, of course, but you never got close enough to ask what feelings and experiences they had. You wanted to know if they were becoming as conscious of themselves and others like you were, but you kept those questions bottled up since you only had Sunghoon and Jongseong.

“Nope,” you replied. “I couldn’t tell you.”

You supposed Jongseong was having girl problems again, and it all clicked because lately, he had been hanging around a pretty girl in their class. They were cute together and clearly into each other, but you could pick up on the issue: Jongseong was on the down-low about their relationship. More importantly, he had been on the down-low about it around Sunghoon, which had to have been breaking some sort of best friend code.

Jongseong asked, “You like anyone, Hoon?”

Hoon, your brain echoed, and you imagined yourself using the name as casually as Jongseong did. It sounded awkward coming from you, though. Friends gave each other nicknames, right? What if you gave Sunghoon a nickname? How would he react?

Sunghoon flushed behind his phone screen. You could tell he wanted it to go undetected, but you caught a glimpse of his flustered expression before he was able to compose himself.

“Oh, not really,” he replied with an air of indifference. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t really been looking.”

“How about you, Y/N?”

You faltered for a moment before you realized you had been addressed. It was a normal question; you should have expected it, but it hit you like a tornado and your mind was swirling. Dating had crossed your mind a few times, sure, you had never prepared an answer because you thought it was going to be straightforward—a simple “yeah, there’s a few cute guys in class.” But that wasn’t the case this time, and you were wondering why there wasn’t any clarity in your head.

Come on, Y/N, you urged yourself, as if you were complaining to multiple, uncooperating attendants working in your brain. Just say something—anything. 

Your mind was blanking, though, and you were scared. You couldn’t quite grasp why your stomach felt like a never-ending pit, but it only worsened when you couldn’t spit some guy’s name out. You wanted to open up your skull, thoroughly examine your head, poke at the areas refusing to work, and figure out who you couldn’t just list some attractive guy in class; on top of that, you wondered why you couldn’t just flat-out refuse the statement and claim that there was no one you were interested in.

You were struck with a painful realization that there was only one person you could think of.

Sunghoon.

No, no, no, your brain and your heart screamed at each other. Get ahold of yourself.

You quickly decided that it was just a passing feeling that you needed to suppress until it went away. It was just stupid teenage hormones and puberty making you feel this way and starving you of affection that you didn’t actually need in the first place. If you didn’t get a hold over yourself, you were going to crumble and ruin the good things you had going.

You internally convinced yourself that everything was fine. There were plenty of teenagers your age who had moments of weakness like this with their guy friends. You just needed to branch out more, that was all. 

Sheepishly, you replied before the boys could chew you out, “There’s no one I’m interested in right now.” 

You weren’t a very good liar, but as long as Sunghoon and Jongseong were sold, you were content with how things were. 

Your group expanded when you turned fifteen, and you and Sunghoon grew closer—maybe even closer than Sunghoon and Jongseong were. 

You were laying down in your bed one night, breaking into sobs when you realized that you needed more than one hand to count the number of friends you had now. Your shell was broken and your world was bigger. You normally lived like your uphills were mountains and your downhills were cliffs, but, lately, the mountains were getting easier to climb and the downhills weren’t that big of a drop. You didn’t need to stop and catch your breath or worry about hurting yourself on the way down.

You never felt lonely anymore. If Sunghoon or Jongseong weren’t free, you would call Nishimura Riki to catch grasshoppers in the creek with you, or you’d go play video games with Yang Jungwon. Kim Sunoo called you nearly every night to bother you, but you didn’t mind. You liked them; they made you feel important, like you were wanted.

“Come on,” Sunghoon teased Jungwon one day as he was blushing over some girl. “What are you being so shy about?”

“It’s embarrassing!” Jungwon complained, and you giggled over how a flush of red started creeping from his ears to his cheeks. “I’m not a smooth-talker like you are, Hoon.” 

Sunghoon snorted. “I’m not a smooth-talker.”

“He’s practically, like, bulletproof,” Jongseong chimed in. “We can’t tease him about anyone. He just brushes it off.”

“I’m not bulletproof,” Sunghoon argued, but anyone could see the pride behind his expression. “I’m just not interested in anyone right now.”

You thought you had finally squashed the weird, gooey feeling that arose in your chest every now and then whenever Sunghoon came close. It was primarily due to the fact that Sunghoon was a respectful individual who didn’t try to weasel his way into your personal bubble as he pleased. That was probably for the best because you were sure your brain would go haywire if Sunghoon was too close for comfort.

And then there was Sim Jaeyun. 

Jaeyun entered your circle pretty easily. With his radiant personality and warm presence, it was no shocker that he was accepted by the group instantly. He possessed some odd charm that drew people to him, and you couldn’t seem to figure just how that worked. You were almost jealous of him, honestly, with how much of a social butterfly he was.

Out of all of them, Jaeyun seemed to take a particular interest in you. It drove you crazy, though, and you couldn’t figure out how to get the guy to stop teasing and messing around with you. The others couldn’t figure it out either; you just weren’t as bright and bubbly as Jaeyun was, so it was odd that he kept nagging the one person whose wavelength wasn’t on par with his. 

Sometimes it was cute—endearing even—but sometimes it was just flat-out irritating.

“Hey, Y/N.” Jake grinned, and his voice was all light and airy as he approached you. “What’re you doing for the summer break?”

“Probably sleeping in, hanging out with the others, and some more sleeping,” you replied, hardly sparing him a single glance. 

You were too focused on clearing out your locker of all the books and papers you had tossed in during the year. Gotta keep this, gotta throw this away, gotta return this one, you rattled off in your head, mentally preserving a reminder of your various items. But Jaeyun knew how to push your buttons and grab your attention. He never took your deflection without retaliating back. That was one of the many reasons why you found it so difficult to be around him.

“And hanging out with Sunghoon, huh? Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it’s not there?”

You closed your locker with a swift swipe of your hand, revealing Jaeyun’s smug expression. Your eyes were practically bugging out of your sockets as you stared him down. Somehow, you knew exactly what he was hinting at, but you refused to spell it out for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, but Jaeyun was already walking away from you. He was turned away, but you could visualize that stupid smirk of his like it was carved into your memory.

Jaeyun was smart. Too smart.

Your summer was filled with laughter, beach trips, and shy glances at Sunghoon. He drove you around places and you sat in the passenger’s seat next to him, toes curled in your shoes because you were so overjoyed. The car was always loud with music and laughter, and whenever it was silent, it was because everyone else was sleeping on each other after a long day of being outside.

You still masqueraded around, playing the role of Sunghoon’s best friend who definitely had zero romantic feelings toward him. It was quite hard when you had to pretend like your heart didn’t flutter whenever Sunghoon’s fingers brushed against yours.

“Sunghoon,” Jaeyun would complain, rousing laughter from everyone at how impatient he was, “are we there yet?”

“You’re so annoying,” Sunghoon retorted, clearly as a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh at his outburst, but it quickly died on your lips once you caught a glimpse of Jaeyun winking at you in the side mirror.

Jaeyun had a mischievous glint in his eyes when he said, “But you still love me, Hoon.”

Oh. 

He was trying to make you jealous. 

You fought down the urge to laugh at him. You might have been harboring a small crush, but you were never the jealous type, especially not over petty things like this. There was one little thing, however, that you couldn’t seem to shake.

For some reason, the anticipation to call Sunghoon by a nickname made you anxious. You never tested it on your tongue; it just floated around in your head. However, when you addressed him as Hoon one day, your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon responded with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun.

You grew closer to Jongseong, too. You didn’t feel like the third wheel with him and Sunghoon anymore; you felt like you were all at the same level of closeness. You and Jongseong hung out sometimes without Sunghoon, and despite a few awkward pauses in your interactions, you two warmed up quickly and you learned how to joke around with him easily. 

Jongseong wasn’t all stiff and dry like you were initially afraid of; rather, he was surprisingly fun, and every time you learned something new about him, like how he adored cats but was allergic to them, you were even more amazed. 

It wasn’t just Jongseong, though. You and Sunghoon grew far closer than ever before, whether that was for the better or worse. 

Sunghoon only lived a street away, so it was convenient to hang out, and when you didn’t hang out with him, you two called each other. You could see him unravel in front of your eyes; he became visibly more comfortable when it was just the two of you—smiling, laughing, and bursting into laughter with tears of unrestrained happiness. 

It wasn’t just the jubilant memories that tugged you two closer, though. It was also the despair.

In the first place, it was an accident that you even happened to break down in front of Sunghoon.

You two were in his room when it happened, and things were as they always had been before you sensed the calm before the storm. You joked around as usual and passed the time by playing video games. Sunghoon was perched on his usual spot in the corner of the bed. You looked over at him and realized how close you two had become as friends.

Friends. Just friends.

It was right at that moment when you realized that this wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to just be Sunghoon’s best friend. You wanted to be the reason why he smiled, the one to make him blush, and the one he could share his pain and happiness with. 

But your feelings were the scariest thing you’ve ever had to face, and you felt ashamed for even wanting to cross the line drawn between you and Sunghoon.

You couldn’t dare bring yourself to confess. You were almost positive that Sunghoon didn’t feel the same way, and you would be risking a fall-out in your current relationship if you admitted anything. What if Sunghoon ended up hating you? What if you lost him and all of your other friends? What if you weren’t the closest person to him anymore?

That was why you felt like Sunghoon was in another dimension, always a layer away. Always.

This was your own fault. You were the one who fell for your best friend. You were the one who did this to yourself. You broke your own heart.

You couldn’t help it when you started falling apart in front of him. It started with a broken cough that was supposed to cover up a sniffle. You were thankful for the loud battle sounds in the game that drowned out your quiet sobbing. But the video game didn’t stop Sunghoon from noticing your shaking hands gripping the controller.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”

Your voice is so shaky, so broken. Sunghoon knew you were crying before he could see or hear it.

He paused the game and put the controller down, but your eyes were still trained on the screen, hands shaking as you clutched the controller until you were white-knuckled. Sunghoon was on edge—panicked. Although, it was a different kind of panic from all the times you would be stressing over an assignment and Sunghoon would offer some lame piece of advice in return.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” His tone was frantic now as he searched your face for an answer.

You smiled, although faint melancholy was tucked away in the curl of your lip. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Now, I know that’s not true.”

Your smile broke. It was so unfortunate that Park Sunghoon had to have a heart so big.

You could almost hear Jaeyun in the back of your head: Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it isn’t there? 

You started crying, and it wasn’t something soft with a gradual crescendo. It was loud and all at once, like a wounded animal. Your hands shook more, and you finally dropped your controller, burying your fingers into your roots, as if tugging your hair hard enough would make it all stop, as if it would hurt more than the ache in your chest.

Sunghoon was quick to get off his bed and slide to the ground, right next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and it only made you feel ashamed. You stiffened up and shrunk back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how you tensed up at his touch. You could hear your own heartbeat, but you were pretty sure you were hyperventilating at a faster pace than the pounding in your chest. The world under you moved, bounced, so you decided to lean into Sunghoon.

The logical half of your brain informed you in a calm, clipped manner that you were having a panic attack. The other half meanwhile was screaming and shutting itself down. 

Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste, you tried telling yourself, but your senses overwhelmed you completely. Your tears were blurring your vision, you couldn’t hear anything but your sobs, and your lungs felt as if they were on fire. 

“Y/N, talk to me,” came the softest voice that eased the painful ringing in your ears. 

“I can’t,” you stuttered out. “Not right now.”

You wish you hadn’t let it get to this point. You were completely humiliating yourself in front of Sunghoon right now. This was the one thing you couldn’t let him find out about. 

Your heavy gasps grew more labored. You then curled into yourself, sweaty hands tugging and knotting at your hair. And, shit, you couldn’t breathe. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you repeated again and again, like a broken record. The desperation in your voice was so ugly.

There was something fierce in Sunghoon’s eyes, like he was ready to protect you from anything or anyone that tried to hurt you, but there was also softness in his voice. “You know, you can tell me anything. Whatever it is, I’ll hear you out. I don’t want you to suffer alone, Y/N.”

With a small smile, he added, “It’s just you and me, right? The two of us against the world.”

That only made you cry even more. You just replayed Sunghoon’s words in your head, like it was your favorite song.

“Alright.” You breathed in real deep, through the aching chest and everything. “It’s really stupid.”

“If it makes you cry this hard, it can’t be stupid.”

You bit your lip, embarrassed. “I think I like someone—someone I can’t have.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond for a moment, and it rattled your brain. He probably was wondering this underwhelming confession warranted a breakdown from you, and you couldn’t blame him. However, it was the only way you could avoid lying to your best friend without giving him the whole truth. 

For a split second, you wondered if Sunghoon simply just didn’t hear you. But you didn’t want to repeat yourself; you didn’t like repeating yourself. 

To your surprise, Sunghoon just smiled. “Do I know them?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words were stringing together in your head to form a coherent sentence.

“Uh, well, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” Sunghoon continued. He flushed and flicked his thumb under his nose—an awkward mannerism of his that you grew to love over the years. “Actually, I think we’re in the same boat. There’s someone I like, too. Someone I can’t have.” 

His words bounced in your skull. Settled. Bounced again.

“Really?” you spluttered out, and it took you a moment to recuperate from the heavy sadness that was filling your chest. You brought yourself to ask, “I mean, you’re so popular, so why don’t you just ask them out?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not? Are they dating someone else?”

There was a sad smile on Sunghoon’s lips when he answered, “No, Jongseong likes her, too.”

At the age of sixteen, you realized that you couldn’t get over Sunghoon, but you could suppress your heartbreak and lingering feelings. 

It physically hurt to think about how deeply ingrained your concept of friendship was with him, and the possibility that Park Sunghoon would never think of you as more than a friend. You two had shared too many experiences—worn each other’s shoes and walked miles—to ever become more than what you were.

Nothing would ever change.

You were hanging out by a creek near Jongseong’s house. It was just the two of you—no Jaeyun to poke fun at you, and no Sunghoon to distract you. It was just the two of you, and it was somehow so easy to be with Jongseong like this. You could laugh with your stomach and smile with your eyes without feeling the need to close up or shut down. 

“It’s getting annoying, isn’t it?” Jongseong asked under his breath at one point. When you shot him a puzzled look, he clarified, “Sunghoon.”

You picked up on Jongseong’s annoyance toward Sunghoon over the past few weeks, but his words confirmed your suspicions now. You wondered if it was geared toward the girl they both liked—whoever she was. 

You never thought to ask, mainly because you didn’t want to know. Either way, if Sunghoon wanted to share, he would’ve done so already. 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, trying to grab at words and shove them together, but you genuinely didn’t know what to say. 

It had always been you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong. You never thought about them turning on each other. The very idea made you feel sick to your stomach. 

Over the past week, you had seen Sunghoon’s indifference toward Jongseong, but you were too afraid to ask about it. Your friend group was slow to pick up on it, but you noticed the way Sunghoon would purposely avoid conversing with Jongseong, or the way Jongseong would walk quickly past him if they crossed paths. It was odd, though, because everyone knew that Sunghoon and Jongseong were the best of friends—inseparable. How could you hold onto someone for so long and just let go of them like that?

You recalled that Jongseong and Jungwon went over to talk to Sunghoon about his moody behavior, but Jongseong never told you whether the talk went well or not. You figured it just never happened because Jungwon called in sick the very next day. 

You prayed that he would hurry up and get over his cold. He had been out sick all week, which checked out since everyone was getting sick around this time of the year. Jungwon would know how to get Sunghoon and Jongseong to reconcile. He was always the friend that helped everyone patch things up. 

“You guys are best friends,” was all you could say. “You’ll make up in a few days, right?”

Jongseong clicked his tongue loud enough to make your skin crawl. 

But you didn’t want to drop it this time, you asked, “Seriously, what happened between you guys?” 

For a moment, you wondered if you should’ve brought up what Sunghoon confessed to you—about him and Jongseong liking the same girl. But this couldn’t have been about that; Sunghoon would never let a girl get between his friendships. 

“Sunghoon’s hiding something dark,” Jongseong blurted out. “I don’t think I can get him out of this one.”

“Something dark? What is it?”

“I don’t really know—”

“Jongseong,” you cut in. “If you know something, then just say it. He’s my best friend, too.”

Jongseong shifted uncomfortably, restless. He was silent for a long period of time, so you just waited for him to collect his thoughts. Uneasiness bursted from the tips of your fingers and crawled under your skin. You felt the heat of the sun against your face, so you looked up and covered your eyes with a hand, blinking back red. 

“If Sunghoon did something unforgivable,” he started in a murmur, “would you forgive him?”

“I don’t know,” was all you could say.

“Yeah,” Jongseong replied, his terse words nearly making you flinch. “I don’t know, either.”

The sun grew hotter against your face, and all you could see was blood red behind your eyes. 

You didn’t know how exactly it started, but you slowly started to find solace in Jaeyun.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to care for him a little more than the people around you. You were starting to get swayed by him—the things he said, the way he looked at you—and it scared you a little.

But Jaeyun felt safe. He felt like home.

You two called at night, sometimes. You weren’t normally one to be vulnerable in front of others, but you shed some tears in front of Jaeyun a couple of times.

The only other person you had cried in front of was Sunghoon.

“It’s kinda sad,” Jaeyun told you one day. You two were spending the afternoon studying together at his place, and you were feeling self-conscious because you were starting to regret not dressing a little cuter. “I’ve known you for a year, but we’ve only gotten close now.”

“I don’t think either of us cared about deepening our friendship back then.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You think I didn’t want to be closer? How do you think I picked up on you liking Sunghoon?”

“Because I was obvious about it?”

“No, idiot, because I like you.”

You blinked a few times until you fully processed his words. I like you, your brain repeated, and then you reprocessed the information. 

No, there was an ‘idiot’ before that. Not only were you liked, but he thought you were stupid, as well. 

You became painfully aware of your knees touching Jaeyun’s, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of him liking you romantically. You had never been in this position. Since your crush on Sunghoon had been one-sided for the past few years, you never expected to be on the receiving end. 

“You…” you trailed off, floundering to find something to say—something that wouldn’t make you sound stupid or mean. You settled with, “You, too?”

His eyes beamed with hope. “For a year now.”

Your world was so small before. It was just you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong. 

Before you could even wonder if there was space in your heart for Jaeyun, you realized that you had already let him burrow his way in there.

“Can I kiss you?” Jaeyun asked. 

You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, and every once of nervousness slipped away. You always thought you could attain this level of closeness with Sunghoon, but maybe your relationship with him was just that fragile—where you could just grab the string binding you two together and snip it completely. 

But it was different with Jaeyun. 

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling, “you can.”

And then, with Jaeyun’s breath fanning your lips, you felt Sunghoon completely dissolve from the impounding thoughts racking your brain. Right now, it was Jaeyun and only Jaeyun. 

You leaned in first, cupping his cheek and pressing your lips against Jaeyun’s soft ones. It was weird, kissing for the first time, but he leaned into it instantly so that your movements were less awkward and more guided. 

A fire blazed inside of you, burning hotter than imaginable. You didn’t expect Jaeyun to drive you this crazy—to crave more, to want more. You drew back before you slid your hand into his hair, although you were tempted to go further when his pillowy lips peppered soft kisses along your jawline. 

But you didn’t want to go overboard or ruin anything by going too fast. You settled for leaving another chaste kiss against his lips before pulling back, and you were delighted when you saw how pleased Jaeyun was. He was practically glowing. 

From then on, you and Jaeyun had a relationship that extended past something platonic, but it wasn’t like you two were official. Naturally, you ended up confiding in him over everything. 

While Sunghoon still held a place in your heart as your first love, you grew to care for Jaeyun, who kindled a gentler fire in you. Sunghoon, on the other hand, left you burned and scarred. 

You didn’t want to rush into a relationship, mainly because you didn’t want Jaeyun to think he was a rebound, and he respected that. So he waited for you to figure out your feelings and let your heart choose who was right for you. 

You weren’t stupid, though; you knew that chasing after Sunghoon was a hopeless cause.

You and Jaeyun drifted about in a limbo-state of your relationship. You two went on a couple of dates, got to know each other at a deeper level, and spent a lot of time together. He became the person you thought about when you were falling asleep and when you woke up in the morning. 

You two got along surprisingly well, and you wondered why you ever had doubts about him in the beginning. Sure, Jaeyun still got on your nerves at times, but you just found it funny after the wave of annoyance passed. 

Your friends started to talk about how close you two were and frequently brought up the idea of you two dating. Of course, you always denied it, enjoying the privacy you and Jaeyun had. 

But as your relationship blossomed into something more serious, you decided that you didn’t want things to stay casual any longer. So, you asked him out, and Jaeyun, being the lovesick puppy he was, accepted without a second thought. 

You thought about how much had changed in your life. Sunghoon stopped hanging out with you completely, resorting to being alone most of the time. Everyone was concerned about his behavior, but after several attempts of failed confrontation, they all collectively gave up. You and Jongseong still kept an eye on him, using roundabout ways to find out how he was doing; it was the most you two could do given how little opportunity you had to talk to him. 

You didn’t share many classes with Jongseong anymore, but you two were still close, even after your “two of us against the world” friendship with Sunghoon had gone to shit. 

Jongseong was kind, though, and despite how he was rough around the edges, he was gentle enough. 

But he knew that Sunghoon was hiding something dark, and that alone made you somewhat nervous around him. 

You felt unsettled the entire day, but when your group chat started flooding with texts about Jungwon in the middle of the night, you felt an icy chill travel down your spine. 

It was all over the news. The whole story about him being down with the flu was just a cover-up while authorities were looking for him.

You felt nauseous. 

HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT FOUND DEAD NEAR WOODS. FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED.

The 16-year-old boy was found dead at the scene. The parents of the deceased student have identified him as Yang Jungwon. As of now, there are no leads, but authorities have ruled the case as a homicide. 

Police have asked anyone with information to contact their local police department.

You read the headline again. Over and over again until your vision was blurry and the words were convoluted. Your fingers were raw and bitten down to the nail bed by the time you were able to put your phone down so that you could just cry into your hands. 

By the time you got around to reading the details, grimacing at the descriptions of mutilation done to Jungwon’s body and how his body had been decomposing for weeks now, you had to run to your toilet and dry heave everything out. 

You weren’t the closest to Jungwon or anything, but imagining such a bright person meet such a horrific end wasn’t easy to process. For hours, you ignored all of the calls and texts and attempts to comfort from your parents. You stared straight at your wall—so terrified that your chest hurt and your breathing was ragged. 

Later that night, when the world was quiet and dreaming, you received a text from Sunghoon. 

sunghoon: Hey sunghoon: I’ve been thinking about you. Are you doing okay? sunghoon: I haven’t been a good friend lately, I’m sorry sunghoon: It’s still the two of us against the world

There was a time when those words made you feel like you were on top of the world, soaring high over the clouds. 

Now, though, all you could feel was a horrible sensation of dread.

It had been months since Sunghoon and Jongseong’s falling out. 

You were seventeen now, but you felt hollower as you aged. Sunghoon showed up to school and lingered within your group silently, only contributing when spoken to directly. He didn’t approach you anymore or ask to hang out after school. Actually, no one knew what he did after school. He would head straight home and then go completely off the radar. 

Gone off the rails, as Sunoo called it. 

You cried several nights over it. You felt like not only was your best friend slipping away from you, but Sunghoon’s disconnect from the group would soon make you pull away, too. You had Jaeyun, of course, but nothing felt the same anymore. With Jungwon dead, the group felt tense and gloomy. You all started hanging out with other people and slowly stopped responding in the group chat. 

Part of you realized that Sunghoon’s detachment was because you didn’t reply to him the night Jungwon’s murder was publicized. Back then, you suspected that Sunghoon could have been behind it, judging by your conversation with Jongseong earlier. It all added up in your head, but the only thing that was stopping you from believing it fully was that you couldn’t fathom Sunghoon ever doing something so evil. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” you whispered into the phone, even though there wasn’t anyone around that you were worried about listening in. “He’s shutting me out now. Something must’ve happened to him.” 

You heard Jaeyun hum and contemplate for a moment before he replied, “Maybe he just needs space.” 

“I think something happened between him and Jongseong,” you admitted, “but I can’t imagine Jongseong saying anything that would make Sunghoon ignore him for this long.”

“It must’ve been serious, then.” 

“But… but it’s Sunghoon; he’s”—you paused as you recalled what Jongseong once called him—“bulletproof.”

There was a pause.

“I guess that’s the problem with being bulletproof,” Jaeyun spoke gravely. “People think they can just keep shooting.”

What Jaeyun told you that night kept replaying in your head over the next week—over and over again. It hit you a little too hard, and you waited to confront Sunghoon about it. You wanted him to know that he could be vulnerable, too. But you couldn’t even speak to your best friend these days. He had been avoiding everyone like the plague.

You assumed it had something to do with Jongseong, but when you talked to him about it, he was hesitant to get into it.

“You’re the closest person to him,” you told him. Today was colder, and you rubbed your hands together for warmth as you and Jongseong stood by the gates after school. “I think if you guys sit down and talk things out, then he’ll start being himself again.”

“I was the closest person to him,” Jongseong corrected with a scoff. “Plus, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing to talk about? What about your friendship?”

You couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth. Anger roiled deep in your chest, and you were too furious to realize that Jongseong only looked dejected in response. If he wasn’t going to explain what happened, then you couldn’t understand what was eating away at their relationship. 

“There is no friendship, Y/N,” he said slowly, in a voice so low that it sounded like the calm before the storm. His words made everything come to a halt, and you felt like time itself had frozen. “I suggest you let go of Sunghoon, too. You’re hanging onto someone who’s beyond help.”

“But I don’t know what you know!” you exclaimed. “I can’t let go of someone just like that, Jongseong. I need answers.”

He was quiet before he asked, “Do you remember when Sunghoon stayed over at your house once when we were fourteen?”

“When his house caught on fire?” you recalled, but the memory was sort of hazy for you. All you remembered was how you were in complete awe that Sunghoon was unscathed and unbothered by the incident. 

“Yeah,” Jongseong’s voice was grim as he said, “and I bet he never told you that he was the one who started that fire on purpose.”

It was like a punch to the gut. You could only shake your head blankly, lips parted in disbelief. 

He continued, “When we were fifteen, he thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught—”

No.

“—and, at sixteen, he actually did it.”

No. No. 

“Jongseong,” you whispered, your voice smaller than you intended, “was it…” 

“Jungwon?” He said the name so carefully, as if the world would explode into nothingness if he did. You had been gnawing at your lip so hard that you drew blood, yet that couldn’t distract you from the haunted look in Jongseong’s eyes. “Yeah, he killed Jungwon.”

You felt like you had just been doused with ice-cold water. 

“I shouldn’t have brought Jungwon with me. I knew Sunghoon was gonna do it to someone, but I didn’t know…” He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath that racked his entire body. “I didn’t think it would be him. I brought Jungwon to talk him out of whatever was going on, not to…” Jongseong stopped himself again, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears that had started to fall. 

It’s you and me, Sunghoon’s voice chimed in your head. The two of us against the world.

You thought your world had been shattered, but then you realized that it had actually been broken for a long time.

That night, you asked Jaeyun to come over, and he arrived at your door in record speed.

You two were sitting on your bed, controllers in hand, but the screen was off and neither of you were even in the mood to play. You must have trusted him more than anyone by now because the words started spilling with no preamble. You ended up explaining most of your conversation with Jongseong after you had Jaeyun swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell a soul.

Of course, you didn’t expect any normal person to compliantly come to terms with the fact that their friend murdered their other friend, but Jaeyun was a bit different when it came to you. Instead of accusing you of lying or denying the truth, he believed you wholeheartedly. You couldn’t tell if he was patient with you, or if he was just horrified by everything you had told him. 

It had been an entire year since Jungwon had been found dead and the case closed as an unsolved murder, but your words sucker punched Jaeyun like it had just happened yesterday. 

Jaeyun’s tone was urgent when he said, “We have to tell someone.” When he noticed your hesitation, he shook his head at you with a disapproving frown. “Y/N, this is serious. This is Jungwon, my best friend.” 

Your mouth went dry. “I-I know, it’s just—”

Jaeyun didn’t have to cut you off. You froze right when you saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Y/N.” He said your name gently, but you still flinched. You had never heard your name being called with so much despair. “If Sunghoon really murdered Jungwon, then I can’t keep this a secret.”

“Give me a few days,” you pleaded. “I just want to hear Sunghoon out. No matter what he says, I’ll come with you to testify.” 

He shook his head immediately, eyes fierce. “You are not going anywhere near Sunghoon—not after what he did to Jungwon.”

“Then let me ask Jong—”

“Y/N,” Jaeyun interrupted, letting his hand slide over yours. His eyes were full of concern when he asked, “How do you know you can trust Jongseong?” 

Your hands started to shake.

“Y/N,” he said again, “if Jongseong took Jungwon to see Sunghoon, what do you think he did after Sunghoon killed him?”

Your pulse raced.

“If Jongseong knew about Sunghoon’s behavior for this long, why hasn’t he ever done anything?” 

All this time, you thought your world had grown a little bigger ever since you met Sunghoon and Jongseong. 

But you were living in a fantasy by yourself. 

Not so long after your talk with Jaeyun, your phone rang. You were in the middle of finishing up your history paper when you saw the caller ID flash across your screen.

It was Sunghoon.

You didn’t even give yourself time to think about it first. You just picked up the phone immediately. It was an old habit; you saw Sunghoon and accepted the call without a second thought. You never expected Sunghoon to ever call you again, so you didn’t exactly have any practice in rejecting his calls.

“Y/N?” came the familiar voice of Park Sunghoon—gentle, but almost like he was a caged animal.

“Sunghoon?” You swallowed hard. “Uh, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, but you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. “It was supposed to be the two of us against the world.”

You frowned. “Sunghoon, what’s going on?”

Instead of answering your question, Sunghoon hesitated before saying, “We should catch up sometime. You can read part of the story I’m writing.”

You paused, and before he could ask if you were still there, you replied, “Yeah, sure.”

“Right.” Sunghoon sounded like he had more to say. You almost didn’t catch it because he was so quiet, and the last thing you heard before he hung up was a quiet, “Bye, then.”

Your deepest regret was answering your phone later that night.

It was hours after Sunghoon called you. Jongseong was more of a texter, so you were surprised when his caller ID flashed across your screen. It was definitely not a reasonable hour for a high school student to be out and about, but nothing could have prepared you for what you heard on the other side of the line.

Jongseong was sobbing. 

The sound chilled you to the bone. You never heard Jongseong cry, but this didn’t feel normal; this cry was frantic and mangled, like he was spiraling out of control. 

“Y/N, you have to come over quickly,” Jongseong begged through broken sobs and heavy breaths. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

“Jongseong, calm down. Tell me what’s happening.”

“You have my location, right? Just hurry. Please.” And he hung up. 

In a daze, you called Jaeyun and asked him to pick you up. 

“I really think we should just call the cops,” Jaeyun offered, almost pleading. “I don’t know what’s going on with Jongseong, but this sounds sketchy, Y/N.”

Pitted fear festered in your throat. You knew something was off, but you weren’t sure if you could handle losing Jongseong, too. You had gotten so used to not being alone that you were paranoid of returning to having no one. 

“Call them as soon as we get there,” you said. “I just need to make sure Jongseong’s okay.” 

Jaeyun pressed his lips into a thin, grim line, but he kept driving. 

It was a port that Jongseong’s location directed you to, and discomfort crept into your limbs as soon as Jaeyun pulled into the area. Maybe you should’ve stayed back where it was safer and let the police handle everything, but you must have been a fool. It was just that Jongseong’s cries echoed in your head whenever you started having second thoughts.

You could hear him before you saw him.

Jongseong’s soft sobs could be heard from behind a metal storage unit, and you and Jaeyun inched closer carefully after getting out of the car. Your heart dropped to your stomach; you were dreading the worst, and when you turned the corner into the closed area Jongseong was in, you realized that the sight before you was the worst it could get. 

Sunghoon’s body.

You waited for his chest to rise, but not even a shallow breath escaped his blue-tinged lips.

It took you a moment to reorient yourself and realize that Sunghoon wasn’t just passed out, he was dead. 

You saw the blood pooling around him and the wounds piercing his torso, staining his white shirt, but you wanted to believe your mind was playing tricks on you. You convinced yourself that Sunghoon was going to get up any second now and start laughing, and then Jongseong would join in and tell you it was all a joke. 

But that wasn’t the case.

It wasn’t fear that overtook you—not an overwhelm of emotion—it was numbness. You stared at Sunghoon’s body as he bled out onto the concrete, blood pooling into the cracks in the ground. You felt an odd sort of disconnect. 

You tilted your head to see Sunghoon’s face turned to the side against the concrete. His blank eyes just stared into nothingness, and you realized that you would never get to see Sunghoon’s warm, sincere gaze ever again. You were never going to see his bright smile. You were never going to hear his contagious laugh. You were never going to read the wonderful stories he wrote. 

You supposed your life was always meant to be a tragedy. 

“H-Hoon?” Jaeyun choked up behind you. He was staring down at Sunghoon’s lifeless body in horror before his expression was slowly replaced with anger. “Jongseong, what the hell did you do?!”

“It was self-defense, man,” Jongseong whimpered out before his body was racked with sobs again. “He pulled a knife on me out of nowhere. I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” He exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at Sunghoon.

“Come on, guys,” Jongseong pleaded. “I can’t go to fucking prison. I’m eighteen now; it’s not juvie, it’s a life sentence.” You didn’t know what he was getting at until he requested the unthinkable, “Help me get rid of the body.”

You wanted to puke. You eyed the shiny metal soaked in blood that Jongseong was clutching. You were never going to see Sunghoon again. You were never going to hang out with him over the weekend. You were never going to hear his voice again. 

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “What the fuck are you gonna do when they realize he’s gone missing? You just killed someone! This is on you, Jongseong, not us!”

“Are you going to help me get rid of it or not?!” Jongseong tugged at his hair. “Just help me throw him off the dock, and we can all walk away from this.”

You watched helplessly, horror-stricken. “I… I can’t.”

“The body’s gonna float and show up somewhere,” Jaeyun countered with stony eyes. “They’re gonna catch you.”

Jongseong looked terrifyingly pale. You wondered if it was just the glow of the moon, or if he was also holding in his urge to puke. “I’ll just cut his stomach so he sinks.”

Disgusted, Jaeyun scowled. “You’re a monster.”

You watched as Jongseong tried hauling Sunghoon’s body before giving up and dragging him by the legs. You shot Jaeyun a warning look, mouthing for him to call the police before Jongseong noticed. He lingered back to do so while you followed Jongseong to plead him to stop. His arms gave out as soon as he stepped onto the planks, and he let Sunghoon’s lower half collapse onto the solid wood. 

“Y/N, help me cut open his stomach,” he ordered, hardly sparing you a glance. If he did, he would have seen how horrified you were.

“Oh,” you said, voice wavering, “that’s… that—that’s his…” 

“Y/N, help me.”

“Jongseong,” you begged, “please… please stop.”

He paid you no attention, though. You felt ghastly as Jongseong used a paring knife to make an incision on Sunghoon’s stomach. The smell was putrid. You screwed your eyes shut as the metallic smell of blood invaded your nostrils. Your nausea plunged into your gut, and you had to fight the pervasive urge to hurl.

A stream of Sunghoon’s blood made its way to your shoes, staining the soles. 

Jongseong was cutting your old best friend open. 

The dread had kept you numb for this long, but it was when reality settled in that you finally lost it. You couldn’t handle it anymore and pitched forward over the edge of the dock, throwing up until you were heaving up bile. You sobbed through it all, mournful and low, and your friend paid you no attention while he was cutting through flesh. 

When Jongseong was done, he wiped at his cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood. Sunghoon’s blood. You stared at him, and you had never been more terrified of him in your life. 

And then you really noticed Jongseong. You noticed how Sunghoon’s blood was coated all over his hands, how he hardly had any scratches or bruises on his body, how merciless his eyes were as he stared down at his old best friend. 

The realization that washed over you was frightening. 

“Sunghoon didn’t actually try to kill you, did he?” you managed to warble out. “You killed him yourself.”

A deep silence from him followed—heavy and wretched. Sunghoon’s blood was so dark that it nearly looked black under the dim light, and you could only stare helplessly until Jaeyun made his way to the dock, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders. 

Jongseong turned to you and Jaeyun, clutching his knife tightly. You could hardly recognize the boy in front of you. You never truly understood the term “paralyzed by fear” until you saw the crazed look in Jongseong’s eyes—cold and haunting. 

Jaeyun’s eyes glistened with tears and his throat was thick with emotion when he said, “Jongseong, please—just hang on and… and we can talk this out.” 

The hand gripping his knife started shaking. “You won’t tell anyone, right? You guys won’t snitch on me, right?” When there was no response from you or Jaeyun, Jongseong’s desperation grew stronger. He turned to you with his eyes big and terrified. “Y/N, come on, we’ve known each other for years. You know I—”

“Shut up!” Jaeyun yelled. His protective grip on you tightened. “Cut the bullshit, Jongseong. The police are gonna be here soon, and they’re gonna take you straight to prison once they see what you did to Hoon.”

It was like a switch flipped in him. A distant part of your mind wondered if you could get everyone out of this—somehow bring Sunghoon back and go back to your normal life—but you immediately shut down that fantasy as soon as Jongseong’s eyes darkened. 

In the darkness, you could make out an amused expression on his face. His smile took on a cold edge. 

“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll just have to get rid of you two before the police get here, then.”

You felt like your world slowed. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears. You could tell Jongseong was walking closer to you while Jaeyun was desperately trying to tug you and get you to run, but you were frozen in place. You wanted to believe that your old friend wouldn’t actually hurt you, but then you didn’t know what to think when he raised his knife. 

It had all happened so fast. Too fast. 

In your brief struggle as Jongseong tried to stab you, you heard a sharp gasp that tore you from your haze, like you had just been drenched in cold water. Brutally sober. You tried to push Jongseong off of you, but he was too heavy, too limp. Jaeyun shouldered his way between you two and shoved Jongseong back, grimacing when his skull hit the wood with a thud. 

You heard one last, strangled gasp from Jongseong before he stopped breathing. The last star in his eyes twinkled until it dimmed for good. 

Jongseong laid flat on the dock with his knife piercing his chest.

As you heard police sirens go off in the distance, Jaeyun wrapped his arms around you before you finally broke down into his chest. 

Your best friends were dead and your world was broken beyond repair. 

“So, it was self-defense?” Detective Lee asked, his piercing eyes boring right into yours. “Purely accidental? You had no intention of harming Park Jongseong?”

You shook your head. “I still couldn’t process the fact that he killed Sunghoon, so I didn’t think he’d actually try to hurt me.”

You wanted to cry. You bit your chapped lip, but all you could taste was blood that you doubted was even there. You couldn’t even say Sunghoon’s name without seeing that radiant smile of his stained with deep red. 

You sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ve told you everything I know. Can I see Jaeyun now?”

Detective Lee eyed you for a moment. Finally, you saw some sort of sympathy in his gaze, although you felt sort of repulsed that you were being pitied in this state. The detective muttered something about him being back later, and he left the interrogation room, leaving you handcuffed to the table. 

A minute passed by. Another. Several more. 

You were pretty sure it had been at least an hour or two of staring at the wall, but the passage of time felt meaningless now. You could wait hours, even days, but you didn’t think you would ever be ready to confront what cruel reality awaited you. 

You were so tired of everything, so exhausted that you didn’t even think about your parents until now. Were they here? Were they informed about your arrest? They must have been worried sick all night. 

When the door opened, your head shot up. 

“You’re free to go, Y/N,” Detective Lee said, pulling out a key to uncuff you from the table. 

You were frozen. You just stared up at Detective Lee with your jaw hung open. 

“I know this took awhile, but there was no security footage at the scene to confirm your story,” he elaborated. “But your stories matched up, and we found more evidence in the trunk of Jongseong’s car that he had been planning this murder.” 

He helped you to your feet and escorted you out of the room. You were able to pick up everything they took from you before you were locked up in the holding cell—your keys, wallet, and your phone. Then, you were taken to the waiting room where your parents were seated at the far end. 

At the sight of you, they all but leapt from their seats to rush over, hands cupping your face and arms embracing your weak, battered figure. There was so much love in their eyes, and their fear over possibly losing their daughter replaced any anger they had toward the situation. However, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you ended up getting an earful the next day. 

“Mom, Dad,” you whimpered out, suddenly overcome with emotion. You were immediately aware of how weak and pathetic you felt. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” your father silenced you by rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Jaeyun’s family wanted us to let you know that he’s okay, too. They just took him home about ten minutes ago.”

You were slightly disappointed. Part of you was hoping that he would wait for you, but you figured Jaeyun’s family would have wanted to go home right away. You definitely would have felt better if you got to see your boyfriend in the flesh to make sure he was alive and well, but you weren’t going to complain now. 

There was still a ghost of a smile on your lips as your parents walked you to their car. They gushed and gushed about how glad they were about you being safe and sound, and about how they never would’ve expected Jongseong of all people to end up being a murderer.

You were happy to be alive, of course, but you felt so empty. 

You pulled out your phone to try and text Jaeyun, but, as you thought, it was dead. 

“Mom, can I use your phone?” you asked, and you dialed Jaeyun’s number immediately as soon as she handed it to you. You had it memorized because it was a combination of numbers that was fairly easy to remember. 

It rang four times, and by the fifth ring, you were scared that he wouldn’t pick up. But then, it beeped.

“Hello?” Jaeyun answered. “Who is this?”

It was like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders once you heard his voice. Despite Detective Lee informing you that Jaeyun was, indeed, alive, you felt more reassured hearing it from your boyfriend himself. You wanted to cry then and there, but you didn’t want to make your parents worry unnecessarily. 

You forgot you were even supposed to respond when Jaeyun spoke again, “Is anyone there?”

“Jaeyun, it’s me,” you mumbled softly. “Y/N.”

You heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Jaeyun gave you the breakdown of how his experience went, which took a completely different turn than yours. After receiving medical attention, they brought him back to his holding cell to sleep for hardly a few hours. The detective interrogating Jaeyun tried to build trust with him, telling him they wanted to help and just needed his confession. They lied about already having evidence that he killed Jongseong, but Jaeyun denied it and told them the whole story. He was only free to leave after they cross-examined his story with yours. 

“Jesus,” you whispered into the phone, breathing out a small laugh. By now, you were already parked at your house and walking to your front door. “This is so fucked up.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “but we’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, Jae. Us against the world.”

Sim Jaeyun spent nine hours being questioned by authorities. 

He knew the nature of the crime that occurred was complex, and he was still reeling from the loss and betrayal that left a deep wound in his chest, but there was something that terrified him still. 

It wasn’t the murderous look in Park Jongseong’s eyes, or the blood completely drained from Park Sunghoon’s face. 

Rather, what scared Jaeyun the most was that he spent so long pining after you and getting to know you at a deeper level. He genuinely fell hard for you, even though you had monsters in the closet. He thought he knew almost everything about you, like how you were a terrible liar. 

Yet, you had just lied about everything that went down last night for nine hours straight. 

What scared Jaeyun the most was how clueless he had been about who you really were.

Truthfully, he was also in the wrong for going along with your lie. It was definitely going to bite him back one day. In the moment, though, he was far too much of a coward to go against you. Although he was able to get Jungwon the justice he deserved and allowed his family to finally be at peace with answers, Jaeyun still felt horrible. He just remembered the desperate look in your eyes as your face and hands were stained with blood, begging him to protect you. 

Jaeyun’s downfall must have been that he liked you too much to say no.

It was true that Jongseong called you in a panic, begging you to show up at the port as quickly as possible, and it was true that you wanted Jaeyun to drive you there instead of calling the cops first. 

Jaeyun knew deep down that you were making the wrong choice, but he had hope that you knew what you were doing. Truthfully, although he liked you a lot, he was still wary about how you felt toward Sunghoon. He just couldn’t understand how you were still unconsciously protecting him after hearing what happened to Jungwon. He knew that you wanted answers, but Jaeyun was worried about how you’d react once you got them. 

The real story—the one neither of you told the detectives—never started with Park Jongseong killing Park Sunghoon.

It really started when you and Jaeyun arrived at the port to see that no one was around. It was eerily quiet, and Jaeyun was starting to regret not turning around and heading straight for the police station. When you two got out of the car, you walked several feet down the line of shipping containers before returning to Jaeyun with a confused look on your face.

“I don’t see either of them,” you said, but then your eyes grew unfocused as you stared at something—or, rather, someone—behind Jaeyun. 

He turned around to see Jongseong walking over to the two of you in a calm fashion, as if he had no other care in the world. The port was relatively an open space, so he had no idea where Jongseong could have emerged from. Jaeyun rolled his neck, more frustrated than anything. 

“Jongseong!” you called out. 

When he neared you two, Jongseong shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh, you brought your boyfriend.”

“What’s going on?” you urged. “Is it Sunghoon? Did something happen to him?”

“Wow, that hurts, Y/N.” Jongseong barked out a laugh, but nothing about his tone sounded sincere. “I call you in the middle of the night and all you can think about is Hoon? Wow. How do you feel about that, Jaeyun?”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just glowered. 

Nothing about this felt right. 

You stammered, “I-I just assumed—”

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Jongseong cut you off with little regard for your excuses. “Sorry to say this in front of your boyfriend, but imagine how I feel when the girl I’ve liked for years only cares about my best friend.” 

The air went still.

Your voice was barely a whisper when you asked, “Excuse me?” 

Jaeyun pursed his lips together, and, for a moment, he thought his tongue would start bleeding if he bit it any harder. Sunghoon liked the girl that Jongseong liked, and if that girl was you, then Jaeyun was worried that he already lost you. He knew for months that he would never truly have you the way he wanted. Your feelings for Sunghoon were stronger, and although Jaeyun was able to pack his insecurities into a tiny ball and shove it down his throat, it was all coming out now. 

His uneasy heart shattered into a million pieces once he caught a glimpse of your expression—hopeful and longing. And it wasn’t for Jongseong; it was for Sunghoon. 

“Now that’s a great expression,” came an overly-enthusiastic voice from Jaeyun’s right.

Park Sunghoon was leaning against one of the shipping containers, arms folded across his chest before he uncrossed them and made his way toward the three of you. He must have been hiding behind the containers this whole time because Jaeyun hadn’t seen him at all before. 

The situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Jaeyun wanted to shrink back when Sunghoon suddenly took great interest in him, keeping his eyes fixed on him instead of you or Jongseong. He used to have such bright and happy smiles, but, this time, Jaeyun almost thought his grin had been sliced into his face with a blade.

Sunghoon slung an arm over Jongseong’s shoulder. “Wow, Jae, now I really wanna see the look on your face when you’re in total despair,” he crooned, almost mocking. Jaeyun’s blood rushed in his ears when Sunghoon’s tongue swiped across one of his fangs. “You should’ve seen the look on Jungwon’s face.”

Jaeyun lunged before he could even think, but he stopped himself as soon as you held onto him, stopping him from hitting Sunghoon. 

And that was when he knew he already lost you. 

“Don’t,” you insisted.

“Are you serious?” he breathed out, brows knitting into a frown as he looked down at you. 

Shame clung to your throat, keeping your mouth shut, but Jaeyun was more concerned now about the sharp blade pointed at his throat.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Jongseong had a paring knife pointed straight at him, and Sunghoon’s smile never faltered. They were clearly on the same side. There was a reason why Jeongseong never did anything about Sunghoon after killing Jungwon. 

Jaeyun felt stupid for not putting it together earlier.

“I’d listen to your girlfriend,” Jongseong warned. His voice crawled all over him, freezing Jaeyun cold to the bone. “You might as well hear us out before you die here tonight.”

“Can’t exactly let you two run off now that you know what happened to Jungwon,” Sunghoon added.

“Jungwon was our friend,” Jaeyun hissed. “He was my best friend, you sick freak! What did you do to him? Why? He’s never… he never did anything wrong!”

“You’re right. He didn’t do anything wrong,” Sunghoon confirmed, surprisingly calm and collected. “In fact, he exceeded my expectations. It was a great performance, actually.” Jaeyun clenched his fist tight—so tight that his nails dug into his palms and drew blood—and Sunghoon took notice of this with a delighted hum. “You should’ve heard him scream, Jae. I had my doubts about him at first, but when he was begging me for his life, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

You were distraught. “Sunghoon, you—”

It all happened in seconds, like a rubber band finally snapping after being stretched too thin. Jaeyun used his elbow to knock Jongseong’s arm out of the way, and he shoved Sunghoon as soon as he found an opening, driving his hands into his ribs. He heard you cry out, but Jaeyun could only see red until he was dragged back up by Jongseong, the sharp blade of the knife being pressed to his throat. 

“Stop!” you cried. “Leave Jaeyun out of this! You wanted me, right? Just let him go. Please.” 

“I don’t think so.” Sunghoon wrapped an arm around you. “You two already know too much, and Jongseong and I have been waiting for this finale for years.”

Your eyes had a faraway look in them for a moment before you turned your attention back to Jongseong. “You told me…”

“I told you that when we were fifteen, Sunghoon thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught,” Jongseong filled in the blanks for you, a haunting smile playing on his lips, “and I was in on it.”

Sunghoon tutted. “But you got it all wrong, Y/N. It wasn’t Jungwon’s murder that we were planning; it was yours.”

You looked up at him in horror.

Jaeyun struggled against Jongseong for a moment, face taut with unbridled anger. He just wanted to get to you. Get Sunghoon’s filthy hands off of you. 

“I’m a writer. I write stories,” Sunghoon continued. “Isn’t it a great twist? Convincing my childhood best friend that I loved her all this time, only to reveal that she’s gonna die at my hands.” He scoffed. “Jungwon was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was good practice. I was too careless back then. I shouldn’t have left all those drawings and papers out like that when he came over, but now I’m gonna finish the job properly.” 

Your breathing was shallow. Jaeyun could see the flood of despair racking your body with soft sobs and quick pants. Your gaze fell to the ground, and Sunghoon peered to catch a better look at you. 

“Good,” he praised. “That’s what I wanna see. Wow, that’s great, Y/N. I can’t wait to see more when—”

“Get the fuck away from her!” Jaeyun yelled, grunting when Jongseong pressed the knife harder against his supple skin. 

With an exaggerated flourish of his hands, Sunghoon raised both arms and backed up as if he was a deer caught in headlights. He wore an easygoing smile, yet something sinister was tucked behind the curve of his lips. Your inconsolable self stayed fixed in place, staring helplessly at your shoes.

“For the past two years, I’ve been isolating myself from the friend group for the sake of this story and its ending,” Sunghoon said. “I think I deserve a little fun right now, Jae.”

“Fuck you,” Jaeyun spat. “You deserve to go to Hell.”

Sunghoon took a step closer to Jaeyun, ducking his head so that they were at eye-level with each other. Jaeyun tried to struggle against Jongseong once more, but he froze when the knife pierced his skin. He felt something trickle down the column of his neck, and he soon realized it was his own blood. 

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Sunghoon mocked a pout. He lowered his voice by an octave, only for Jaeyun to hear. “Competing with a childhood friend is brave, I’ll tell you that.” 

Jaeyun’s blood boiled. To his surprise, Sunghoon gestured for Jongseong to let go of him. He took the paring knife from his friend and handed it to Jaeyun. 

“Take it,” Sunghoon said. “Why don’t you try killing me? You wanna get back at me, right? I killed your best friend, after all.”

Owlish, he blinked back at Sunghoon, almost absently. Jaeyun really considered it for a moment—like, really considered it. Some part of him wanted to senselessly beat Sunghoon up until he was unrecognizable, but the morally righteous side of him knew that he could never stoop to Jongseong or Sunghoon’s level. 

Jaeyun took the knife by the handle, weighing it in his palm experimentally before chucking it away—far from both Sunghoon and Jongseong. Jaeyun was pretty sure he could overtake Jongseong if Sunghoon turned his back, but he wasn’t sure if Jongseong had another weapon up his sleeve. He heard the blade skid and scrape against the concrete, and he could only hope that Sunghoon and Jongseong being distracted by him would give you time to escape. 

But Jeongseong immediately stopped you as soon as he saw you picking up the knife, and he let go of Jaeyun to grab ahold of you. Jaeyun tried to yank Jongseong back by the back of his shirt, but Sunghoon grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head against the metal of one of the shipping containers.

Jaeyun’s world was thrown off-balance. The ground bounced, tilted, swayed. He was so dizzy and disoriented that he couldn’t tell if his head was spinning or if he was collapsing. 

The corners of his vision grew hazy with white splotches dancing around. Jaeyun tried hard to focus, making out some of the yelling that was going back and forth, but he couldn’t think at all when a newly-formed cut on his forehead was getting blood all over his face and hands. 

He doubled forward, falling onto his knees. Jaeyun had to stay there for a while and ride out the intense waves of vertigo until he was stable again. When the world finally returned to its normal axis and stopped bouncing under him, Jaeyun lifted his head to see you and Jongseong screaming at each other.

And Sunghoon was on the ground.

He stumbled over, and it was as if the white noise in Jaeyun’s ears had drowned out everything in the background. He couldn’t see or focus on anything except the pained look on Sunghoon’s face as the color drained from his neck. Blood was gushing from his jugular vein, and he was digging his palm into his neck to put pressure on the wound. 

“—you stabbed him!” you screamed at Jongseong. Your voice was hysterical; Jaeyun had never heard you sound so desperate, not even when he was being held at knifepoint. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I wouldn’t have hurt him if you didn’t pull on my arm!” Jongseong yelled back. He sank to the ground, simultaneously dropping the knife and dropping his head between his knees. 

The sight was miserable to watch. Jongseong wailed loud and mournful until he couldn’t take it anymore, doubling over so that he could throw up until nothing but bile was coming out. When it seemed as though he had nothing else to heave out of his stomach, Jongseong sat up for a brief moment. You and Jaeyun watched as his eyes rolled back almost instantly, falling onto his back and hitting his skull against the concrete. The exhaustion must have finally caught up to him, and you two didn’t have long until he was conscious again.

Jaeyun turned his attention back to Sunghoon, watching his life bleed out of his body slowly. For some reason, an odd disconnect came over Jaeyun, and he bent down to help apply pressure over Sunghoon’s wound. At first, Sunghoon gritted his teeth, but even he knew when to accept help when it was needed. 

Sim Jaeyun was pretty sure he was broken beyond belief by now, but it was impossible for him to ignore someone who was dying right before him. 

Even if he murdered Jungwon. 

“Y/N, we need to get him to a—” 

Jaeyun cut himself off when he looked up at you to see that your expression had changed. Something was different. You looked like numbness had seeped into your body, coiling around your heart until you couldn’t feel anything. The way you looked down at Jongseong, clutching his knife tightly, made Jaeyun worry.

“Y/N,” Jaeyun said again—slower, “whatever you’re thinking… please put it down.”

It didn’t seem like you were listening, though. Almost as if your body and brain were at two different places. 

“Y/N—” Jaeyun shuddered when you brought the knife down, driving it straight into Jongseong’s chest. 

Jaeyun’s stomach lurched. He watched as Jongseong struggled for his life, hardly conscious as you repeatedly stabbed him over and over again until Jaeyun was yelling at you to stop. He was sure he would never be able to close his eyes again without hearing Jongesong’s blood-curdling screams and seeing Sunghoon’s face drained of color. 

“Wow,” Sunghoon choked out. One last amused look crossed his face before it fell apart painfully. “I told you, Jae, there’s no competing with a childhood best friend.” Jaeyun flushed with anger, but it dissolved quickly when he realized Sunghoon’s breathing got slower, shallower. The look on his face was one of someone accepting their untimely death. “Thanks for the show, though.”

In his arms, Sunghoon took his last breath and went still.

It wasn’t grief that Jaeyun felt. It was something far greater.

“Jaeyun, I—I didn’t mean to,” you sobbed out, shakily holding up your bloodstained hands. “It was self-defense! I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me, and then he… he killed Sunghoon. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” You exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just stared at you in disbelief. 

“Come on, Jae,” you pleaded. Oh, so it was Jae now. “You have to help me get rid of their bodies. I can’t go to prison!”

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “Y/N, they’re dead! We have to tell the police everything. I mean, what are you gonna do when your prints match?”

Your lips pressed together in a grim line. “Your prints are on the knife, too.”

Were you blackmailing him? Jaeyun couldn’t believe what he was hearing from you. He never expected you, of all people, to be the one to throw him under the bus like this. He had trusted you with his life before, and you threw it all away in seconds. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” You looked toward the dock over the water. It was a good enough distance for you to drag Sunghoon and Jongseong’s bodies over to, but Jaeyun sure as hell didn’t want to get involved. “Just help me throw them in the water, and we can both walk away from this, Jae. We can go back to our lives, okay?”

He shook his head sadly. You just sounded like a stranger to him. 

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, tears stinging his eyes, “please stop this. You have to turn yourself in.”

But his resolve was shaky. Jaeyun knew that he would still be booked once they found his prints at the scene, and there was no telling what you would do to protect yourself. By now, Jaeyun wouldn’t have been surprised if you somehow pushed the crime onto him. 

“Jae, listen to me,” you insisted. Your eyes were wide and brimming with tears, and Jaeyun couldn’t help but think you looked a little crazed. “We can both get out of this, but you have to help me out here. We’re gonna tell them that Jongseong killed Sunghoon before we got here, and then he chased us until we ended up stabbing him out of self-defense. I mean, that’s all this was, anyway! It was self-defense!”

A distant part of Jaeyun’s mind wondered what happened to you. He wondered if you had always been this way, perhaps keeping it tucked away. In the end, you were still trying to protect Sunghoon in your own way. You were still trying to protect some fragment of his golden image.

“It’s you and me,” you whispered, kneeling down by your boyfriend’s side until you were cupping his face with your hands, staining his cheeks with Jongseong’s blood, “the two of us against the world.”

Just hours ago, Sim Jaeyun looked at you like you were his entire world.

And now, with your bloodstained hands holding his face, there was unmistakable fear behind his eyes as he looked up at you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so so much for reading if you made it all the way to the end !! i would lovee for you to guys to share what you thought, but just to point a few things out, jake's pov was the unfiltered version of what went down that night. the dialogue from mc is similar to jongseong's because while she painted him out to be the villain in the end to protect sunghoon, it was really her who said those things. originally this had a happier ending but i'm a lot more satisifed with this one actually. i hope you guys liked it !! <3 also i am deciding against using my permanent tag list this time because i haven't used it in a year and don't know if anyone exactly signed up to read horror 🧎‍♀️

#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen horror #jake fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon horror #jake horror #enhypen angst #sunghoon angst #jake angst #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #jake scenarios #sunghoon x reader #jake x reader #enhypen

[sixosix]

'cat' the son | itoshi rin

( a/n ) when i came back the poll was 50/50 so i got bribed and it’s now decided that rin is the winner + little highschool au bc we all know they dropped out:/ idk what to title this im ngl

there’s a cat on the sidewalk.

you have about six dollars in your hand, a faltering mission to treat yourself to a cold drink, and an aching heart at the sight of the little animal seated like a king on concrete, looking up at you with blank eyes.

its dark fur and near-teal eyes remind you of someone. of a back facing your seat, dark hair always kept neat and looking like it’s conditioned meticulously, and the sharpest eyes you have ever seen on a high schooler.

it has been a long day, long enough for you to have stormed out of the room as soon as classes ended to rush to the nearest shop that would sell what you’re craving. alas, there is a cat on the sidewalk, and you can’t just ignore it.

“stay here, kitty,” you say before rushing off with the six dollars in hand and a new goal to head straight to the nearest sign with an animal cardboard cutout printed on it.

eventually, you find one; eventually, you come out of the store holding cat food and a tiny cat bowl because you were worried about letting the cat eat straight from the can. it’s baby blue with little fishes added as design, though you think it’s rather gruesome to put that there, considering the canned food you bought is made from fish. still, you hope the cat will appreciate it.

the cat is still there as if it’s understood and blessed you with patience. the unimpressed look it has on its face says otherwise, though. grateful, you kneel beside it, slightly mesmerized by the fact that it hasn’t run away yet.

maybe other people are feeding it, too? it doesn’t look worryingly thin. needs a little cleaning, but looks well-fed. you’re relieved.

“here you go,” you coo, ignoring the strange looks of the passersby. you place the bowl down and crack open the can. the smell has the cat walking over, meowing all crankily. “i know, i know.”

the cat doesn’t dig in until you’ve finished shaking off its contents, staring at you in the same way the itoshi guy in your class would. the resemblance is uncanny.

you spend the rest of your afternoon keeping the cat company. its face speaks as if it’s far from amused, but the way it rubs against your ankle contradicts it.

cute. the cat is cute.

another student comes to visit the cat, carrying two cans of cat food. it’s been sitting in the plastic for a little while because as he had been going in the same routine he usually has, he spots you, his classmate, bent to the knees next to his cat, and paused.

rin thinks you’re scared of him because everyone in the class is. he lets you have your moment, choosing to come back later when you’ve finished so you don’t freak out and scare the cat. he thinks he can strike up a conversation tomorrow where there are no cats to frighten.

the cat walks up to him, instantly familiar. he doesn’t even meow up at rin impatiently, which confirms rin’s suspicions.

“y/n fed you well,” he mumbles. “i guess you can have this tomorrow.”

you’re suddenly all too aware that rin sits in front of you. he’s right there, uniform stretched over his broad back, most likely because he’s the prodigy of soccer in your school.

the neatness of his hair reminds you of the cat from yesterday, with its silky dark fur despite being a stray. you resist the urge to touch it, missing the cat already. you make a mental note to refill your water bottle so the cat can drink after.

while left thinking about the fact that you’re three dollars shorter than yesterday's budget, you fail to notice that class has ended and rin has his arm slung over the top of his chair to turn to look at you.

rin’s eyes flicker down to the paper bag next to your feet. “what’s that for?”

startled by the smoothness of his voice directed at you, you choke out a: “t-this?” you gesture lamely at the bag containing the gruesome bowl.

“what else am i referring to?”

you scrunch your nose. “okay, no need to be so rude. maybe i won’t tell you what it is.”

rin stares, and you’re intensely reminded of piercing eyes looking up at you, patiently waiting for the canned tuna.

“it’s a cat bowl,” you murmur, defeated.

“cat bowl,” he repeats, a gleam in his eye. he probably thinks you’re weirder than he already thinks you are.

“for a stray. i don’t want to bring it around because some other cat owner might steal it. i can’t have that.”

“show me,” he demands.

a little terrified by the fact that the class grump is actively maintaining a conversation with you; you obediently show him the bowl, spinning it around to show all sides. rin hums, contemplative. your classmates are starting to stare. “it’s weird, right? fishes for the print and fishes for dinner. do you like it?”

“lukewarm.”

“what does that even mean?”

“it’s too small. buy a new one.”

“...you think?”

rin nods, standing up. the chair screeches while he says, “i’ll come with you.”

this is how you end up in the same pet supply store with a companion this time. rin picks the most expensive one for the bowl and the canned cat food, which makes you think he must really like cats a lot.

but as you two leave the store, you belatedly realize he’s leading the way even though you never told him anything about the stray you meet.

it doesn’t hit you until the same cat meows and purrs at rin, rubbing against his pants with its entire body.

“hi,” rin says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you gape. “wait, the cat’s yours?”

rin bends down, knees to his chest while he sets the bowl down and cracks the can open with one finger. “no. dad’s allergic. he doesn’t follow me back home anyway.” while he does that, the cat comes to greet you, and your heart aches on rin’s behalf.

so he just comes to feed him every day, huh… you muse, gently scratching the cat who purrs at your attention but still looks as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“do you have a name for him?”

rin pauses, having finished pouring everything. “...no.” he squints at you as if you’ve just asked him the exact coordinates of his birthplace: sincerely confused.

“what do you call him, then?” you watch as the unnamed cat starts digging down on the food, content. you wonder why no one else has already kept this cat to themselves. he’s so cute and polite.

“cat.”

“ah, of course.”

you two watch ‘cat’ eat, content with the silence. it starts to drizzle moments later, but rin is quick to pull out an umbrella and cover all three of you. the cat grumbles unhappily at the splatter of rain hitting him.

“do you always visit him?”

“yes.”

“do you like cats?”

“yes.”

a shame that allergies are the only thing keeping itoshi rin from getting a cat.

while you’re distracted, the cat goes back to rin. rin wastes no time bending down to pick him up, looking awfully domestic in the middle of a sidewalk in front of a busy coffee shop. your hands twitch to reach for your phone, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stare. they look so much alike.

cute, you think, horrified, rin looks so cute holding the cat.

while engulfed in rin’s arms, the cat meows at you. and you, with a too-tender heart, can’t resist.

“i’ll keep him,” you declare with newfound determination. “i’ll take care of him. if you let me keep the bowl you bought.”

rin’s eyes light up, though it wouldn’t have been evident if you hadn’t been his classmate and witnessed his varying expressions of death. (as if it was varying in the first place.)

“i’ll buy everything else he’ll like,” he says, like a true cat mom, his face glowing with barely concealed excitement.

since then, rin accompanies you home. you tell him that you’ve saved up three dollars from yesterday and now you have more than enough to buy a nice, cold drink and maybe catnip for the cat, but rin insists that he’ll pay for everything, including your beverage.

“you feed our son.”

“our son?” he repeats curiously.

“yes. he lives with me. he looks like you,” you explain absentmindedly, setting up the water dispenser on the new food bowl rin ended up buying. it no longer has fish for design or the painful lime green he bought the second time—instead, it’s a nice blue that compliments the cat’s eyes.

“and what are you implying is going on between us?”

you nearly spill water all over the floor. “i…” you honestly did not think about that, “—nevermind. don’t make it weird, itoshi!”

you think you heard rin chuckling, but you’re too busy being embarrassed to bother.

(during class, you will find that rin is far from intimidating. in fact, he’s actually a little bitch to deal with. you’re starting to think that he’s more of a pain to deal with than an actual grumpy cat.

“don’t forget to buy food for our son,” rin says after class, in front of students who gossip like there is no tomorrow.

“what?”

“for our son,” rin says, nonplussed at the sight of your haunted expression.

someone who has overheard the conversation pipes up, “you two have a son?”

“we don’t!” you hiss, face burning with embarrassment at the sudden influx of attention from your classmates.

rin frowns. “don’t lie.”

“you two are starting to act like a married couple recently…” another comments offhandedly.

“itoshi walks y/n home, i saw!”

“we have a son,” rin agrees, and you’re starting to think that he’s doing it on purpose.

“stop saying that!”)

thank u art aanobrain for giving me the idea of rin just naming the cat ‘cat’. that idea is so special to me.

anyway. RIN IS SO HARD TO WRITE HELPPPP. this was an excruciating process i genuinely did not know if i did anything right but WHAT’S DONE IS DONE. thx for reading <3

#606:BLLK #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #itoshi rin fluff

[samimarkart]

Fern Concretion

Hand dyed cotton fabrics, cotton batting and thread, 17x19in, 2024

Experimenting with dye based printing and painting. drawn from a mazon creek specimen in chicago’s field museum collection, i hand painted with thickened dye on a loosely tie dyed fabric, then quilted it to emphasize the shapes! I have been immersing myself in the fossils from the mazon creek area and finding them to be great inspiration for pieces!

this piece is available for $80 as a wall hanging, please message me if interested!

#my art #art #fiber art #queer artist #quilt #fossil #mazon creek #fern #plant #paleontology #geology

[ronearoundblindly]

For your Valentine's ask game: #7 Jake Jensen x reader, idk why but it seems fitting 😂

Shut Up, Jensen, one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024!

Oh, this poor, poor, awkward perv. He's pervy until there's a naked lady around and then 😳 "...when I was four, I shoved pennies up my nose..." Seriously, boi, shut up!

Warnings for spice, i.e. a setup to smutty times, but mostly suggestive. MINORS DNI, just to be safe. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 1042

You’ve always had a soft spot for nerds, and now, that’s translating to a damp spot on your fanciest panties you wore for this date.

Jake Jensen goofy-grinned his way through the entire evening, making you almost snort a tequila sunrise through your nose, and he never let up. The humor made you comfortable. It’s endearing to see his nervousness right on his graphic-T sleeve as opposed to being ‘manly’ and aloof.

It’s so, so refreshing to hear someone say, “I’m having a great time,” “I don’t want the night to end,” and know deep down in your bones that they mean “spending this time with you has made me happy” instead of “I’ve done enough to get laid now, right?”

Unsurprisingly, it does mean Jake’s done enough to get laid.

You give him your address so he could park his Jeep outside your building. There are parking meters, but tomorrow is Sunday when they’re free. No big deal. You left the bar (which was after the restaurant, which was after the coffee shop) a minute or two before in order to meet him at one of the open spots and walk him in. He can’t meet you at your door because there is a locked gate to your courtyard, and then a keypad for your building, and then about three corridors to navigate. It’s just easier to show him the way.

You can hear that fucking car coming a mile away.

Jake smiles and waves as he parallel parks—with extreme precision, you note—then hops out, gesturing to the meter questioningly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrug, jumping to the edge of the curb before he steps up so you can use the height for a kiss on his cheek.

It’s adorable how flustered he gets at just that tiny bit of affection. Though it’s dark, it’s obvious he blushes ferociously, rubbing at the back of his cropped, short hair, racing to gather his thoughts.

“Did you know there are almost three hundred ways to make change for a dollar? Two hundred ninety-three to be ex—woah—“

You grab his hand to lead him inside.

At the gate, you have to pause for the magnetic lock.

“I’m surprised those things even take change anymore,” Jake muses quietly, courteous for the neighbors’ sake, “because physical money only makes up 8% today’s currency…in the whole world.” He slides past the thick steel grating. “Thank you, digital banking.”

He follows behind you in the maze of concrete paths to the next entry.

“People leave like half a million dollars worth of loose change at airport security. That’s a little shocking,” he whispers when you motion for him to take a left, “think you’d splurge for some decent toilet paper with that kind of dough, or maybe some more cup holders in those row-seats? They could, I don’t know, offset the cost of making pennies. Shit cost two cents. Is worth one. Wild…

“Meanwhile, a dime has 118 ridges on the rim of the smallest circumference.”

Doesn’t even matter what he’s saying, the more his plump pink lips move, the more insanely turned on you get. You have to crowd him through your own doorway before you start stripping in the middle of the hall.

You peel your blouse off the instant your keys clatter onto the dinette table. You spin around to grab him by the screen-printed emblem of his t-shirt.

“There are 1.4 billion $2 bills in circulation.”

He gives a little oof sound when his back hits one of your bedroom walls, and there’s a barely audible whimper as your hands snake up under soft, well-worn fabric.

Holy shit, is this boy cut!

Your thumbs actually catch on the deep ridge of his Adonis belt. Dimes got nothing on you, Jake Jensen…

His breathing has changed significantly. “Did you know they—“ he gasps and swallows “—still make those?”

Ok, why is it hotter when he’s not even trying?

“Fun fact: if you went to Zimbabwe, guess which currency you’d…use?” The neckline of his shirt has to pop over his glasses before he fixes them. “The U.S. Dollar. Seriously! Same damn mon—EH.”

His belt buckle is tricky to navigate from this angle and in the very low light of your bedside lamp. You give up on his pants to unzip your skirt at the hip and let it fall.

Jake stands perfectly still with his hands half-raised.

“You’re…really fucking pretty—sorry—really pret—sexy, not that I—but beautiful. You’re really—”

He sucks in a breath as you step within inches of him again, reaching up to carefully pull his glasses over his ears and place them by the lamp.

“Fuck…”

Your index finger tucks into the elastic of his boxers where they peek out above the belt.

“Yeah, so I’ve been—I’m—I don’t have a—what I’m trying to say is—“ he squeezes his eyes shut and wiggles his fingers higher in the air, searching for the right thought “—the most commonly printed bill is actually the one-hundr—“

“Jake,” you interrupt, gently smoothing your hands over his thick shoulders. He is so ripped, what the hell? You guess there are nerds and then there are nerds, wow…

“Do you want to continue?”

He nods super fast, eyes growing wide in panic.

“Good.”

You smash your lips to his, hauling him down and you up by the sturdy tower of muscle he is.

“Condoms are in the drawer,” you mutter between breaths.

He lets out a high, choked whine before clamping his huge, warm hands to your waist, melting into you and your touch.

You coax the both of you toward the bed, swatting at his belt as a signal for him to help, and he does, though he’s not the greatest multitasker. He huffs and smirks, breaking the kiss so he can unlatch, unbutton, and unzip.

Then he looks up at you. 

“So you like movies…?”

You cup his jaw in your hand and pinch, a gentle peck on his lips as encouragement to focus. “Less talking, more fucking, Jensen.”

He opens his mouth, clearly running through a series of replies, but thinks better of it and  pushes down his pants and boxers all at once.

Lloyd Hansen and a kiss on a place of insecurity ⬅️ ➡️ Steve Rogers and a kiss on a scar

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @peyton--warren Y'all getting sick of me yet???

#jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen x y/n #jake jensen smut #jake jensen fluff #ro answers #valentine's day fanfic #valentine's day prompts

[cxndiedheart]

His Golden Girl

Billy Hargrove x Golden girl! Reader

Imagine big bad Billy Hargrove with a sweet lil’ thang <3

—————————

Billy Hargrove isn’t the nicest guy at Hawkins. From the moment he smashed his black boots onto the concrete of the school parking lot, everyone knew he’d be trouble. On Billy’s first day he had managed to make himself more enemies than he could count on one hand. Billy could be described confrontational, aggressive, but charming, and foxily sly. However, not a soul could describe him as kind.

On the other hand, Y/N L/N is the nicest girl in Hawkins. She’s outgoing, and bubbly, and unnecessarily kind. Within a week of transferring to Hawkins she had made plenty of friends, joined clubs, and even earned a spot on the Hawkins high varsity cheer squad. No one would ever imagine that a good girl like Y/N would look twice at a troublemaker like Billy.

Y/N and Billy stayed separated for a long time. That is, until Billy and she started to leave gym together. It was an odd sight, with Billy’s hair damp from a shower, sticking to his face with Y/N on his arm, looking as if she’d never broken a sweat.

Later, the strolls from gym turned into escorts to class, and then accompaniment to lunch, until finally Billy became Y/N ride to and from school. The change was gradual, but beside the two’s aesthetic differences, they were completely in sync.

Billy and Y/N were never officially an item, at least not to the rest of the school. But typically, they were both interrogated by friends about the matter.

One day… “Y/N!” One of the cheerleaders trudged up to Y/N, pushing through a crowd of students filing into school. “Y/N! Hey girl!” Y/N turned around, smiling. “Hey Macy!” She replied. “Listen, how did you manage to snag a boytoy like Billy?” She giggled. “Oh I uh—“ Y/N was interrupted by Billy, throwing a cigarette down and stomping it into the concrete. “Y/N. Come on, let’s go.” He didn’t say where they were going, he just held out his arm for her with a sly grin to her friend.

It’s clear that Billy doesn’t care about the other girls interested in him, but by the way Macy acts towards Y/N, there is clear indication that Macy took an interest in Billy. “What was that about?” Billy would ask often, usually after overhearing someone question Y/N about their relationship. “Macy really wants to know what’s going on between us..” She bit her lip, squeezing Billy’s bicep as they walked to first period. “Leave her wanting to know more, it’s none of her business.” He grunted.

Billy has a reputation to uphold, but he does tend to act differently than usual when it comes to Y/N. Boys began to take notice from his group, but he’d brush it off. “You’re whipped, man.” Tommy Hagan clapped Billy on the shoulder in the locker room, after Billy had taken his normal speedy shower so he could see Y/N quicker. “Yeah, but Y/N’s a Betty, who wouldn’t be whipped if they got a chance to be with all that!” Another boy commented, smacking Tommy with a wet towel. Billy tended to shake off whatever comments he got, everyone knew that Billy did want he wanted anyway.

Shortly after Y/N and Billy get close, Billy joins the basketball team! Which is great, because the cheer squad and the basketball team usually practiced in the gym together. More often than not however, Y/N tends to get a bit distracted..

Billy’s loudest supporter at basketball games is definitely Y/N! With pom poms waving and high kicks galore, she most definitely gives it her all when Billy is put in to play! But the support goes both ways, because as soon as Billy is benched (which isn’t often) he is sure to cheer her on, cockily announcing “that’s my girl!”

When Billy and Y/N finally made it official, they turned into THE power couple at school. Every guy wanted to be Billy, and every girl wanted to be Y/N. However, it was obvious that they were completely enamored with each other. Y/N is just the one who outwardly shows affection— which is evident by the pink lipstick prints Billy wears like a badge of honor on his cheeks.

Billy doesn’t enjoy it when other guys hit on his girl though, and he’s one to cause a scene. But Y/N being as sweet as she is always tries her best to talk him him down, and it usually works <3 Billy could be in the middle of beating a guy half to death, but as soon as “Billy..” leaves his love’s sweet tender lips, he’s up and shaking hands.

Overall, big and bad Billy Hargrove and his golden girl are the cutest <3 <3

#billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #billy x reader #billy stranger things #stranger things #max mayfield #stranger things imagine #imagine #x reader #Billy Hargrove x reader

[bookofthegear]

The marks in the dust lead straight ahead, and you’re…almost sure…they’re drag marks. Or somebody wearing a really long cape, maybe. Or a wedding dress with a full train.

…look, Intro to Tracking was an 8 AM class, and you didn’t need it to graduate, okay? Regardless, the marks go thattaway, so you follow them.

The corridor is the by-now-familiar concrete variety for about forty feet, and then the left hand side changes to an enormous metal grille. Despite your best efforts with the lantern, you can’t see anything but darkness on the other side. Despite some decorative wrought iron elements, the grille itself is too narrow to fit more than a fingertip through, and certainly too narrow for Jimmy.

The grille runs for about twenty feet, then ends in more concrete, which ends at a set of stairs going down. A ventilation shaft overhead has stirred the dust here, so you can’t see if the drag marks continue down the steps. Searching the corridor closely, though, you find a single bare footprint in the dust, right in front of the grille. Any further prints have been obscured by the drag marks though. Assuming, again, that they were drag marks, and not just someone barefoot in a cape wandering around.

You have no way to tell how old the marks are.