#anyway enjoy yay thanks LOVE U ALL
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as a follow-up to my post where i mentioned a modern au/established relationship k/anej setting, i thought i'd make a list of snzcanons based around that 🤭 mostly k/az centric probably but we'll see if i get any i/nej ideas while im making this
ok here we. go
- caretaking between them when they live together is very different from the days in the slat; it's much more open and comfortable, and there's a level of vulnerability that both of them (mainly kaz, though) are able to show because they know there's much more safety and trust there than ever before
- continuing the kaz hayfever agenda purely to exploit it because inej loves to have plants all over their house and fill their garden with flowers. he's usually fine cause antihistamines exist but on the off chance that he forgets to take them, or they've run out cause he's so stupidly sensitive, then basically all hell breaks loose and he is totally unable to catch a break from sneezing his HEAD OFF. obviously from the outside this seems kinda dense of him because why doesn't he just,,, get rid of all the flowers?? but he doesn't want to because he knows how much inej loves them and loves gardening. plus he's fine once he takes his meds so realistically what's the problem
- look i know i keep giving kaz every allergy ever but just hear me out okay. if you hate me for it you can pretend each allergy he has is a separate universe. anyway what if the dreadful combination of dust allergy and detergent/air freshener/surface cleaner/etc allergy (select as applicable). just LISTEN RIGHT. he's sneezy because of the dust, so he and inej decide to CLEAN. but then he's SNEEZY AGAIN because of the cleaning supplies. boom who's a genius? me. (or an idiot. i haven't decided yet)
- maybe as a follow on for The One Above, i thought maybe kaz is only all sneezy and itchy during the cleaning process so once they're done and the scent of it all is out of the air then he's fine. that seems reasonable right
(also yeah ive decided that all these allergy headcanons are probably too much for just one person to deal with. so take them as individual things rather than A Collective. (unless you too hate it when a man isn't sneezing 24/7 in which case yeah let's bombard the poor guy with every allergy known to man ill pick you up at seven.))
- when kaz gets sick he still instinctively tries to shut himself away out of fear of getting inej sick too, and also cause he doesn't want her to "waste her time" taking care of him when he's "absolutely fine" and there's "nothing to worry about it's just cold in here". however every single time he's got a cold inej somehow manages to convince him to let her care for him.
- cats! kaz and inej are definitely both cat people and they definitely both wanted a cat immediately after deciding to live together. i like to think that kaz doesn't know he's allergic to cats (since he never really interacts with any kind of animal during his time with the dregs yk ??) so when they go to actually get a cat he discovers this about himself when he becomes an itchy sneezy allergic MESS. but he still insists that inej gets the cat because again antihistamines exist and he has a massive soft spot for cats so as if he's gonna say no. (thinking that they definitely get a fluffy black cat, maybe a younger one that's SMALL AND SO CUTE (i also have a massive soft spot for cats!! could you tell))
- more on the dust allergy a bit: inej and kaz go on little dates all the time and one time they pay a visit to an old library that inej has been interested in for a while, but obviously seeing as the library is so old, all the books are so so dusty and literally every single one that kaz picks up to flick through makes him sneeze like nobody's business. he'd probably be halfway through trying to quiet an itchy fit in the collar of his coat and inej would just take the book out of his hands and guide him by his shoulders away from the cloud of dust that he wafted into the air. cute
- even more on that kind of a sidenote he'd definitely not have the common sense to move from an allergen while he's in a fit, like he just gets too caught up sneezing to even think about maybe Stepping Away cause he just wants to get it out of his system and for whatever reason distancing himself from the thing IN his system doesn't actually cross his mind until inej just sort of guides him away
- inej's care is always very doting, gentle, and loving. she'll always ask before touching him, for example to feel his forehead and check for fever. often if kaz is especially tired (which happens often when he's sick, bless him) she'll offer to hold a bunch of tissues gently to his face as he sneezes or blows his nose into them. aw also definitely a reassuring hand on his back when he's wracked with fits of coughing during particularly bad colds
- she blesses every single sneeze. i KNOW she does. since kaz usually sneezes in doubles (ARGRGRHHHHH (sorry about that went fucking FERAL for a second)) he'll always get a cute little "bless you, bless you!" from her. she is so. i love you inej
- however if he ends up having fits that's a lot of sneezes to bless all of them so she usually settles for a "bless you!" at the end
- also i feel like she might do that thing where the way she says bless you mimics the sound/pitch of the sneeze do you get me. like for example "heHh'ehHSHHhiew!" from kaz gets a "ble-heh-shiew!" from inej. Do you understand the vision i hope i don't sound stupid. anyway kaz hates when she does this (but not like hate in a mean way he's just embarrassed like pls. i have a reputation)
- Omg and inej definitely loves to tease him and say how adorable his nose is especially when it's all red and he's just STOP PLEASE MY DIGNITY
- sorry im losing the plot
- inej tries not to gift him bouquets because 1. he's allergic and 2. there's probably already enough plants in the house. however. kaz buys HER bouquets because he's a gentleman duh. but obviously the whole time he's walking/driving/i don't know what bloody transport they have he's gonna be such an itchy sneezy mess and by the time he actually gives the flowers to inej his eyes and nose are practically streaming and it's all he can do to fight off sneezing again as inej kisses him on the cheek with a giggle to say thank you
- also i love the age old scenario of sneezing while shopping for scented candles!! inej getting excited about all the pretty floral and seasonal scents while kaz is just behind her sniffling so much and his eyes are watering and he is just praying he doesn't end up sneezing a load cause he doesn't want inej to be sad. when he DOES start sneezing though - starting with near silent stifles of course (but inej notices of Course) - he'll tell inej over and over that he'll be fine if there's just one in the house and he's only sneezing now because there's so many on the shelves in front of him
- a lot of this post is just different iterations of "kaz is very allergic but he wants inej to be happy so he keeps being very allergic"
- inej also buys & makes tea for kaz instead of coffee when he's sick. she also sometimes makes some suli tea recipes that she remembers from her childhood for him cause she is the best
- while a lot of her caretaking is tender and loving and doting inej also knows that kaz likes to have his space, so sometimes she shows her care in the form of a mug of steaming tea, two aspirin, and a sticky note saying "feel better soon" waiting for him at his desk
- kaz also hates getting sick in general just the feel of it is gross to him. it's partly because he doesn't feel in control of himself as much and partly because it just feels so sticky and heavy and generally unpleasant. on the bright side inej thinks his stuffy voice is so cute
- ill list off a few brief ideas for other dates they'd go on and kaz would find himself more than a little sneezy: picnic date!! or just a walk/hike in spring when his hayfever is thriving, a cafe date when he's got a cold! so cute, obviously dusty library date like i said before and probably a lot more but i ran out of ideas
- right i know this is definitely a lot of sneezing for one single person to be doing in their life so honestly take all of these headcanons as separate entities because i do not believe it is RIGHT or FAIR to subject someone to as many allergies as i already have and will continue to do. anyway photic kaz. for some reason i like to think that he always without fail sneezes three times when it's suddenly bright (like when he steps outside from a dimmer room or if something shines in his face) and always without fail also will gear up for a fourth sneeze that never comes. three sneezes, then a gasp, then a sigh. Omg
- his photic sneezes are also softer than usual too idk thought id just add that
- right this is the last allergy ill talk about for him REMEMBER HE DOESNT HAVE ALL THESE ALLERGIES AT THE SAME TIME CAUSE THAT'S MEAN OF ME. (unless you want him to 🤭) but perfume allergies are SO. HOT. he loves the smell of inej's perfume, it's sweet and floral and so distinctly *her* but each time she spritzes it on herself he's sneezing. usually not too much though, upwards of like, five, and then he's okay
- inej also massively chastises kaz for stifling. literally every time he does it it's basically a lecture of why stifling is bad and why it's fine just let it out its only me and kaz is like. ok sorry
- thinking about INEJ. i think that her sneezes are quiet just cause she's sort of taught herself to be stealthy and silent and that's rubbed off on her sneezes. they're cute
- also she sneezes into cupped hands!! idk i just think that's so cute for her AH
- usually only sneezes once at a time (she's not nearly as sensitive to stuff as kaz is) however i do like to think that kaz had a cologne at one point that he used to wear primarily cause he didn't have another one and couldn't be bothered to Get another one and it made her sneeze a lot!! and for a while she had no idea what it was because she just seemed to be sneezing nonstop whenever she was close to him. it wasn't until they were getting ready together one morning that she realised it was his cologne making her sneeze - when he sprayed it as she was stood near him and she just!! did not stop!! kaz probably felt so bad he definitely immediately showered and threw the cologne away and kept apologizing to her even though she repeatedly told him it was fine and how was he supposed to know
- kaz isn't quite as teasy as inej is so he'll only bless her sneezes once (loser) and he doesn't like to make an ordeal out of it so he'll just mirror her sneeze's quietness with a soft mumbled "bless," and possibly a hand squeeze if they're holding hands. JUST thought that maybe if she sneezes a little louder or harsher than normal he'll extend to a "bless you," (you know what i mean right with the emphasis on the you part you get it right)
okay this is all i have for now. i will add more/reblog with more if i think of anything but THANKS FOR READING YAY and thanks for making it the way to the end of the incoherent drivel that i call headcanons i hope you didn't lose too many braincells
#WOOOO k strikes again#this is very heavily k/az centric btw but theres a decent few i/nej thoughts at the end cause shes so cutie and i love her#Sorry if this is very un-canon i might be blorboifying k/az too much but like it makes me happy so#anyway enjoy yay thanks LOVE U ALL#snz#snzblr#snz kink#k talks snz#snz blog#snzario#snzcanons#s/hadow and b/one
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haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 2 of 3
wc: 18k (yay!)
genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), a bit of fluff
warnings: wet dreams, jerking off, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, making out, praise kink, strength kink (? he's strong...) crying during sex, dirty talk, aftercare...? petnames (baby, princess), and ... names
needs to be read after part 1 i think!
a/n: shorter warnings list lmfao anyway.... i....this took me awhile but i really hope u enjoy this and the way it reads. let me know what you think and please be kind :) thank you thank you THANK YOU to every single one of you on my taglist and if you've sent me an ask, reblogged, or left a comment. i could not have finished this without u
haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — especially to you.
he knew what he was doing each time he showed up around you at a party, love bites staining his skin and hair messy and wild. he noticed the way you recognised the perfume on him with a crinkle of your nose, or the slight flicker of sadness in your eyes when his phone would vibrate against the bedside table, wandering to the names on his phone. he could feel the way your shoulders tensed when he smiled blankly at you, track your movements as you looked away when he was cozying up with someone else.
and most of all – he knew that beyond that, you couldn't go to him for all your hurt. and that was what would be most painful, the knowledge that everything you had to suffer was unjustified, feelings not tied to reason, because he never made you any promises.
haechan almost always knew of the hurt he caused — and he always hoped that his touch could be a good enough apology.
all throughout rehearsals, when they took the trip to the venue, back to when he had woken up that morning, something had stirred in his chest. he was never nervous before shows, but this time he fiddled with his guitar mindlessly, wandering over to the bar and ordering just a few drinks to hopefully dull the way his heart was racing in his chest, alcohol burning a path down his throat. he picked at the way his hair fell over his eyes, re-doing his makeup before the show with the black eyeliner that he couldn't hold without thinking of you. his bandmates watching him carefully, not knowing what had changed. he wouldn't be able to tell them if they'd asked.
it was only when the girl in the bathroom had stumbled away on shaky feet, leaving one last slick touch on his arm as a goodbye, when all his feelings that had ached in him that day came crashing down in his chest, that crushing weight he couldn't ignore each time he tried to breathe.
you had kissed him — and it felt like a promise.
it was this thought that now stung at him, as he watched the numbers on the screen of the elevator flick higher and higher. he had made his way to your apartment as if on autopilot, driving down streets now too familiar. he always knows the hurt he causes you — and he feels it now, like retribution, because even now he has no right to be angry at you. no right to blame you for his hurt, because while he had never made you promises, in reality you hadn't either.
but the reality was he was here now, knocking on your apartment door.
"y/n?"
there's warm light seeping out under your apartment door, he can see all your shoes on the rack outside. jaemin's not home, but you definitely are.
he knocks again, a bitter taste in his mouth.
"y/n, i know you're home."
his hand curls into a fist, and he hits it against the door, twice. he thinks he can hear something beyond the door, a clink of something like keys, so he raises his voice, the tone of it rough.
"are you happy now?"
mark has told him he gets vindictive when he's hurt or scared, has urged him to think before he speaks.
"does it make you feel like you have the upper hand? standing me up?"
but haechan can't distinguish what he's feeling right now.
"because i don't care at all," he spits, lies he'd never rehearsed, the alcohol mixing with thoughts he didn't even know he had, to inflict the cruelest hurt. "at least i know the girl i fucked didn't feel any different." his voice dips low, cold freezing over each syllable. "i hope you know even if you went, i still would've picked her. it didn't make any difference."
the night is still, and quiet. his words seem to swell in the air, ringing around in his head. he stands in front of the door, head lowered, hand still lingering on cool surface, breaths dragged out of his lungs painfully. he waits for so long, that he wonders if he was speaking to no one at all — if you'd been asleep, if he imagined the sounds beyond the door.
but then there's a soft click, and the door drifts open.
the moment haechan sees you, he feels it like a shot to his chest, because something was terribly wrong.
it's not just the tears running down your cheeks.
your face is blotchy and red, dark circles under your teary eyes, your hair mussed up and tangled. you're wrapped in layers of clothing despite the cool summer night, your body still trembling with cold, and when you speak, your voice is so hoarse and broken that it makes goosebumps break out over his skin — and an achy tone he never wanted to hear from you ever again.
"it didn't make a difference?"
his lips part. he tugs on his jacket, trying to to close it, to pull up his collar a little higher, but it's too late — your eyes are already reading the marks on his skin, drinking in every last detail of him. 5 minutes ago he had wanted nothing more than for you to open the door and see him exactly like this — lipstick smudged lips and fucked out eyes, the smell of fake roses clinging to each fibre of his clothing, the rips in his jeans tugged this way and that.
and all at once he knew — you had wanted to go, and he just accused you of the worst thing. you were going to go, and now he was forcing you to look at him like this. if the trip here made him feel vulnerable and bruised, he knew it must have felt like this for you too on the nights he didn't ask for you — the two of you sharing feelings that you weren't supposed to have, that you couldn't justify.
now haechan sees the way your face crumples, tears gathering on your waterline. you lift your hands to wipe them away, and it's like he can feel the way your chest shakes with wounded sounds and choked sobs, your fingers clenching into fists as you bite your lip to keep from bursting into tears.
"y/n-" he breathes. "are you…is everything —"
"s-so you didn't mean it? when you invited me?" you're trying to steady your breathing. every second that passes where he's watching you fall to pieces in the doorway feels like it's searing into haechan's skin, the heavy feeling in his chest increasing tenfold with guilt. he swallows, as he watches you take a few deep breaths. "i thought… i thought it meant…when you invited m-me you said you weren't making empty promises —"
"i wasn't." he bites his lip, taking a step towards you. "y/n —"
but you back away. "i was going to go, haechan. i was really going to go –"
"i know." he knew now.
" — but i've been sick since yesterday, and it wasn't getting any better, i couldn't leave the house –"
"why didn't you tell me?" he desperately wants to run away, but he knows it's worse for you.
your voice is small. "i don't have your number."
it had slipped his mind. it was something so stupid, something so small – how he never wanted to give you a way to talk to him, or give himself an easy way to access you, didn't want things to be too easy. all of it had slowly built up to that feeling each time he glanced at his phone that night, clutching the lifeless device in his hands.
the last thing he should do, if he ever wanted to see you again, is blame you. he bites back his question of why you didn't ask jaemin for help, wrapping his jacket around his body self-consciously, running a hand through his hair. "i forgot," he whispers. hurt flickers across your face again.
"i d-don't know why i thought this would be different." you wipe at your face, biting your lip again to keep from trembling. "i hoped that maybe, even if i couldn't show up, you'd come here and take care of me. when i heard you outside the door…"
the words have a bitter bite to them, and you spit them out like you hate the taste in your mouth, hate every memory associated with his care.
"i'll take care of you," he pleads, quickly, stepping towards you.
he doesn't know what he expected, if you'd showed up. maybe he'd play for you, and leave with your hand in his. maybe he could have taken you in his car, or in his soft sheets at home. brought you out for a late dinner, sit with you and let you pry him open as you always did. or maybe he'd say nothing at all, and nothing would have changed – he didn't know.
his touch has always been his apology, always his way of reaching you through the only sure thing the both of you wanted from each other. but the look on your face tells him that the brush of his fingertips against your skin is only cruelty.
"you're fucked up if you think i'm letting you take care of me now," your voice is grating, rough on his skin.
"but i-"
"you'll hold me like this? force me to stare at the marks on your chest? breathe the perfume that isn't yours?" your tone is harsh and accusatory. he takes it all. "what were you going to do, if i showed?"
and for once, haechan can't help but be honest. "i don't know," he mumbles, and he sees the words hit you like a strike to your face.
"you knew i wanted more," you whisper. "you knew i wanted to be close to you, but you always…you always –"
"wanted?" he asks, quietly.
"you can't think i still want to know you, after everything. whatever person lies behind all that…" your tears have stopped, your voice unfeeling. the numbness in you mirrors his own. "i want nothing to do with him."
he can't think of anything to say. he reaches out a hand, and for a moment you let his fingers graze your arm, fear and hurt in the way they curl around your wrist, begging you to hold on to him too. you're scaring him, and he doesn't know how to go back, but he knows he deserves everything you're saying to him. deserves the way you shake free of his hold and close the door, his feet stumbling over themselves as he backs away.
you said you didn't want to know him, that you didn't know him at all. but he can't help thinking that's not true, because you knew him enough to know exactly how to hurt him through the walls, through the boy he pretended to be, right through his chest and past his ribcage, right into his aching heart.
—
ever since your fever broke, your life had been quiet.
you go to all your classes. you cut down on coffee by getting sleep at night. you take walks with jaemin around the neighborhood, falling back into old routines. movie nights, and grocery trips. he was coddling you, and you felt it every day — coming home to warm meals, the way he was more forgiving over little disputes. you didn't deserve it, watching him slip out of the front door quietly, camera bag slung over his shoulder.
you didn't deserve it, because you ached to follow.
some part of you was still trapped inside your room, heady and aching, desperately trying to reach him. needing his apology, needing him to recognise the way he hurt you. you couldn't look for answers in your memories, but you played each scene back in your mind like a looping film reel, letting images suffocate you — his jacket falling open, love bites marking his skin, all the times he's slipped from your grasp. and yet, other fragments come back too — the warmth of his hand on yours in the car, the slight tilt of his head as he brought his gaze level with yours, seeking you out when things got too much. his quiet answers in the dark, the slow smile that spread across his face that made you glow, knowing you'd made him happy.
"he got off lightly," you tell jaemin one night, the both of you on the floor by the couch. ice cream and wine drip condensation on the table-top, and the both of you are too heavy with the rush of sugar and alcohol, the clock ticking in the silence of the room as you sit.
"you just want to see him again," he'd replied, quietly. "don't you?"
"i just wish we could have talked." your voice is small. you and haechan never truly talked, except for some nights in the dark, lying in his arms afraid to breathe, afraid of breaking the tenderness that swelled in the room, afraid of turning on the lights to see who you were holding in the shadows.
"and then what? you'd be together?" jaemin glances over at you, and the concern in his eyes makes you shrink back even more. you were supposed to be doing better. everything in your life was right, it was exactly the way it should be — but why did you feel empty?
"then i'd at least have closure," you mumble. "i'm never going to get any answers unless i talk to him."
a brief expression of discomfort crosses jaemin's face, but it's gone when you blink.
"i just don't want you to see him again, and forget all the ways he hurt you."
you don't say a word. both of you knew that it was something too likely to happen.
—
it's dark in haechan's room. the boy liked it shadowy, black-out curtains drawn over the windows, the air cool from air-conditioning, an air humidifier spewing light blue mist in the corner. the boy sitting in bed had his guitar in his lap, picking at the strings quietly, his phone face-up on the bed next to him, recording his ideas. he was swaddled in a large hoodie, swallowing his frame, shorts riding high on his thighs as he curls into himself.
he doesn't look up when mark shuffles in, closing the door behind him quietly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the low light.
"jaemin's outside."
haechan nods. "i heard you." his voice is a soft sound, boyish. mark has heard it enough growing up, that he knows haechan is scared. he knows haechan is waiting for answers, waiting for the verdict.
"he says he'll only continue to work with us if you stop seeing… y/n."
the name trips in his mouth, clumsy. it feels strange to use it, especially around haechan, who knows you more than any of them do, like he's saying something he's not allowed to, a boy using an expletive he doesn't understand. haechan's body tenses when he hears your name in mark's voice, predictable, almost laughable — the slight tightening of his nimble fingers on the neck of the guitar, slip of his fingers on the guitar pick.
"okay." and the boy goes back to playing.
"you'll stop seeing y/n?"
"yeah." mark moves closer to the bed, sees haechan's lower lip caught in his teeth.
"haechan, stop."
the boy shakes his head roughly, plucking at the strings a little harder.
"what happened? what happened between you and y/n?"
"i'll stop seeing her."
"stop acting like i don't know you," mark mumbles, finally sitting down on the bed. haechan stills, as mark pulls the guitar away from him, his hands going limp as he lets mark set it down at the foot of the bed. "i hate it when you do that."
"i'm sorry." a beat, then haechan buries his face in his hands, pulling at his features, before letting his arms drop down to the bed again. "could you…could you at least tell her?"
"tell her what?"
"that jaemin told me to stay away." haechan fiddles with the hem of his shirt, head still lowered. "i…i shouldn't be the one avoiding her. she should be avoiding me."
"is there a difference?"
"yeah." he mumbles his words, plush lips barely forming each syllable. "because i hurt her. i can't hurt her and then ignore her…that's…that's not right."
"so you want to keep seeing her?"
"i just want…" his voice is hollow, and when he looks up at mark — the dim light in the room catching on the features of his face, mark can finally see the way his lips were raw, skin torn and bitten. his eyes, usually sharp and piercing, are puffy and swollen from crying, dazed pupils blinking up at him. "mark, i don't think i've ever hurt someone like this before."
mark wonders what he could have done, but he doesn't ask. "do you want to make it right?"
"i don't know how." he swallows, throat bobbing. "i don't know if i can."
"maybe avoiding her isn't the best thing…" mark starts, putting a hand on haechan's arm, but haechan flinches.
"the band will kill me. jeno will kill me." mark opens his mouth to argue, but already haechan is leaning back against the headboard, head lowered and looking down at his lap. "i'll do it. i won't see her again."
"it'll be fine" mark reassures, softly. "in a few weeks, after a few more people, you'll forget all about her."
neither of them really believed it.
—
as jaemin sits on the couch — jeno sprawled on an armchair with jisung perched on the armrest, mark sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, he thinks about how these boys have become his close friends. he fits in with them in a way he never has with his other clients — evenings spent photographing them, understanding them through the lens of his camera. cycling trips with jeno, bringing out mark's competitive streak as they drank in the kitchen, babying jisung and taking care of him when the other bandmates weren't around to do so.
and of course, getting to know haechan — teaching him how to use a camera, chatting with him easily about the city. if jaemin was to be honest, haechan intimidated him a little with how guarded he was, every sentence he spoke to jaemin felt like it'd been turned over a million times in his head, each word careful and poised. he also disappeared for long periods of time, sometimes never there during parties.
now jaemin knew what the time had been spent on. who he'd spent it on.
"we're really sorry." it's mark who speaks up first. jisung nods in agreement, while jeno looks on.
"i don't need you to be sorry," mumbles jaemin. "it's not your fault."
"still…" mark scratches the back of his close-cropped hair tentatively. "he mentioned it."
"what did he say?"
"he didn't tell us everything," jisung says, voice hushed. his hair falls over his eyes as he ducks his head in thought. "mostly just told us to stay away."
"did he sound like he wanted them to be exclusive?"
mark and jisung exchange a glance, but it's jeno's voice that answers just as mark's lips part.
"no." when jisung bites his lip, jeno raises his eyebrows, annoyed. "are you kidding? he just said he fucked her more often, and that we should fuck off."
jisung looked wounded. "he didn't say that."
"but that's what he meant."
"mark?"
jaemin calls out to the boy, bringing him out of his thoughts. mark was staring at his own hands, a frown creasing his face.
"haechan agreed," he says, slowly. your name lingers on the tip of his tongue as he says it, like he's tasting the sound, the unfamiliarity of it in his mouth. "i…i think i might know what's going on with haechan, but it's up to him to explain, not me."
"so he won't see her anymore?"
the words come easily to jaemin. he knew it was the deal he was going to make the moment he texted mark to ask if they could talk. he was willing to lose his growing friendship with the rest of the boys if it could give you peace, if all of you could go back to the way things were.
he think back to how he found you — struggling to head out of the door the previous day, barely able to make it to the door, the fever burning up your brain and making your bones ache. he thinks of coming back home to you after he'd went to the pharmacy to get you medicine, slipping his shoes off at the door and immediately knowing that something had changed, from the tears streaming down your face.
"how did this happen?"
"he came to see me" you mumble, struggling with the sleeves of the thick sweater you were trying to pull your arms through. the moment you straighten, you wince as a dull pain throbbed through your head, hunching over again as stars blinked in your vision.
"haechan?"
he sets down the bag of medicine on the kitchen counter, picking up the thermometer and pointing it at your forehead. the light on the screen blinks red, and his eyebrows furrow, the displeased expression on his face only growing stronger.
"why did you open the door?" he asks, slowly. "i thought we talked about this."
"i thought…." your voice is scratchy, as pressure seems to rise inside your skull, pain that made your eyes tear up. it's laughable that you thought he would take care of you, and instead he ripped you to pieces. tears well up in your eyes again, and your lips part, only to let out a small sob.
he grips onto your arm, gently but firmly, steering you back towards your room. you don't have any strength to fight back, it felt like the temperature in the room was at freezing point even though jaemin was only wearing a thin shirt and shorts, and the ache in your bones made every movement shoot pain through your nerves. even after lying down on your bed, swaddled in blankets, the dim light slightly easing the pain in your head, you were too weak to lift your head, stretching your fingers out over the blanket and crawling towards where jaemin's hand rested on the sheets.
he held your hand and listened to you talk, knowing you needed to let it all out. he didn't judge, he didn't make faces. just listened with his eyes closed as you told him about meeting haechan, the way he pulled you away from everyone else and how you'd followed. he observed you quietly through his lashes as you sniffled, breaths breaking up your words.
the story got harder to tell when you recounted moments of his tenderness — when he'd call you his, when he took care of you, when he'd promise to be harsh with you but never went through with it, the way his face fell when you cried. you stuttered and hesitated through it all, because you didn't know if any of it was real or just imagined.
jaemin knows he could have hurt you further — broken every last illusion, pierced through the image of haechan you had in your head. but he didn't have the heart to, so this was the best he could do — making sure it stopped.
"it's done," mark nods, but he looks unhappy.
jaemin doesn't feel the weight lift from his chest like he thought it would. he feels jisung move to sit next to him, a hand on his shoulder as he observes his face.
"i'm really sorry," he mumbles, lips barely moving.
"it's not your fault," jaemin replies, leaning back against the cushions, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
—
haechan is dreaming again.
except it's more memory than dream, the way you're laid up against the pillows, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaves kisses on your inner thighs. it's so vivid, the way you taste, the twitch of your muscles as you tense around him, the small gasp as he pulls away to sit back on his knees.
"please-" you whimper, needy from being teased. scrabbling, you bring your knees to your chest, hands trembling as you hook them on your thighs, tears smearing your cheeks with a dewy glow. you were trying to keep your voice quiet, small sounds barely escaping your lips as you bit down on them, pleading with him through murmurs and barely coherent words. his shirt on your body crinkled everywhere from how he'd been grabbing at it, the long sleeves falling over your palms. it was straight out of a wet dream, which it now was, as you begged him to fuck you, your wet folds slick with spit and arousal as you bared yourself to him, pleading with him to sink into you.
in memory, he croons. he gives you what you asked for — pressing your weight into the mattress as he pushes into you, feel you pulse around him as he goes in hard and deep, feel your body trembling against his.
but in dream, he can be honest enough with himself to admit that it scares him when you cry. that his stomach twists when he hears you beg, like missing a step on a staircase, a second where he's rushing into nothing — not knowing if he'd made you like this, not knowing if he was hurting you. from the girl shaking against him, clumsy hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and you now — hips rocking into nothing, desperate for him.
"i'm here," he whispers, gently taking your hands and slowly lowering your legs down to the bed. he kisses you until your breathing calms and slows, your hands now on the sides of his face, caressing his cheeks. he likes how you touch him as if you could ever bruise him, loving brushes of your fingertips, urgency making your fingers curl into his skin, hesitant scratches on his shoulders that your hands skitter away from.
in dream, he pushes into you slowly, watching the way your lips part, breath caught in your chest, eyes fluttering closed as you take him in. wet sounds fill the room as he begins to move his hips, your face shyly tucked into his chest, your ankles sweetly hooked against his lower back as you melt together. the feelings in his chest intensifying the pleasure he feels from you wrapped around him. his eyes meet yours as you blink up at him, and it's so real — the way you glow against the sheets of his bed, eyes all soft and sparkling with tenderness.
but then he wakes in the same bed: the feeling of you under him, the crash of his heartbeat in his chest, all of it hanging in the dark, a lingering tattoo on his body.
—
so it's almost like a dream, when he opens the door to the stranger's bedroom, to see you slumped on the floor.
the din from below echoes through the hall, the sounds of the overwhelming crowd seeping into the room and reminding him of why he was here. he'd been looking for a quiet place to be alone — the constant eyes on him making him feel self-conscious and jumpy.
back at the apartment, jeno had said he wasn't being like himself, that he hadn't been himself in a long time, the memory of his laugh ringing in haechan's ears as he climbed upstairs. when has a crowd ever bothered you? when have you ever hated attention?
he didn't know the answers.
now haechan stands in the doorway, not believing his eyes. there was no way you'd known he would be here, alone. you're curled in on yourself on the floor, leaning against the bed with your knees tucked to your chest, eyes shut. your body is still, and for just a while longer he lets himself watch you for just a moment — drink in every single detail he'd missed even if it felt like teasing open his own wounds with fingers caked in salt. the rise and fall of your chest, your hair mussed up and falling over your face, the slope of your shoulders, your arms.
and suddenly he's back in his bed, your weight the only thing he was sure of against his chest, drunk on the soft sounds you made, lips barely forming his name.
you don't know he's here yet. he could walk away, leave you by yourself. but something in him told him he couldn't leave you like this in the middle of a party, barely conscious in a stranger's bedroom. before he knows what he's doing, before he can fathom the consequences, he's kneeling before you, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your body. you reek of alcohol, stirring when you feel the weight of the leather on your body, your tongue numb and heavy in your mouth, eyelashes feeling stuck to your cheeks as you struggle to open your eyes.
"y/n?" haechan whispers, choking on the sound of your name.
"haech-" you trail off, fingers coming up to rub your eyes sleepily, the jacket slipping slightly. "haechan." it's the way you say it, like your tongue is too afraid to form the syllables, like something you can't bear to say.
"i-i'm going to find someone," he mumbles, backing away from you, clumsily trying to get to his feet. "you stay here, i'll –"
"don't go-" the words almost get lost from the way you're slurring, lips barely moving, shaking your head as you reach for him again. your fingers slip on the sleeve of his shirt, before curling and holding on tight. "please don't leave."
"i…" pain flickers over his features. he bites his lower lip, body moving towards yours instinctively, your hand crawling up his sleeve and grasping for his arm, fingers digging to the bone as you tremble. but then he feels your breath on his neck, and he pulls away again.
"what happened, y/n? did someone hurt you?" he feels like a hypocrite.
"no," you say, meekly. "i think i just had too much to drink."
"did you come with jaemin?"
you shake your head, nuzzling into him in a way that makes his heart pulse painfully in his chest. "i don't know anyone here."
he still thinks he should get help from any of the girls downstairs. even as you meld yourself a little closer to him, he's almost certain you wouldn't be acting this way if you were sober.
"y/n, i can't. please just let me call jaemin–"
"want you here." you reach for him again, trying to pull him impossibly closer, fitting his body against yours. "don't want jaemin to see me like this."
it dawns on him that besides jaemin, he was the only one you felt comfortable around like this. it wouldn't be the first time he's taken care of you when you were vulnerable or weak, and his body reacts out of habit — pulling you into his arms, his hands gently patting your back as you blink back tears in the crook of his neck. but it still didn't feel right, knowing he was the one who had caused this, and yet he was here holding you.
"let me talk to someone downstairs – i'll see if they can take you home," he murmurs. you bury your face deeper in his neck, shaking your head. "just 5 minutes, okay? i just need 5 minutes —"
"don't want someone to bring me home," you rasp, and his gut twists painfully when i feels your tears damp on his skin. "i don't want to go back to my place. i want to go with you."
"you're going to regret this," he says, softly. to him it's the truth you're not sober enough to see, even if it hurt to tell you. "you don't really want this, y/n."
"is it because you want to find someone else?" your words are soft-edged, lips forming the words carefully, but it pierces him all the same. "is it- is it because you want to bring someone else home?"
"no," he answers, quiet. "i haven't…not in a while."
"so you just don't want to be around me?"
his mind is racing, desperately trying to think of how he could help you, but his mind was coming up with nothing. that same feeling he always had around you — protectiveness intersecting with the ache in his chest everytime your eyes met his, all of it roaring in his ears, louder than the cacophony from any party. for all the times he's claimed he knew what was good for you, he's begun to realise that he has a terrible grasp on how not to hurt you.
"you don't want to be around me," he corrects, but his fate is sealed when you let out a small sob, muffled against his shirt.
and he takes you home.
—
you watch him through your lashes, as he swipes a cotton pad on your face, cleaning off your makeup.
"close your eyes," he mumbles, a slight pout forming on his lips from how hard he was concentrating, trying to be gentle with you. his touches are far too light, and you're sure your makeup is still on your face, but you let your lashes flutter shut anyway, feeling a featherlight brush against your eyelid as he holds it against your eye. dropping the used pad into a small bin, he brings a warm, damp towel up to your face, the material of it soft against your skin.
"can you brush your teeth?" he holds a toothbrush up to your face, but he withdraws it once your hands come up to hold it, completely misjudging the distance and landing on his shoulders instead. "open," he coaxes, parting his own lips so you'd mimic him. he smiles fondly as you open your mouth wide, a hand coming up to hold your face in place. "good girl," he mumbles, and you preen at the praise that shines through your drunken haze, following his instructions to rinse out your mouth.
there's a short pause. having brushed out your hair, removed your makeup and brushed your teeth, the only thing to do next was to get you to bed.
your legs squeeze around his hips, your back against the mirror on his bathroom counter. "haechan," you mumble, tipsiness making you swallow your words. "don't…my clothes…"
"i'll leave them on," he promises, ignoring the way your tight dress looks uncomfortable and unclean to sleep in. "don't worry." of course you don't feel comfortable around him, not after everything.
but for some reason, you're shaking your head, two clumsy hands closing in on one of his and guiding them to your back. "take them off. please–" you add, when he hesitates. "please help me."
"of course," he murmurs, familiarity sparking in his fingertips as they grasp for the zipper, a sense of dejavu in how he drags it down your spine slowly, your back arching slightly. you look at him, drink in the proximity like the first taste of rain after a heatwave — the pretty cut of his eyes, the way his pupils float upwards as he focuses on your back through the mirror. the round tip of his nose, and finally the plushness of his heart-shaped lips. it feels like reprieve, the ache in you finally soothed by the way his breath fans over your cheeks, a gentle balm on an open wound. you lean forward slightly into him as if drawn by a magnetic field, one of your hands coming up to trace the arches of his cupid's bow.
"y/n?" you can feel his lips move, soft like rose petals on your fingertips. "what are you doing?"
"you haven't called me baby all night," you blurt out. "or…or princess." your thumb dips to brush against his lower lip, before he's catching hold of your hand and pulling it away from his face gently.
"i shouldn't," he mumbles, pressing a light kiss to your fingertips before letting go. "i can't."
your dress has gone loose around your body, and you push the sleeves off your shoulders with your hands, letting the fabric drop to your waist. you observe him, watching the way he swallows, throat bobbing when his eyes dart to your chest, lace draped over your curves.
"haechan," you murmur, but then he turns, hands now fumbling with a pile of his clean clothes. he holds out a clean shirt to you, bunching it up at the collar to slip your head through it, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.
"i want that one," you say, softly, pointing to a long sleeved shirt you'd remembered wearing before in the room he'd shared with the boys. something flickers in his eyes, his hands curling into fists before he picks it up. he's putting it over your head, the soft cotton hanging off your shoulders, his hands coming close to your body to guide your arms into the sleeves, until you can't take it anymore.
"haechan, don't you want me?"
his lips part, his hands stilling, slowly unfurling his grasp on you and placing his palms on the counter. "y/n…"
"why aren't you-" you look up at him, biting your lip, your tongue too slow to form the thoughts your mind was racing with. "why haven't you touched me yet? do you not want me like this?"
his heart splinters and fractures. you were so used to it — used to all his touches leading to kisses, kisses leading to him all over your body. "you're drunk." it's the only thing he can say.
"i know what i'm doing," you fire back, but your words lilt and smear together. "ask me anything and i can answer you right now."
but all he does is resume putting your arms through the sleeves, your limbs pliant against him as always, and soon you're completely covered up, and he can breathe a little easier. his strong arms grip your waist, and you're like a ragdoll in his grip as he guides you to stand, the dress at your hips falling, the shirt brushing the top of your thighs.
it gets worse when he sets you down in his bed. in another universe, this might be a moment of bliss for him, something romantic and sweet in the way your body curves against his pillows, sinking down into them and blinking up at him hazily. but guilt still thunders in his chest, his vision split by lightning bolts of fear. you would wake up hating him. he would never stop hurting you. you would never want to see him again.
your arms slide up his, grasping for him. "please," you plead, your voice small. "what did i do wrong? why don't you want to touch me?"
"you didn't do any wrong," he murmurs, as he lets his weight sink into bed next to you, feel you curl up against him. just for a minute he tells himself — just until you fall asleep. your weight on his chest feeling like someone had doused his body with warmth, a comfort that made his eyes prickle with tears. "y/n, you're perfect," he whispers, the words melting into the dark.
"don't say that." he feels tears wet against the soft fabric of his shirt over his chest. "stop saying my name."
"baby," he amends. "sweetheart, go to sleep."
you hum. "haechan."
"don't," he echoes.
"what's wrong?" you mumble, your question heavy with sleep.
he grips onto you tighter, holding you fiercely as tears cloud his vision.
"i'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "i'm so so so sorry." when you don't respond, he nuzzles into your hair, freckling wet kiss on your forehead. "i'm sorry," he repeats, long after you've fallen asleep.
—
you wake up to the sound of laughter ringing out against the walls.
the room is as dim as it was last night — dark curtains drawn and the lights turned off. time seemed to have come to a standstill, you couldn't tell if it had been days or weeks or even months since you'd fallen asleep. your body ached, still heavy with sleep while your mind cleared — it had been a while since you've slept this well.
blinking your eyes open, you slowly sit up, feeling sheets warm and soft against your skin. you sit there, dazed, getting your bearings as you survey the unfamiliar room again. your clothes, folded on a small couch next to the window. your jewelry on the bedside table, your phone plugged in to the charger.
the only thing you recognised was the long sleeved shirt unmistakeable on your body, the familiar smell of perfume and body lotion in every fiber of the sheets.
stumbling over to the bathroom, the warm light brings back every memory — the party, the drinks, stumbling upstairs into a room as your consciousness slipped away, and then haechan, haechan, haechan. haechan leading you out of the party, taking you home in his car, taking care of you. your fingers ghost over your forehead, where you swear he kissed you just before you woke up.
you turn off the tap. in the silence, there's another round of giggles, bright like a child's, and then —
"baby, don't move!"
haechan's voice rings lighter than you've ever heard it, and the smile in it is evident. this is a voice without shadows, fondness in every lilt and inflection. with something like urgency, you dry your hands on your shirt, padding out of his room, hesitantly blinking into the sunlit living room.
you almost don't believe your eyes.
haechan is sitting on the couch, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pink lips stuck out in a pout. sitting on the floor, cross-legged between his knees, was a little girl — her hands busy with a doll, while her own hair was being meticulously braided and arranged by the boy…whose head snaps up the moment he hears the creak of the door.
"you're awake," he blurts out, and the girl looks up.
"hi!" she waves shyly, leaning forward towards you, but whining as the motion tugs on her hair instead. "hyuck! it hurts…"
his eyes finally dart away from yours. "i'm sorry," he murmurs, lightly massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers.
"you're making it messy —"
"right, sorry." he grabs a sparkly pink hairbrush and combs through her hair gently, beginning to rebraid. the girl goes back to her doll, settling back down and quickly losing interest in you.
his eyes flick up to yours again, the tiniest hint of blush on his cheeks. "did you sleep well?"
you nod, feeling like you'd walked in on something you weren't supposed to.
haechan studies your face, a strand of hair falling from his grasp before he tucks it in diligently. "are you hungover? there were painkillers on the bedside table, i don't know if you saw…"
"i'm fine," you croak out.
"and there's breakfast on the table," he murmurs, ducking his head back down to focus on the impressive french braid he was attempting. he looks back up when he feels you staring, as if fixed to the ground beneath your feet.
"is she…?"
"this is my baby sister," he answers, smiling softly. "sorry, i didn't know she was coming over today. her kindergarten is near here so sometimes i walk her to school." and then, with a nod towards the table, "please eat — i made too many sandwiches."
the girl smiles, mumbling softly to herself. "hyuckie makes the best sandwiches."
you can see 'hyuckie' blush at that, his lips pressed together tightly to keep in his smile as he pokes the little girl's cheek softly, going back to the braid. you cross over to the dining table, feet shuffling slowly, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the two siblings, watching the fondness in haechan's eyes. quietly pulling out a chair, you sit down and pick up a sandwich, holding it gingerly between your fingers.
a hushed voice breaks the silence, and you turn to see his sister, cupping her lips against haechan's ear whispering so loud that her words fill the room. "is she your friend?" the girl asks, pointing her pinky finger at you, head tilted with curiosity. haechan's head tilts too, but his eyes wander over to yours as he hesitates.
"yes, she's my friend," he says, slowly. "we're…good friends." sliding the hair ties from his wrist, he finally finishes tying off the braid, before giving the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder. "you can play for 5 more minutes okay? hyuckie needs to talk to his friend."
her round eyes blink at you as she slowly gets to her feet, before tottering over to the window, where another pile of dolls lay. haechan clears his throat, before shuffling over to you and sitting down in a chair next to yours.
although he adjusts himself to face you, he keeps his distance – legs drawn in under the chair, hands placed carefully on his knees in a way you'd never seen him do before. it feels like the space between the both of you spans for entire oceans and continents, an invisible force field that holds weight against your limbs, keeping you from leaning in, incapable of even moving your fingertips.
"are you sure you're okay?"
he looks at you — his expression soft like wax melting around a candle wick.
"do you…do you remember how you got here?"
you nod, taking a deep breath. "the party?"
"i'm sorry that you're here like this," he says, quietly. "i didn't know you were going to be there, i wasn't trying to corner you, i swear."
you nod, dazed.
"are you upset with me? for bringing you here?" at the conflict in your expression, he adds on, hurriedly, "i-i know it wasn't the best thing to do. i could've called jaemin, or mark, or anyone downstairs…it's just that i didn't know…i didn't know if it would be okay–"
" — i'm not upset," you cut him off, the pressure easing as you raise a hand jerkily to place it over his. "i believe you. thank you for taking care of me last night."
he exhales slowly, and when he speaks he sounds even more troubled than before. "you…you shouldn't thank me. you shouldn't thank me for anything."
his eyes dart over to his little sister, checking in on her, and the sense that you're intruding on something creeps up on you again.
haechan had been right — there was so much of him you didn't know. you hardly recognised the boy sitting beside you, despite a vague sense of comfort and familiarity in the slightest traces of his expression, the look in his eyes, his thumb absentmindedly stroking yours. it scared you.
you withdraw your hand, pushing your chair a little further from his, the scrape of it dissonant in your ears. "so, uh, i'll just wait downstairs for the taxi if you don't feel comfortable —"
"taxi?" he looks at you, confused.
"i…i should go now, right?"
"i wasn't going to ask you to go," he says, his voice small. "i was…i was hoping we could talk."
"talk?" you echo. after weeks of nothing? "now?"
"i mean, not right now-" he glances over at the clock, wincing. "but can you stay today?"
there's a pause. you don't think you've ever been able to read him — you've spent days second-guessing every emotion you thought he had, the meaning behind each expression, whether he ever told the truth. but something about him like this makes you hesitate, made your breath catch in your throat. all the ways you've tried to learn how to be immune to his words and his touch slowly melting away, because that was your defense against the version of haechan you thought you knew before.
"i'll understand if you say no," he says, quietly. "but i have things i need to say to you. please."
you don't know what to do.
"hyuckie?"
you both turn. haechan's baby sister is waddling over, her fist clenched around her hair ties as the last remnants of the french braid unravel from her head. she sniffles. "it fell."
haechan's eyes dart back to you quickly, before refocusing his attention away. "it's okay-" he soothes, taking the hair ties from her as he swipes the pad of his thumb on her cheek, brushing off the teardrops that have begun to spill from her lashes. his lips jut out into a pout, his head tilting to meet her gaze. "let's just tie it up and go to school, hm?"
"but i want it in a braid…"
"i can't finish it in time," he says, gently, touching the strands of her hair. "i'm sorry. i promise, we'll do it next time, okay?"
her lip wobbles. "but…"
"let me help," you say, suddenly.
he turns, round eyes wide. "what?"
"i'll do her hair. you still need to get her things right?"
he nods, a little dazed. "really?"
"i'll stay," you murmur, and you slip the hair ties from his loose fingers and sling them around your wrist. "i need to talk to you too."
you can feel his eyes on you as he coaxes his sister towards you, the girl shyly hiding her face in your hands as you swiftly braid two pigtails down her back. he still watches you out of the corner of his eye as he packs her bag, noting the way you listen to her babble on about her days at the school, the way you help adjust the straps of her backpack onto her tiny frame.
he looks at you like he's never seen you before. you think you know the feeling.
—
the bed dips under his weight as he sits down.
"hey," you hear him murmur, and you stir. his hair falls over his face, and he's changed out of his clothes, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perches on his dainty nose. it's foreign, and new…until he pushes back his hair boyishly with an open palm, flicking his head like a puppy after a swim, and the skip in your heartbeat feels all too familiar in your ribcage.
"did you get her to school?"
he nods. "i got us lunch too. and stopped to get groceries." studying your face, he leans in. "i didn't want to wake you up so soon. do you feel better?"
you hum. the morning now seemed like just a dream — haechan and his sister, the breakfast sandwiches. he'd left to walk her to school, telling you to rest in his bed until he got home. now, late afternoon light seeps into the room through the open door, until haechan gets up to close it, once again sealing the room in cozy darkness.
"may i…?" he lifts up the corner of the covers, and you nod, easing yourself to the side as he gets into bed, leaning up against the headboard, his eyes trained on his lap. you lay on your side, that same feeling — as if you couldn't reach out and touch him, as if he existed in a world of his own without you, slowly settling in your body like a familiar ache.
but then there's a shift — and you can feel his gaze warm on your skin. you blink up at him, his pupils focused on yours, pools of the darkest molten brown sucking you into his world. he wets his lips with his tongue nervously, taking a shuddering breath.
"y/n, i'm really sorry."
your heart squeezes a little in your chest. "for?"
"for what i said that night…when i thought…when you didn't show up." he takes another breath. "and for not trusting you, for going to your place after i...." his fists clench the fabrics of the sheets, twisting it in his hands.
you bite your lip. "haechan —"
" — i'm not done." he swallows, voice dipping low. "you were right. i knew you wanted more, i always knew exactly when i hurt you. but i never tried…i never tried to change anything. i'm sorry." his hands reach towards yours for a second, but he hesitates, dropping them back on his lap.
"what would you have changed?" you ask, softly.
"i could have stopped seeing you," he murmurs.
you smile, sadly. "i'm not convinced that would have hurt any less." that was something you knew for sure.
"and i don't think i could have stopped myself," he admits.
"haechan," his eyes move to yours. "why did you invite me?" his breathing picks up, and you want desperately to comfort him, to curl up on his lap and soothe him, but you knew the both of you were afraid of what would happen if you touched. knew the possibility that you'd try to find answers in skin-on-skin, lips-on-lips, and the possibility that it would all be lost in translation again.
"i'm sorry, –" he looks at you sadly. "i think i was just trying to get you to stay. i…" he chews on his lip, glasses sliding a little lower on his slender nose bridge as his head dips. "i regret what i said, but some of it was true. i don't know what i would have done, and i don't think i was ready for…for what you thought it was."
you nod, cheek rubbing against soft sheets, thinking about what he said. "haechan, i don't regret not going. i only wished i'd done it intentionally."
"yeah?" he whispers. the sound sticks in his throat.
"if you hadn't found me yesterday…would you still have looked for me? talked to me? i'm not hurt that you didn't find me sooner-" you cut in, when you see the guilt on his features, the parting of his lips in apology. "time apart….time apart was good. i needed it to clear my head. i….i couldn't stop myself around you."
he doesn't say anything, for a while. "jaemin came over," he says, slowly. "and he said i couldn't talk to you or he would stop working with the band and it was decided for me."
"he what?"
haechan shakes his head. "i don't blame him. i'm not going to pretend that i couldn't have still talked to you if i really wanted to. i'm selfish enough to do that, i'll admit. i didn't reach out because i didn't know what to say, and i didn't know what i wanted."
"and now?"
he closes his eyes. "time apart was good," he murmurs, echoing your words. "it gave me a chance to go back to a time before."
your breath catches.
" — but i couldn't. i don't think i can take it any longer. i missed you, y/n. i miss you now, even as you're here."
"you miss me?"
something bothered you about it, hearing him say those words. when he'd pulled you away repeatedly in the weeks you've known each other, when he came for you time and time again, was that missing you too? were things different now?
"i miss spending time with you," he says, almost timidly. "not just…not just sex. everything. i know it's selfish…" his eyes blink open, and he pushed his glasses up, avoiding your gaze. "i didn't mean to pressure you to come back. you can forget i said that."
he shakes his head, trying to clear it.
"i just wanted to tell you i'm sorry for hurting you."
you'd never dared hope for a real apology from him. some part of you expected, or even secretly wished, he would find you again after that night, lie through his teeth to win you back. and in the weeks that followed, you took his silence to mean he didn't even care enough to do that.
and now here you were, sitting with him. after days and nights, he's had time to really mean his words — he wasn't himself, which is maybe why you believed he was telling the truth.
you think you know now, why he refused to let you in. why he hadn't wanted to take your first time, something so intimate and romantic that it would have pierced right through the layers he'd built up around himself. why he drew away so many nights when your touch lingered on each others' skin, when you wanted him to stay.
"haechan," you say, quietly. "i need you to understand that i…that i've learned how to be hurt by you. i don't want to go back to how we were before."
he nods, quickly. "of course."
"and…you say you knew i wanted more. so you know that i wanted to be with you…romantically, right?"
"i know." the words are so quiet, you barely catch them.
"if…if i come back, i don't think i want that anymore." you say, gentle, but firm. jaemin was right — you couldn't let yourself forget all the ways he hurt you. "i associate us with too much hurt. i can't trust you with my heart, can you understand that?"
there's silence. he's nodding, but when his lips part, he's wordless.
"haechan?"
"i understand," he murmurs. "i'm…i didn't…" he breaks off, fiddling with the covers, lip caught in his teeth. "whatever happens next will only happen on your terms," he says, softly. "i only want to do what you want to do, okay?"
your brow furrows. "but haechan, if you don't feel comfortable with something –"
"i'm fine as long as you still want to see me," he whispers.
"if you don't want to let me in, i won't push anymore." you realize you truly mean it when you make the offer out loud. even if it hurt to know that you may never see him like this again, you press on, jaemin's advice resurfacing in your mind again. "you don't owe me any more of yourself. if you want it to just be sex, we can do that – but you have to commit to it too. so no more getting jealous, or —"
" – that's not possible."
"you're not making any sense." you should've been hurt, but sitting here now — looking at him, the way he melts into his room, fuzzy at the edges, soft curves of his face, you can't feel any of it. finally, you're beginning to see that he's just as lost as you are. his head is still bowed low, taking in every word you say like a weight he carries upon him.
"it's not possible because you already know me. you know enough of me that i couldn't perform with you in the crowd, can't be myself around you at a party. i can't stand there onstage, do things like eyefuck girls and play the guitar and pretend to be someone else, while feeling your eyes on me. you'd see right through me."
he sounds like he's on the verge of tears, his voice achy and raw. and as you look up at him, tears are smudging on his waterline, his cheeks glistening as he sniffles.
"i said i'd be fine with anything," he breathes shakily, as he starts to cry, sharp inhales punctuating his words. "and i am, i really am. i-i'm not in the position to set terms. it's fine if you don't want to know me, but i can't pretend we're just strangers anymore. i won't be able to."
words you'd said to him — you can't think i still want to know you, after everything.
for a moment, you entertain the idea that you've hurt him too.
"i don't think i can pretend either," you murmur. "i hated it when you pretended like you didn't know me. like you'd never seen me before."
i'm s-sorry, he chokes, but the syllables scattered across his sobs. he claps a hand to his mouth as his breathing speeds up even more, tears wetting his shirt, achy sounds muffled against his palm. and finally you sit up, limbs still clumsy and heavy from sleep, and you wrap your arms around him, and arm slung over his chest, another around his waist, just like you wanted to all this time.
his breath shudders against your palms, warm body against your skin. you bury your face in his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him that changed no matter who he was or whoever he was pretending to be, until his breathing slows and his sobs come to a shaky stop.
"i missed you too, haechan," you breathe. he shakes his head. "i did-" you insist, but he shakes his head again, a hand coming to touch your arm on his waist, squeezing tight.
"not haechan, donghyuck," he whispers.
"donghyuck," you correct, stroking the side of his cheek lovingly, your fingertip stained with his tears. "i missed you."
"i missed you too." he says it like the words are dangerous, hushed and quiet. "are you…are you really coming back to me?"
"do you think we can be friends?" you ask, tentatively. not lovers, not strangers. this was the only in-between you knew that could do justice to the ways you knew each other, the only way you could see yourself holding on to him now.
he looks at you for a long time, until you forget your question. his nose is tinted pink, his eyes still watery as he drowns in his thoughts.
he swallows. "are you sure?" he asks, softly. "your first time being with someone…and it's not even a real relationship."
"you're doing that thing again," you murmur. "where you tell me what's good for me. how i should do things." you soften when you look up, seeing the guilt in his face, as if he had been caught red-handed. "i'm asking you again," you say, slowly. "do you think we can be friends?"
this time, he nods. "yeah," he murmurs. "friends who…"
you nod too, feeling your cheeks burn, and then you lean in — slotting your lips against his.
for a second, he doesn't kiss you back, and your stomach swoops.
but then his mouth is moving against yours, soft and gentle. a close-lipped kiss, just the feeling of his soft lips on yours, the brush of your noses together, your eyes slowly fluttering shut to focus on the feeling. and even though you'd just agreed — even though you were the one who suggested it, a part of you wondered if you could ever only want to be friends with lee donghyuck.
—
you sit at the dinner table, and haechan's entire body aches with a longing that crests over him like a tidal wave, knocking the breath from his lungs.
he recalls the way he'd felt earlier, walking back across the park from the kindergarten, stopping by the grocery store and wandering the brightly-lit aisles, turning over pasta sauce and soup stock in his hands. the knowledge that you were in his home, sleeping, that he would turn the key in the lock and you would be waiting for him — burned down his throat like alcohol, a bonfire in his stomach. it felt like playing pretend. he was afraid to even drive you back to your apartment, to walk you to your door, to look at you too long in the moments after. and yet here he was, tipsy off the sweetness of being able to come home to you.
after the talk, neither of you had gone much further than kissing.
"i missed you so much," he murmurs – his voice crumpling under the weight of his own words.
"do you want to show me?" your tone is lightly teasing, dipping low as you keep your smile on your face. the warmth coursing through your body has nothing to do with the blankets pooling around your thighs, and everything to do with the boy sitting across from you — doll-like legs with miles of silky skin splayed out over the sheets, back slouching against the headboard, all crumpled in and soft and worn.
if you had gone to the bar weeks ago, let him guide you to this home, to this bed, you might already be familiar with this soft mattress in a whole different way.
neither of you can deny the way your minds wander there still, despite everything. him missing your body framed against his, you craving the sink of his chest, the curve of his waist.
there's silence, as his words register in the boy's head, pain flickering over his features. if he was feeling more like himself, he would pulled you in, caged you under him. tugged at that side of you that was always so pliant and easy for him and watched you unravel under his fingertips. the words are on the tip of his tongue — i'll show you. did you miss me too? kiss me. stay with me.
instead, his fingers withdraw, and gently touch the soft cotton of his shirt's hem, warm light flickering in his eyes. "not like this," he murmurs quietly. "not…not now."
you let out a breath, tension dissipating. "yeah," you'd murmured. "you're right."
you'd gone to take a shower while he prepared dinner. there was something terribly domestic about all of it — you padding into the living room again, each fiber of your being smelling so much like him. the way he turned from where he stood guarding the soup bubbling on the stove to see you in one of his shirts, a towel draped over your shoulders. the feelings he hadn't learned to pin down, hadn't had the time to sort, intensified in his chest, an ache lodged inside him.
friends. he'd introduced you to his sister as his friend, watched you braid her hair and laugh with her softly, heard your sweet voice wishing her good luck with school. the nights he'd spent with you by his side — talking about the band, about his tattoos. asking about how he did during the show, seeking your praise, wanting to know so badly how he appeared in your eyes. the way you somehow reached right through him and made him listen, made him stop. was that friendship?
now with all the plates cleared and washed, the sounds of your clothes tumbling in his washing machine in the background, the smell of black nail polish prickled his nose as you leaned over. your fingers brushing his, holding them in place.
"should i make it a little messy?" your voice is light.
"it's usually messy because i get my sister to do it," he tells you, softly. "you don't have to mimic how it looks."
you nod, a small smile on your face as you dip the brush back in the bottle. there's silence, for a while, as he watches you, studying the way you look with your head bowed, feeling each careful touch of your fingers, and then —
"do you want to talk about rules now?"
you look up at him just briefly before going back to the task. he swallows.
"sure."
another pause. and then quietly, "you can't get jealous anymore, you know that right?"
"i know," he murmurs. "you told me to stop before…but i didn't. i'm sorry."
you nod. "you can't be possessive of me, either."
he hesitates. "so…no marking?"
slowly, you let go of his left hand. "you can still leave hickeys and bruises," you mumble. "just don't…don't call me yours you know?"
he didn't know if he could do that. "okay," he says, softly. "i'll try." and then, slowly and carefully, he asks, "are you going to keep coming to our shows?"
the slide drag of the brush on his nail stops. "do you want me to?"
he bites his lip. "i want you there," he says, slowly. "but i don't know if i'll be okay with having you in the crowd."
"oh."
"maybe you can watch from backstage. or the wings. i want you to," he adds, when you look troubled. "please."
"are we still a secret?"
his lips part. he wanted to say yes — but it was the way you'd asked it, like it was something you feared, that made him hesitate.
"because," you continue. "it didn't feel good, keeping it from jaemin. and as i said, i hated it when you pretended we were strangers."
he felt your hands leave his, capping the bottle of nail polish as you leaned back in your chair, tucking your knees to your chest. he keeps his hands splayed on the table, taking a deep breath.
"no more secrets," he agrees. "and stop going to those parties, y/n. if you want to see me, just tell me."
you raise your eyebrows. "we're not exclusive," you point out, slowly. "i don't go to the parties just for you. haechan, if you don't think you can do this…"
"i can," he says, hurriedly. "i'm sorry. if i see you at a party…i'll say you're my friend. i'm sorry, it's just that i…i'm just…."
"it's okay." giving him a small smile, you get to your feet, shuffling over to the kitchen. you don't hear him come closer as you fill up a glass of water on the kitchen, only know of his presence as his hand touches your shoulder carefully.
"don't go," he murmurs. his arms slide around your body, gently pulling you towards him, and you turn slightly so you can see his face.
"i'm still here," you respond, softly.
but he shakes his head. "don't go."
you turn around in his arms and your lips brush, his own parting against yours, seeking permission. all the time he wonders when he'll stop kissing you like he's swearing an oath — devoted in the way he wraps his lips around yours, patient and true in the way his tongue moves against yours, and even now, something loving in the way he murmurs your name into the cavern of your mouth. his hands move carefully on your skin, nail polish still drying on his fingertips, and if either of you question the way you kiss, you keep it to yourselves.
—
it's different, watching haechan perform, when he's not performing for you.
you saw the way his eyes flitted through the crowd, making and breaking eye contact so fast it was hard to keep track of, each twitch of his expression rehearsed and calculated. a teasing part of his lips, sinful face fluttery and slack as the music crashed all around him, like he could physically feel it. he was right — you didn't see him the same. you knew it was the performance, that he was really the one trying to please the crowd, riding off the pleasure of attention. but despite seeing through it as he had said, it still had you feeling tightly wound inside, pressure building up inside you, a craving for his touch intensifying with each time his hips shifted against his guitar.
and even worse was the way your heartbeat would trip over itself every time haechan's eyes flickered over to you. never during a song, but in the moments between — mark's voice speaking through the mic, the rest of the boys checking on their instruments or interacting with the crowd. he would look over at you briefly, almost shyly, his heart-shaped lips creasing into a smile.
"friends?"
the moment you'd arrived home, you had pleaded with jaemin not to be upset with haechan, but it turned out you didn't need to. haechan had left a message the night of the party, and when you'd walked in looking more well rested and collected than you'd had in days, jaemin knew that you had been safe. you'd reassured him too, when he asked if keeping you from him only made things worse. both of you had needed that time to come to this conclusion. only time would tell if it was the right one.
"so you're going to be friends with benefits?" jaemin raised his eyebrows. "was this his idea or yours?"
"mine," you mumble. feeling the need to defend yourself, you raise your voice just slightly. "i just think that…i want to keep seeing him, and i want to get to know him…but i don't want him in that way. anymore," you add, when jaemin bites his lip.
"did you really lose feelings, or are you just not ready?" he asks, quietly.
you force a laugh out of your chest. "you think i'd still have feelings for someone who hurt me that much?" you try to say it sarcastically, but you don't have the heart to. the words have no bite, and instead truth echoes in the spaces between.
"that's not the worst thing in the world, y/n." his voice is steady, and calm. "it's okay to take your time. if you remember that lying to yourself will only hurt more."
but there are things to soothe the ache.
"did you like the show?"
haechan roughly tugs off his jacket, letting it slump off his shoulders and onto the floor. the moment the last song ended he'd rushed off stage and right to you, eyes blazing under his heavy makeup, the both of you stumbling into one of the small storerooms backstage.
a single small lightbulb barely illuminates the small space, bathing you in warm light and shadow. shelves of boxes line most of the walls, except for a sliver of space that currently presses against your back, your fingers touching the cold surface.
"it was good," you murmur.
"yeah?"
he's still hungry for more. you can see it in his eyes — for all his good girls and you're perfect, you knew he craved to be adored too.
"you were right," you say, softly. "it feels different, watching as your friend."
his smile falters.
"i…i like it more," you continue. "being in the wings…makes me want to get your attention."
"you have my attention now, princess," he points out. he touches a hand to your waist.
it's almost scary, how you slip back into old patterns. a heady rush filling your senses, slowly dragging you under. this is why i couldn't stop, you think, as he leans in ever closer, his eyes glazed over as his gaze slides to your lips.
there's a beat.
"i forgot to ask," he mumbles. "no possessiveness right?"
your mind clears, just a bit. you nod, breathlessly.
"what else?" he asks. looking at you, timidly, he asks. "can i…are pet names okay? can i still call you baby?"
"baby's fine," you whisper.
"princess?"
"hmm?"
"no," he smiles fondly at you. "i was asking if calling you princess was okay."
you want to bury your face in your hands. or his chest. "princess is fine."
his smile grows wider, before he suddenly turns serious again. "are we starting anew?" he asks, hesitantly. "can i…can i bring up things from before? or are we pretending that this is our first time…"
"no more pretending," you murmur, feeling like a hypocrite. "why? did you want to bring up something?"
"kind of," he nods towards the door. "just thought you're going to love this," he says, slyly. "hearing stage crew and bandmates walking by, knowing that at any point someone could hear us, someone could come in…"
and now you do bury your face in your hands, and when he reaches around to hug you, you lean against his chest, feeling his laugh vibrate against you, feeling you with warmth.
"it's okay," he murmurs, as his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. "i won't play with them this time, baby. today's all about you, hm?"
his hands falter, perhaps realizing the words were too tender, a little too loving for what you both claimed this would be.
"lets try not to do anything…romantic?" you mumble.
you regret the words as soon as you say them, your teeth biting into your lip sharply.
haechan's face has shuttered down. you can't read his expression, as he nods, taking your hands in his and kissing them.
"please." you look at him, this time taking the dive, feeling yourself free-falling towards that familiar desire, letting the current swallow you whole. "i need you."
in spite of everything, haechan's lips are as gentle as they've always been.
his lips brush yours, once, twice, before he locks in his kiss, hands trembling slightly as he touches the side of your face, cups you in his palms. you want to ask him what's wrong, pulling away slightly, but he makes a wounded sound from the back of his throat, pressing you against the wall, his head dipping to kiss you fiercely. his tongue slides against yours, and he groans low against your lips.
your hands fumble on his shirt, skimming his broad shoulders, strong arms. he pants into your mouth when your drag your nails down his chest, breaking away. tugging his shirt roughly over his head, he grabs your hands and places them on his chest before leaning in to kiss you again, this time working his way down your neck, his wet kisses making your body shudder as you cling onto him for support.
"please," you murmur, wondering why he was staying so silent. "please-"
but he shakes his head, fingers tracing your jaw, tilting your head up so he lap his tongue over a newly formed bruise. the room is silent save for the sound of his lips, but you crave his voice, his words guiding you through everything, the lilting cadence of it.
"haechan-" a foreign feeling spikes in your stomach as he ignores you, continuing to kiss his way down to your collarbones, fingers tugging your collar wide open. it felt like he wasn't there at all.
he breathes heavy against your skin as he curls his hands around your hips, holding on tight. still he doesn't say a word, or even make a sound, as his caress the back of your thighs.
"stop-" you blurt out. roughly, you take his hands in yours, gripping them by the wrists.
he lifts his head.
"haechan," you start, but he just looks at you. your heart squeezes painfully in your chest.
"haechan, you're scaring me." your voice is panicked and tight, the tension so overwhelming that tears begin to blur your vision, your chest rising and falling faster.
"baby?" he asks, alarmed. "what's wrong?"
"please talk to me," you beg, wiping away the tears on your cheek. the ache has soothed slightly at his voice, but you need more. "why…why aren't you talking? you always…you always used to-"
"i'm sorry," he whispers, pulling your body into his, wrapping his bare arms around you. "i'm here," he soothes, in your ear. "i'm here," he mumbles again, and again, until your breathing calms down.
"i'm sorry," he repeats, kissing you softly. "i'm here now, baby, okay?"
you nod, and now you guide his hands to your thighs, feel the way his breathing hitches.
"can i…?"
"please," you say, breathlessly, and his hand cups your warm core.
"fuck," he blurts out. you were so warm, the seat of your panties completely soaked through. he slides them to the side with nimble fingers, inhaling sharply as he strokes your folds.
"how are you so wet? fuck-"
"take them off," you plead, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your skin. immediately, he tugs your panties and skirt down roughly, almost frustrated, barely waiting for you to step out of them before encouraging you to spread your legs wider as he strokes you, fingers dipping to catch at your entrance, your swollen clit.
"so fucking wet," he marvels, groaning slightly as he swipes his fingers softly .
"from watching you perform," you say, softly.
the words send pleasure thrumming low in his navel. "yeah?" he murmurs, eyes meeting yours.
slowly, he drops to his knees, and suddenly you feel hypersensitive — his breath on your thighs, hands gripping you tightly. he suckles a kiss close to your core, and you whine, loudly, the sound too loud in the small space.
he looks up at you, sultry eyes framed in dark eyeliner. "let me hear you, baby," he coaxes, easing your legs open. he sticks out the tip of his tongue, and gives your clit a gentle flick, your hips bucking into his face before you can stop yourself. "i've been dreaming about this," he sighs, before he closes in and suckles on your clit.
he lapped at you like all he'd done in your days apart was think about how best to do it — alternating between suckling on your clit, licking your folds with his tongue wide and flat, and prodding at your entrance. one hand keeping you pressed against the wall, his other slips around your entrance, sliding in one long finger, the way your walls suck him in making him moan, vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. you can feel the jut of his finger joints, the pad of his finger curling against your walls, while his tongue focuses on your clit, drawing shapes and letters expertly.
you slump further against the wall, the pleasure making your legs shake, unable to hold yourself up, your hands tangled in his hair, knotting them around your fingers.
"i can't stand-" you're cut off by a moan, as he bites into your thigh, licking up the wetness that stains them, a mix of your arousal and his saliva. "please," you wish you were on a bed, wish both of you had had more patience to go somewhere and do this right, feel the whole weight of his body on yours.
"cum," he pants, sucking on your clit with his plush lips as he coaxes another finger into your warm, now mimicking a vibrating motion with his hand as he pushes in hard and fast. he doesn't break away even as he moans out, now curling his fingers languidly against your walls. "fuck, baby, i need you to cum now because i can't wait any longer-"
his tongue presses onto your clit, and the pressure pushes you overboard. his hand the only thing keeping you upright, pushing roughly into you, he eats you out until your orgasm is over, kitten licking your clit as his head moves this way and that. you open your eyes and see him staring right at you, desire pulsing in his pupils, eyes blown out and dark.
"good?" he breathes, both hands now gripping you tight. you nod, swallowing and gasping. his face is smeared with you, mouth and nose shining and glossy. he licks around his lips, mouth hanging open as his eyes glint.
"more?" he asks, and you nod, gasping, falling to your knees. now, you're finally able to touch him, as your body crashes into his, causing him to nearly tip over from how he kneels, sitting back on his ankles to draw you into him. you kiss him deeply, letting his lips wrap around your tongue just the way you loved it, feel his hum vibrate against your own chest.
his hands ghost under your shirt, and you help him pull it off, his hands cupping your breasts with his familiar touch, sucking kisses down your cleavage as you gasp for air. his hands roam your body indulgently, as if he was afraid you'd dissolve if he wasn't mapping your skin with his palms, his tongue, his lips. one hand trailing up and down your back, unclasping your bra, while the other squeezes the back of your thighs, resting his hand on your ass.
he suckles on your nipples like he had all the time in the world, as if you weren't in a cramped store room feeling as if you were about to explode from his touch alone. gentle tongue drawing circles around the bud, eyes staring up at yours with devotion. your hips move against his, and his eyes flutter shut as he sighs, his hips starting to grind up against you as well.
"turn around," he mumbles. "now, princess."
"i want to see you," you protest, hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly walks forward on his knees, pushing you towards the wall.
"i'm sorry, baby-" he kisses you, placatory and sweet. "we'll go again in my bedroom later, okay? need you like this now."
you let him maneuver you until you're facing the wall, legs spread apart as he kneels in between. trying to soothe you, he rubs a hand over your stomach, reminding you of his presence the entire time he rids himself of his jeans and underwear, rolling on a condom, tension building with every small sound, until you can feel something thick and heavy press between your legs.
"haechan-" you pant, your back arching just slightly as you lean towards the wall for support, feeling his hand squeeze your hip.
"i know," he mumbles, making slight shushing sounds as he eases himself against you. "i know, baby."
even though he was behind you, you knew the face he would make as you felt his tip slowly push past your entrance, the way his eyebrows would float upwards as his eyes went unfocused, lips parting in a lovely 'ah- ah' that he tried hard to contain behind hisses and bitten lips. part of you still wants to see it, but all thoughts are lost as he fully sheaths himself into you, feeling him deep inside from the position. his hand on your hip creeps over to your navel, and he pushes gently over where he was buried inside you, the pressure somehow intensifying as you feel full from all sides.
slowly, his body presses you further into the wall, and you gasp as the cool surface brushes your chest. he kisses the nape of your neck, and your body trembles, shifting against him and whining as you clench around him from sensitivity. behind you, haechan mumbles out a string of curses, hips jolting forward unsteadily before he stops himself.
"please move," you whisper, and he moans, finally thrusting into you. he finds a rhythm that's slow and deep, feeling full and stretched out each time you throb around him. a particularly harsh thrust has you whining, your hips tilting towards the wall, trying to get away, but suddenly the solid weight of his body presses against you ever harsher as he rolls his hips, his chest pressed to your back. he feels stronger, and sturdier than he ever did before, as a hand creeps down to your clit and begins to rub slow and lazy circles, his body attuned to yours. you jolt away from the simulation, ass suddenly jolting back against his length, making you cry out again, sandwiched between pleasure.
"don't run from it," he coaxes. "just take it, hm?"
you had nowhere to go as he fucks himself into you, wet sounds filling the small space, and you're sure the floor is wet with your arousal, can feel your next climax approaching fast, making you forget about the ache in your knees and in the way your head pressed against the hard wall. you begin to shake in his hold, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock while he bullies your clit relentlessly, but once again his chest presses into you, strong arms holding you firmly in place as he overflows your body with pleasure, a hand slowly grasping yours and squeezing.
"i missed you, baby," he says, quietly, voice surprisingly steady despite the way he was ramming into you. "i really missed you." his lips brush the shell of your ear.
you cum unexpectedly, crying out, squeezing tight around him as all the muscles in your body tense. your hand squeezes tight around his as the other rubs quick circles on your clit, working you through your orgasm. you can feel him still behind you as he cums too, whining in a pitch and tone you'd never heard from him before, desperate and achy as you clench around him again from the sound, so sensual that it rekindles a fire inside you despite the soreness in all your limbs.
your weak hands fumble against him, scrabbling against his strong grip. he pulls out with a hiss, helping you turn around to face him. in the semi-darkness, you can see the concern pooling in his eyes, bright and scared.
"was it too rough?" he asks, breathlessly. his hands skim your frame, pulling you onto his lap.
you shake your head, nuzzling into him. you're torn between watching that silvery glow in his eyes, makeup smudged around all his corners, and burying yourself deep inside his chest until you can feel his heartbeat on your cheek.
"baby? are you alright?" he rubs gentle circles on your back, as you nod. "use your words, please," he says, softly.
"you got stronger," you blurt out.
"did i hurt you?" he moves against you, something protective in the way he holds you that makes your body sing with warmth.
"no," you say shyly. "i loved it."
you lift your head just quick enough to catch the way his face crumples. before you can ask, he leans in and he's kissing you again — soft, gentle, sweet and almost shy. when you part, he looks dazed, eyes drifting down to your lips and wandering back up to your eyes.
"you deserve better," he says, quietly.
he looks down, at the way you're sitting in his lap, and then tilts his head sharply to look around the store room, as if he meant you deserved better than this for your first time back with him. as if this was about sex at all.
you take a deep breath, and shake your head. "haechan, you're exactly what i deserve."
the name rings out in the space. it seems to ground him, and he shakes his head to clear it, slowly untangling himself from you as he gets ready to help you up.
you swallow. "take me home," you tell him. "take care of me."
he does exactly as you say.
—
attention simmers on your skin, a palpable heat you're unable to shake.
girls circle the kitchen island like sharks, eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights, but they're never able to come close as it's so clear haechan's focus is entirely on you. haechan's back is turned to the party as he sits on the counter, long legs spilling over and the muscles in his thick thighs accentuated by the way he sits, denim stretched tight and each gaping hole making you doubt your decision to come to the party here, instead of going over to his home.
it was his party, and he should go. the fans would be upset if he didn't at least show. now you were seriously regretting it, as you ducked your head to avoid the glare of another crowd as they passed by, while haechan knocked back another drink.
he had been alight with energy ever since the show ended — agreeing amiably when you suggested going to the party, his smile only wavering when you reminded him he couldn't get jealous. and while your eyes wandered around the party, drinking in the scenes you hadn't seen in awhile, he was doing everything in his power to keep your attention on him, camera strap hanging from his neck as he clicked through the photos, pointing out the parts where jaemin had helped him, explaining the stories behind the pictures.
"i didn't know you were into photography." it's a stupid statement, that you want to retract immediately. of course you didn't – you didn't know much about him at all. but it makes him smile a little proudly, clicking on the dial to speed through the photos.
"yeah well, i've never taken a photo of you." he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. "i know for sure because when we…you know…when we weren't seeing each other, and i missed you…" his cheeks are burning up, his mouth barely moving as he tries to fumble through the rest of the sentence, plush lips swallowing his words. "i couldn't find any photos of you. on my camera or in my phone or…" he trails off.
your heart thrums harder in your chest. "yeah?"
"do…do you have photos of me?" he asks. timidly, softly. his eyes trained on his camera, unseeing, breath held in his chest waiting for your answer.
"of course i do," you murmur. you hope he can hear the smile in your voice, know that it's for him. "rockstar."
his fingers twitch, and he looks up at you, a searing intensity in his eyes that wasn't there before, flames licking at your cheeks as you hold his gaze, a warmth that sparks down your spine like fireworks. the sounds of the party fade away, sealing you in the vacuum of his attention.
"y/n," his voice drops an octave, all the softness drained out of it.
"haechan?"
"let me take a photo of you," he murmurs. "please."
"now?"
"no, not now," he says, slowly. "you know what i mean, princess."
but you never get to clarify, because someone taps you lightly on the shoulder. haechan's eyes flicker behind you, all the intensity faded out, and it feels like your lungs fill with air again as you turn to see jisung, holding two cups in his hands, one of which he's holding out to you.
you're torn between crushing guilt, and relief that he doesn't hate you.
"j-jisung," you splutter. "jisung, hi."
"hi, y/n." he smiles, nudging the cup towards you again, and you take it. almost against your will, your eyes dart over to haechan, but his face is impassive and neutral, camera laying forgotten on his lap as he turns quickly to survey the party behind him. was he trying to offer you privacy, or was he upset?
you sip from the drink, trying not to make a face at the overwhelming sweetness that floods your tastebuds. the boy had barely put any alcohol in it. your hand almost inches towards the cup haechan made for you, wanting to balance out the taste, before you stop yourself.
you didn't want to hurt his feelings again.
"it's been a while," you say, sheepishly. "and again, i'm really sorry about last time."
"it's okay," he says, cheerfully. "haechan already apologised. besides, you can make it up to me on our date."
jisung's words have a physical effect on haechan. you feel him tense up behind you, body going stiff as he turns back to watch you, eyes trained on the side of your face.
"you still owe me a date." you don't know if it's determination, or sheer recklessness, that inspired jisung to say this to you as you stood in the kitchen with haechan just inches away, the side of his thigh still brushing your waist. "are you free tomorrow night?"
you try your best not to look at haechan. he had no right to care, you didn't owe him anything. you didn't know what you wanted to see on his face either way — whether his jealousy would make you angry, whether his sadness would hurt you instead.
"i am," you agree, hesitantly, and jisung's close-lipped smile blooms.
—
"you know there are other boys out there right? that there's a world beyond the band?"
"shut up, jaemin," you mumble, checking your reflection in the dressing room mirror one last time.
"this is good for you." his tone has changed, as he leans against the locked door. "jisung is nice. i hope it works out."
tonight's show had been different. jaemin had reluctantly confirmed that it wasn't just your imagination — the way haechan was quieter throughout, more self-conscious in his performance, eyes barely scanning the crowd, taking longer glances at you throughout the show. jisung's confidence, on the other hand, poured off him in waves, his jacket unzipped, gums showing as he smiled wide.
"i know." you sling your bag across your body, adjusting your skirt, as you turn to face him, taking a deep breath. "i'm really giving him a chance, jaemin. i'm…i'm taking this seriously, even if you don't believe me." it wasn't a lie. you barely knew anything about jisung, and jisung barely knew anything about you — but he was always sincere and sweet, quietly brave under his shyness. you couldn't forget the way he looked at you even with haechan by your side. it made you want to give him a chance too.
"i believe you," he reassures. "good luck, okay?" the door unlatches with a small click, and he gives you one last wave before heading out into the corridor.
your eyes dart back to your reflection one last time before you turn back, satisfied with your appearance, and start towards the door. you barely take a step before there's a creak, and you think it's jaemin coming back, or perhaps jisung, wondering why you took so long.
but of course, things are never easy.
a familiar face enters the room, pushing the door open wide. he doesn't bother to close it, just takes you in for a second — eyes sweeping your frame, taking in your jewelry, the hints of makeup on your skin, your clothes, your neat hair. dejavu crawls over your skin, remembering the first time you'd met jisung, the way haechan had cornered you in the dressing room after, too. you tense your shoulders, preparing for the fight.
"you look nice," he says, quietly.
your lips part. "haechan-"
but before you can speak, he's blurting out his next words. "j-jisung's going to love it," he stammers out, shadows flickering in his gaze as he swallows, throat bobbing. "i… i just came here to say good luck." at your surprised expression, his lips curve up into a sad smile. "that…that's what friends do, right?"
"yeah." your hands grip onto the sling of your bag tightly, afraid of what your hands would do if you let go.
"i'm going to go now," he mumbles. "i…have fun, y/n."
there isn't a trace of sarcasm in his tone, his eyes soft and fond. he leaves before you can say another word, not closing the door behind him. you can hear his boots all the way down the corridor, can hear him disappear up the stairs.
you try not to think about his voice, as you take the back exit out of the venue, see jisung standing in the warm summer night, smiling under a streetlight. try not to dwell on the fact that haechan might have actually wished the best for you – no more layers of pretense under pretense, no more feelings without reason.
it's easier said than done.
—
two hours pass, your food gone from your plates, only the dregs of your drinks left in their glasses, before jisung finally clears his throat.
"this isn't working out, is it?"
"i'm sorry," you say, biting your lip. you'd walked to see a movie, something jisung had picked out, but had been mind-numbingly dull to you. you settled to watch his reactions instead, the way his hands flew over his eyes at the more intense scenes, the way he bit down on his fingers when the tension spiked. it was cute, but less so when he started asking you questions about the movie, and you had to admit you didn't remember any part of the plot past the first 20 minutes.
late night dinner hadn't been better, each topic running itself to the ground quickly, your opinions and lack of opinions causing each conversation to crash to an uncomfortable halt. good things take time, had been jaemin's text to you when you asked for help. you were sure that jisung and you weren't acting like your true selves, the prospect of the date altering the way you talked and responded to each other, until you'd finally come to the conclusion that perhaps you just weren't compatible.
"i really thought this would work out," jisung says, a tinge of sadness coloring his words.
"i wanted it to," you confess. selfishly, you had almost been excited at the prospect of things working out with jisung — needing confirmation that you could still feel for others. excited for the date leading to the next, to fall in love with surety.
excited to find the first relationship, the first 'you and i' that haechan seemed to think you deserved.
"it's okay," jisung reaches out, pats your hand clumsily, shyly, as if surprised that reaching towards you meant he actually got to touch you "i didn't know much about you when i asked you out, anyway. just thought you were really pretty." he looks mortified again, and it makes you laugh — everything about him still endearing.
"do you want to just be friends?" you ask, gently.
it's like a weight lifts from the conversation, and he sighs, relieved. "yeah," he echoes. "friends."
the silence that follows is a lot more peaceful. jisung slumps slightly in his seat, like the tension has left his body. his deep voice somehow still manages to sound timid when he speaks up next.
"since we're friends…"
you nod, encouragingly, taking a last sip of your drink.
"can i ask…do you like haechan?"
you nearly choke. jisung was looking at you carefully, although he smiled at the expression on your face.
"a-are you sure you want to talk about this?' you stammer.
he shrugs, but there's something unreadable in his expression. "i'll always be curious about it, and i guess this is my chance to ask."
you don't have the heart to answer him directly.
"i…i used to," you say, slowly. "but that was when i didn't know him."
"know him?" he asks, confused.
you nod. "yeah. i didn't really know him as a person….just…knew the performance, i guess."
jisung still looks confused, but he nods along. "well, do you know him now?"
you think of the sunlight in his living room. the faint dimple on his cheek as he showed you a photo of his sister running towards the camera, her face alight as she called out for her big brother. his arms around you in the kitchen, as he asked you to stay. the slope of his neck as he turns towards you at the end of a song — the fading sound of his guitar as his eyes sought yours.
"maybe," you say, softly.
"and?" jisung prompts. "could you like him now?"
you don't answer him aloud, but your unspoken words ring in your head.
—
it's different this time, haechan tells himself, as he grips his phone in his hands.
it's different this time, because he knew where you were. he knew why you weren't calling.
he slumps back against his bed, his body heavy with alcohol but his mind racing wild, each thought outpacing the next.
the apartment was silent and empty. both jeno and mark were gone for the night. haechan hadn't bothered to go to the party, knowing that he would feel jisung's absence like a pain lodged in his ribs. he wonders if jisung will bring you home, here, whether you'd let him, even if he knew jisung wasn't the type of boy to go further than hand-holding on the first date. he thinks of it anyway — of hearing your sounds through his bedroom wall. whether it would make you needier to know haechan was listening.
he feels like a loser. he's never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin, more unclean, more ashamed. but then again, there's no one around to know, as he lets his mind wander a little farther, away from you and jisung, away from his phone, sinking deep into the last time he'd touched your skin, images and sensations jumping out eagerly at him when he closed his eyes. flicks through moments that caused a heat to lick down his spine, the familiar hum of pleasure buzzing low in his navel — your legs on his shoulders, your hands in his hair. your taste, the patterns he would draw on your body so you'd shake just the way he liked, the spot on your neck he could kitten-lick to feel you tense up all around him.
that night, even after he'd fucked you in the store room, you had been insatiable.
he'd tried to touch you like the other girls he used to play with — never speaking much, preferring to use his mouth for other things, let their own imaginations run wild with what he could be thinking behind his hooded eyes. he'd taken you with your face turned away from him, pleasure without intimacy, sucking bruises as a keepsake for you after the night ended, not as if you were his to keep or to lose.
let's try not to do anything romantic.
but then you'd begged him to talk to you. told him to take you home. he'd hated it — hated the way you folded for him, like someone had given him powers he couldn't help abuse. do you know how tender this is for me? he'd wanted to ask, as he was touching you again in his sheets back home, racing to meet your every demand before you asked for it.
your legs parted for him as he entered you, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure to watch your every expression, the look he'd been dying to see — your eyelashes fluttering, lips parted silently, the sharp gasp as he found your soft spot, your hands scrabbling against his skin. he held your gaze even as he let you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles locked in a sweetheart's cross behind him as he pushed your legs even higher, letting him in deeper. he'd never imagined himself with anyone like this before — a position so full of love and closeness, feeling your body and ripple against his, leaning in to kiss your lips softly, kiss away your desperation.
he'd almost gone crazy when you found your voice amidst all the pleasure.
"donghyuck," you'd breathed, saying the name like a prayer. "feels so good."
he had stilled, slowing to a stop, even though he was painfully hard in you. his heart racing in his chest, pounding so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.
"you," you mumbled, slowly grinding your hips against him. "you make me feel so good, 's like no one else-"
"yeah?" he picks up the pace again, tilting your body at an angle now so he could go even deeper, watches the way your face changes. he was the one who pulled that sound from your chest — sated but desperate at the same time, needy but satisfied. "i make you feel this good, right? i'm good for you, everything's for you-" he babbled, not making sense to even himself, your praise burying itself deep inside him like a siren song.
you'd choked out more praises, pretty words tumbling from your parted lips, your eyes never leaving his.
"more, hyuck-" you pulled at him, nails scratching down his back. "hyuck-"
it's like he can hear your voice, as his hand slides down to his hip, down to his leaking cock.
he jerks himself off like that — to the images of you pressed under him, your voice calling his name. he does it fast, with no finesse — tugging roughly, the slide too dry, but he doesn't care about drawing out the pleasure, doesn't think it matters if you're not here with him.
he feels even filthier after he finishes — peeling off his soiled shirt, as he stumbles to the bathroom. he knows he won't hear from you tonight, that you wouldn't do that to jisung, but still he keeps his phone unlocked with the ringer on next to his bed as he lays down again.
maybe he would wake up, and you would tell him he could never see you or touch you again. his mind wanders in another direction now, away from your body, away from pleasure — to the ways you made his heart squeeze tight in his chest. when you said his name. when you'd comforted him as he was crying, the kindness in your eyes despite all the ways he hurt you. sitting on the kitchen counter, thinking of ways to keep you with him as your eyes wandered off. look at me, he'd wanted to beg. think of me. just me.
he goes to sleep thinking about how this could be the last night before you'd really only exist in memory and fantasy, before everything changes.
@neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @makiswrld @itskkung @simpforarmihn @aryraaaa @rbf-aceu @laubyrinthine @yujuvly @nctevia @hyuckenjoyer @guhhfgbbj @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @kasperneo @eneiyri @toroufriteh @cauliephays @jisoung @niinjo @wonaoi @yuskitty @strawbabyz @readingisgodly @daegalfangirl @minkyuncutie @feat-sun @chaoticstrawberryland @shawnyle @sofix-hc7 @scftharu @spageddy @adorejaehyn @manooffline @02mrk @tyongspice1 @runahways @neosdaisy @hotmessexpress35
#haechan smut#fic: rockstar haechan#haechan angst#haechan fluff#haechan au#haechan x reader#nct dream smut#nct dream angst#nct smut#nct angst#haechan scenario#nct 127 smut#nct 127 angst#donghyuck smut
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I LOVE YOUR WRITING OMG ITS SOO GOOD !! 🤍🤍
i wanted to req doing a skincare routine w gojo, like asking him to lay down so you could do it. if that makes sense 😭😭
(i thought it would be so cutee !! pref a fem reader)
NIGHTS LIKE THESE
↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader
Satoru just enjoying getting pampered by his wife.
[ Note ] : ahhh u are so very kind 😖💗 i lovee the idea of skincare w gojo sm!! he deserves to be pampered like a royal puppy
He's all for it when you suggest doing a skincare routine on him. I mean, laying down and letting your soft hands work out the tension in his face with some nice smelling products? Yes, please. That's exactly what he needs on a Friday night after teaching martial arts to his students all day.
"What's this?" he asks for each product in your hands. He doesn't eye them out suspiciously, he just accepts whatever you're putting on his face.
He's in this love-ditzy state tonight... oh, maybe it's just the strong blossom scent flooding in through the windows putting him in that state.
"This is a face mask... I'll put it on, then peel it off in fifteen minutes..." you're murmuring slowly, voice soft as you focus on smearing the sparkly gelatinous liquid over the curve of his cheek."
"Mmm..." he hums in acknowledgement to what you said, eyes closing.
His hair is put out of the way by a pink makeup headband; it's the one he bought for you at the beginning of the year, that Sailor Moon one. It just has a crescent moon on the center.
Satoru wiggles his feet and rests his finger-locked hands on his stomach, relishing in the attention you're giving him.
There's a serene silence as you apply the face mask with carefulness — you're trying to make it that perfectly rounded mask.
"... you're so gentle." Satoru comments, smiling to himself. "It's nice... getting pampered by my pretty wife. I think this is the meaning of life." he says in a low rasp. You can hear how tired he is after teaching all day in the hot sun.
"What, the meaning of life is... getting a face mask put on you?" you chuckle.
"Being with you." he replies.
You soften your brows and look down at him with love. He's still got his eyes closed so he can't see your loving look. It's okay. He can feel your love radiating.
"Well aren't you sappy..." you tease. He smiles.
He knows he's sappy, but you like it, don't you? And he means it. His meaning of life is being with you.
"I'm done, by the way."
"OOH let me see."
He checks his reflection in his phone camera, and you know snaps a picture with you while he's at it. You complain that he's gotten your bad side, and that he has to take it again, but he's giggling like a mischievous kid.
You sigh and look at him. "Of course... of course you look good in a face mask."
"Uhhh yeah duh I look good in everything." he responds cockily, then adds, "... you look good in everything, too."
"Ah shut it!" you giggle, and the sound makes his heart lurch.
"Mmm, it's true." he leans in, giving you a lopsided kiss, "Thank you, baby. Anyways... this stuff smells so good... is it edible?"
"No, it's not. So don't eat it."
He eats a little to mess with you. Then scrunches his whole face at the chemical taste.
"Satoru why are you like this." you shake your head. "Anyways... I'll cut some cucumbers for your eyes." you say, turning to the tiny cutting board that you put on top of a pillow.
"Yay, cucumber time." he says like a five-year-old. "It's not bigger than mine, is it?" he eyes out the cucumber you're taking into your hands.
"Satoru!" you laugh scoldingly.
He lets you cut the cucumber in peace, not wanting to talk in case he distracts you. But the way he stares at you, with his fists tucked under his chin and that star-struck look in his eyes, he distracts you anyways, and you nearly slice your finger.
Satoru's a different kind of beautiful. That's apparent from the first time you meet him, but you realize it during times like this; when you're snuggled up in your dim-lit bedroom. The clear face mask glitters a bit, you can see it drying.
"Don't touch it. It's drying."
"Sorryyy."
You shake your head at him. Then you catch him trying to touch his face again.
"Ooh, I can feel the little stars in it."
"Satoru, let it dry. Lay back. I'm covering your eyes..."
"... ooh, kinky."
You sigh, he smiles — he's so happy that he can be an absolute idiot around you and yet you still love him. How'd an obnoxious idiot like him get a tender, loving woman like you? I guess, 'cause he's god's favorite, I mean... with the Six Eyes and Limitless bestowed on him, of course he'd be sent an earth angel too, just to protect his sanity. You're very much his sanctuary, the refuge he seeks when responsibility whips his back.
The soothing cucumber slices cover his eyes now.
Laying and letting you pamper him like this makes him feel so at peace, he's becomes drowsy, and soon falls asleep. Soft snores sound from him. He's so utterly soft and gentle while he sleeps, you wouldn't think he's the strongest.
You decide to not wake him, and just peel the face mask off him gently once the fifteen minutes passes.
He just sleeps like a baby while you finish the routine. A soft, radiant glow adorns his cheekbones. His chest rises and falls like a calm tide.
That's your husband; a hyper, sleep-deprived, overworked and overburdened man who lives for the nights you do these sweet things with him.
© arminsumi
Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.
Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
#fluff#gojo#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#cute#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader
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hellloo, omg i loved the mingo sugar daddy drabble and was wondering if u could do a yunho one!
blurb: sugar daddy! yunho x fem!reader ꨄ︎
🌹pairing: sugar daddy!yunho x fem!reader
🌹warnings: suggestive, spoiled reader (lmao), low key subby yunho?? (but not really), sickeningly sweet fluff
🌹summary: yunho loves taking you shopping! he can't help but love everything you try on 🤩
🌹a/n: i hope you enjoy this! 😚 ty for your request bby! ❤️ yunho is such a cutie patootie so i had a TIME making this. i want to put him in my pocket!! 🤬 divider by: @drifting-moon 🫶🏾
my masterlist (you can find the mingi & san versions here!)
"Yuyu, you said that about the last three pairs," you whine, stomping on the marble floors of the boutique.
The harsh click of the Louboutin heels grabs Yunho's attention, finally making eye contact with you. He had to peel his eyes away from your legs, in awe of the way the heels make them look even longer.
"I know, sweetie, but they all look so good on you," he answers honestly, his cheeks tinting pink at the admission.
It tugs on your heart strings a little bit, unable to be mad at him when he's so cute. You feel that familiar warmth spread in your chest, becoming a bit shy under his gaze.
The way he fawns over your legs makes the room feel a little bit hotter. You call out for Sonia, your sales associate walking over, already handing you another glass of champagne.
"We'll take all four pairs, please," Yunho asserts, nodding politely at the lady. He declines the champagne, already drunk on the sight of you.
"Yay! Thank you, baby," you squeal, prancing towards the leather couch to swoop down and place kisses all over his face.
The way the champagne sloshes around with your movements makes him chuckle softly, infatuated with your little outburst of joy.
He accepts your kisses without missing a beat, relishing in your affection. Yunho will truly buy you anything to keep that beautiful smile on your face. He knows he doesn't need to spoil you to make you happy, but he does it anyway.
"You're welcome, gorgeous," he murmurs, lowering his hand to pull down your Miu Miu mini skirt. The way you're folded over to kiss him makes his heart flutter, but he also doesn't want to give Sonia an accidental eyeful.
Over your shoulder, he can see the warm smile spread across Sonia's face. You've been shopping with her for years. She's always patient with your playful whining and the way you sweet talk your very giving boyfriend to get exactly what you want.
If Yunho didn't know any better, he'd think she has a soft spot for the pair of you, despite her no nonsense demeanor.
Your soft whisper brings Yunho back into the present.
"I can't wait to wear them for you later," you pull back a bit, taking in the way his eyelids droop at the sound of your voice.
Pressing a slow kiss to his lips, you retreat to Sonia, watching while she boxes up your shoes. You bite back the smirk on your lips, still feeling the heat of Yunho's gaze as you walk away.
You make small talk with Sonia, sitting down to put your feet back into your sandals. You huff dramatically, feeling slightly fatigued after the long day of shopping. Even though it was your idea.
"Yuyu, can you come here please?" you call out, turning to him with an innocent look. He's over to you before you can get the words out, already knowing what you're going to ask of him.
"Yes, honey?" he answers, towering over your place on the chair. You don't miss the way his eyes trail over your frame, catching on your plush thighs.
"Can you please help me put my shoes back on?" you pout, "It's really hard bending over in this outfit," your full lips tug down at the corners, a pout punctuating each word. Yunho knows exactly what you're doing, but he plays into your hand anyway.
"Okay, baby," he sighs, kneeling down in his expensive pants. You blow him a kiss, smiling at the way he gently places the sandals on your feet. He fastens the clasp, the Chanel logo locking into place.
Your heart skips a beat when he kneels down, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin of your ankle.
"Thank you, baby," you breathily whisper, watching him as he joins you on the plush bench.
Sonia clears her throat, momentarily bursting your little love bubble.
Your cheeks feel warm, causing you to nuzzle into Yunho's side. He smirks at your embarrassment, pulling you closer with a strong arm around your waist.
"You can charge my usual card. Thank you, Sonia," he answers respectfully, nodding as she leaves the room.
Tension fills the room as the two of you sit in silence. You bring your head up, pressing gentle kisses into the side of your boyfriend's neck.
"I love my new shoes, Yuyu," you mumble, basking in the smell of his cologne.
He's crowding your senses, head swimming with thoughts of his strong body on yours. You feel his warm hand on your back, gently stroking the skin there.
"I'm glad you like them, honey," he answers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You both sit there for a few moments, basking in each other's company.
Eventually, he taps your back, helping you stand up before Sonia comes back with your latest purchases. You smooth your hair down while Yunho tenderly adjusts your outfit, slightly ruffled from the short cuddle session.
"Yuyu?"
"Yes, honey?"
"Can we stop in Tiffany for a second? I want some new earrings to wear with my shoes."
The two of you jump slightly at the sound of Sonia's booming laughter. She places the bags in Yunho's hands, already knowing what he'll say to you. You can't help but join in with her giggles, surprised to see this side of her. But, Yunho usually brings that out of people anyway.
"We'll see, baby," he sighs, ushering you out of the store. You smile brightly, pressing a loud smack to his cheek, knowing you're about to have even more bags for him to carry.
#𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ⊹ ˚˖⋆｡ ra ra fics#yunho x reader#yunho x y/n#yunho fluff#yunho fanfic#jeong yunho#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez#ateez fic#ateez imagines#yunho#ateez yunho#ateez x black!reader#ateez x black reader
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More Upper moons and [Y/N] and quotes and Chaos, curse and whatever the god damnit it's this
Enjoy! :D
[Y/N]: good evening, my only amazing master Muzan, the glorious king of demons
Muzan: what did you do?
[Y/N]: I burned down a city
Muzan: what
[Y/N]: yeah ik I f*cked up but listen-
Muzan: [Y/N] YOUR MISSION WAS NOT EVEN NEAR A CITY, HOW DO YOU BURNT A WHOLE CITY?
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Y/N]: I will die for you.
Kokushibo: we are demons, in fact we can't just die
[Y/N]: I would take a bullet for you
Kokushibo: It wouldn't affect you
[Y/N]: I WOULD SET MYSELF IN THE SUN FOR YOU
Kokushibo: don't be dumb and kill yourself, you need to serve Muzan
[Y/N]: kokushibo for the glory of akaza tits, pls accept my demonstration of love
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Douma: ngl master Muzan, but [Y/N] is your favorite isn't?
Muzan: of course they are, they can f*ck the whole mission? Yeah, but at least THEY COMPLETE THE MISSION, THING NONE OF YOU DO, Y'ALL PIECE OF DOG SHI-
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Daki: oh yeah, how did you get rid of that group of slayers?
[Y/N]: well...
Demon slayers: We got you demon, there's nowhere to run!
[Y/N]: Guess have no choice, going to use mine Blood Demon Art...
[Y/N]: SHIMMY YAY SHIMMY YA SWALLA LA LA
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Kokushibo introduces Kaigaku to the rest of the upper moons:
Kaigaku: hi
[Y/N]: what the f*ck was that
Kaigaku: It was me, Kaigaku, the new upper moon
[Y/N]: oh, jesus christ! Is that a fucking Gremlin?
kokushibo: [Y/N] no
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Akaza: How are we going to tell Muzan that we failed the mission?
[Y/N]: distracting him!
Akaza: how?
[Y/N]:
Akaza: ?
[Y/N], dancing: tell me, tell me, tell me, you, want me, want me-
Akaza: NO
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
After Swordsmith Village Arc events:
Muzan: [Y/N] what do you have there?
[Y/N]: oh, after you sent me to help Gyokko and Hantengu and they failed miserably, I was on my way back and found this doll.
Muzan: doll?
[Y/N]: yeah look! (show Yoriichi Type Zero)
Muzan: FUCK-
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Extra!
X: What's your opinion on [Y/N]?
Muzan: just another lazy pig who works for me (you are his favorite child)
Kokushibo: as longs they serve Muzan, I'm fine (he loves you)
Douma: [Y/N]? I love [Y/N]! Even when I can hear they walking inside my walls, threatening me, almost ripping my head of, and giving me nightmares every night, I love them!
Akaza: it's okay ( he loves you too, especially after you beat his ass in a fight)
yes you're strong as hell here love u
Hantengu was crying a lot, so take it as his opinion.
Nakime: PLEM PLEM PLEM sorry (Translation: she likes you, good job!)
Gyokko: That Satan and Lucifer bastard child, always breaks my pretty pots and calls my art bullshit! (bc it's bullshit, anyway, Gyokko doesn't like you since he gifted you a pot, you yelled "YEET" and threw it away)
Daki: [Y/N] is not like these uglies, they have good taste! She is referring to herself (She adores you and would do anything to protect you, but would probably fail and call her brother)
Gyuutaro: meh they cool I guess (Guess what! He loves when you hangout with him and his sister and you ofc)
You three match nail color
Kaigaku: Terrifies me (In fact, he is traumatized because of you)
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
More Extra! (Because I think this post is short, and not that funny)
[Y/N] missions be like:
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
That's all for today!
Thank you all for interact with my other post about [Y/N] and Upper moon, makes me really happy, love y'all!
Again, sorry for any spelling mistakes, english is not my first language.
Bye ;)
#demon slayer headcanons#kimetsu no yaiba#akaza#akaza kimetsu no yaiba#douma#douma kny#akaza kny#douma kimetsu no yaiba#muzan#muzan kibutsuji#kny muzan#upper moons#y/n#quotes#daki demon slayer#gyutaro#gyuutarou#hantengu#gyokko#kokushibo#kokushibou#yoriichi type zero#kaigaku#nakime#nakime kny
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Softball Game
Request: Hii! If I could request something? I was wondering if u could do spencer reid x child reader (like 3 or 4) in the episode were spencer plays baseball (season 8, episode 6)?? Also I love Ur work, it's like I can't stop reading it Ur really talented 😊
Spencer Reid x daughter!reader
Summary: Y/N at the softball game (season 8, episode 6)
Warnings: none
a/n: thank you for the request! hope you all enjoy!
(gif not mine)
Spencer holds Y/N's hand as they walk up to the fence of the baseball field where the teams are warming up.
"Oh, get out of here." Derek says when he notices them. Spencer waves. "Hey, pretty boy." He runs over.
"Uncle Derek!" Y/N grins.
"Hey, baby genius." Derek waves at her.
"Hey." Spencer says.
"You made it." Derek says. "I like that. You bring your glove."
"Glove? I don't own shorts." Spencer says.
"Okay, don't even worry about it, kid. I got an extra one." Derek says. "Dice's wife?" Spencer nods. "Had her baby last night. So today is your day to play second base."
"Yay! Daddy play!" Y/N grins, shaking Spencer's hand around.
"Wait, what?" Spencer immediately panics.
"Uh-huh." Derek nods.
"I can't play second base."
"Oh, yes, you can, and yeah, you're gonna. No such thing as "can't," kid." Derek says.
"Go team!" They all turn at the cheering to see the rest of the team walking up.
"Oh-- what are you guys doing here?" Spencer asks.
"Oh, we were not gonna miss this for the world." JJ states.
"Great day for it." Hotch comments.
"Awesome." Spencer mutters.
"So the secret service, huh?" Blake asks.
"Yeah, yeah. We haven't beat these chumps in five years." Derek says.
"They've got nothing to do but practice." Rossi remarks.
"And party." Penelope adds, putting a baseball cap on Spencer's head, getting cheers and exclamations from the others.
- - -
Y/N is sitting between Penelope and Henry as Derek goes up to the plate. The pitcher throws the ball and Derek hits it, everybody cheering.
Spencer goes up to the plate as the team yells out encouragements.
"Go, daddy!" He hears Y/N shout. His heart warms at her encouragement, but his nerves spike knowing she'll have to watch her dad look like a loser.
The pitcher throws the ball, but Spencer misses it.
"Strike one!"
"Strike two!"
"Strike three!"
The team yell out encouragements.
"Daddy kind of stinks." Y/N says to Penelope.
"But we love and support him anyway. He'll get it." Penelope assures.
- - -
Derek hits the ball and runs off. Spencer goes up to the plate.
"Hey, this guy can't hit! Bring it in!" One of the guys from the secret service team yell out.
"Meanie!" Y/N screams, Penelope immediately covering her mouth.
"Time out, time out!" Derek calls. "Time out!" He runs over to Spencer. Derek talks to Spencer for a couple of minutes before running back to his previous position and Spencer gets ready.
"Go, daddy!" Y/N shouts as the team yell out other encouragements.
The pitcher throws the ball, Spencer missing.
"Strike one!"
"Strike two!"
"This guy's got nothing!" A secret service guy yells.
Y/N's mouth opens to call him a meanie, but Penelope covers her mouth.
"Time and place, sweetheart." Penelope says.
The pitcher throws the ball and Spencer hits it.
The team cheer and yell at him to run. Spencer takes off, running around the field.
"Go, daddy!" Y/N yells.
Spencer collides onto home base, Derek cheering him on. He helps Spencer up, hugging him. The team cheer as the softball team lifts Spencer up.
When they get off the field, Spencer and Derek go over to the team who congratulate them.
"Daddy!" Y/N cheers, grinning and holding her arms up.
"Hey!" Spencer picks her up.
"You did geat." Y/N states.
"Thank you." Spencer says, letting out a soft laugh and he kisses her on the cheek.
Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @itsmaneskinbitch @mrvlxgrl @star-wars-lover @champomiel @ironmaiden1313 @finleyyylovesyou
#spencer reid#spencer reid x daughter reader#spencer reid x daughter!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds reid#reid
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feeling a bit weird asking this request since i haven't actually seen anyone write such a thing, but i'd like to ask for something about the parent figure!mike (NOT SMUT OFC), maybe something he's the reader's father or brother or something, if it's not something you could write just ignore !!! (i'm also not a native speaker so i apologize if it sounds impolite i always have this problem :/)
Girl have you read my fics?? Do NAWT come on here talking about feeling weird for a request when I have written shit that's sending me to super hell with Jensen Ackles or whoever played the angel guy from Supernatural. (I hope that joke made sense, I'm not in that fandom </3)
Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!! Fresh off the press for you pookie <3 (BTW, your English js great and you weren't demanding at all!! Seriously, don't feel bad 😊)
Same Shit, Different Schmidt
Dad! Mike & Gender Neutral! Reader
(This gif always sends me, I'm sorry)
Summery: You are a stubborn ass and Mike is not here to put up with that shit. Where'd you get this attitude, anyways? Is it so hard to just listen?
Tags: No use of Y/N, Reader is Mike's child, this is lowkey a sequel to 'What's One More?' but that is absolutely not required to read this, sickness, reader almost passes out, slight angst, Mike takes care of reader, Mike has a come to Jesus moment, mentions of arguing, injury, underage drinking, Abby and Mike go at it at one point, just a cute lil drabble :)
Notes: it feels illegal to post something so short. Is this allowed?? Anyways, this was so cute to write! Definitely a new approach. I hope you guys like this! Thanks for the request anon, I always love getting them 💗
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"I'm fine," you groaned emphatically, trying to to rise from the bed, musty from your body's sweat during the night.
"You are not fine, do not bullshit me," Mike scolded. His hands pressed you back onto the bed, his scowl growing as he feels your temperature through your moist shirt. "When did this start?"
"I told mom my throat hurt last night and she gave me some ibuprofen. It's seriously just a cold," you said, trying one more time to rise from the bed.
"You always get a sore throat before you get sick, have since you were a kid. When did the fever start?" His hand feels freezing against your clammy forehead, making you shy away to avoid the chills that threaten you.
"Not hot."
"You want me to call your mom so you can gaslight her, too?" His tone is firm and threatening. "Is there something you're trying to get away with here or...?"
"I have tech tonight for my show, I can't miss," you finally admit. You open your mouth to continue, but Mike quickly cuts you off.
"No. Out of the question," he said.
"Dad, I'll get in trouble-"
"You will get everyone else sick and then what? I said no," he said firmly. But when he sees the way you sink into the bed, eyes sad and finally accepting the situation, he thinks of your mother acting in a similar manner or Abby when she was your age with the same attitude. It makes him relent, pressing his lips tight together. "What do you need me to do?" He asked, voice softer as he strokes your cheek. Your eyes brighten for a moment, a smile breaking out. "You're not going, I'm just asking what I could do to help."
You sink into the bed once more, crossing your arms.
"My director is gonna hate me," you mumble.
"I will deal with her, or she will deal with me. I promise you one's better than the other," he said. At that you crack a smile, finally looking at him.
"Mom's not gonna be pleased either," you said.
"Mom's not gonna let you go either," he said. "I'm getting the thermometer and then I'm moving you to the living room so I can watch you better. You get control of the TV as your consolation prize."
You twirl your finger in the air, rolling your eyes as emit a mocking 'yay,' glaring at him as he shoots the same glare down at you, walking out of the room and slipping his phone out of his pocket to call your mother.
"How upset are they?" She asked on the other side of the phone. He could hear the office chatter going on around her as he searched through the cabinets for the supplements they kept in stock.
"They're not thrilled. Not planning my death yet, but it's coming," Mike huffed. "Is it elderberry that helps with sore throats?"
"Elderberry makes it worse after you get sick, helps before. Don't give them that," she said. There's a slight pause before she adds "You realize this attitude is inherited?"
"Oh," he groaned, sucking on his teeth. "I wasn't gonna throw you under the bus like that."
"I helped raise Abby, do not pin this on me," she laughed.
"I don't deny sickness," Mike said.
"I can name five seperate instances where you did," she countered. Mike froze for a moment, trying to remember. "Just go easy on them. Remember you're dealing with your kid."
"And yours," he countered.
"Supposedly," she teased.
"I'm pretty sure that was you I knocked up."
"But are you sure?"
"Well, there was that one time with your mom."
She laughed. "Have them text me when they can. I'll deal with director, she knows me better."
"Thanks. She terrifies me. Kinda get why they don't wanna miss," Mike admitted. With a quick laugh and a quicker goodbye, Mike clicks off the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He gathered the vitamins in a small cup, grabbed the other needed items and made his way back to the room that used to house his little sister.
"Okay, Mom's dealing with director and is willing to grab dinner of your choice if you'll-" Mike trails off at the sight of your empty bed, worry prickling through and tainting the annoyance rising in his chest. He calls your name, turning to look for you before his ears tune in on the shower running in the bathroom. He sighs, placing the items on your bedside table and making his way to the living room. All is well until about ten minutes after the water shuts off, when he heard a small but sure 'thud' ring from the room.
"Honey?" He called. Nothing.
He rises from his chair, his mind trying to remind himself to stay calm and not jump to its automatic thoughts of harm and anxiety as he walked quickly to the door.
"If you don't answer I'm coming in," he warned. The quiet groan on the otherside is all he needed to quickly open the unlocked door, trying not to panic as he catches sight of you curled up on the floor with your head between your knees.
"I'm fine," you said quietly. "Got dizzy." Your clothes are thrown on haphazardly and it's clear how disoriented you are. Your hair doesn't even look properly washed.
Mike's arms are comforting, familiar and protective as he carefully lifts you up, taking you to the couch as though you weigh nothing to him. When his mind is racing like this, you may as well not.
"What were you thinking?" He asked in a panicked voice. "I told you you weren't going."
"My director hates me and tech is like, our biggest practice. I can't miss," you insisted, barely able to stand the light shining through the open windows. The couch is cool against your skin, the old leather offering relief. Mike had brought it home a few years back, a surprise he'd found at a thrift store with your help. Still pricey but a Christmas gift for everyone in the house. Your mother shook her head as she finally agreed maybe the couch that was as old as her needed to be replaced.
"Your mom is dealing with her and she's gonna deal with you next if you don't listen to either of us," Mike said. He ran back to your room, collecting the items and returning to your side before you could even respond. "Can you just let us take care of you?"
Oh. Oh. Fine, okay. There it is. He hears it now, that point your mother had just been making.
As the thermometer takes longer than he'd like to beep, he sighs at the sight of you looking like death on the couch. "You get this attitude from me," he finally sighed. You raise your brow quizzically, waiting for him to continue. A soft noise emits from the device. Mike takes it from your mouth and scowls at the number that flashes back at him. He hands you a now room temperature cup of throat coat tea with three ibuprofen to help with the fever before he takes your hand.
"Did I tell you about the time your mother had to drag me to the emergency room for stitches on my forehead?" He asked, smiling. You snort, taking another sip of your drink. "It happened when you were little. I don't even think you were two. Abby was going out with this idiot and figured out how to take out the screen in her window so she could sneak out without any of us knowing. This girl was bad news, I mean-"
"Aunt Abby?" You asked.
"What? No. No, the girl she was going out with, Lisa Browning. Had her come home with a belly button piercing once, I wasn't happy about that. Anyways, Abby decided that she was going to this party one night and I'd found her bed empty halfway through the night while I was going to check on you. Well, I decided I was gonna wait for her in her room with the lights off until she got home. So I sat in front of her window and eventually got tired, so I shut my eyes. Figured it couldn't hurt. Took a couple hours, but eventually your mother woke up and my side of the bed was empty and she heard this loud as fuck noise from your aunts room. This is like four in the morning, mind you," he said. "So she jumped out of bed and heard your aunt yelling, saw some guy in dark clothes on the floor, open window and the lights are off, and she's still wiping sleep out of her eyes."
"Oh no," you groaned.
"Oh yes. Grabbed some metal Eiffel Tower thing on Abby's desk and just swung at my head. Hurt like a bitch," he laughed, you joining in as much as you could without hurting your throat. "It was a good hit. I think she realized it was me when I grabbed her ankle and hollered her name cause she stopped right after that. Wasn't too bad, but I wouldn't stop bleeding."
"So did Abby get in trouble?" You asked.
"Are you kidding? I was even more pissed, I chased her down the hallway after her girlfriend climbed in and fell on top of me. I was ready to kill her. Your mother had to drag me and her into the car, go back and grab you and deal with us screaming at each other all the way to the hospital. Not that I wanted to go, I was fine with just pressing a dishcloth to the thing and carrying on with my plan to rip my sister a new one. She had to threaten us both to actually get me inside, and I only conceded because I was too dizzy to object by that point. I think the nurses assumed she was insane. I mean, kid on her hip, dressed in pajamas with some drunk teenager bickering with a guy bleeding from his head at the crack of dawn. I'm surprised no one called the cops. They did have to almost seperate Abby and I, though. Which just upset me more."
"How did they get you to calm down?" You asked.
"Your mother handed you to me while she walked Abby to a bathroom so she could take a go at her. And you were all upset anyways because I wasn't paying attention to you and you didn't understand why the nurses were fuckin' with me or why I was upset. Once I had you in my arms I refocused, calmed down a good bit. Someone brought me a book to read you and we got to focus on that while they prepped me for stitches," he said the last part softly. "I was so glad when Abby got out of her teen rebellion phase."
"She ruined mine," you joked.
"Yeah. She used pretty much every trick in the book, so we were ready for you. Sorry," he said.
"It's fine, I don't like parties."
"I don't either."
Mike's phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it, typing a quick response before refocusing on you. "Your mother wants to know what you're thinking for dinner," he said.
"Chinese?" You asked.
"That comes from your mom's side," he smiled. "She'll be pleased."
¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤
Short but sweet. This was a fun one :)
Taglist:
@jhutchissupercool @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support! <3
Masterlist
#josh hutcherson fnaf#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson fanfic#mike schmidt#mike fnaf#mike#mike schmidt imagine#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt fnaf#mike schmidt fluff#mike schmidt x you#josh hutcherson x you#josh hutcherson x reader#jhutch
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whahsbebshdd i’m rlly shy abt this and i saw the bedman hcs you wrote and i loved it so much it had my legs kicking and my hair twirling
requesting bedman x a really loving kinda clingy reader,,,,,,
Bedman x GN! Clingy! Loving! Reader
There's no summary it's general headcannons annons letting me be werid!!
N: YIPPEEEEEEE, dont be shy about future requests when open asks are welcomed! thank you for the request!
Warnings: spoilers for bedman during strive and xrd, and minor spoilers for bedmans? Story
He's not escaping you, like ever not like he wants to anyway. "I'm leaving!" "Not without me!" You rush toward the door "you're still in your pjs" "does it matter?" He sighs disappintedly, you could probably do a pushup for everytime he sighs and end up swole and then he'd sigh again
You blame him for being likeable for you being as loving as you are. His kisses even though they're just small taps on the cheek from him they always leave you wanting him to do it again. "Stop" "I'm not doing anything tho" "you're about to ask me if I want to let you brush my hair" "....no" "do it" "yay!" Atleast someone takes care of his physical appearance for em, he's getting free spa days without someone complaining over how much he nitpicks. "Under my nails have been a bit dirty too" "I'll get it" "and there might be a pimple near my leg" "I'll pop it" "dirt in my glasses aswell" you stop what you're doing just to stare it him blankly, even though his eyes were closed he could still feel you staring bullets. "What?" "Are they even prescription?"
He'd enjoy the times he got to appear in your dreams, he's awake able to talk...alot...but his voice is pretty it's not like he'll rant so hard he raps about the same topic twice "when we talk about survival of the fittest-" that was all u listened to before just hearing a mumble of his voice, him just going on and on with you nodding your head. Other than the long 12 page essay front to back that comes out of his mouth he can also be quite engaged in dreams, specifically yours. He'd 100% ask you the next dream you have with him in it. "So what did you dream about?" Your eyes widen before your face goes stone cold "a discount at the supermarket and me trying to make homemade ice cream sandwiches that ended up exploding" he pushes up his glasses "is that so?" "Yea" "because a little birdie told me you were dreaming of me" you giggle, foolish mistake infront of him of all people, you'd have to wipe that dream out of your brain before he gets it outta you
He'd act like he doesn't like how much physical affection, hed be all "love is feable it isn't going to last and most people that are motivated by it end up crying in someone's couch" but everytime you headed his warnings, he'd get a tad...pretty annoyed. "Am I disgusting to you?" "What?" "You haven't hugged me for an entire 6 minutes is there a bug on me?" "I thought you didn't like me being that way" "I do" for the first time you sigh disapointedly "Alright buddy" "so you're not even going to call me Romeo now" you somehow can feel him putting hands on his hips, expect him to be ranting in his dreams because he didn't ever expect you to call him anything other than Romeo and not hug him for 6 minutes. You've learned giving him a small kiss is usually enough for him to forgive you.
You're also the person behind how polished the bed is, with Romeo or not. "You've gotten a bit rusty" it gently squeezes your hand "I ment physically, I'll take it off I wonder if it'll hurt you like this" Delilah trusts you a bit with him not knowing the extent of your relationship. "Don't touch him too much" "you think he'll attack me?" "Maybe" you pat the beds hand "don't worry I can fix him" you feel both siblings give judgemental looks. "That's crazy I can hear your brother sighing and calling me a fool"
#x reader#fluff#gender neutral reader#bedman x reader#bedman#bedman guilty gear#guilty gear#guilty gear strive#guilty gear xrd#ggst#ggstrive#gg xrd#gg x reader#gg xrd x reader#guilty gear x reader#guilty gear bedman
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hi!!! i was reading your cookie run fics and i LOVE THEM SM!!! especially capsaicin- hes such a sweet boy 🥺love him to pieces
but,
may i request a dark cacao x gn reader who finds it hard to be serious, and is really bubbly? like they might be at a meeting or something and reader just cannot keep up their serious facade!
thank you and have a great day :D
Bubbly!Reader Headcanons
dark cacao cookie x gn reader
summary: how dark cacao acts with a happy & bubbly s/o (i wanted to make a scenario w/ this but my brain couldn't think of anything good :,)) i hope it's ok and i hope u still enjoy it anon ilysm ty for requesting)
warnings: physical touch, maybe ooc(?) (he is very very soft for u), i think that's all but lmk if i missed any
confused by your constantly happy personality at first, but eventually got used to it and warmed up to you. now, your joyfulness is like a calming remedy for him whenever he's stressed.
thinks it's adorable whenever he sees you trying your hardest to look serious; thinks you always look so cute whenever you do.
^^^ likes to playfully tease you about this afterwards. likes seeing your flustered expression.
he always feels at peace whenever he's around you. your warm and happy demeanor always manages to bring a soft smile to his face.
loves it when you hug him. your touch is warmer than anything else he's ever encountered, and the butterflies in his stomach go crazy whenever you hold him.
likes hearing your voice. he could listen to you for hours on end, so he loves it whenever you indulge him in one of your long talks about anything that you find interesting.
likes spending time with you. your very existence makes him happy, so any time he spends with you and your warm, bubbly nature is time he treasures.
overall very soft around you and loves your personality. you always seem to make him smile, and he's always glad to have you around <33
a/n: he,,,, he is so,,,,,,,,,, anyways um i was gonna set up the event but then 3 requests got sent in overnight so once i finish those then the fun event will come so look out for that yAY,,,,,,, also tysm for showing ur support anon it genuinely means so much to me aaaaa pls request some more stuff if u want ur so nice aaaaaaaaaa would love to have u as a named anon in the aquarium but also if u dont want to that's fine too im just so happy that someone likes my works that much AAAAAAAAA TY <3333333333333333
thanks for stopping by!
wanna submit a request? see my requesting rules here.
taglist:
wanna be tagged? lemme know!
#fanfic#fanfic author#fanfiction#fanfiction author#fishbubble writes#x reader#cookie run x reader#cookie run kingdom x reader#crk x reader#dark cacao cookie#dark cacao cookie x reader#dark cacao x reader#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#crk#dark cacao cookie run#dark cacao cookie run kingdom#dark cacao crk#crk dark cacao#cookie run kingdom dark cacao#cookie run dark cacao#fishbubble's aquarium: 👾 anon
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Hiii :)
First of all, your blog looks so pretty! I'm really looking forward to seeing more works of you.
Secondly, could I please request relationship headcannons for Verlaine? Only of you feel like it of course.
Hope you have a great day/night!
Bye.
AAAAAAAAAA! thanks so much >:D i try to make it look pretty, i'm glad someone noticed tysm >o< this request is cute asf, so ty for requesting :D i hope you enjoy!!!
pairing: Verlaine X GN!Reader
cw:desc: just some fluffy, romantic hc's with the silly french man mwehehe
oh my god, you finally got him out of the basement (congratulations)
Joking, but anyways
Im doing these hc’s of him post SB btw
he’s really sweet to you, but he probably doesn’t talk much
Will recite little lines of poetry that he wrote when u come visit him in the basement, sometimes sad, sometimes happy
But you’re his muse, the moment that you start frequently visiting him in the basement, you’re all that he find himself writing about
If you two are in the same room though, he probably won’t talk much, but he does enjoy your presence
He doesn’t mind if you talk though, he enjoys listening to your voice and hearing you talking about your day
Get him desserts when he’s down there, or just food in general; the mafia only gives him rations (and he barely eats them), but he’ll appreciate anything you get him
Love languages are quality time, likes to receives acts of service and strangely enough physical affection
Really hesitant to touch you at first because he thinks he’s going to hurt you for some reason, mainly because he has a hard time thinking that he’s worthy of human affection
If you touch him, he’ll probably go stuff at first before relaxing into it
When he did start initiating forms of affection though, he would probably gently put his hand over yours, or kiss you on the hand when he greets you
(Let’s say u somehow got him out of the basement)
He spoils you… he gets all this money from being a Port Mafia executive and so what's he going to do with it? I mean, you’re mafia too, but you don’t earn nearly as much as he does
You will be living in a penthouse on the top floor with way much more space that you actually need
He’ll get you luxury everything and anything, you have his credit card in your pocket whenever you’re going out by yourself and you don’t even realize it, he’ll just slip it in your wallet or pocket when you’re not paying attention
I can see him liking to slow dance with you, he’ll have a record player in the background and when you get home he’ll take you in his arms and slow dance with you
Can he cook? Hot take, but no. (Rimbaud taught him everything, just not how to cook), but I can see him being somewhat of a househusband (he cleans around a little bit and will get you groceries for dinner, but he cannot tell the different between a pickle and cucumber… please send him pictures)
If he’s not in the basement he’s in the penthouse, probably not doing much unless Mori calls him to go train another subordinate
He just likes to be at home, but sometimes he needs to get out of there too because he gets too much into his own head
If he is out with you though, he’ll enjoy going to a cafe or a library; somewhere where he can just enjoy his time with you whether you’re both quiet or talking
Or he’ll sit at the park with you, but only if there’s not too many people
He won’t be doing that on his own though, he’ll only do that with you
Is ok with PDA, but just hand-holding; he’ll kiss you on the cheek if he’s going to leave you for a second though
Likes to sleep with you on his chest, he sleeps on his back
Or he has an arm around you in some sort of way :)
will melt if you braid his hair/take care of his hair in any way-
Will hum lullabies to you, either consciously or unconsciously; he just enjoys being able to see you fully relax in his arms
And is happy to know that he’s not really a monster after all (aw, yay)
#paul verlaine x reader#paul verlaine bsd#verlaine x reader#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader
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Hey, hru? Can you make some Tobyxnina hc/dynamics. I started shipping it because of u because I like the ship. Glad!:3
Sure! I love my rare pair but ig it’s getting more traction and I’m so happy!! :3 (idk if I had anything to do w that but I’m happy regardless. Also I hc Nina as black so :3 these are gonna be written in that in mind also these are all so fluffy)
Toby x Nina headcannons❤️
Scemo girlfriend. Grungy midwestern emo boyfriend
They hang out in the forest away from everyone
Mainly because some of the other creeps are like “you guys are a very strange couple”
Nina embraces the weirdness of their relationship
It was unexpected and came out of nowhere and no one could’ve saw it coming
While Toby hates the comments about it
If they love each other why does it matter?
They are though
I mean Nina’s whole thing was liking Jeff
What changed?
After growing up and maturing Nina released she never even liked or loved Jeff
She was just obsessed with him
Leading to a very unhealthy “relationship”
(Jeff just kept her around because she did what he said)
But Nina and Toby were different
Through spending time together they had to build this unlikely relationship
Toby found her really annoying and Nina thought he was so gloomy
But after spending more time together Toby’s mood would lighten around her
He needed someone like her
She was so so happy and bubbly and gentle and sweet
Toby had only known rough, callous and uncaring all his life
So being around her felt peaceful
And it still does
Nina spent so long trying to impress Jeff
So her being able to make Toby happy by just being herself makes her cry with happiness sometimes
He loves HER
Not what she can do for him
Toby enjoys her holding her hand, not telling her what to do
Nina enjoys playing with his hair, not hitting him or pushing him around
They like each other :)
Since Nina is a scemo queen, Toby likes to watch her get ready
The teasing of her hair, putting on all those belts, the dark eyeshadow and eyeliner the dark brown concealer on her lips to blend in with her skin
He thinks it’s over the top and looks ridiculous
And he loves it
Because it’s on her
“Why do you still dress like it’s 2007?”
“Cuz it’s fun! :3!”
“Is it, now?”
“Mhm! You should try it!”
“Don’t think so”
“Ah my gloomy Toby”
“Not gloomy. Just not me”
“But we listen to emo music together though!”
“Doesn’t mean I have to dress like it”
“I’m gonna make you do it one day”
“Sure you are”
Nina loves watching him practice hatchet throwing
When he hits a tree right in the middle she’ll cheer
“Yay Toby!”
He smiles a bit at her as to say thank you
He still has trouble with the whole emotions thing
He won’t say he loves Nina with his words but his actions
Getting her a new studded belt, more hairspray new eyeliner and anything that reminds him of her
Blast emo music in the car together and headbang
Toby is midwestern emo and Nina is MySpace emo
Although Toby also really likes nu metal, and other alternative music too
Nina often steals Toby’s hoodies and sweaters and will wear them to sleep, especially when he’s away on a mission
They’re mainly brown, black, dark blue all neutral colors because Toby’s plain like that
They smell like him and it makes her so happy
“Nina-what did I tell you about taking my stuff?”
*nina knocked tf out*
“Ugh you’re lucky you’re beautiful. You’re getting makeup all over my hoodie”
Nina wants to straighten Toby’s hair and give him emo hair and a fringe sooo bad
Like really bad
He grew is hair out for her to do it, he didn’t care about his hair anyway
He’ll let her do what she wants and she did just that
She gave him emo hair but it looked professionally done it’s so clean
Toby’s honestly impressed
Nina thinks he looks so hot with emo hair especially when he wears plain black shirts or shirts with bands he likes on them
Literally the emo bf she’s always wanted
Toby hates being called emo buuuut he kinda is
She’s now trying to get Toby to let her dye his hair pink and black to match hers
That’s where Toby drew the line
Nina and Toby got matching piercings though!
Now they both have canine bites, septums, eyebrow piercings and a bunch of ear piercings
Why not? He can’t feel it
They’ll touch tongues through the open wounds in their faces
Nina will stick her tongue out through her smile and Toby will touch her tongue with his through his face gash hole thingy
Nina makes Toby candi bracelets and Toby puts them on his hatchets
Toby will take Nina shopping with money he stole and saved up from victims
Goes with her every time because he doesn’t want her to get harassed
Super protective of her, just like he is with all the women he loves
No one can make fun of Nina’s fashion except for him
Nina definitely sings rap songs like sexy red and Meg the stallion to him as a joke
Toby just tolerates it
“Stop me and you’re racist, Toby!”
*head in his hands* “I’m not stopping you”
Toby is still, blunt, rude, obnoxious and cynical but tries to tone it down around Nina
He knows she’s sensitive to people talking to her like that, especially her partners
Nina will sometimes decorate Toby’s scars with glitter
He’s covered in them
All he does is roll his eyes and let her
He wasn’t doing anything with them anyway
Even though Toby is 29 and Nina’s 27 they feel like happy teenagers with each other
This is what their lives should’ve been together if the world was kinder to them
Just 2 people in love, hanging out listening to music, together, shopping together, going out to eat together
Nina being scemo is healing her inner child
Toby loving her true authentic self is healing her inner child
Toby tries to do the same by wearing more comfortable sweaters and trying to break the habit of picking at his skin
Nina loving him despite all his problems is healing his inner child
This is how life should be
No abuse, no suffering
Just them being in love and chilling
#creepypasta#creepypasta hcs#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta fandom#crp#creepypasta characters#creepypastafluff#ticcy toby#nina the killer#nina hopkins#toby rogers#ticci toby headcanons#nina the killer headcanons#fluff#creepypasta toby#creepypasta nina the killer
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Heyyy Idk if U still active but I LOVE your Hesperia x Nathalie headcanons & I wanted to know if you could make a drabble outta one of them
I'm super into the fact that Hesperia is the spontaneous one so!! Drabble Yay or Nay?
Plus I binged Ur writing and ughhh I love it 💕💕
Greetings from Norway!!!
A Gabenath Drabble: A Creature of Wonder
Note: Hello! Hi! I’m so sorry it took me so long to reply to this! I’m so honored that you love my writing and my headcanons that really means a lot to me! Also I’ve heard a lot of great things about Norway I hear it’s very pretty there! Thanks for the greeting! 😊
Anyway I know this fic is a little longer than a drabble is supposed to be but I hope you enjoy it! 💓💕💓💕
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Rated: K
Word Count: 428
Summary: Hesperia drags Nathalie out on a midnight adventure much to her chagrin and anxiety but perhaps he can prove to her that this little outing was worth it for both her and someone else.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“I don’t think you realize how risky this is,” Nathalie grumbled for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour.
“Shh!”
The soft pad of Hesperia’s pointer finger met the bow of her lips.
She scoffed, a flurry of both slighted annoyance and poignant worry swarming through her. Her voice pitched to a slightly higher, reverent whisper.
“You can’t be out here! Bobbling about! Out in the open! You can’t—”
“Shh! Look…” Hesperia interrupted, his voice low, his gaze focused on something in the shadows of the forlorn alleyway.
The eeriness of this little secret midnight escapade left a tangle of knots in Nathalie’s stomach, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.
She huffed as Hesperia gently set her down on the cool pavement, his hands remaining on her shoulders. She blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness surrounding them.
She gasped.
It wasn’t obvious right away, but if she looked closely, she could see the outline of what looked to be a little insect… something white? A moth perhaps? Or…
“A kamiko?” Nathalie murmured, her hand instinctively reaching out for the little creature.
“Look closer…” Hesperia whispered, his lips grazing against her ear.
Nathalie’s brows furrowed. The kamiko’s wings fluttered quickly, but it did not take off. It was stuck, somehow trapped between two throngs of twisted barbed wire covering the security gate blocking one side of the alleyway.
“Oh, the poor thing…” Nathalie cupped her hands, leaning closer.
“How come it won’t come to you?” Nathalie asked, while trying to coax the kamiko forward from its mini prison.
Hesperia chuckled, his blue eyes glistening.
“This one isn’t attracted to me.”
Nathalie snorted and couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that comment.
“Oh, please, how can a butterfly not love a butterfly-loving man like yourself?” she asked, teasing.
Hesperia smiled, soft and fond.
“Because kamikos respond to emotions, especially strong ones like love.”
Nathalie’s face heated, but she covered it well with another eye roll, though she was distracted by the feeling of a soft, tickling flutter against her palms.
She looked down to see that the little kamiko had made its way into her hands. She smiled, her heart melting as she nurtured it.
“Oh, and look at that,” Hesperia mused, “he’s found a home… with you,” Hesperia paused, a smirk on his lips as he kissed her cheek, “just as I have.”
Nathalie grinned, pressing her lips to his. She opened her palms between their embrace and set the little creature of wonder free.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it! I also want to apologize again for how long it took me to get this out and also for any grammatical errors.
Again thanks for reading and I’m open to any and all requests!
#miraculous ladybug#gabenath#gabriel agreste#nathalie sancoeur#gabriel x nathalie#mlb nathalie#mlb gabriel#mlb shipping#miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat noir#miraculous world shadybug and claw noir#miraculous world paris#miraculous world special#miraculous world#miraculous world nathalie#miraculous world Gabriel#miraculous betterfly#betteffly#hesperia x nathalie#mlb hesperia#mlb fanfic#mlb fanfiction#mlb fandom#mlb gabenath#hawkmoth#miraculous ladybug fanfiction#miraculous ladybug drabble#miraculous ladybug fanfic#gabenathfanfic#gabenath fanfic#miraculous gabenath
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Hey lovely Kit 🤎
I hope you're doing well!
So, I was scrolling through your blog when I saw your post XXX and I know you're always ok for new writing prompts so here I am with "Not on the lips"!
Thank you and have a nice day/evening/night 🤎
hey sweet Livia! 🖤
i promised myself i would make this under a thousand words, so naturally, it is now over 3k long and i kinda want to make it into a series! yay! *soflty* kill me now please
anyway, thank you so much for the prompt 🖤 (i promise i'm still working on the other you sent)
i hope you enjoy this 😘
vampires 102: unexpected quirks
ship: levihan
rating: T (mentions of blood/injury)
summary:
"Vampires can purr when they feel comfortable or safe.
Levi Ackerman, a vampire who hasn't led the happiest life, may not be up to date with all of his kind's abilities."
tags: Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Vampire, everything is canonverse except Levi is a vampire, yes you read that right, cherry-picked vampire abilities, because it’s my fic and also i've never written vampires before leave me alone, Pining, Consensual Blood Drinking, (why was there only the non con version of that tag jeez ao3 r u okay??), Blood, Weird-Ass Friends to Whatever The Fuck Levihan's Canon Relationship Is, Fluff, Couch Cuddles
👉 read on archive of our own 🧛♂️
PS: look, Levi is canonly: pale, stronger than a regular Scout, broody, doesn't know how to hold his tea cup (because he's not used to drinking liquids from something other than a vein, duh!), and his dashing looks don't seem to change as time passes by. so like. i might HAVE to turn this into a series, right??
divider source
#levihan#snk#aot#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#snk fanfiction#levihan fanfiction#aot fanfiction#levi ackerman#vampire levi ackerman#vampires#hange zoë#it's levihan cuddling weekend did u know#i've decided#(... you'll see what i mean later today lmao)#my stuff#long post#mutuals#thehangetomylevi#asks
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hi my loves 💪 im sorry for not updating this week and last week as well.. this may happen until the end of june😔 i havent found the time to js sit down and write these reqs but i do have some drafts so yay !!! ive had the biggest writers block since like man idk the julie fic ig? but anyways prepare for a more consistent update schedule like before when i first started out !! oh and thank you so much for all the support on in for it and call over your homegirls !! i’ve actually really enjoyed writing for this lil series and it makes me giggle (my sense of humor is rlly bad.) anyway.. i wanted to know if i should turn it into something liek idk bigger.. and stuff .. yknow ! ill still write reqs but then have like chaewon whining in a different fic
di that maker sense idk m tired and i mids nabi and jwannie boo
COME BACK HUYS I CANT DO THSI SHIT ALONE
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Hiii,I hope you’re doing good, I rlly enjoy ur writing. Can u write an sonnaught from the men of the harem x f reader and she’s a doctor and also Latil’s old friend. I hope I’m not bothering u and thank you
Not bugging me at all dear I've been very motivated to write something after my Twisted Wonderland fic hit off :D By the way are you an JC Avatar fan? I see Neteyam's name as your username.
Anyway Sonnaught needs to be protected at all cost he's one hell of a friend for Latil and a decent guy.
You were an apprentice to the Imperial Physican/Doctors since you was a kid. You were an orphan founded by one of them and was taken in.
You meet Latil and Sonnaught when you were introduced to the royal family after becoming an apprentice.
Latil and Sonnaught were very welcoming and quickly started a friendship. A friendship that would last a lifetime. As the years go on you became the new Imperial Physican/Doctor, Sonnaught the Imperial guard, and Latil the Emperor.
You develop feelings for Sonnaught but you knew he had eyes for Latil for a long time. You didn't confess cause you didn't want to ruin the friendship and respected his feelings.
You couldn't help but feel bad for him for dealing with one sided love.
During the events of the Men of the Harem you two work together a lot. From helping Latil deal with the strange events happening, to working with patients.
You began to notice a change in the guard's demeanor when he's around you. At first you thought maybe its stress from the whole ordeal.
Then you noticed subtle moments affection, and a little flirting. It didn't take too long for you to realize he was falling in love you.
This gave you the confidence to confess to him. You two began courting.
The best way I describe a romance with him is very courtly and romantic. Sonnaught is very sweet and considerate of your needs. Dates may include riding with him to some of nicest places in town. He may teach you how to defend yourself, (thanks to the events that happen in the story,), go on a picnic, enjoying some food and wine.
Latil would be your biggest supporter -shipper- she would be so happy to see you two dating. And tells Sonnaught that he better be a good man to you or sh*t will go down hill.
Latil is protective of her friends lol
Author's Note: I'm so happy that my writer's block is gone for now and my mental health doing better then in years yay!!!! I hope you like this.
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hello! i just randomly found your blog & when i realized you were the one who wrote Zeta-Epsilon i audibly went HOLY SHIT because i fucking love that story! it hits my heart in all the right ways. anyways i hope you have a good day & thank you for putting Zeta-Epsilon into the world!
aw yay! glad u enjoyed it, that one was really fun to write! Its always really surprising to me when ppl mention a specific thing i wrote cause im like huh! wasnt expecting people to remember things! wow things i wrote exist in the world!
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