#(please @god let the formatting of this post hold)

[greenglowsgold]

The List.

Based on the Cass Apocalyptic Series.

The first part of this has been rumbling around in my brain ever since that Super Sad Scene a month ago, but yesterday’s update gave me the other side of the coin, so to speak, and finally pulled it all together.

@somerandomdudelmao thanks for the fuel, friend

                              -----

                              Donatello’s days have become a series of checklists, as of late.

No, that’s not exactly true. His days have always been about lists: what he’s done, what he can delegate to someone else, what still needs doing. But these days he’s been doing less and listing more, piling tasks from the first category onto the second as fast as he can manage, hoping he has enough time to empty the queue.

The full catalog is written out in a series of files, reorganized for accessibility to the layperson and meticulously up-to-date as of yesterday. He meant to run through it again this morning, ensure all the relevant instruction manuals were attached to each item and double check his protocols, but he wasn’t… he couldn’t…

He’s going to die tonight.

It irritates him, his own miscalculation of the timing more than the stark presence of his oncoming demise. The latter has been inevitable for quite some time, long enough that he’s gotten used to the idea. But he thought he had another week or two, and he doesn’t like being proven wrong. He wonders if his brothers know.

Probably not. They know it’s bad now, obviously, because they’ve piled him with pillows and blankets and surrounded him on all sides, and Leo has finally gone quiet. But they trust him, they’ve always trusted him, even when they shouldn’t, so if he swears he’ll last a few more days, they’ll believe him. He thinks. He’s pretty sure. If they knew it was tonight, he doubts they would choose to sleep through it. Donnie thinks about waking them up, but only for a moment. He’d like to say it’s a noble act, to leave them in peace a little bit longer, but the truth is he’s just too fucking tired to move.

There’s something settled bone-deep in his chest, a heaviness that sits on him like a stone, a peine forte et dure pressing him down and down, stopping his voice and his breath and his heart. He wonders if this is what dying usually feels like, or if it’s unique to the Kraang. Raph would know.

He cranes his neck to the right, to catch Raph’s face out of the corner of his eye. Raph’s working eye is half-open, staring down at the floor. Donnie could ask him. (He won’t. Let him fall asleep.) The movement of his head is so slight it doesn’t even catch Raph’s attention. He’s too tired for anything more. He’s so goddamn tired.

His lists are out of reach at the moment, with his physical interfaces back in the lab and his ninpo locked behind a wall of oh-god-it-sounds-too-exhausting-to-even-try, but he memorized them all long ago.

Raphael: Maintenance (delegated to Casey, who has it well in hand). Plans (tucked away in a dedicated folder, long term, but someday they’ll have the materials, and Raph will have a proper body again, someday). Honey (yes, he passed that along last week).

Raph has access to the tracking programs, so he can keep an eye on everyone himself, even when Donnie can’t pull up locations or vitals for him anymore. He has his own space in the base once more, somewhere to close a door when he needs to (he insists he doesn’t, but Donnie isn’t a fool). He has more excuses to spend time with Casey, who’s taking over his upkeep. Donnie hopes it fills in some gaps for both of them.

He runs through the list, double checks each item. It’s his last chance to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything important.

He looks down, finds Mikey.

There’s a stockpile of the anti-aging serum in his safe, the formula in his database, plans for the permanent solution clearly labeled. As long as they have his lab, his systems, Mikey will be as young as his years. He’s walked him through the greenhouse, even if most of it is controlled by the computer system. Mikey misses the world being green; it’ll do him good to spend more time around the plants. He has his tea, his candles. He has Draxum, who by now should have received a — mildly — threatening message warning him not to pull any disappearing acts anytime soon. He has their ancestors, just a short call away.

Donnie’s sure Mikey will call on him soon. He doesn’t plan to stray far.

Up a bit. To the left. Leo.

The arm — Leo knows how to take care of it, as does Casey.

The passwords — reset, something even Leo will be able to remember without resorting to blackmail.

The schedule — reshuffled for the next few days, he’ll have a hard enough time sleeping as it is.

The photos — everything they have, even the embarrassing ones. He even managed a couple of prints, and one precious shot from their pre-apocalypse days, something for Leo to tuck into a pouch and carry with him, when they’re not around.

Raph, Mikey, Leo. He doesn’t think he’s missed anything. Donnie lets his head fall back, too exhausted to hold it up any longer.

Is it enough?

His mind stretches further out. He’s unraveling.

What about April? Her prescription is up to date, they just checked a month ago. She has the latest in his combat tech, which has kept her safe in the field this long, so he has no reason to think it will falter now. He’s leaving her a few extra pieces, since he won’t be able to use them anymore. Leo will find the time for a movie night once in a while, he’s certain, even if his taste in Jupiter Jim movies is horrendous. They still have coffee; he’d die before he let that particular supply run out. He will, actually.

Casey. Fuck, Donnie’s gonna miss his birthday. But he did plan for this, his protocols will kick in. The mask is finished, everything is in place. He’s reconfigured his workstations, fit them for a tiny human instead of a seven-foot turtle. Casey has a better head for mechanics than any of his brothers ever did. Kid likes to be useful, so Donnie’s left him as much use as he can. He’s taught him everything Casey can learn and left instructions for more, when he’s a little older and wiser. His family will take care of him, they’ll make sure he gets there.

The base. It has to hold, to give them somewhere safe. The infrastructure is sound, and they have people to manage repair work. Supplies are decent, the most critical items in stock, everything that can be made renewable is. Their allies — Leo handles interpersonal issues and leadership, but Donnie’s checked the list with a pragmatist’s eye, left notes and rankings for priority. Security is the largest concern, but he’s spent nearly half his time with his assistants since his self-diagnosis (he could have spent it with his family), running them through the programs and adjustments, trying to bring them up to somewhere in the realm of his own expertise (a fool’s errand, but still). They’ve been rigorously instructed, they understand that the little things like sleep are secondary concerns. It has to hold.

Is it enough? For them to be okay?

He’s done everything he can. He can’t do any more. So it has to be enough.

Donnie blinks, and for a moment isn’t certain his eyes will open again at the end of it. But they do. At least one more time, they obey him.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home. He rolls back through the list. It’s his last chance. He can’t miss anything.

Mikey’s hand tightens unconsciously around his wrist, fingers meeting easily on either side. Donnie feels only the echo of the pressure.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home.

Something bright sparks at the edges of his vision before it fades. The last gasps of a dying brain, he supposes. Synapses firing one last time before they’re snuffed out.

Raph.

Mikey.

Leo.

                                                            April.

                                                                                                                        Casey.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Home.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Light.

                                                                                                                         There’s light.

                                                            It hurts.

                                                            He thought dying would stop the pain, but it’s risen to a fever pitch instead. His brother’s arms are gone, but the disease wraps around him in their place, consumes him. It rages like a wildfire, burning through his center until pieces start to flake away like ash.

Oh, this is what it does, what it was built for. The Kraang could have killed him in a lot of different ways. He’d wondered why they chose this one.

He hasn’t planned for it. This is something he didn’t even know to fear.

It’s bright and it hurts but it’s quiet as he crumbles, folds in on himself like a black hole in the utter silence of outer space. It’s quiet enough that the voice that breaks through does so clear as a bell.

His head turns to follow the sound, instinct. He’s lost half his field of vision, but what’s left is enough. He looks, and finds Casey.

Casey looks at him, at him, not the body. Donnie opens his mouth to ask a question — What are you doing here? How? Why? — but something else sloughs out instead. Not blood. He doesn’t have that anymore.

Casey calls his name once more and starts running.

Donnie’s questions fold back into his mind. His mouth clicks shut, he swallows back the putrid rot and pushes himself up. His arms are shattered but they’ll have to hold him. They have to. Because Casey is here and he needs something, which means Donnie missed something, which means he isn’t done.

His spirit disagrees with him, doesn’t see the logic. His arms don’t hold.

Casey reaches to catch him as he falls, and the touch ruptures him instead. He scatters. Into the air and the ground and Casey. For a moment, he’s just pieces, fumbling around and latching onto anything that welcomes them, and Casey does that. They flow into him. They’re him. They’re…

He’s…

Casey, he’s…

Donatello pulls himself back together. Most of himself, anyway. The infection hasn’t followed him but the damage persists. He’s run through with cracks and crevices, shaking bits away into infinity with every movement. But there’s more of him here than not.

Unexpectedly, Donnie is not gone. He’s still dead, but that’s fine, he planned for that one.

                                                                                                                         Casey has him now. He wraps himself around Donnie in layers, helps hold him together with a kind of sheer will that makes up for any lack of mystic knowledge in spades. Casey asks him to stay, and Donnie takes up the task like Sisyphus sizing up the hill. This time, this time I’ll do it right.

Even better, Casey has taken him to another time, one where all of Donnie’s long-term plans are now completely-fucking-reasonable plans. Casey’s going to fix it, so Donnie can fix everything else. Whatever else needs it. He hasn’t really asked. And he knows he’s missed something, but he doesn’t think too hard about what, not yet.

First thing’s first: he needs a body.

It’s so simple to accomplish that it seems like the universe is mocking him. Just a quick 1-2-3, ticking off the list. It feels almost stupid, like running back through the early levels of a video game after unlocking all the ultimate weapons and burning through enemies and obstacles, laughing, shit, did I used to think this was hard?

In no time at all, his own face has formed in front of him.

In no time at all, he’s gasping.

It’s only been a few hours since he last breathed air, but he’s missed it.

Another thing he’s missed? Functional musculature. Casey slams into him and Donnie is startled to find that it doesn’t knock him over. His arms and legs look like actual limbs again, not fragile little sticks disguising themselves as such. He stands, dragging Casey along without a second thought. The weight barely registers. It’s amazing.

The power trip is heady, but it only lasts a few minutes before reality kicks it in the ass and pulls him back down to earth.

We lost, Casey says.

They’re dead, Casey says.

It wasn’t enough, Casey does not say, but Donnie hears it just as clearly.

All those plans, the preparations, the precautions and protocols, they only borrowed a year or two before they fell apart. He sees the timeline spiral out before him, tighter and tighter until it collapses in on itself, rendered all the more insignificant from his own point of perception. He was alive yesterday. His family is dead today.

Everything he did, it wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. He was stupid to think otherwise.

(Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Casey’s still here. It was enough for him, at least.)

It cuts at him a little, to have been so wrong. But he’s strong again, now. He can take the wound. More importantly, he has another chance to get it right.

Donnie breathes. His chest expands smoothly, easily. The air doesn’t rattle in his lungs. He’s alive, he’s a genius, he can fix anything.

He pulls up a list.

[inklore]

listen as a namor whore (namwhore?) i think that he loves marking you as his like man would go nuts with the hickeys and bruises (and bite marks too). on the off chance he lets you return the favor he’s surprised by how much he loves seeing the love bites and bruises on his own godly self >:)

pairing: namor x princess!reader

word count: 962

warnings: eighteen+ content, mentions of p in v but not shown, teasing, bites and marking, established forbidden relationship.

note: ok see i love this concept, this take, this thot!! but i fear he’s not completely into you returning the favor because for him it’d be more of a ‘i want everyone to see and be reminded who you worship to’. and i think he likes to stay looking proper to his people, but he does let you get away with bites left under the shorts!!

You were supposed to have left your room and met your mother and the council minutes ago—almost an hour ago you now see as the clock on your bedside reflects back to you in the mirror you’re standing at. Trying to right yourself back into looking presentable, kept, like you’re not running late because the man at the foot of your bed used his sweet siren song of pretty compliments, and words that had you out of your dress just as fast as his fingers had torn at the undergarments underneath it.

Leaving your balcony door open for him was seeming more and more like a curse than a blessing.

Letting him come and go as he pleased, when he cared to visit you after days of being MIA. Sometimes only noting his presence with a saltwater covered gift he’d leave at your doorway, when you’d stayed up as long as your body would allow to. As you waited to see if he would come to you; or when duties like council meetings and required dinners were demanded of you—events a Princess was supposedly meant to attend.

You’re surprised your mother hasn’t sent someone to fetch you. You expect it anytime now, ever the punctual woman your mother was. Being tardy was surely going to get you a stern look and deep questioning.

“Jats'uts,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

Beautiful.

Pretty.

Your heart soars, fingers only wavering a little as you do your best to right the necklaces adorning your neck. Your body having just been molded pudy in his hands mere seconds ago. Your thighs still sticky from having his mouth and cock between them. Your legs still feel that heady wobble from post orgasm. Your mind and body still coming off of that beautiful precipice of want and desire, of falling against his body like you couldn’t stand up straight, or function properly, without him being there to sink into—or onto on most nights.

You had told him how urgent it was that you make it to this meeting. How he needed to turn around and make his way back to his beloved ocean before someone saw him, and your mother had both of you locked away.

A threat he laughed at. A threat you knew meant nothing to someone as powerful as him; a God.

“If this were Talokan I’d make our people come to you. You’d never have to lift a finger, princess.”

Our people.

As if there were some alternate reality in which that could come to formation. Where the two of you would rule as equals and not something forbidden, and secretive.

There had been too much death and destruction on both sides, from both of your people, for either groups to be happy to be ruled by the both of you.

But the fantasy was nice to dream about—get lost in the idea of actually being able to flaunt your love instead of hiding it.

When his arm wraps around your waist your body works on instinct, on knowing the hands and warmth of the man that’s touching it. Guiding it into his chest to lean and rest against. His lips brushing at the side of your neck, mustache burning your skin.

“Or you could stay naked, spread out for me. Waiting for my return while I handled everything.”

“Mm.” You let your eyes close as you grin, “no responsibilities other than pleasing my king.”

“Precisely.” His teeth take a hold of your sensitive skin, his tongue following after the sting like a salve. Making your body tremble against him, a gasp falling from your lips. “You’d never want for anything. I would have it brought to you. Made for you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to you, princess.” His mouth repeats it’s actions against your neck, his hand creeping lower to the start of your thigh.

That ache between your legs quickly making a home once more at your swollen clit.

“K’uk’ulkan,” his name falls from your lips, practiced, known, worshiped—as you moan softly. As you let him suck and bite at your skin, letting his words coax you into that fantasy world you want so badly.

You don’t come back to reality until you feel his fingers start to pull up the bottom of your dress, the cool air against your damp underwear bringing you back down from that building high.

“Nononono,” you pull away from him. Untangling his arms from your body and sending him a scowl at the way he’s smirking at you. “I’m already late because of you!”

“My apologies, princess.” His hand waves towards the door, “don’t keep your people waiting any longer.”

“I won’t! You-” your quick movements stop abruptly when you see it, when the deep hue catches your eye in the mirror. And maybe it’s half your own fault for not stopping him, for once again falling victim to the hot-tease of manipulation of his beautiful words.

There’s words of anger and disbelief in the back of your throat, ready to come up and spill over at the man whose eyes are locked onto yours in the mirror. Who is still wearing that signature cool as can be expression, that you really want to slap off of him.

Your mother was going to kill you.

String you up as a pariah!

“My mother–”

“Will not be pleased, no.” He finishes for you. Steps back into that space behind you, returning his heat to your back. His thumb runs along the bruised area, eyes gleaming at his creation before flashing back to yours. “But now everyone will know you belong to someone.”

You belong to me.

Unspoken in words but not in the way he presses a kiss to the love mark, lips soft and endearingly sensual.

[lippyispunk]

When the World Is Quiet, What Thoughts Remain

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: Gods, he remembers this feeling intimately.

Dying.

-

A near-death experience provides Astarion some clarity.

Word Count: 3.7k

fluff, realized feelings, developing relationship

a/n: Hello all!

I wrote this to take place in Act 2, after the Yurgir battle but before Astarion's confession. I believe it is gender neutral, but if anyone finds something that says otherwise, please let me know! First time posting on here, so I apologize for any formatting errors.

-

Gods, he remembers this feeling intimately. 

Dying.

Despite the centuries that had passed since his mortality had been lost to this plane, the experience was seared into his mind. Back then, it had been horrific. The excruciating pain. The paralyzing fear of what was to come, as his body was drained of blood and his heart thumped erratically in his chest, desperately trying to keep his blood flowing- his body alive.

 

This time, the pain is ever present. He lies on his back in the mud and puddles, the yawning storm above continuing to release torrents of rain. His ruby eyes blink slowly, despite the droplets landing in them. Twin daggers have been abandoned at his sides, pale elegant hands having to hold his innards together instead. His white lounge shirt clings to his trembling frame, now dyed rusty brown and crimson red. 

 

The fear, however, is blessedly absent. His thoughts trudge through his mind like oozing honey. It’s almost peaceful. Cazador. The parasite. His never ending hunger. All seemed so far away now; the normally constant concerns looming at the forefront of his thoughts, now caught in the sticky trap of insignificance. 

He had been hungry earlier. Always so hungry. The small respite he received immediately after feeding never lasted as long as he wished it would. His condition had been even more bothersome as of late. Ever since he and the little group of misfits he traveled with had entered the Shadowlands. Prey was sparse. And any blood he lost during battle needed to be replaced somehow. That was how he found himself here tonight.

 

He had hunted further from the group’s campsite than he normally would, in search of the few living creatures that had not yet been felled by this accursed land. He had been ambushed by shadow beings, caught unaware due to his weakened, dulled senses. Their claws had cut through him so easily. His lack of armor was another mistake, but a decision made in hopes to be quick and quiet enough to catch a meal.

 

His head slowly lolled to the side, eyes attempting to focus in the direction of the camp. The monsters that attacked him had begun to slither that way before vanishing into hazy mist. His breath wheezes from his lungs, chest shuddering. Breathing wasn’t a necessity for him, but a habit nonetheless. Even now.

 

He wonders, idly, if any of his companions will be awake at this hour to intercept the attack. His muddled mind cannot bring forth who was supposed to be on watch tonight. He even admits to himself, perhaps his blood loss getting to his head, that he would not wish to see them come to harm. Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart…

 

His drifting thoughts were brought to sudden clarity. A breathtaking, wondrous, kind creature unexpectedly ensnaring his thoughts.

You.

 

Gods, how could it have taken this long for you to flit back into his mind? You were all he seemed to think about anymore lately. Your smile, your laugh, your boundless good heart. But also the confusion he felt that always seemed to twist whatever lovely feeling you inspired in him.

 

He may not wish to see the others harmed, but you… you’re different. The way he feels for you is- different. He cares for you. In a way that he cannot recall ever feeling for someone else. You understand him in ways that he doesn’t understand himself. It’s terrifying. Exhilarating. The most alive he’s felt in, well, ever. 

 

But it wasn't supposed to end up this way. He’s comfortable pretending. Seducing. It’s as familiar as the back of his hand. And the facade had worked with you too, for a brief time. Until that second time he propositioned you at the tiefling party. What had you called his seductions? ‘Honeyed words’? And then the complete dismissal of his fraudulent love confession. He had recovered well in the moment; he’s used to pivoting his tactics when the occasional target gets antsy with his persuasions. Even still, you had rejected him that night. You let him down easy, of course, with a compassionate smile and a sweet whisper of ‘perhaps another time'. 

 

Later that night, when he was alone once more, he contemplated. You were on to him, in one way or another. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of his ploy, but you could tell his flirtations were… insincere. Why else would you turn down another night with him? 

 

He had expected repercussions, a growing distance between the two of you that would put all his progress with you to ruin. You didn’t seem the type to settle for this feigned romance. You'd push him away.

But you hadn’t. You were just as warm and welcoming to him as you had always been. Attentive. Friendly. Hells, even laughing at his irrelevant, snarky quips. He was surprised. And in that surprise, he found himself off guard. You still wanted to spend time with him, despite everything. Maybe… maybe he didn't have to try so hard with you. 

 

Since that revelation, Astarion had found himself just enjoying existing . He had fun around you, and the others too, he'd be loath to admit. Now that the metaphorical weight of seducing you had been lifted. But inevitably, at night when he was alone, the pesky question returned, cycle after cycle. If not his body, what did you want from him?

 

More recently, there had been the battle with the Orthon, Yurgir. Astarion was still befuddled, even now. No one in his extensive time on this plane had ever gone to such lengths for him. When Raphael had offered the deal: one very dead devil in exchange for information on his scarred flesh, there had been no question, no doubt from you. Just resolve and an all encompassing respect for Astarion and his decision making. It made his chest ache. 

 

He's not entirely sure what to call the emotion he feels for you. It goes beyond simple lust for your form or an appreciation of your personality. And Gods knows he's scared to Avernus and back of what this all might mean. But he's not scared of you. Never of you. He realizes that whatever comes, he wants to explore this. With you, if you'll have him.

 

Returning to the present from his recollections, one conviction finally banishes the wandering thoughts in his mind. You deserve better than this. These pretty lies he had been trying to feed you. This mask that he had used for so many years, so many decades. You had given him some of the most important parts of yourself. Your trust, your belief in him, your patience.  It was time he did the same.

 

Ruby irises shift skyward once more, a newfound purpose and vitality clear in his pupils. He has to get back to you. To explain. To apologize. Hells, to bathe in the warmth of your presence just once more would make this endeavor worthwhile.

 

He steels himself before his body begins to twist, rolling to his stomach ever so slowly. An agonized cry peels itself from his throat, unbidden. The fresh wave of pain that crashes over his stomach ripples through the rest of his body, leaving him shaking in its wake. He keeps one hand underneath him, continuing to hold as much pressure on his gaping wounds as he can. The other arm is bent in front of him, poised for what he must do.

 

He begins to crawl.

 

He grunts with the effort, free hand scrabbling in the mud for purchase as he drives his legs into the ground to push his form forward. This is far from the worst thing he has ever endured. But Gods, hasn’t he endured enough in this lifetime?

 

Tears spring to his eyes as he continues his plight. His beautiful white curls are drenched, flattened to his head and dropping into his field of view. His anguished gaze is so unfocused that it doesn’t matter. He’s moving on instinct now, forcing his limbs to respond by sheer force of will alone. The will to live.

 

Somewhere distantly his mind registers that his voice has become an endless stream of moans and broken sobs. Blood continues to slip stickily between the fingers clutching at his stomach. He doesn’t care. He will do anything to make it back to you. He has to. He owes it to you. Hells, he owes it to himself.

 

Time moves in slow motion; he loses all sense of it. He knows not how long he’s been dragging his body forward, just that finally, finally , he reaches salvation.

“Astarion!”

 

He hears you as if he’s underwater, but he would know your voice anywhere. His mind is fuzzy, consciousness fading from his being quickly. He stops crawling and lifts his blood-red gaze. You’re here. His breath hitches in his chest, a new sob rending itself from within. Though this one was not brought out from pain, but rather relief. He's never seen a more welcome sight.  

 

You’ve come for him, battleworn and bloody. Your feet pound the sodden land, racing toward him as you pay no heed to the slick mud. You drop to your knees in front of him, hair plastered to your cheeks and eyes wild with adrenaline and some other emotion he is unable to wrap his disoriented mind around. His eyes trace your face with his last remaining strand of focus.

Astarion had long given up on praying to any deity. What was the point? They never answered him anyway. But you- you are divine. The sight of you here, now, almost has him reconsidering his stance. 

 

“Gods, Astarion! Just hold on, okay? Please!”

 

Your hands flutter in his vicinity for a moment, unsure of where to touch without causing more harm. He watches you, the barest hint of his lip tilting up at the corner.

 

“I don’t think you can make it much worse, darling,” he breathes, tone sounding brittle in his own ears. “Just do it.”

 

He sees you wince before you brace yourself. Ever the leader, doing what must be done. Your hands rest on him gently, but firm. Warm. Comforting, despite the circumstances. He wants those beautiful, lively hands to touch him again after all this. He wants to savor it. To feel them carding through his curls. To rest gently on his arm to catch his attention. To pull him in close, a secret for him alone dancing on your lips. He wants to- he doesn’t know what exactly he wants. He just knows-

 

He cries out sharply when you turn him onto his back, the pain rocketing his thoughts out of his musings.

 

“I’m sorry,” you grimace, eyes scanning over his torso, cataloging the damage. 

 

Carmine eyes are glazed with agony, but he fights to stay conscious. He grunts when you move him again, swiftly tucking your legs underneath you. His head lays in your lap, face tilted skyward and ivory neck lengthened by the newly created slope of your legs. A healing potion appears at his lips, your hand holding firm as you tip it towards him.

 

Normally he’d have some smart comment, he’s sure. Something about being a damsel in distress, perhaps. Or maybe something about how this isn’t what he means when he says he wants to take a drink from you. But exhaustion takes hold, and he follows your lead mutely.

 

The effect is instantaneous; the healing potion is a glorious balm for his wounds. The pain numbs to a background throb, much easier to withstand. The gashes across his stomach begin to seal, the bleeding slowing to a trickle. Astarion sighs through his nose, relief radiating through him down to his fingertips.

 

The rain has abated to a lazy drizzle. It’s the only reason Astarion can hear your faint confession.

 

“You… you scared the shit out of me, Astarion,” your voice wobbles, such a far cry from the fearlessness he is accustomed to hearing from you. He blinks up at you, his gaze taking in your anxious expression as you lean over him. Seeing your expressive concern for his well being is still something he's getting used to.

 

He finishes the potion, licking the remnants from his pale lips as you pull the vial away.

“Apologies, my sweet,” his voice comes out stronger than before, but roughened from his earlier painful overuse. “You know I have a flair for dramatics. What better way to keep things lively than almost dying. Again,” he does his best to smirk, to don the mask of devil-may-care that comes so easily to him.

 

“Gods above, Astarion. ‘Dramatics’? That’s all you have to say? You were nearly gone when I got here. I was almost too late,” your voice tapers off, ending in a near whisper.

 

He blinks again, shocked. The facade slides off his face. Truth be told, your vulnerability is making him… uneasy. He doesn’t know what to say. Why are you so distressed? This is hardly the first time one of the group has come up gravely injured. He doubts it will be the last.

 

He will recover eventually, as he always does following a particularly nasty battle. It may take a little extra healing from Shadowheart, and a belly full of blood would absolutely go a long way in fast tracking the process. But regardless, his body will endure.

He’s painfully aware that his usefulness has… limitations. It extends to his body alone. His battle prowess, his dexterous fingers, his ability to deliver pleasure. But that’s it. He has nothing substantial to offer you. No worldly possessions, no powerful connections, just… himself. His biting nature, both literally and figuratively. His trauma, broken pieces with razor sharp edges. He's not even sure if you are interested in something like this with him, something deeper. No, he thinks. No one could want this. Not truly. His growing feelings for you are one sided, of that he is certain.

 

But then you throw his world off its axis again.

 

“I can't- I can't lose you. You mean the absolute world to me.” 

 

His eyes soften, rounding out as he searches your gaze. For what, he’s not entirely sure. Deceit? Twisted humor? But all he finds is tenderness along with the shine of unshed tears.

You pause for a moment, swallowing. He can see you're trying to continue so he waits, eyes rapt.

“I would miss how you always manage to make me laugh, even when I'm having a horrible day. And getting to hear your laugh in exchange when I do something you find particularly impish,” your serious expression finally gives way to a small amused smile. ”The little sweets you sneak into my bag whenever you manage to get your hands on some, just because you know I love them.”

 

Astarion's eyes widen imperceptibly. Shit. He didn't realize you knew he was the sweets supplier. It was…nice for him. To be able to provide you something you enjoy and a brief respite from all the weight on your shoulders. If only for a moment. To see the stress evaporate from your face for the few minutes it took you to chew. You'd only indulge every so often, when camp was quiet and nothing urgently needed your attention. He'd watch silently from his peripheral vision on occasion, not wanting to ruin your contentment but also needing to witness it for himself.

 

But he hadn't exactly wanted to mentally unpack what this absurd little habit of his might mean beyond the superficial. Hence, the secrecy. He was going to eviscerate whichever loudmouth at camp had clued you in. 

 

“You're there for me, in ways that I could never begin to fully describe. I know we don't always agree entirely, but I'm never afraid to tell you how I feel, or what I think. Because at the end of the day we'll still support each other,” you glance away briefly, and he sees the heated flush on your cheeks. 

 

Embarrassment. Always so delicious to him. For anyone else it means he'd get to loosen his tongue on some provoking quips. How he loves to rile people up from time to time. But now, he finds it enticing for an entirely different reason. Gods, you're beautiful. 

 

You find your courage again quickly, making eye contact with him once more. “I could probably go on, but what I'm saying is… I would miss you endlessly. I can't do this without you.”

What a novel concept. To be wanted, needed beyond anything he could provide carnally. To be desired purely for his presence will take some adjusting. But, if you truly believe everything you said about him, then who is he to disagree? Maybe there is some truth in what you say. If you can see some good in his wretched soul, then perhaps he can try too.

 

“I'm… I'm not going anywhere, my love,” he promises.

 

It flows from his lips so naturally, ‘my love'. It hadn't even been a conscious thought. Anxiety spikes in his gut at the admission, his mind already beginning to spiral. Love? Is that what this is developing into? He doesn't know how to tell; there's no past memories in his mind to pull reference from. 

 

But the smile that splits your lips at his vow is radiant, and he finds that his racing thoughts slow immeasurably. Regardless of the unintentional reveal, the moniker fits. He feels it in whatever remains of his soul. 

 

He smiles then, all honey and warmth. For you.

 

“I'll be here long after you tire of me, I'm sure. Vampires always tend to overstay their welcome, you know,” he jests softly, voice lacking his usual edge. 

 

You gasp quietly and he recognizes it as the familiar sound of you remembering something.

 

“I’m so sorry, Astarion. You've just reminded me, I can't remember the last time you've eaten,” you immediately brandish your wrist, pulling your sleeve up. 

 

He freezes, the roiling, constant hunger in his gut flaring at the sight of your wrist. He knows how close the veins are to the surface there, just how deliciously easy it would be to sink his teeth into that soft skin. His mouth waters at the thought. But he is no animal, and neither are you for that matter. He comes back to himself, muscles uncoiling and gaze connecting with yours again.

 

“I appreciate the offer, darling. But you need your strength. Moonrise Tower won't storm itself, and having our fearless leader stumbling over their own two feet along the way won't instill much terror in our foes, will it?”

 

He can't bring himself to say the truth in its entirety aloud. He truly doesn't want to weaken you before the battle at Moonrise. But it has less to do with fearsome appearances and entirely more to deal with your safety. His feedings always take a toll on you. You smile and wave him off every time, but he sees the effects. Reflexes just a touch slower than usual, stamina not quite up to par with the rest of the group. 

 

It's not your fault he's starving. He wasn't exactly forthcoming about his lack of successful hunts since arriving in the Shadowlands. And you were absolutely overwhelmed with everything going on. Between the deadly shadow curse, Ketheric Thorm, and the Absolute, it was a miracle you could ever focus on anything else. No. He doesn't blame you. He wants you to be okay.

 

He can't be the reason you become injured, or worse.

 

But you insist, your wrist gravitating closer to his plush lips and aching canines. 

 

“I'll be okay, I promise. I'll even ask Shadowheart for a little healing incantation if I really need to. Please, you need to be healthy too,” you plead, eyes doing just as much of the convincing as your words. 

 

He breaks. He might be embarrassed at how quickly he bends to your will if he wasn't so hungry. 

 

His hands close gently over you, one a little ways up your forearm and the other on your hand. You know it's to hold you steady when he bites, but the way his cool thumb runs pleasing circles into your palm sends shivers coursing through you. He presses a kiss to your inner wrist, featherlight and fleeting, but it lights a fire under your skin all the same.

 

“Thank you,” he murmurs before his fangs pierce your flesh. He is as gentle as possible, retracting his canines from the wound immediately. He keeps his lips attached to your wrist, sucking in a saccharine mouthful.

 

He’s uncertain of how much time passes while he drinks, or when his eyes drifted shut, but the feeling of your fingertips sweeping his soaked curls off his forehead pulls him from his reverie. He finishes his feeding, tongue caressing the new puncture wounds as they begin to clot.

 

His irises are vibrant now, a livelier red more akin to a pulsing wound than the darkened burgundy shade they become when he is ravenous. 

 

“You're wrong, by the way,” you begin softly. “When you said I'd tire of you. I could never.”

 

He would look back on this night later on and distinguish it as the exact moment his dead heart began beating once more. But for now, he smiles up at you- one full of genuine adoration.

 

“The feeling is mutual,” he murmurs, unwilling to shatter the moment. His tone is low, husky. More sincere than he's heard his own voice sound in centuries. Despite all that had occurred this evening, he finds a bone deep contentment in himself. He could stay here for a decade in the comfort of your arms.

 

A few moments later, however, the world kickstarts back into motion, voices carrying on the wind to your positions and popping the seclusion around the two of you.

 

Your head perks up at the sound, eyes scanning through the darkness.

 

“Ah, must be the others looking for us,” your attention returns to Astarion. “Think you can make it back? I can help if you'd like.”

 

He can definitely walk on his own, the potion and your invigorating blood have him feeling almost as good as new. But the idea of feeling the curve of your body pressed into his side is too intoxicating to turn down. So he won't. 

 

He breathes deep and nods, resolve settling into his very being.

 

“Yes, I think I've had quite enough of this mud bath. Darling?” He pauses, it's now or never. “After we settle back in at camp, come find me when you have a moment. Please. I think we need to talk.”

-

a/n: Thank you for reading! <3

[t4kara]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ~ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I'll be honest, I don't exactly know how to write any of this properly. Since this is my first time writing it will most likely be quite bad so I'm sorry if there are any spelling errors or if it doesn't make logical sense, I'm also writing on mobile so the formatting might be different on other devices than how it is for me so, please keep that in mind! However, I'm open to any criticism in the comments! Also please don't post my content anywhere else (without giving credits)!

Enjoy~

Word count: 591

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ~ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

~ Cha Hyun-su (dating) Scenario ~

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ~ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Based on Season 1:

A Blessing

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ~ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You're both sitting in the quarantine room on the couch after Hyun-su came back from getting supplies due to Eun-hyeok and some of the other survivors request, during the supply run he had gotten injured by an monster.

Although he regenerates quite quickly you still decided to place some bandages over some of the wounds that would take a little while longer to heal. He told you not to waste them since he would be healed soon enough, you insisted saying it was the least you could do for him since the others didnt seem to pay his injuries any second thought, although you knew they were just scared of him and the chance he could possibly hurt them, you thought it didn't excuse the way they were treating him.

Once you had finished bandaging his wound the two of you simply sat in a comfortable silence, while you leant your head on his shoulder and gently tracing the scars on his right wrist, his gaze was following your hands movements, you knew the story of how he had made the scars and the reason as to why. When he first told you the story of them, he expected you to look at him disgusted at how he had done that. He thought you'd see him the way he saw himself but you assured him that it wasn't his fault for doing that to himself and that you loved him regardless of his scars and in fact you had even said you found them beautiful, like you did every part of him.

You'd never forget how flustered he was in that moment you told him that his scars were beautiful, his face was bright red even his ears were too. He couldn't even look at you, far to embarrassed since he wasn't used to compliments in general, yet one about something such as his scars, something so personal to him had made his brain go into overdrive and he had became a complete flustered mess. (although of course you couldn't complain because he looked adorable)

You were just subconsciously tracing his scars with your fingertips. You hadn't yet noticed how his eyes had shifted from watching your hands movement to simply admiring your face, the way your lips looked so soft, the gentle expression that your face held, the unspoken love that was swirling around your (beautiful) eyes.

He was sure of it at this point, you came into his live at the toughest of times, like a small light that had chased away a darkness that was trying to consume his soul and mind, he was convinced you was a blessing sent by a unknown god that had heard his silent prayers for something, someone, to save him. He was forever grateful for whatever god had sent you. He felt as if he didn't deserve you but he didn't want to let you go, he didn't know if that made him selfish but rightfully he didn't care either, he was grateful to have someone like you, someone like an angel and he was even more grateful that you had chosen him to hold your heart, to keep it safe.

He was sure that you were his one and only, his other half, his light to his own darkness that plagued his soul, you were his reason to survive, even if he was infected you was his reason to try and survive this new formed world. As corny as that sounded in his mind, he was sure that was the case.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ~ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

END

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ~ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ~ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I have no real idea if this even makes any logical sense since I finished writing this at around 3am on a friday! But if it does and you'd like more leave a comment and a heart! (Or don't nobody will force you too!) Please remember not to copy or repost my work on any other sites and claim it as your own thank you!

Have a good night/day, lovelies!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ~ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[trespresh]

let me go, don't you ever

The first time he drinks from you while fucking you, he’s otherworldly.

+ reader: afab, no pronouns used partner: amab, he/him word count: 7.1k rating: explicit. very explicit. tw for basically anything you'd expect with deep nasty vampire sex: primal play, blood play, blood drinking, biting, rough sex (but with feelings!)… and a little cockwarming, as a treat

+

idk man I just write the fic I want to read about the sex I want to have.

This ended up being one of the big primal scenes I've always wanted to write but never had anywhere to put it. It is purely a fantasy put to words. This is a real plug-n-play style fic. It's xreader but the partner is not specifically described. You can copy and paste your favorite little guy in there, or just use this as a blank canvas and go to town!

This xreader style of fic is a first for me, and I'm still tbd on whether I'll post it to ao3. I think about scenes like this a lot just for my own uhhhh enjoyment, and I’ve just never actually written it down in this format before. I’m a little nervous but taking my own advice about no shame and no judgment ✌️ but also be nice to me lol

(tl;dr - It’s deeply self-indulgent pov primal vampire sex. There will be blood.)

+

The first time he ever drinks from you, he’s a little crazy-eyed and desperate, a few hours too many past the last time he drank anything. 

You’ve talked about this before: how you’d like to try it, how he would too. Never specifics, never how or when. But right now, the air seems to crackle in the space between you, magnetic and intriguing, and you realize that you really want this now. Even as your eyes catch on the flash of his fangs when he licks his lips, you think, yeah. 

You want this, and you trust him, and you want to help him if you can, so you ask, “Would it help?”

You can tell he’s trying hard to keep his eyes on yours, but he can’t catch himself before glancing down at your throat a few times. You watch him watch the pulse in your neck before he drags his eyes back up to yours. When he takes a step forward, you can’t help it—your heartbeat kicks up a notch.

“Easy, it’s just me,” he murmurs gently, like you’re a skittish animal, and you’re suddenly aware that he’d heard your heart leap. His eyes finally drop to your neck and hold there. “Yeah sweetheart, it’ll help. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Your next breath is shaky. You know he hears that, too.

“Will it hurt?” You ask, quiet.

His eyes flick up to yours long enough for you to see a wave of red flood through them completely until they’re so dark they’re almost black. He steps close enough to lean down and nuzzle against your throat. 

“A little,” he breathes, his lips brushing your skin in an apologetic kiss. His tongue comes out to lick along your pulse when it jumps at his words and touch. “At first. God, I’ll make it good though, I promise, please just—let me. Let me.” 

His voice has a tiny, desperate whine to it, and you can only shiver when you feel the points of his teeth come to rest against your skin like he already knows you’ll say yes. When you finally nod just enough for him to feel it, you barely get the word “yes” out before his hand is coming up to the other side of your neck to hold you still, and then he’s biting down.

He’s right. It does hurt at first, but in a strange, subdued way. Like two small blades sinking into your neck, except they’re so sharp you barely feel it as they split your skin. The pain is almost sweet, somehow. 

His teeth withdraw and then you can hear the soft, wet noises of his mouth and tongue on your neck; it’s hard to reconcile what’s happening with the pull under your skin, the strange suction as the blood is pulled from you. It’s like he’s working you from the inside and out—the hot slide of the blood in your veins before it passes through the holes into the equally hot slide of his tongue and down his throat.

It’s far more intimate than you expected. Visceral and primal, somehow, this new way you’ve given your body to him.

You can’t help the strangled gasp you make, and when your hand raises up to grip his arm, he pulls away immediately. That shadowy pool-of-blood color fades until you can see the sharpness with which he watches you, scanning you over. You feel a trickle of blood trail down your neck; when you lift your hand to wipe it away, he snags your wrist out of the air, threads his fingers through yours, and brings your joined hands around to rest at the small of your back. It’s a gentle way of holding you in place, firm enough for you to relax into.

He ducks his head and licks over the skin on your neck. The idea that he’s cleaning you up should maybe gross you out but it doesn’t, it doesn’t, it sends something swooping through your gut, fever-hot, and you realize—oh, fuck, you like this.

When he pulls away from you, you stare up at his face as you’re hit with a strange sensation on your neck—as if the skin is knitting together somehow, closing up and scabbing over. You raise your free hand up to check your neck only to feel half-healed skin instead, as if the pin prick holes are already days old. He grins when you look back up at him in confusion.

“The venom has, uh, healing properties,” he answers your unasked question. “Apparently it's how enough venom can turn someone. Healing the body before it can ever break down enough to die or something, you know?”

You swallow hard at the casual tone in his voice. You don’t want to think about him dying but you don’t know what to say, so you just nod. He watches you carefully for a moment before sliding a hand up to cup the back of your neck and pull you in for a kiss.

“Are you okay?” He asks against your mouth.

Again, you nod. “I’m okay. It was—” you search for the right words, trying to ignore the way you feel the healing wound pull slightly when you swallow hard. “—nice. It felt… not good, but uh. Intense, I guess. Deep.” 

Your cheeks heat a bit but he only smiles and hums in understanding. 

“For me, too,” he agrees. While he tilts his head to kiss under your jaw, you wonder idly what it must be like for him, to bite into flesh and drink the hot liquid lifeforce underneath. You’re thinking about what the texture of blood might feel like, when he sighs into your skin and adds, contemplatively, “You’re sweet.”

You flush happily with the endearment. “I just wanted to help.”   

He meets your eyes again, smiling wickedly. “You did help. Very much. But I meant you taste sweet.”

Your heart pounds again at that, and he hums and taps a finger against your pulse to the beat. 

“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully, distractedly, more to himself than to you. “Like burnt, melted sugar.”

You don’t know what to say to that, and he seems to know that. He leans down to kiss you again and says, so quiet you barely hear him, “Thank you.”

And you can’t help but relax into him.

+

The first time he drinks from you while fucking you, he’s otherworldly.

“This seems like overkill,” you say, trying not to laugh as you sit on the bed, watching him line water bottles, a bowl of fruit, and a package of your favorite cookies on the nightstand. He’s already put a towel down next to the bed. “You’re not a blood donation center, you don’t have to give me cookies.”

He throws you a grin and shrugs. “I don’t know what this’ll be like. I’ve never done this before and I just, I don’t know. Need to make sure you’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, fond despite yourself. “I trust you.”

It was you who finally asked for this but he hadn’t taken any convincing, so you get the feeling he’s just been waiting for you to bring it up, to make the first move. Now that it’s going to happen, his need for preparedness and eagerness to do this right for both of you is endearing. The pillows are soft when you lean back against them, letting your knees fall wide and enjoying the way he watches the movement. 

“Come here.”

He pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside before crawling over you; you get your arms around his neck and pull him down. He meets you easily for a kiss that doesn’t take long to turn filthy with your gasp when he gets a hand into your hair and tugs gently, and his tiny moan when you nip at his lower lip and meet his tongue with yours.

Without pulling away from your lips, he snakes a hand down to the inside of your knee and pushes your leg open to make more room for himself. He settles his hips just under yours and thrusts up, and you can’t help but rock down in return just to feel him start to harden and press against you through his sweatpants. A gasp escapes you into the kiss when he nudges against your clit through the layers of clothing. 

When he pulls away, his hand falls from your hair to rest at your throat.

“Here,” he says quietly, tapping two fingers on your pulse there. His other hand trails up your knee and stops at the top of your inner thigh, where he taps two fingers again. “And here. Okay?”

Your heartbeat picks up immediately and you know he hears it but you don’t care. You swallow hard against the lump of anticipation lodged in your throat, meet his eyes, and nod.

“Good,” he says in a low, pleased tone that sends a happy little shiver down your spine.

His hand leaves your throat so he can lean up on that hand like he needs a better angle—and then he kisses you again like that will distract you from the way his other hand slides up from your thigh to dip under the waistband of your shorts, like it’ll stifle the little noise of surprise when he cups you with his whole hand, curling his fingers down and into you only to the first knuckle. You arch up into his hand as he flexes his fingers to tease between your hole and clit. You’re wet enough already that he can gather some of it on his fingertips and drag the wetness up over your clit, where he circles lightly a few times before dragging his hand from your shorts. He smirks at the way your breathing goes high and quick just from the brief feel of his hand on you.

“Tease,” you huff, and his smirk widens into a grin.

“You think so?” He says, mock thoughtfully, as he sits up and tugs your shorts off your hips, all the way down your legs until he can throw them off to the side. And then he’s shuffling back on his knees, dropping both hands to the insides of your knees, and spreading you wide for him. He spends a few moments just looking at you while you try not to squirm.

It’s uncomfortable, and yet somehow it sends fire through your gut. You can feel his gaze like a tangible weight. You’re not sure if you like the way he’s openly studying you or not, but you want to be what he needs, so you hold still and let him look. You shift a little when he runs a finger lightly right down the very center of you like he just wants to test what you feel like. You shiver, and then he leans down, presses a kiss to the inside of your upper thigh, and lowers his mouth to you. 

Your skin is so heated that his mouth feels almost cool, and you moan when he tongues at your clit in a touch so gentle that you writhe up against him, seeking more until he weaves his arms under your thighs to clutch up at your hips and hold you down on the bed. No matter how hard you arch up against him, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s stronger than you. If he wants you held down and open for him, then that’s what you’ll be. 

You know you’re lucky because not only is he good at this, but he enjoys it. You laugh breathily at the reminder of that fact when you feel his fingers at your hole—only for your laugh to cut off in a sigh when he slides a finger into you. He immediately crooks his finger up and pets right over your g-spot, as if it’s second nature for him to make you feel good with how well he knows your body by now. As if it’s his goal and his right to watch you throw your head back against his pillows.

And then he buries his face against you and groans softly like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

You gasp at the vibration of the enthusiastic noises he makes. Your hands drop to stroke through his hair, pushing it back from his face so you can watch the way his eyes go half-lidded up at you, his mouth working, forearm flexing as he works another finger into you. The way his nose is crushed against you sends the heat of his heavy breaths in waves over your skin and you are so lit up, up, up for him that you just know you won’t last long with his fingers in you like this.

Or his teeth, you realize as you become aware of the feeling of him rubbing two fingers into the skin of your upper thigh. Your clit throbs between his lips when your heart hammers, remembering what’s about to happen, and suddenly you want it so badly you can barely breathe. Either your anticipation is contagious or he’s already as eager for this as you are, because he licks a final, slow stripe up from where his fingers are pressed inside you up to the top of your clit, which he sucks briefly, humming just for the way it makes you arch up and moan—before he finally lets go to trail kisses over to your inner thigh instead, his fingers still moving inside you. 

It’s thrilling, the way he nuzzles against your thigh like he’s savoring the feel—or smell?—of you.  When he starts to suck a bruise into your skin, it’s like a tiny electrical current fires up your thigh and into your clit, down through to where he’s still fucking you on his fingers. He curls them up to drag against your g-spot so perfectly that you sob and try to twitch your hips up every time.

By the time he licks over the new bruise and shifts his mouth just a little lower to a clear patch of skin, you’re feeling dizzy in the face of your looming orgasm. You’re so ready for his bite, so eager to find out what it feels like, that when he scrapes his teeth over your skin and looks up to meet your gaze, you’re nodding before he even asks the question. 

He asks anyway. “Are you sure?”

“Do it. Please, I’m ready,” you say, because you think you are. 

When he bites through the thin, sensitive skin into the flesh of your inner thigh, though, you can’t help the whimper that escapes you or the way your fingers tighten hard in his hair. It’s the same razor-sweet sharpness you’ve felt in the past when he’s bitten into your neck or your wrist—only here, while you’re naked and spread wide for him and already close to coming on his fingers, it’s like lightning jolting up through you. Like that thin electrical current that had formed alongside the bruise he gave you has now been amplified to a sparking livewire between your clit and where his fangs pierce your skin.

His head jerks a little in your hold when you tug on his hair, and his fingers freeze inside you when he pulls his teeth out, seals his mouth over the wounds, and sucks hard. There’s a breathless, still moment while he gets his first taste of you, and then his eyes glaze over with that eerie red-black color and he whines into your skin; he scrambles to get his free hand under your thigh and pulls you harder against his face.

With every heartbeat, you can feel the blood thrum through your groin, then down your thigh to pulse in thick rushes against his lips and tongue when he sucks on the holes he made in your skin. It’s a hot, liquid feedback loop that has your head spinning, and you clench down around his fingers because you’re close, you’re so close—

“Please, god, I’m so fucking—,” you babble through your open-mouth panting, so caught up in the way he’s playing with your body like he knows just how to curl his fingers and exactly how to twirl his tongue over your skin to make you moan and fall apart for him. 

He sucks one final mouthful of blood from your inner thigh before pulling away, panting for air while your eyes catch on how red and wet his lips are. He licks a flat strip over the punctures—and then without waiting to make sure the holes have begun healing, he presses his face between your legs again. His lips close around your clit, sucking messily at the same time he fucks his fingers in and out of you, urgent and deep like he’s frantic to get you there, desperate to see you come.

It feels so deliriously good that you’re already teetering on the edge of your orgasm when he eases down onto his stomach between your legs; between one thrust and the next, he slides a third finger in alongside the other two, dragging hard over your g-spot with each stroke. After that, all it takes is one glance down at him to see the way his hips are grinding down against the bed like he’s so hard right now that he can’t help but seek friction—and then he’s pressing his free thumb to the healing puncture wounds on your thigh and you are launched over the edge into your orgasm.

It explodes through you so violently that you arch off the bed, gasping around a high moan and pulling him into you by your hold in his hair, grinding against his face as he moans and curls his fingers inside you and stares up at you, rapt, like he would rather die than miss this. 

You can feel his heavy gaze the whole time you ride down the peak of your orgasm, his fingers slowing into long strokes that ease you through it. Finally, you tug on his hair when you’re twitching through the aftershocks and he pulls away from you, panting. He rests his forehead against your thigh while he catches his breath; finally he says, “Fuck,” and looks up at you with his normal, clear eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree faintly, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm and the memory of his teeth in you, his tongue working against you in such different ways.

You glance down at him, gently stroking your fingers through his hair. His eyes are lazy and satisfied from where he looks up at you between your thighs. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, his lips red and swollen, and his hair is growing messier by the minute from your wandering hands. You can’t stop staring at the way his mouth and chin are still wet with your slick and a little bit of leftover blood. 

He looks good like this, you decide. Really good.

Movement catches your eye over his shoulder, and when you lift your head to look down his body, you see his hips still working against the bed like he’s not even conscious of it. It sends a strike of need through you so strong that you can’t help but tighten your grip in his hair and tug him up. He goes easily, crawling up your body to get his mouth on yours, and when you deepen the kiss, his tongue tastes sweetly metallic.

“Fuck me,” you say.

He nods eagerly, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel his hard cock through his sweatpants. You push at the waistband, tugging them down his hips demandingly, and he shifts back to pull them down and kick them off the bed. Then he’s naked and hard and kneeling over you, looking at you the way a starving wolf must look at an unsuspecting bunny.

It’s a heady feeling, having that intensity turned on you, so you bask in it and let him take over.

He flips you over with a hand at your side, then pulls you back toward himself and tugs at your hip insistently enough for you to understand—you lift up just enough for him to shove a pillow under your hips. He takes a second to position you how he wants you, hitching your hips up and back toward him. He pushes your thighs together and throws a leg over you so his knees are against the outsides of your thighs and he can really lean over you. You expect the feel of his cock nudging at your hole so you’re surprised when he slips two fingers into you instead, like he just wants another feel. It’s an easy slide; you’re slick enough, wet with his spit and your blood and how much you need him to fuck you right now, come on. 

He pulls his fingers free, strokes that slickness over his cock a few times, and lines up. Even though you’re so keyed up and ready for him that you might spark and explode, you immediately clench down when you feel him press against you, throwing a smirk over your shoulder at him. 

You know he likes it when you make him work for it, sometimes, and this definitely seems like one of those times; you know you’re right by the way he murmurs, almost playful, “Let me in.” He presses a little harder against you until you feel yourself start to give. “Come on baby, let me in, let me—fuck yeah,” he groans then when he pulls your thighs open just a little and thrusts against you just enough for his cockhead to finally pop in and he can slide in, smooth and sudden.

It’s so good you both moan with it. Fucking finally, you think, once he’s as deep as he can get and rocking his hips just a little to let you both get used to the feel of it. Then he’s slowly pulling back, back, back—until he’s all the way out again and huffing a low laugh when you whine at the loss. He presses his cockhead against you again, so close to pushing inside that it’s cruel, the way he’s holding you down by the hips when you try to rock back onto him.

“Easy,” he murmurs, and you’re about to snap back at the amusement you can hear in his voice when he eases back into you, slower this time like he wants to make you feel every inch. 

You gasp and drag his pillow toward yourself, clenching your fists in it just to have something to hold onto. Once he’s fully inside again, he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s sweet and still for a moment before he sits up, gets a tight grip on your hips, and starts to fuck you.

You drop your head and moan into the pillow that smells like him, arching your lower back just a little bit more off the pillow under your hips; you can’t help the high moan that escapes, louder, when he drags directly across your g-spot with every thrust. Just like that, you sink against the bed, loose-limbed and pliant in his hold, and let him make your body feel good.

It’s always easy to get lost in it with him—tonight is no different, but it’s more. You can’t stop the gasps and breathy moans that fall from your mouth; not now, not when you’re surrounded by him like this. Even when you turn your head on the pillow and stare to the side, you’re still surrounded by the smell and feel of him. 

You’re aware, distantly, that he’s still holding back, and that he’s still so much stronger than you even know. But even so, he’s rougher than normal, fucking you in long, harsh strokes that jerk you forward each time. It’s not long before his hand slides all the way up from your hip into the back of your hair so he can yank your head back. He leans low over your back to nuzzle his face into your exposed neck, and when he breathes in heavily you realize—holy fuck, he’s smelling you. Your already-pounding heart starts to hammer against your ribs and you rock your hips back to meet his thrusts, and you can’t focus on anything except himhimhim—so ready for him to bite down that it makes you throb around him—

But then he’s slamming in hard once, holding for a few agonizing moments while you squirm against him, seeking friction with a desperate whine—before he’s pulling all the way out with a gasped, “Fuck!” and flipping you onto your back.

It’s urgent, now, the way he shoves the pillow under your hips and tugs you toward him. He shifts forward on his knees between your legs so he can pull your thighs over his, and then he’s leaning forward and burying himself inside again with a groan like even those few seconds were too long to not be inside you.

This new angle forces him to drag insistently across your g-spot with almost every thrust and you know immediately that you won’t last long like this. Your eyes roll back but you can feel his gaze on you anyway, watching while your brows curve in and how your jaw drops open on moans growing louder by the second.

He slows his thrusts into long, smooth rolls so that you’re held steady when he leans down to get his lips on your neck. It’s all you can do to hold onto his shoulders, and when your nails scrape down his back again, he shivers against you with a low moan. 

“Tell me again,” he says, licking at your pulse.

You don’t hesitate. “Do it, please do it, pl—” you cut off in a strangled whimper when he gets one hand in your hair, tugs your head to the side to make room for himself, and bites down.

It’s blindingly, stunningly euphoric. His teeth split the skin of your neck so gently—such a drastic comparison to the way he’s fucking you—and you feel the way he sucks hard over the wounds all the way down into your clit. Your hand flies down to circle frantically over your clit, listening to his heavy breaths and the messy sound of his mouth on your skin, the wet noises his throat makes as he swallows your blood. 

It’s too much, it’s all too much, it’s beautiful and horrible and deep and intense and you’ve never felt anything like this before as he fucks you hard and drinks from you and you love it—but then he licks over the puncture holes and pulls back from your neck to gasp against your collarbone. The holes on your neck ache as they stitch together, and you gasp against the sensation. 

You can tell he’s close by the way he slides both arms up under your back to get a grip on the top of your shoulders and hold you secure against him. He ducks his head and his fangs re-pierce your neck through the half-healed holes—you’re surprised when it hurts more than the first time he bit you a few moments ago. You gasp and squirm against him but his hold on you is tight. He sucks at the holes for a brief moment then presses his tongue against them like he’d only needed a taste, before he drops his forehead against the pillow next to you and slams his hips against yours so hard you can hear it. 

He wastes no time in launching into a brutal rhythm, and with his face down by your ear, you can hear every noise he makes—a breathy gasp when you dig your fingers into his ass to urge on every thrust, a choked moan when you tilt your hips up and clench around him. You turn your head enough that you can get your mouth on his neck, licking over the sheen of sweat there before you bite him back. Your teeth do no damage, of course, but the heartstopping little whimper he lets out nearly sends you over the edge right there.

He’s never fucked you like this before, so desperate and fevered like he wants to put you through the mattress—and you can’t think, can’t do anything but choke on each breath and dig your nails into his back and scrape them down his sides and shiver at the ragged, guttural edge to his responding groan against your neck. You do it again and his hips twitch; his breaths are coming high and quick and you can feel how close he is, so all you have to do is tilt your head to the side so your bloody throat is bared to him and let a soft, shaky moan out against his ear so he can hear how good he’s making you feel, and that’s it. 

He presses his face into your neck with a choked-off groan, wet and filthy and smothered against your skin. His hands fly down to grip your hips and pull you down on him at the same time his hips jerk forward until he’s so deep it almost hurts—and he holds there, his hips just barely moving as he comes inside you.

Every tiny thrust is punctuated by breathy little moans while he uses you to ride out his orgasm, grinding in slowly like he can’t get close enough to you. Like he would crawl his way inside you if it were possible, if you’d let him, and you’re close—you’re so fucking close with the way he’s still rocking against you like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and you’re right on the edge of your orgasm when suddenly his mouth is at your throat again; he chases a trail of blood sliding down your neck with his tongue before his lips close around the wound again and then he bites gently and sucks hard and your orgasm hits you like a tsunami, and you are gone. 

You think maybe you scream a little, because he groans in response and starts thrusting a little harder to fuck you through it. It’s good, it’s so fucking good that right at the peak of it, your vision whites out and you wonder, far off and detached, about what this must do to your blood.

It’s clearly something great, you think dizzily as you start to come down from it all, because he’s still buried against your neck, licking slowly over the blood leaking from the bite.

“Fuck, you have no idea what it tastes like when you come like that,” he rasps, voice wrecked and with a faint whine that would sound like he’s in pain if it weren’t for the way he closes his mouth over the holes and sucks again.

You hum in relaxed satisfaction and bring your arms up around his shoulders, luxuriating in the skin contact and the grounding weight of him. You scratch lightly over the back of his head until he shivers against you. Your skin thrums, lit up and abuzz everywhere you’re touching as you breathe against each other.

After a few moments, his hands trail up from your hips. One gets a hold on one of your wrists from around his neck and pushes it down against the sheets; the other hand rests heavily across your collarbone.

He’s leaning on you just hard enough that breathing starts to take some effort, so you say, “Okay,” and tug on the back of his hair with your free hand.

He doesn’t pull back. You can feel the tip of his tongue working against one of the holes in your neck, dipping in just a bit until the sensation teeters on the edge of queasy pain. You make a strangled little noise but still, he doesn’t pull away from the messy wet heat on your neck. 

“Hey, okay,” you mutter again, tugging harder on his hair and at the back of his neck, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you. “Baby please, enough, you—you gotta—” your voice trails off in a weak slur and your grip loosens in his hair. 

He’s been hesitant to bite you while fucking you ever since he drank from you for the very first time, and you wonder maybe if this is why. If this is what he meant when he’s always said, it’s… overwhelming. But you’d meant it when you told him you trust him with this—and even now when your mind wanders and your body thrums lazily while his mouth works at your neck, you still trust him to get himself under control.

After all, this is him. You trust him—you always have. You’ve known him for what feels like a very long time, both before and after he changed into what he is now. You’ve been figuring this out together: what works and what doesn’t, what he needs and how much he can take from you to satiate that need without endangering you. There have been a few moments of trial and error that led to learning where the line crosses over into him taking too much from you. 

You like him like that, though, after those few rare times when he’s accidentally taken too much, leaving you woozy and exhausted. He gets sweet. There’s something protective and reassuring in the way he dotes, and in how he doesn’t let you lift a finger for a day or two after while you recover. He’s always kept himself under enough control before that it has never occurred to you to feel worried around him.

But now, while he’s got one hand flat across your collarbone and the other holding your wrist down to the sheets—now, while his lips work at your throat, the rush of blood so close under your skin as he pulls it from you and rhythmically swallows—now, as you realize you’re a little lightheaded, and wondering, huh, when did that happen? 

Now, a traitorous little flicker of unease settles in your gut.

You push weakly at his shoulder but it does nothing; it’s like he doesn’t even feel it. His hips are still absently grinding against yours like he can’t help it, like despite the fact that he’s half-soft at this point, it hasn’t even occurred to him to stop moving. The hand on your collarbone trails up to grip your jaw, two fingers sliding into your mouth to rest on your tongue and hold your jaw open like a reminder to breathe—or maybe it’s just another way he wants to be inside you. 

His fingers or cock, his tongue or teeth—it’s like he doesn’t know how to hold back from pushing his way inside anyway he can.

A stifled whimper escapes you as he hums into your skin and sucks unhurriedly. He’s holding you tightly, pressed down against the bed. Twisting under his grip does nothing to throw him, and trying to get your wrist free is a useless attempt. He’s strong—you sometimes forget just how inhumanly strong he is, when he usually touches you so delicately, with such control and care. 

Right now, while you’re held down under him, still on his cock and with his teeth in your neck—you are forcefully and viscerally reminded that he is not human. He really could kill you like this, if he decided he wanted to. 

The thought sends a rare jolt of curious fear through your gut. You’re well and truly caught under him—all his to do whatever he wants with. It’s an alarming, confusingly heated realization that has you twitching your hips up to meet his lazy post-orgasm ruts at the same time your heart starts to pound with instinctual panic. 

You wonder distantly if maybe fear does something to your blood too, because only a few heartbeats after the thought crosses your mind, he’s ripping his mouth away from you with a curse and leaning up on his elbows to look down at you with rapidly clearing eyes.

He must see something on your dazed face because he curses under his breath again and his hand comes up to cup your chin. With his thumb on one side of your jaw and his callused index finger on the other side, he gently tilts your chin up and over to expose your neck fully to him. He hums and ducks close to lick flat and warm over the holes in your neck. To heal, not to taste. 

You feel the same strange sensation as every other time—that same tickle of the skin knitting together and the blood flow stopping under the sore, healing skin. He keeps licking at you, cleaning the last of the blood from your skin before pressing a gentle kiss first to what’s left of the wound, then up under your jaw, then leaning up even further to press his lips to yours. You’re still a little faded and sluggish but you kiss back as best you can, and you know that when he pulls away with a soft red smile, you smile back at him with blood on your lips.

Your thoughts are fuzzy around the edges, your vision tunneling on him like he’s magnetized, your mind pleasantly blank as you watch him like you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, your mouth again. When he pulls back, he seems a little dazed too in the way his mouth is open and pink, his eyes half-lidded and only half-focused like he’s high on whatever was in your blood.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, an odd plea to his voice. “That was—fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how it would be. I could have—“ he cuts himself off and swallows hard. He ducks to check the healing wound on your neck like he’s making sure it’s still working. “Are you okay?” 

You hum absently. He starts to pull out but you’re quick to tighten your legs around him, holding him close. “Don’t,” you mumble. “‘M okay, just… stay.”

He watches you for a moment before kissing you again. He could easily break your hold on him and pull away, especially with how weakened you are right now, but he doesn’t. He lets you keep him close and returns the favor, holding you tight and rocking his hips to push all the way back inside you. You sigh and settle back against the pillows to bask in the feeling of him holding you down, grounded and safe. 

He leans up onto his elbows and reaches for one of the water bottles he’d lined up on the nightstand, cracking the cap before holding it gently against your mouth for you to drink. The berries from the bowl come next, and after feeding you a few, he settles back over you and sighs.

With his thumb running over your cheek, you drift. 

Maybe it’s the blood loss and two really fucking good orgasms, or the way he’s still inside you, your legs hitched up around his hips while he takes care of you, but your fear is gone as quickly as it started. This is still him. He still looks like himself, tastes like himself, smells and feels and acts like himself. Still in control of himself, even if belatedly. It’s him, and you know you’re safe. 

But in that single moment, that instinctual awareness shifted something aside in your gut. Yes, he is still himself, but that brief flicker of prey instinct was an unexpected, immediate reminder that he is not human. There is something other about him. 

You knew this already, but now you know it. You’ve felt it in the strength of his grip around your wrists  and in the close, fleshy sound of his teeth in your neck.  And, startlingly, it’s intriguing. You are safe with him. You know this in your gut. You have no reason to be afraid of him, but… what if you did? 

Flashes of what-ifs begin to crash through your mind: thoughts of him holding you down with all his strength, letting you thrash and fight against his grip until you’re too exhausted to hold him off from tugging your pants down and using you however he wants; the network of bruises his fingerprints could leave on your throat and arms and thighs, and the way they’d ache deliciously for the next few days; the way his back would look scratched bloody from your nails, and the sounds he might make—guttural growls and savage snarls against your neck as he fucks you like you’re both nothing more than animals.

What it would feel like if he looked at you with eyes red-black with wicked intent and said, run. How your heart would pound as he gave you a thirty-second head start as if you had any chance of outrunning him, as if he knew that the desperation that would build within you in those thirty seconds would flavor your blood so sweetly. 

What it would feel like for him to hunt you down like prey.

It’s like the door to something dark and primal in your brain and your gut is slowly unlocking as you consider the possibilities of what could happen if he leaned into his natural instincts. If he acted like the apex predator he is.

You shiver. He notices and presses a gentle kiss to your hair.

“Your heart’s racing,” he says curiously. “What’re you thinking about?”

And really, how could you ever ask him for something like that?

You file it away to think about more later. For now, you simply squirm against him contentedly and say, “Nothing.”

He leans up on his elbows and says playfully, “I don’t believe that for a second,” but he leaves it alone in favor of giving you your favorite of all his smiles.

It's the big grin that always makes you smile and laugh in response. It’s a cheesy smile, overexaggerated and goofy, but you love it. It’s cute, how he squeezes his eyes shut and his nose scrunches up, but there’s something sweeter about this smile in the way he’s showing you all his teeth, the fangs prominent and obvious. Almost as if it’s to make you laugh as much as it is a show of comfort and gentle vulnerability. It’s an “I trust you to see me” reminder that makes your heart feel huge as your eyes soften on him.

You pull him down again to kiss the smile off his face, and again, you relax into him. Again, and again, and again.

[chishiyaisasnack]

Watch me

Here’s the small thingy I wrote for you anon! Sub! chishiya was really hard for me to imagine so it didn’t come out the way I wanted to, but I still want to post it. I hope you like it! (I’m working on a more detailed one for the Dare series but it’s taking forever).

Disclaimer! This is very nsfw and pure smut. Sub! Chishiya x dom! fem reader. It’s not very realistic either haha. As usual, be safe and use a condom irl.

It’s written and posted on mobile so I apologize for any errors or formatting issues.

God, he was pretty like this. Laying on his back, arms tied together over his head, his hair a mess over the pillows below him. His skin was glistening with beads of sweat and every time you tasted it you just wanted more. His whole body was trembling as he tried so hard to be good for you, to get you to finally touch him.

His futile attemps to get out of the satin restraints tying his hands to the bed was getting fewer as the minutes went on. They looked good on him, red on pale skin, leaving marks for everyone to see tomorrow. His cheeks matched the red colour, exhaustion covering them as he panted.

”Ugh.. y/n, please..”

Your name sounded so good when it left his lips. His moans had turned into whimpers, his demands into begging. Begging for you to touch him, begging for you to let him come, begging for you to sink down on his cock and draw out every drop of cum in him. But you didn’t.

His cock was so hard, oozing with precum that pooled on his stomach as you neglected it. Your fingers were on yourself, circling your clit, pleasuring yourself while he watched. If he was good, if he whined for you in that lovely way that only he could, he got to feel how wet you were, grinding on his thigh, showing him what he was missing out on.

You never missed a chance to praise him, to tell him how good he was and how pretty he looked for you. You used your hands to stroke over his body, caressing every part of him except for where he wanted to be touched, thanking him for being so lovely. You couldn’t help but to move down and kiss and lick stripes up his torso, leaving him begging for you to do the same to his cock.

He was shivering below you as you moved up to hover over his mouth, and then attacked your pussy with his tounge, like he was dying of thirst and only you could save him. You rocked your hips, using his mouth for what it was the best at. His tounge went deep inside you, fucking you, curling to press on every good spot he could reach. Fuck, you couldn’t help but to push his face closer, to tangle your hands in his hair and grip it like it was the only thing holding you to the bed.

He was gasping for air when you got off him, face wet from you, lips tired and eyes hopeful that finally, finally you’d touch his cock as a reward. He should’ve known better.

When you slid your way back down you made sure to hover over his cock for just a second, to make him think that you would give in. The desperation in his eyes when you continued to move down his body made you chuckle. You watched as he once again tried to pull his hands free, and once again failing to do so.

”Hmm, do you really want me to fuck you that bad, Chishiya? Do you want to see your cum dripping out of me?” You watched as he shivered under you, his whole body begging for you.

”Or do you rather want me to suck you off? To let you cum in my mouth?” He let out a groan that sounded like he was on the verge of tears. You ignored his pleas and drew a line over his v-line with your finger.

”Maybe I’ll just leave you like this. You look so fucking good right now. So good for me.” Your words mixed with your touch made his cock twitch and you were so tempted to lean forward and place a kiss on it. Not yet.

”I even brought you a gift today” you told him and reached behind you and picked up your favourite bullet vibrator, one that had never failed to make you come. This time it wasn’t going to fail to drive Chishiya to the edge, you would make sure of that. His eyes turned wide open when you turned the vibrator on on the lowest setting, holding it in the air like you were inspecting it closely. His back arched when you dragged it along the middle of his chest, from the center of his collar bone and down just above his navel. A moan left his mouth when you moved it in circles over a nipple, suprised to see how sensitive he was there. You used the tip of your tounge to flick over the second one, pulling out another groan from him. Finishing with a bite that was going to leave a nice mark on him, you rose back up and let the vibrator continue its journey over his body. You layed it flat as you moved it to his hip, then using only its tip when moving down the v-line towards his cock. He rocked up into the sensation, instantly trying to get more, but you didn’t let him. You continued down his inner thigh, just to move back up and placing it right below his balls without touching anything but his thigh. You watched his eyes roll back in his head as the vibrations spread over him.

”Do you want it? Do you want to come with my favourite toy?” Teasingly you drew tiny circles on his skin with it. He was so on edge, not knowing if you were finally going to give him what he wished for or if you were going to take it away. You, however, knew exactly what was going to happen.

You removed the vibrator completely off him and was rewarded by a needy whimper and a barely audiable ’please’. He probably didn’t know what he wanted anymore, he just wanted to be touched and didn’t care how. Just as you liked it.

”I lied, this isn’t my favourite toy.” You said while looking at him fondly. ”You are. I love fucking myself on you. I love seeing how bad you want to drive into me, how bad you want to bend me over and fuck me into pieces. I love to see the look on your face when I use your cock as my own dildo. And I know that you love it too.”

Then you put the vibrator on the base of his cock and Chishiya sounded like he was going to explode.

”Y/n… fuck. It’s too much.” He whimpered while trying to both move away from the toy and to let you use it on him.

”I know you can take it. You’re doing so well.” You answered, letting your eyes move between his hips and his face - to make sure that he could in fact take it. You had a safeword and you trusted him to say it if he wanted to stop. No matter what the reason behind it was. You always told him how it would never disappoint you or make you angry if he said it. And you believed him when he promised that he would be honest with you. That trust made it so intimate, you felt closer to him that you ever thought that you could.

With a smile on your face you moved up and placed yourself on top of the vibrator, sandwiching it between your clit and Chishiyas cock. His breathing became heavier, probably from seeing you on top of him, desperately hoping that you’d sit down on him instead.

”Ahh, I could come like this. All over you, getting you all nice and wet.” You gave him an amused look. The despair on his face was always so nice to watch. You felt so desired, so wanted, and it felt incredible. It filled your body with warmth and affection, affection only for him.

”But it would feel much better coming on your cock.”

”Please, let me make you come.” Chishiya pleaded in a hurry, trying to move his upper body towards you.

”I can make you come so hard, so good. Please.” His voice was trembling with need, the need to be good. The need for you.

”You want to see me come?” You answered him, still grinding against the vibrator that felt so good against you both. Chishiya huffed out a ’yes’ and his whole face was painted with anticiption. You smiled and the hope in his eyes immediately left as he understood that he wasn’t going to be the one to do it.

”Okay, I’ll come for you. Since you are being so good to me.”

You raised your hips, making sure that the vibrator left Chishiyas body and only touched you from now on. He wasn’t happy to lose the only stimulation he had and you watched as he grieved the loss of the vibrations by rolling his hips up, chasing the touch he desperately wanted. You were prepared every time he tried to push up into you, knowing his body and moves so well that you could do it in your sleep. Instead of punishing him for it you let him get away with it this time, he had been so good so far so you decided to let it go. Only this time though.

You bent forward and placed a hand on his neck, putting your thumb on his throat. No pressure at all, just laying there as a reminder of who was in charge here.

”Then watch me.” You sat back up and closed your eyes, letting the wonderful feeling between your legs fill your body, while the pants from Chishiya filled

your ears. It didn’t take long for you to come, and you did so while moaning his name, hearing his breath hitch as a response.

You must have grown soft because when your breathing finally stabilized you leaned down and pressed your lips against his. You felt his arms yank the ropes in another attempt to touch you while your mouths opened to let your tounges intertwine. You kissed him deep, letting him carry you away with his soft movements that were coated with desire. He was inhaling every movement, pouring his all into your lips, relishing in the love you gave him. Then sighed when you moved your head back to hover right above his. You stayed there, breathing into his mouth and gazed into his brown eyes.

”You’re doing so well, Chishiya. Thank you.”

With a final kiss you rose up and moved back down his body. Without hesitating you lined up his cock under you and sank down onto it.

The groan Chishiya let out almost sounded painful, and if it wasn’t for the twitching of his cock, the way his back arched and the feeling of warmth filling your insides you might have thought he was hurt. He came hard, his cum filling you up as you clenched around him. You let him buck into you, pushing himself in as far as he could as he emptied himself.

”Did it feel that good?” You hummed, caressing his cheek with your hand when he was coming down from his high. He looked exhausted, his chest heaving while trying to find enough air to fill his lungs. Then you rolled your hips.

”I’m sorry.. Ugh.. I couldn’t.. you feel so good” Chishiya pleaded.

”Do you like being inside me that much?” You kept teasing him. ”Think you can come for me again?” You ground down on him with the next roll of your hips, his eyes rolling back into his head from the overstimulation. He was still really sensitive, but you didn’t care.

”Y/n.. please… too much..” he whined, but still not asking you to stop.

”Hmm, but I just started. I thought you wanted me to fuck you. That’s what you’ve been begging for all night.” You kept riding him, slow rolls of your hips, dragging his cock back and forth inside you. His legs were shaking and his fists clenched tight as he fought through the overstimulation.

He was panting, chest raising and falling in hurries movements, and tried his hardest to keep his hips from moving away from you.

”I know that you can handle it. Let me take care of you Chishiya.” You placed your hands on his chest, using it to steady yourself as you started to move up and down instead.

He groaned as he shut his eyes and rolled his head back into the pillows. Your hand was in his hair only a second later, pulling his head back up so that he was looking at you again.

”Watch me.” You told him while letting go of his hair, caressing his cheek, then placing the hand back on his chest as you picked up your pace. ”Watch me as I fuck myself on you.”

His moaning sounded like music to your ears, every bounce on his cock drew out a different sound.

”Shit, I’m coming again” Chishiya hissed. ”Please, come with me. Let me touch you y/n.” His stuttered under your as he tried his best to stop himself from thrusting up into you. He knew what would happen if he did.

”But I’m not ready yet.” You cooed, not slowing down. ”You can come, but I won’t stop until I come too.” Instead of giving him a chance to stop himself, you clenched hard around his cock, making him moan as he released himself inside you once more. You stopped your movements to give him a chance to breathe, while looking down and watched as your mixed liquids pooled at the base of his cock, making it so wet and slippery.

”Look what a mess you’ve made.” You ran a finger through it, collected the liquids, and then used it to easily run your finger over your clit as your hips went back to slowly rock back and forth on him.

”Y/n…. Please … fuck, please let me make you come.” Chishiya was visibly exhausted, but he didn’t tell you to stop so you kept going. You kept rolling your hips, kept making his cock slide deliciously inside you while you touched yourself, and kept loving the sounds coming

out of Chishiyas mouth. You were close too, feeling that warm feeling in your core heating up even more, tightening and waiting to break loose. Chishiya always felt amazing inside you, he fit so perfectly, reaching all the right spots, just as he did right now.

”Mmm.. Chishiya… Can you give me one more?” You closed your eyes and just listened to his groan, the perfect response. You clenched tighter around him and moved your hips a bit faster.

”I.. y/n… please.” He begged, barely able to form words anymore.

You could barely believe that he went through this much for you. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He was so gentle, so fragile and he only let you see that side of him. Only you, no one else. Feeling a surge of warm emotions you reached up over his head and swiftly untied his hands.

”Touch me Chishiya.” You whispered, taking one of his hands in yours, braiding your fingers together. His other hand went straight to your clit and you let him take over.

Two more rolls of your hips and one long groan from Chishiya was all it took for both of you to finally share an orgasm so strong that you couldn’t hold yourself upright. You leaned down over him, placing your forehead against his as you both weakly moved your hips in unison to try and bring out every ounce of pleasure as you could. Your breaths and moans mixed from how close your lips were, far too out of breath to kiss, but too captivated by eachother to not stay that close. His eyes were staring back into yours, tired and barely open, but still so dark and sparkling beneath his lashes that you never wanted to look away. He was so beautiful.

You stayed there for a while, just catching your breaths. Chishiyas hands were stroking your back while you used one to hold yourself up so he could breathe, and one to brush over his cheek and jaw.

”How are you feeling?” you finally asked him and lift your face up a bit to see his reaction.

”Great.” He smirked, showing you that he, thankfully, wasn’t passing out anytime soon.

You rolled off him and laid down on your side, facing him as he did the same and put his arms around your waist. You grabbed one of his hands and held it up in front of you.

”Do your wrists hurt?” You ran a finger over where the rope had been, a red line covering a small part of it. You couldn’t wait to stare at it all day tomorrow.

”They’re fine.” he answered as you placed a kiss on the redness before letting him put the arm back around you. You shuffled your way closer to him, burying your head under his, letting his breath tickle your hair. ”Next time I’m going to make you regret this.”

[wobblyficwriter]

I'm posting this from my tablet, and I'm struggling with formatting. Also, this is my first ever fic. Please be gentle, though polite constructive criticism is welcome.

Firefighter Next Door

You cut your hand and bang on your neighbours door in a panic.

Trigger warnings: Blood, injury, anxiety attack.

You bang on your neighbours door frantically, praying he was home. His car was there but you weren't sure when he'd gotten home. You hoped you weren't waking him up just as he'd come home from a shift.

The door opens after a minute and a sleepy looking man stood there with a questioning look on his face.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! I've woken you up!" You babble in a panic. "I-I should have just taken the bus or cab to urgent care!" You keep talking in your panicked state, not looking up at the man in front of you, but down at your heavily bleeding hand. Just as you're getting to your third round of apologies he speaks over you.

"Hey, hey, it's okay! What can I do for you?" He asks before following your gaze down to your hand. Upon seeing it he reaches down and gently takes your wrist in his hand, bringing it up to inspect it. He quickly invites you in, guiding you to his kitchen table and sitting you down. By this point you're pale and starting to have trouble taking a breath, tears welling in your eyes.

He notices but decides to run and get the first aid kit from the bathroom before calming you down. It takes him less than a minute to return, he places the kit on the table and crouches in front of you.

"Alright" he says as he takes your injured hand in his own after putting on some gloves. "I need you to take a breath. You're having an anxiety attack." He speaks calmly in a soft voice so as not to overwhelm you. "You're okay, breathe with me." He takes a deliberate slow breath, looking you in the eyes as he does. He takes a couple more before you're able to copy him. After you've taken a couple he counts to four, then tells you to hold for a count of four before telling you to breathe out again.

He does this a few more times, and it isn't until you've calmed your breathing that you realise that he's also been cleaning up your hand the whole time. The bleeding seems to have slowed and he was currently inspecting the cut to make sure there was nothing in there.

"How'd this happen?" He was still speaking in that calming voice while he reached with his other hand to grab a dressing and bandage from the kit.

"I was doing the dishes and I dropped a knife…. Then caught it, by the blade.." you looked down at the floor, feeling stupid now that the panic had worn off. "I'm so sorry I banged on your door like that.. I should have just dealt with it myself, I just saw the blood and panicked. I don't drive so I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry I woke you up for this."

Your speech was getting faster as you went, almost talking yourself into another panic attack.

"Hey, it's okay, I promise. I'm glad you came here rather than pass out on public transport. I'm Eddie, can I get your name?"

You looked up at his face again and saw that he was smiling as he finished wrapping up your hand and securing it.

"Y/n" you mumbled.

"Alright y/n, it's nice to meet you. It doesn't look like you've done too much damage, it should heal up on its own, no stitches, but if you're worried you should head to urgent care to get it looked at. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, juice, water?" He removed his gloves and started to clear up the gauze and wrappings scattered around the table.

"Just water, please." You spoke quietly, still a little embarrassed. He nodded, tossing the wrappers and gauze in the bin before filling a glass and setting it in front of you.

"Are you okay? Not hurt anywhere else?" You shake your head to let him know you're not hurt anywhere else. He found himself assessing you out of reflex. He sits on the chair beside yours and reaches to your wrist to check your pulse while he watches you breathe. Once he's satisfied that you're no longer panicking, he lets go of your wrist and smiles at you reassuringly.

"Honestly, it really is okay that you knocked on my door. You're welcome to come to me for help anytime. I've not seen you around before, did you just move here?"

You nodded again and took a sip of water before speaking. "Yeah, I moved in last week. I've seen you a few times, firefighter, right?"

He smiles and nods. "Yeah firehouse 118, before that I was a medic in the army, so this really was the perfect door to bang on. How's the hand feeling? I can grab you some Tylenol if it's hurting too much."

You shake your head. "It actually doesn't hurt too much right now, just stings a little."

He nods again. "Yeah, I bet. Look, you're welcome to bang on my door anytime you need help, or even if you just want some company, but… I just came off a 24 hour shift, and if you're okay, I really need some sleep." He says apologetically.

You nod and jump up. "Of course! I'm sorry again for waking you, thank you so much for your help!"

"Don't mention it." He smiles as he walks you to the door. "I can come by later, if you like, to check on you, and maybe lend you an extra hand if you need it? You shouldn't do much with that hand for the next couple of days, you don't want to reopen the cut."

"I'd like that, thank you, Eddie, sweet dreams." You smile and walk off to your own house as he waves and shuts the door. You could get used to having a firefighter as a neighbour.

[sapphiresgarden]

oh my god i just KNOWW furina is the best at dancing a waltz.

such a fine lady she is. <3

summary ☾⋆⁺₊ how would dancing with her look like, you ask? notes ☾⋆⁺₊ furina x gn!reader, this work is meant to be read as sapphic. very short drabble + hcs. can be read as a second part of this post. and omg anon you are SO RIGHT. i wrote 90% of this at night and just formatted later in the morning so it is terrible not proofread AJSHSJ men dni.

Given lady Furina's dramatics, you expected her to try to show off while dancing, try to make herself the main attraction but... it turns out she was a great, great dancing partner.

She led you carefully, a gentle but firm hand on your back while smiling at you all the time. She twirled you with a laugh, and you couldn't help but laugh too, enjoying the dance far more than with anyone else in the ballroom.

You weren't the best at dancing, but with Furina holding your hand and leading you across the floor, it felt so natural that you didn't worry about misplacing your feet or tripping.

And despite not even trying, she still caught everyone's attention with how happy she seemed while dancing with you.

→ just imagine her dancing. so effortlesly leading you across the floor... she wouldn't mind letting you lead, but i feel like majority of the time it's would be her in the lead. i think she'd be happy just dancing with you! it's such a fun thing to do, maybe one of her favorites to do together <3

→ if you don’t know how to dance a waltz, she’s happy to teach you the steps and once you fall into the rhythm, she'd remind you to not worry about misplacing your feet and keep your eyes on her, voice dropping a little lower, just between you two. did your heart just skipped a beat? you think it did.

→ she wouldn’t let you fall if you happen to trip, instead she would secure you and totally make it look as if it was a part of the dance all the time. yes, you were meant to twirl right now and then step here. yes, it was planned. she liked being a little extra, so what wrong in adding a little more to the dance?

(you didn't miss how she told you to be careful, though, because she doesn't want you to trip and fail, alright? that'd be no good. her voice was really pretty, a thought passed your mind. you wished to hear it more.)

→ do you think she talks while dancing? because i think she does. she’d be so happy to dance with you, it'd be hard to stay quiet and so she wouldn't. you'd probably get distracted by her voice and colorful words, but it's alright.

→ the move where the leading dancer twirls their partner is her favorite. if she was leading, she'd think that you looked really pretty during this move and she would grin, compliments slipping past her mouth. if you were leading, she would laugh and think how funny it is, to twirl around the room while holding your hand.

→ be it in the privates of her room or in front of everyone, if furina gets the chance to dance with you, she will take it and enjoy it to the fullest. please, indulge this little lady!

[pberrry]

drunk! rick sanchez x (afab) saed! reader

TW: SA

basis of the fic is reader was saed as a child, significantly affecting reader’s ability to have an intimate relationship with anyone

sorry if this is formatted weird i have no idea how to post on tumblr

disclaimer this is in no way meant to romanticize sa! all i hope to do is bring comfort to those who have been victim to it. my condolences to anyone who is unfortunate enough to have experienced this, and please don’t hesitate to reach out to someone if you are currently suffering from abuse!

“Y-blueeergh—Y/n!” Rick spouted, droplets of an alcohol and spit mixture escaping from his mouth.

“What, Rick?” you hesitantly looked over at the drunk Rick.

“I’m- I’m so fffucking drunk right now, Y/n. I- I might shit my pants, I might do it” He belched.

“That’s- that’s interesting, Rick. Thank you for that information,”

“Y-yyea, Y/n,”

Silence spread throughout the room, though the intoxicating smell of alcohol remained.

“What- whatchya’ working on, Y/n?” Rick questioned as he stumbled his way to your desk.

“Just, uh, nothing. Nothing that’d you be interested in, I guess,” you responded.

“Are- are you fffucking kidding me? Let me s-see,”

You shuffled out of the way, giving Rick a clear view of your desktop screen. He gave a slow nod of approval, though he could barely register the words on the headache-inducing screen.

“Y/n. Say- say something funny. You’re funny, Y/n. Haaahahh,” he drunkenly rambled.

“Rick, I think- I think it’s time for you to go to bed,”

You began to push Rick out the door, using the sheer force of your weight to guide Rick’s drunken body.

“What the- what the fuck are you d-OOuhing?”

Instead of responding to his question, you carefully placed his arms around your neck. His place on the ground, balanced, now became completely dependent on you. Slowly, you began to walk towards his bed. His head lay atop yours. You tipped him over, allowing him to fall onto the bed.

“C-come on, Y/n. Lay- buUUrrrrgh- lay with me,” Rick requested.

“What?” you questioned, dumbfounded by Rick’s new, undiscovered affection.

“It- it’s alright, baby,”

The pet name was completely unfamiliar to you, and it send uncomfortable shivers down your spine.

“Rick, you’re drunk,”

“YeAAh, I fffucking know,” he replied hastily.

He grabbed hold of your wrist, sending your body into a state of shock and repressed memories. You feebly attempted to pull your hand back.

“G-God, Y/n, why so- blueergh- tense?”

Though he was ludicrously drunk, his sense of empathy was still intact.

“What’s- what’s wrong, what’s up with you?” He inquired.

“Nothing? What’s- what’s up with you?” You stammered nervously.

“No, no- something’s definitely- blueergh- up with you right now,” he insisted.

You uncomfortably avoided his gaze.

“Y/n, s-sweetie, what’s the problem?”

He propped himself up using your shoulder. He towered over you.

“Rick, seriously just- just go to bed,” you prompted.

“But- Euuurrhhhg- but- Y/n, I want you first,”

You stayed silent for a second, unknowing of how to respond to his rather seductive-sounding statement.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you said as you stepped backwards hesitantly.

“I- I mean I want you, Y/n. I want- I want you, you- blueerrgh- you fucking dumbass, Y/n,”

“Rick, you’re drunk. Just lay down, I’ll get you a cup of water or something,” you insisted, still strategically avoiding his gaze.

He groaned in response.

“You- you can never catch a fucking hint, Y/n. God,” he complained.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” you replied.

“I’ve done- blueerrgh- everything, Y/n. I’ve hit on you so many t-times you- you fucking moron. I even told you directly,” he said.

“Rick, I- I don’t know if I can,”

“Why- why the fuck not?”

“I don’t know,” you explained, half-assedly.

“What the- blueeegrh- fuck type of explanation is that?”

“Fuck, Rick, use your context clues or something,” you sighed, having already given up on having a sensible conversation.

“Alright, Y/n, we- we can do this later. Just- just lay with me, we don’t have to- bleeurgh- do anything,” Rick requested in a soft tone.

“Okay, okay,” you hesitantly accepted.

You climbed into the bed, feeling Rick’s tall presence beside you. He carefully slid his arms by your side, pulling you closer. Your tired body quickly became known to you again.

“God-bueeerrghhahh-damn angel cakes, you smell like fucking heaaaven,” Rick whispered, almost to himself.

You gave a tired giggle before instantaneously finding sleep in the tempting comfortability of Rick’s mattress.

timeskip the next morning

The faint sound of rustling beside you disturbed your peace of mind, allowing reality to seep into your head. You rubbed your fatigued eyes, slowly opening them. Rick stood there, staring strangely at you. It was more a look of agitation than curiosity.

“Mind telling me why the fuck you’re in my bed?”

“Wh- what? I don’t know,” you replied groggily.

Your memories came flooding back to you. The memory of Rick admitting he wanted you was one of the first memories to find it’s way back.

“Eurrgh- I remember now,” you said.

“What? Remember what?” Rick interrogated.

“God, nothing. Don’t worry about it,” you said, your morning fatigue still affecting your mood.

You had to admit, it was a bit strange to be around Rick after that. It also gave you a strangely familiar feeling of uneasiness. You hopped out of the bed, starting out of the bedroom. You abruptly stopped and turned to face Rick.

“Rick, do you remember last night? At all?”

“No. Fuck, have I ever remembered a blackout, Y/n?” He retorted with an agitated tone.

“That’s good,” you said in reply.

“…What? What the- blueerrgh- fuck do you mean ‘that’s good’?” Rick questioned.

You shrugged and continued on your way out the door.

another timeskip yea

Rick hastily made his way to the couch, where you lay napping. He transmitted himself into your brain, where he could view all your past memories. He started, of course, with the previous night. He found himself cringing at his own half-assed ‘confession’. Succumbing to his curiosity, he found himself going deeper into your memories. He had unknowingly found the “repressed memories” section of your brain.

Rick left your brain in dismay. A sudden understanding washed over him, and a feeling of guilt with it. He shook you awake gently.

“H- blueeerrgh- hey Y/n, I was about to get some ice cream from the Gloppydrop System, you- you should come with. If you want, I- I don’t care,” he said, grabbing his portal gun nonchalantly.

“Yea, I guess I’ll tag along… if you want,” you agreed, rubbing your eyes.

“O- eurrrrgh- okay. Hurry your ass up,”

PART TWO! https://www.tumblr.com/pberrry/738532284773384192/part-2

feel free to send fanfic ideas

[dreamingcloudie]

❛❛ A Star That No Longer Shines ❜❜

✎ ❛❛ Among the stars is where I'll be waiting... ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Genre/Format: Angst (onehsot)

Warning(s): Death, use of Dottore's (speculated) real name

wc: ~3k

Notes: This is a re-post cus the previous one wasn't showing up in tags fsr— Got this idea from an anon! Been writing quite a lot of fluff lately. It's time for some sad >:)

The stars used to hold a never-ending shimmer to them. Was it just him or were they getting dimmer everyday?

You’ve always loved the night sky, a barren canvas painted with a cluster of flickering lights, such a magnificent view must’ve been crafted by the delicate hands of a god. Caged by this Eleazar of yours, what’s better than to go stargazing with your lover? 

For him, however, it was quite the contrary. He loathed them, it was as if their blazing gaze were mocking him. The disdain he held for dainties stopped him from appreciating the view. 

With every chance that you had, you’d drag him onto the balcony installed in his resting quarters, bringing a fluffy blanket and two hot drinks with you. Sitting on the cold stone floor with crossed legs as you draped a blanket over your forms, sipping your favorite drinks away while your eyes were fixated at the sky.

He was not fond of it at first, he knew the sky was a hoax, after all. It was all just a fabrication to deceive the human kind, he didn’t see the appeal to them.

Whenever you look at them with a glint of fascination in your eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder:

Why were you so drawn to them? 

When you fell asleep, he’d go back to the balcony and observe them, trying to discern the secrets they hid from him. 

Was it the layout of their unique patterns? Or perhaps they held some sort of significance to you?

Either way, they were just some glowing dots, nothing more, nothing less.

He has been doing that for a long time now, years, maybe even. Yet, his mind was only filled with only hypotheses. 

And hypothetical assumptions, were not the answers he was seeking for.

He would ask you, but his pride held him back from doing so. That’s how he was, the answers would be more satisfying if he was the one to discover them.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard you coughing uncontrollably. Immediately, he rushed toward you to help you sit up and gently patted your back.

“Easy there, dear, easy there.” 

The worried frown on his face would only soften when your coughs died down a little, his tender pats turned into soft strokes.

“Are you alright?”

You coughed a little more before answering him, “Y-yea, I’m okay.”

This was not looking too good. It seemed like the medicine he gave you wasn't so effective anymore. He was worried, more than worried, in fact. Fearing that one day you would… 

No. He mustn’t think like that. Despite your illness, he knew you were a strong person. His darling wouldn’t let some irritating pest of an illness to take over you just like that.

He knew.  He believed in you, you’d wait for him until he found the solution.

“Zandik?” You called out.

He made a “hm” sound, letting you know that he heard you.

“Get in the bed and sleep with me, please?”

He smiled at you in response and nodded. As he did so, you tried your hardest to engrave the image of his winsome smile into your sea of memories, your mind was still hazy from waking up in the middle of the night. 

He got into the bed with you and wrapped an arm around your feeble form, his hand rubbed against the scales that coated your arm. Treating you as if you were a fragile piece of paper that could break easily. Which in a way, you were. 

The scales that Eleazar plagued on your body was a weird sensation, it made your skin feel numb. But it also made you feel like your body was being smoldered by an invisible flame, one that could not be extinguished easily.

In that moment however, in his arms you felt… normal. It was like you never had this illness to begin with, and all of that was only an illusory pain. 

Safe, was what you felt as you listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, guiding your tired mind away into a land of bliss… 

---

The next day came and the sun made its way above the tall, icy mountains. Its soft rays of light embraced your body, causing your eyes to blink open. You expected to greet your lover but he was nowhere to be found, the other side of the bed was cold. 

Huh, maybe he was busy today, you told yourself. 

As you laid there, a soft knock came through your door and it was opened, revealing a segment of Dottore—Beta. He was holding a tray of freshly made breakfast as he made his way over to you, setting it onto the nightstand. 

“Good morning, (Y/n)!” Beta greeted you with an enthusiastic voice. 

You adored the segments, they were always so ecstatic to see you.

In return, you gave him a little grin and waved at him, saying a “good morning” to him, as well.

“As usual, I’ve made you your favorite! Pancakes with some fruits on the side!” He clasped his hands together, proud of himself that he was able to make you your meal.

You turned your head to the tray and woah, it looked really appetizing.

Without any hesitation, you went to grab the fork. But with how shaky your hands were, it slipped out of your grasp and hit the floor.

"Ah… I'm sorry," you said. Retracting your hands back to your side. You didn't remember being this tired from lifting your arm up….

"It's alright, darling. I brought a spare one just in case. How about I feed you instead?" Beta picked the fork up, switching to a cleaner one. 

You were about to deny but stopped yourself when you saw how his face practically screamed please-let-me-feed-you.

Just like Prime, the segments loved to pamper you.

You chuckled and shook your head, giving him a gesture to do as he pleased. And just like you have guessed, he perked up and sat down on the side of the bed, feeding you pieces of sliced pancakes.

Like usual, the segments would take turns to keep you company. Theta told you about a story where he accidentally put too much spice into Prime’s food. Well, that explained why he came back holding his stomach that day. And Zeta was just there for you to cuddle as you took naps.

The only difference was you found out you weren’t able to stand on your own. As soon as you got up from the bed, your legs would become wobbly and cause you to lose your balance. Thankfully, Delta was there and he was able to help you get up.

You were about to fall asleep when you heard the door creaked, your eyes opened and was met with Zandik crouched down next to the bed facing you. 

All the sleepiness you felt instantly disappeared when you saw him.

“I’m sorry, my dear. Did I wake you up?” He asked, stroking your cheek.

“No at all, I haven’t fallen asleep yet,” you replied. Relishing in the warmth his gloved hand gave off.

“Now that you’re back, why don’t we go stargazing together?” You were getting up, only for him to push you back on the mattress.

“My apologies, dove, but I need to get back to the lab in a bit. I’m only here to check on you. Delta reported to me that you weren’t able to stand today.”

Ah, so he heard.

“Yea… I guess my Eleazar has been taking a toll on me, lately.”

He leaned in and gave you a short but passionate peck your lips and held your hand.

“That’s what I’m here for, a cure will be made and you won’t have to suffer any longer.” He told you, but it was also a way to reassure himself that you would not be going anywhere.

“Please get some rest now, you need it,” he said, before getting up from his crouched position.

As he left for the door, you called out one last time, “Zandik.”

He stopped in his tracks, his head shifted a bit to your direction.

“Thank you…”

In response, he gave you a nod and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Unbeknownst to you, the moment you said that his heart dropped. You said it like you were going to leave him… 

No. No, you wouldn’t leave him.

He would not let that happen.

He will find the cure no matter what.

---

It has been a few weeks now.

Day by day your Eleazar was getting worse, it was affecting you more than you had expected. You were getting weaker as the scales covered the majority of your body, almost immobilizing you. Breathing was starting to prove itself to be a challenge for you as well.

And he hated it. He absolutely hated how he wasn’t able to do anything. 

He hated how useless he was.

“God damnit!”

He slammed his hand against the table as he let out a frustrated yell.

Another failure.

Why? Why wasn’t it working? It was going so well, but what stopped it?

He panted as he brushed his oily hair with his hand, ignoring the growl coming from his stomach for the fifth time today.

The thought of taking care of himself was shoved all the way back at the deepest part of his mind. How could he eat or shower when your life was on the line? There wasn’t a day where he’d stop worrying about your well being.

It was a race between him and the inexorable march of time before he lost you to that ridiculous Eleazar.

He must find the cure. He had to.

---

How long has it been since you've last seen him?

How long has it been since you've last seen his goofy grin?

How long has it been since the two of you were in each other's arms as you gazed at the stars together? 

You didn't know.

All you knew was how agonizing the pain felt. You were thankful the segments were with you, some were holding you and the others tried their best to sooth you.

But at that very moment, all you wanted was just to see your lover again. You've missed him dearly and you knew his presence would make all the pain go away.

Oh, what you would do just to see him one last time…

Such a weird feeling. Where did all this fog come from? Amidst it, was a faint image of a smiling Zandik.

Ah, what a beautiful sight it was.

You were glad that you at least remembered that.

Where are you, Zandik? I wanted to see you again…

---

He was almost done, all he had to do was to—

"Doctor!" 

A Fatui agent barged into the lab, panting.

Zandik turned to him and spoke with an irritated tone, "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"It's… It's (Y/n)—"

Upon hearing your name, he put both of his hands onto the agent's shoulders and squeezed it.

"What is it? What's wrong with them?"

"They… Um, they're…" The agent stumbled on his words, his voice was foreboding.

"Speak." Zandik got impatient.

"They're gone..."

…What?

No… No…

No, no, no, no.

He knew you were stronger than that. 

What was this scumbag bluffing about?

Zandik's faces scrunched up in disgust and shoved the agent against the nearest wall, holding his collar.

"Do you think this is funny? Joking about my lover like that?" His voice dripped with venom.

"I-I swear, sir! I wouldn't dare joke about something like that!" He pleaded, scared of what the harbinger would do to him.

Zandik didn't trust him one bit. But just in case, he had to go check on you. He needed to make sure you were okay. He must know that you were still breathing.

He ran to where your room was and opened the door.

All he could see were his crying segments surrounding your bed. When they noticed Prime, they made way for him to get to you. 

When the segments got out of his way, he laid his eyes on you. He saw your figure laying there. However, your chest wasn't moving.

Oh gods no, please tell him it was just his eyes playing tricks on him and you weren't actually…

He got closer to the bed and slightly nudged you.

"Darling…?"

But you didn't move.

And he nudged you again, a little bit harder this time.

"My dear, it's me. I know you're tired but open your eyes for a bit, hm?" His voice wavered.

And yet, your form remained still.

He laid his head against your chest and listened to your heartbeat, desperately hoping that you were just a heavy sleeper.

But there was nothing.

He couldn't hear anything.

For the very first time in a long time, he felt something wet dripping down his face as he held you close.

He cried, and cried, and cried and cried. 

Feeling what little warmth he could feel from your icy body.

He was a man that could easily win every battle. But against time…

He had lost.

---

After your passing, he isolated himself in his laboratory. Running experiments upon experiments. He believed that he could bring you back to him; to chase after a tantalizing hope.

But just like finding the cure, he failed. 

He failed way too much.

And it finally dawned on him that he would never get to see you again.

He was laying on a desk when someone knocked on his door. He didn't give a response but they invited themselves in anyway.

"Prime, I was cleaning the room when I found this on the nightstand." Delta spoke in a raspy voice, and put whatever that he was holding onto the desk. 

He wasn't looking too good himself as well. His hair was a mess and eyes redder than usual. 

Without saying anything more, he left Zandik alone.

He looked up from his lying position and saw an envelope, written on the cover were the words "To Zandik."

He recognized that handwriting somewhere… It was yours.

Picking it up and took the piece of paper out, it read:

To Zandik,

Hello, dear! I hope you've been taking good care of yourself. 

By the time you read this I'm probably… not here anymore. But that's okay, I'm still always here with you! Maybe not physically, but spiritually I'm always there.

Knowing you, love, you're probably blaming yourself. But please don't, okay? It's not your fault and I'd hate to see you do that :(

I know that you're just a big goof that worries about me. It makes me happy to know that you cared so much about me, to the point where you'd do anything to find a cure.

I just wish I could've gazed at the stars with you one last time. But that's okay too, I'll wait for however long for you and we could do that again.

Speaking of, you're probably wondering… Why am I so drawn to them?

Surprised? I knew. I've always known. Every night whenever you think I was "asleep" you'd observe them. I love them not simply because of how pretty they are, but because of the moments I got to share with you.

With my Eleazar, it honestly feels painful. Whenever I'm looking at the stars with you, it'd somehow make me forget that I was in pain. All the worries are just… gone.

No matter what, I want you to know just how much I'm grateful to be with you, my crazy scientist <3

If you ever missed me, just look at the stars and I'll be there :)

I love you, Zandik.

-(Y/n) ♡

I love you…

I love you…

As he read those words again and again, he clutched the piece of paper to his chest as he let his tears fall once more.

The things he'd do just to hear you say that to him again.

Were you hoping for him to be there to watch the stars with you? 

Were you hoping to see him one last time, just like he was?

Too blinded by his desperation to find a cure for you, he missed his only chance to say goodbye…

---

Weeks passed and in his hands, he was holding a blanket, two hot drinks and a photo frame, all the while he was walking to your room.

It's been quite a while since he's been there. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself and opened the door. 

The bed was covered in smooth sheets; the usually messy floor was now cleaned; the bookshelves were collecting dust.

Despite having been living here for the majority of his life, it felt like this was the first time he's been here.

He went to where the balcony was and sat down, putting the photo frame of you smiling on the floor close to him, along with a cup of your favorite drink in front of it. 

He put his aside and wrapped the blanket around himself, making sure it covered the picture frame beside him as well.

He sipped on his hot chocolate as he gazed up at the starry sky.

There were so many of them decorating the void, and yet, if anything they made him feel alone. 

And well, you weren't there to see them with him anymore. They weren't as enjoyable as they used to be.

However, out of every star, he noticed how there was an odd one out. It seemed to be flickering so intently.

A melancholic smile made its way to his face.

Was that perhaps you saying "hi" to him? You did say if he ever missed you, all he had to do was to look at the stars and you'd be there.

He couldn't help but wonder… 

If he tried hard enough, would he be able to reach that star one day?

You were waiting for him, after all.

[abandoned-anemoia]

A Flower a Day Keeps the Sadness Away

☯ Pairing: Joshua x gn!reader, Jeonghan x gn!reader, (ft. Minghao, Seungkwan, Lee Youngji, and Itzy's Ryunjin) ☯ Genre: fluff with a tiny bit of angst, slow burn! ☯ Word count: 16k ☯ Summary: When you start receiving flowers from a secret admirer, your forced to use the hint cards attached to figure out who it may be. Struggling with your own feelings, you overlook an obvious suspect. Will you ever figure out who your secret admirer is? Or will you discover hidden feelings for someone else along the way? ☯ Warnings: Accidentally cutting your hand while cooking, cursing, Ryunjin is very flirty, uses of pet names for everyone (darling, love, sweetheart, beautiful, babe, handsome), Minghao being a menace to society, mentions of sex (jokes), allusions to murder/guns (jokes), drinking, jealousy, mention of "god" ☯ A/N: I hate that Tumblr fucks with my format, so I'm sorry if it's a bit odd looking. Please Let me know if I need to add any warnings! ☯Disclaimer: None of my work represents any of the idols included in any way. This is merely fictional and all based on my opinion as a joke! I have nothing against any of these idols and love them all dearly.

Please do not copy, translate, or post as your own!

Day 1- Monday in front of the mirror, preparing yourself for work. Rushing through your routine, you speed to the kitchen to see Jeonghan is standing by the counter, looking out the window with a mug between his hands, the steam making itself visible. His hair is done, looking well kept, and sunlight peeks through the window and bounces off of his skin, making him look as if he were glowing. He looks at you as you walk further into the room and smiles, "Good morning, Darling."

The pet name never ceases to stop you in your tracks, never being prepared for the sweet pet name to leave his lips. You turn to Jeonghan as he hands you another steaming mug, "Good morning, Love."

"Are you ready to go?" He watches as you wander around the kitchen, grabbing something you can eat quickly before gathering your things for work. You nod before tossing him the car keys and making your way to the front door.

You pull the door open, the sun not quite reaching you as you start to step onto the small porch. A flash of pink catches your eye—it being a stark contrast to the plain brown of the porch. When you look down at your feet to see a single pink flower lying on the ground, confusion hits you. Reaching down to grab the flower, noticing a small beige card with a hole punched into the corner, a piece of twine tying it to the stem. Holding the note card in your hands, it reads:

In 14 days, it will be the one year anniversary of you moving in to this house. Every flower has a meaning and you'll receive a flower a day that acts as a hint to who I am and how I feel about you.

In the language of flowers a pink Carnation represents a secret admirer.

You have to admit, the note seems a little ominous. Someone you know, or who at least knows you, has given you a flower and a hint as to who they are? It is a strange, yet oddly sweet gesture. If the card were threatening in any way you would have gone to the police, but it seems harmless enough, right?

Jeonghan simply places a hand on your back and lightly presses into you to get you to move from your spot. Shooting him a questioning look, he shrugs before walking to the car, you following not far behind.

Climbing into the passenger seat, you pull the seat belt around you as Jeonghan starts the car, pulling out of the driveway and heading down the road. Every morning, Jeonghan drives the both of you to work, dropping you off at the clothing store before driving down the street to the local coffee shop. Often, after particularly long days, you both use the car ride to decompress before getting home, only to complain about the people you both encountered when you arrive.

Holding the flower in your hand as you say goodbye to Jeonghan, you turn to enter the building that provides you with money before making your way inside. Walking your way to the back, you wet a paper towel, wrapping it around the stem of the flower before putting it with your stuff. Clocking in and settling behind the register, you start your morning conversation with your friend, "Good morning, Minghao!"

"You're very cheery today. Anything special happen?" He cocks his head to the side, wiggling his eyebrows in suggestion, a smirk playing on his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at the man that is now leaning against the counter that separates the two of you, "If you're insinuating that I slept with Jeonghan, then no, nothing special happened. How many times do I have to tell you that he's my best friend?"

"Babe… he lives with you, makes you coffee every morning, drops you off at work, will occasionally bring you lunch, takes you back home, and he is drop dead gorgeous. He is the whole package and you expect me to think you two are 'just friends'? Yeah, no." He chastises you about your close friendship with Jeonghan, using air quotes when he says the two of you are just friends.

Before you can respond with an equally sassy response, the door opens and a few young girls walk in, beginning to look around. Minghao pouts, raising his eyebrows, silently telling you that he will be coming back to this topic later.

The day is filled with people coming in and out, stocking the shelves and racks, and the usual banter with Minghao. Time flies by, not noticing closing time ticking closer until Minghao snaps his fingers in front of your face and points to the door, "Your boyfriend's here."

Sending him a glare, you gather your things, clock out, and head out the door while waving goodbye to your friend. He waves to you as you get into the car, Jeonghan giving him a small smile as he drives the two of you home.

Jeonghan looks down to the flower resting in your lap, "I see the flower survived the day. Did you?"

"It wasn't a bad day. It moved by quite fast. How was your day?" You glance at him, noting the way his eyes never glance over to you but stay on the road.

He smiles at your question, pulling into the driveway, "It wasn't the best, but it wasn't bad so I don't really have anything to complain about."

As you both get out of the car, making your way up the few stairs to your front door, you notice Jeonghan wave at someone. You look in the direction of Jeonghan's attention, seeing your neighbors, Seungkwan and Joshua, getting home at the same time as the two of you.

This is usually how it happens–everything closes around the same time, so Seungkwan leaves the flower shop around the same time that Jeonghan leaves the cafe and you leave the clothing store. Joshua more or less makes his own schedule and usually takes Seungkwan to work in the morning and picks him up in the afternoon.

"How was your day? I noticed the cafe was pretty crowded today." Seungkwan smiles, teeth on display and eyes bright.

Jeonghan nods, chuckling lightly, "It was very busy but not all that bad."

As the two continue to talk about their day and make casual conversation, you stroll over to Joshua, who is standing with a smile on his face as Seungkwan raves about his day. Once closer to where he is, you joke with him about his job, "How was your day? Any closer to being CEO?"

The once bright and cheery smile on his face turns into a bashful one as a slight puff of air escapes through his nose, "Unfortunately, I doubt that will happen any time soon." He glances down, noting the single flower in your hand, "Do you like flowers?"

"I love them! This one was sort of a secret surprise of sorts, but a nice one nonetheless." You look down at the flower you held, smile now matching his.

The sudden laughter that flows from a few feet away catches your attention. Jeonghan and Seungkwan are folded over, melodic laughter escaping their lips.

Joshua is the first one to let his curiosity get the better of him, "What's so funny?"

Wheezing out the best that he can, Seungkwan responds with a simple, "Nothing."

Jeonghan, finally catching his breath and wiping his eyes, looks to you, "Are you ready to go in? We can order food. I'm too tired to cook."

As you nod, Joshua waves to the two of you and leads a still giggling Seungkwan into their home. Walking inside your shared home, you and Jeonghan discuss your food options as you find a vase to place the flower into.

Day 2- Tuesday

Waking up the next morning and going through your usual routine, you had forgotten about your secret admirer until you stepped outside, finding a long green stem with yellow blooms lining the upper half. The familiar twine loops around the flower, a card dangling from it:

I consider you to be a close friend of mine.

In the language of flowers a yellow Freesia represents friendship and trust.

Jeonghan reads the note from over your shoulder, having stepped out of the house just a moment after you, "Another flower to add to the vase, huh?"

Smiling at the beautiful flora, you rush back inside to add it to the vase before meeting Jeonghan in the car. Your drive to work is quiet, only filled with light music before you say your goodbyes to Jeonghan and he drives off.

"Look who has an extra pep in their step today!" A voice rings out as you walk through the door.

Continuing your walk to the back to place your stuff down and clocking in, "We're still just friends, Hao!"

Minghao rolls his eyes, "Then what has you so happy?"

"Well… I got a flower yesterday and it had this note with it and-" You continued to recount what had happened and explain the situation to the best of your ability.

Minghao has a smirk on his face, "You know, this person has to know your schedule in order to drop the flowers off without you noticing them. Like a certain someone we know."

"Wouldn't I notice Jeonghan putting these things together though?" You hadn't thought about the possibility of the one leaving you flowers being Jeonghan.

"Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe it's Seungkwan? He's your neighbor right? Plus he's on a very similar schedule to ours! He would know when you leave AND he knows flowers from working as a florist!" Minghao, excited by his own discovery, claps his hands together.

You're quick to put a damper on his excitement, "That would be too obvious, wouldn't it?"

"Hiding in plain sight." He shrugs, eyebrows raised as he walks around the empty store, tidying up and organizing things as he goes.

The day is filled with you exchanging theories with Minghao about who your secret admirer could be. Being quite empty, the store was silent except for your excited banter.

You are locking up when Jeonghan pulls up to the front of the store. Minghao smiles at him and turns to you, leaning in and whispering, "Think about it. It's possible."

Nudging him away, you give him a nod and climb into the passenger's seat of the car. Before Jeonghan pulls away from the curb, he glances over at you, "Seatbelt."

Pulling the seatbelt across your body and hearing the click of the buckle, you look to Jeonghan, who nods and starts down the road, "How was your day?"

"It was very dead today." Was all you respond with, not wanting to tell him about all of the theories you and Minghao had come up with about your mysterious suitor. Jeonghan gives you a nod and hums in agreement before telling you about his day like he always does.

When you get home, Jeonghan offers to cook dinner but you insist on helping. The scene is quite a domestic one—you washing and cutting vegetables while he gathers more ingredients, prepping the centerpiece of the meal. You have time to think over Minghao's words, staring over at Jeonghan as he stands in front of the stove. You're so distracted by the thought that you don't notice how close the knife is to your hand before the blade slips across your finger, leaving a sting in its wake. Wincing at the pain and quickly turning back to your hand, you set the knife down in the sink, turning the water on and pushing your hand under it.

Jeonghan was quick to notice the pained noise that slips out, turning off the stove so it is not forgotten and rushing over to where you stand, "What happened?"

"I wasn't paying attention…" Your voice was quiet, ashamed at your lack of caution.

"Let me see." Jeonghan gently pulls your hand out from under the water and cradles it in his own, inspecting the wound before grabbing a small rag and placing it in your hands, "It's not bad. I'll go get a bandaid."

He walks away, leaving you standing in the kitchen, shocked by his actions almost as if he has never done such a thing before and your clumsiness isn't a common occurrence. Coming back around the corner with a band-aid and ointment in hand, he pulls your hand toward him as he works on wrapping the band-aid around your finger. Maybe it was what Minghao had suggested or maybe it was hidden feelings seemingly coming to light, but the way he holds your hand so delicately makes your heart race.

"Be more careful." He fusses, moving you to the stove and pointing at the still uncooked food, "I'll finish the vegetables. You work on that and try not to burn yourself."

Letting out a small laugh at his jab, you turn to finish the food he was cooking while he finishes washing and cutting the vegetables. You'll have to think about the possibility of having feelings for Jeonghan later.

Day 3- Wednesday

The single pink flower sitting on your doorstep catches you off guard once again. Its seemingly flawless petals are neatly lying across one another, a small beige card strapped to its stem:

I always wish you the best.

In the language of flowers a pink Tulip represents good wishes and love for friends.

Taking the flower inside, placing the card in the growing stack, before slipping the Tulip inside of the vase. Jeonghan waves you on, catching you in the kitchen as he makes his way out the door.

Following behind him and climbing into the car, you ask if he thinks today will be a busy day for either of you. It being Wednesday, he tells you he thinks it will be another slow day for the both of you.

"Do you want to stop by the cafe for lunch today?" The smile on his face rivals that of a kid on Christmas morning when you nod, agreeing to have lunch with him. It is always like this, the happy and calm mixing to make the perfect atmosphere between the two of you.

The day was pretty much just a repeat of the day before. Nothing too exciting or ground breaking happened before lunch rolled around. You had spent the majority of the time gossiping and theorizing with Minghao again.

Walking down the street to the cafe, you spot Seungkwan through the window as you make your way inside. He excitedly waves you over to his table, offering you the seat next to him. Joshua sits across from Seungkwan, clad in a white dress shirt and black slacks, the matching black tie dangling down the center of his chest, a bright smile on his face as he greets you.

Before you can say anything Seungkwan is waving someone else over. As you look to where his attention is placed, you see Jeonghan, happily making his way over. Seungkwan motions to the seat next to Joshua and Jeonghan sits down.

"What a small world!" Seungkwan places his chin in his hands as his elbows rest on the table, successfully making everyone at the table laugh.

He offers to go and order for everyone if they knew what they wanted. Being given the order and ready to walk to the counter, Joshua pulls out his wallet and hands his card to Seungkwan telling everyone he will pay. Seungkwan happily takes the card and continues to the counter, having somehow memorized what everyone wanted.

"You didn't have to do that, you know." Worried eyes meeting his as you speak.

Joshua shrugs, waving you off, "It's no big deal. We all do things for each other all the time, this is no different."

"It was still really nice of you. How about we treat you to dinner at our place next week?" Jeonghan speaks softly as he smiles at the man sitting next to him.

"That's genius! Then we get to spend more time together and catch up since we have all been run ragged recently." You add to Jeonghan's invitation, earning a bright smile from Joshua, his cheeks tinting pink as he accepts the invitation.

Seungkwan skips over to the table with drinks, sandwiches, and pastries lining his arms, "What did I miss?"

Helping him disperse the food, Jeonghan extends the invitation to Seungkwan, who happily agrees as he returns Joshua's card, "I'm always down for free food."

"Who isn't?" You laugh as you all converse and joke about anything and everything while eating.

Realizing you lost track of time, you quickly gather your things, "Oh, shit! I need to get back to work. I'll see you guys later."

"I can drive you so you aren't late." Joshua's suggestion catches you by surprise.

"It's just down the street, I can walk it." Sending him a smile as you make your way to the door.

"You'll be tired from the walk and then you won't have the energy to work well." Joshua had followed you to the door, grabbing the handle and pushing in open for you.

Though his comment seemed like an excuse, you let out a laugh and agree to allow him to drive you down the street. His smile widens as he opens the car door for you, just as he had the cafe door, before running around the other side and starting the car.

Pulling up to the door, you hop out of the car, turning to him before you shut the door, "Thanks, Shua."

He nods, waving goodbye as you close the car door and watch him drive off. Walking into the empty store, you're thankful to not be late coming back from your lunch break.

"Who was that?" Minghao's voice comes from behind a clothing rack, eyes peeking over to look at you.

"Oh! That's my friend Joshua." Your answer sparks a light in Minghao's eyes, as if he had connected something in his head.

"He's your neighbor right?" Minghao steps out from behind the clothes where you can see a smirk on his face.

Nodding, you roll your eyes at your nosey friend. Minhao is quick to notice, "He could be a suspect!"

"A suspect?" You question, confused by the ominous wording.

Minghao nods slowly, making his way over to where you stand behind the counter, "Yeah, you know, your secret admirer."

Cocking your head to the side, you lean on the counter, "What makes you think that?"

"You walked down the street to have lunch with Jeonghan and ended up getting dropped back off by a very pretty friend of yours who happens to also be your neighbor. See where I'm going with this?" He knew what he was saying was obvious to him, but you had only taken it as a kind gesture, not noticing how strange it could look from an outside perspective like his.

"I guess it is possible." Minghao lets out a dramatic puff of air at your response.

You and Minghao finish the day off by discussing new possibilities in Joshua being your secret admirer while wandering around the store. When Jeonghan stops to pick you up, it's the same old routine—waving goodbye, getting in the car, and talking about your day while driving home only for nothing eventful to happen once comfortable inside said home.

Day 4- Thursday

Running slightly behind, you found yourself dashing to the door to find your next flower before caring about getting yourself ready. Bright orange petals splay in a circle as you stare at the flower in your hands, then look to the card wrapped around it:

The energy you radiate never fails to bring a smile to my face.

In the language of flowers an orange Aster represents energy and enthusiasm.

The small notes always manage to bring a smile to your face, not always because of the note itself, but the meaning behind it all. Taking the beautiful flower into your home, you rush to the kitchen, placing it in the vase with the others and admiring your growing collection for a moment.

"Why aren't you ready yet?" A voice comes from behind you.

Turning to look at Jeonghan, you note the extra mug in his hand and the look on his face that tells you you're running later than you expected. His presence had gone completely unnoticed when you entered the room, too focused on getting the flower to the vase to realize Jeonghan was patiently waiting on you with your morning coffee and conversation.

You hurry to apologize, hoping Jeonghan wouldn't be upset that you completely dismissed his presence a moment ago, "I'm so sorry, Hannie! I was a bit distracted. I promise I'll be quick."

Scurrying to your room to get ready and gather anything you may need for the day, you seem to manage the time quite well. You quickly make your way back to the kitchen where Jeonghan has moved the coffee that was in the mug to a to-go cup and is now staring at the flowers on the table.

"Admiring the flowers?" You joke as you pick up the cup of coffee, the liquid warming your hands through the material of the cup.

"Mm, yeah," he pauses for a moment, looking as if he is dissociating before snapping back to reality, "Are you ready to go?"

Nodding your head, you both exit the house. You want to question his strange mood but decide not to prod too much and instead thank him for thinking of you, "Thanks for the coffee, Han. There honestly isn't a better way to start my morning than drink your master concoctions."

Your joking praise is enough to bring a bright smile to Jeonghan's face. Lightly chuckling at your blatant attempt to knock him out of whatever funk he seemed to be in a few moments earlier, "It's a different necromancy potion every morning because you look dead."

Gasping dramatically, placing a hand over your heart in fake disbelief, "I compliment you and you turn around and insult me? What a great friend you are."

You didn't miss the slight fall in his features after mentioning your friendship. The same thought in the back of your mind keeps pestering you: Is Jeonghan the one leaving the flowers?

Pushing the thought back to the back of your mind, you glance over at Jeonghan, noticing one of his hands is resting on the center console of the car. Giving in to your impulses, you link your hand with his, squeezing it lightly before letting your hand rest in his.

He sends you a small smile, his thumb softly drawing shapes on your hand as he turns his gaze back to the road ahead. Your own gaze is intently watching your hand, how well it fits in his and how gently he runs his thumb along the back of yours.

Looking through the windshield to see you have almost made it to the store you work in, you lean further against the seat, not wanting to leave the comfort of the car. When Jeonghan parks in front of the store, you both sit in silence for a moment, hands still linked together, unwilling to let go.

You let out a sigh, slowly dragging your hand from his grip and unbuckling your seatbelt. Jeonghan looks at you, eyes wide and hopeful, "Have a good day at work, Darling."

Smiling brightly, you nod in agreement while slipping out of the car, "Don't work yourself to death, Love."

…

Your phone screen lights up next to you, a simple text from Jeonghan reads: "Have you had lunch yet?"

Picking up your phone, you text him a quick response: "Probably won't be able to. Too busy."

You place your phone under the counter you're standing behind just before a customer comes to check out. The day has been the busiest day in weeks, people filing through the doors of the store, one right after another. The groups of people leaving the store are replaced by other groups coming in.

The store is already low on staff, with today only being managed by you, Minghao, and one other co-worker. You are all being run ragged by the amount of people that swarm the store. You had covered for Minghao earlier so he could eat, but it was far less busy at that time so you doubt that you will be able to take time for lunch.

Only half an hour passes before you see Jeonghan walk through the door, a small brown paper bag in one hand and a white to-go cup in the other. He weaves his way through the sea of people, walking up to the counter as he smiles at you before handing the items to you, "I brought you some small things to snack on so you won't have to wait until it's less busy to eat."

You let out a relieved sigh, "You're an angel, Hannie."

The girl standing at the counter eyes Jeonghan and smiles softly as you ring up her items. Her eyes are soft and swirling with emotion as she turns to look back at you when you start speaking again. As if you snapped her out of her daze, her eyes seem to lose the emotion they showed prior as she pays and quickly scurries away.

You wonder if the slight spike of jealousy that ran through you was that of friendly nature or that spurred on by the growing adoration you have for Jeonghan. The jealousy doesn't last as you glance back to Jeonghan, his eyes already on you, seeming as if they never left.

"I won't bother you while you work, but make sure you eat. I'll cook something filling for us tonight." The smile on his face is bright and holds more love than it seemed to ever have.

Nodding your head in silent agreement, you watch as he leaves the store, walking down the street to get back to work himself. You peek into the paper bag, spotting a few of your favorite foods from the cafe, and let a smile spread across your face.

You snack on the foods he brought you throughout the rest of your shift, barely getting more than a bite in before yet another customer was asking for assistance with something. The store settles down just as closing time rolls around, as if everyone simultaneously decided to give you a break.

After turning off all of the lights, Minghao closes the door, "So are we going to talk about how Jeonghan was looking at you today, or not?"

Crossing your arms over your chest, you quirk your eyebrow at him, "What are you on about?"

Minghao looks at you as if you had just told him the grass is blue, "Are you really that dense?" He pauses as you continue to stare at him, "Oh, come on! He brought you food when we were busy and totally ignored the girl that was swooning over him, just to continue looking at you like you drew the whole universe for him."

As Minghao's ranting comes to a close, Jeonghan pulls up to the curb. Smiling at your friend, you turn to Minghao, "I wasn't really paying attention."

"I know. You were too busy murdering that girl with your mind." Minghao laughs at the memory.

You are mortified, you had not thought you had reacted, at least not noticeably. Minghao seems to notice your embarrassment, clapping a hand on your shoulder and smiling, "You are hopeless."

Day 5- Friday

You stare at the new flower sitting in the vase alongside the others, the dark orange petals staring back at you. The small card that was once attached to the stem now sits on the counter:

I appreciate even the smallest details about you and I hope to learn to understand these things about you even more one day.

In the language of flowers an orange tulip represents understanding and appreciation.

You can’t help but to smile at the note, now even more encouraged to find out who has been leaving them on your doorstep. Jeonghan walks into the kitchen, snapping you out of your thoughts, “You ready, Darling?”

When you turn to look at him, he is smiling brightly, eyes sparkling with what one could only assume is glee as he bounces on the balls of his feet, “What’s got you so giddy?”

Jeonghan only responds with a shrug, the happy smile never leaving his face, “It’s always a good day when I wake up in the same house as you.”

“Hannie, that’s every day. And I know for fact that you do not always have good days.” You poke at Jeonghan’s side as you both head out the door.

He lets out a laugh, climbing into the drivers side of the car, “I was trying to be sweet," he pauses before continuing, “Are you stopping by the cafe after lunch today?”

Climbing into the car, you nod along, “Yeah, I get off early today. After I get lunch with Youngji and Ryujin, I’ll meet you at the cafe and wait for you to get off. Is that okay?”

Jeonghan nods, his smile never leaving his face. It is hard to truly tell what’s got him so happy, but something inside you says it isn’t you. There is another part of you that believes and wants the reason for that beautiful smile on his face to be you.

…

Getting off early will always be a godsend, especially when you see your friends waiting for you at a table settled in a corner of the small restaurant. Rushing over to your friends, Youngji happily stands to greet you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and laughing loudly at what seemed like nothing. Ryujin smiles brightly, remaining seated so you could slide into the seat next to her, "Glad you could make it. It's time to catch up on these past few weeks."

Once Ryujin and Youngji had caught everyone up on their lives, they both looked at you expectantly. Excited to have two more people who could help you sleuth out who was giving you flowers, you spoke, "I don't have much to tell, but I do need to tell you guys about my secret admirer."

"Your WHAT?! That's so cool!" Youngji's loud voice travels farther than you would have liked, causing you to wince and hide your face from onlookers.

Ryujin was quick to both settle and berate her for her word choice, "Cool? That's it? Ji, come on, it's more than cool!"

Youngji scoffs, turning to give you her full attention, "So? Any idea who they are?"

Before you can speak, Ryujin smirks and moves a piece of your hair behind your ear, "They have taste."

Chuckling and swatting Ryujin's hand away, you shake your head, "That's what I was hoping to ask you guys about. I have a few people in mind but I honestly have no idea who it could be."

Ryunjin lets out a short laugh, giving you her full attention, "Alright. Who are you suspecting?"

"Well, Minghao and I have come up with three: Jeonghan, Joshua, or Seungkwan." Counting off the names on your fingers as you spoke.

You notice that you now have both girls' attention, as they look deep in thought. Youngji is the first to speak, leaning herself against the table, "The real question is who do you want it to be?"

"What?" The question catches you off guard.

Sighing, Youngji begins to explain, "If it ends up being someone you don't want, then does it really matter if you figure out who is doing it?"

"That's the smartest thing I've ever heard her say. She's lucky she's pretty." Ryujin's comment earns a loud complaint from Youngji.

Youngji is quick to zone back in on you, "Answer the question."

"I don't know. I'm not sure I understand my feelings for Jeonghan. I'm just his best friend. I love Seungkwan, sure, but not as anything more than a friend. I think he sees me the same way I see him. And Joshua… he's perfect, isn't he? But I think he just sees me as a friend."

"So you're telling me that you don't think any of these men like you? They would have to be stupid. I mean, look at you! Stunning. You are the perfect one, Beautiful."

Before you can respond, a waiter comes to take your order. As he walks away to give your order to the kitchen, Youngji's eyes widen and move to settle on you and Ryunjin, "He was pretty."

Ryunjin crosses her arms over her chest, pouting her lips, "So am I, but you never look at me like that."

Youngji is quick to point out Ryujin's flirty behavior, "For all we know, it could be Ryu!"

Ryunjin sends a flirty wink your way before a more serious look crosses her face, "As much as I would love to take credit, it isn't me."

When the food arrives, the conversation pauses, but only for a moment. As soon as everything is settled on the table and the waiter is out of ear shot, Ryujin continues, "Youngji, aren't you friends with Seungkwan?"

Youngji nods excitedly, "Yeah! I'll be sure to find out if it's him. But for now, we are going to explore the possibility of it being your best friend and roommate."

Ryujin nods her head animatedly, agreeing with Youngji, "That is the elephant in the room that we completely skipped over."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just don’t know what to even think about it.” You let out a sigh, shrugging at their questioning glances.

The conversation was pushed to its limits with both of your friends not willing to give up on the idea that you may harbor feelings for any of the men that were suspected to be your secret admirer. The three of you went over every possibility, including the notes that were left with each flower, trying to sleuth out who it could be. With Youngji agreeing to pester Seungkwan, you feel a little better about figuring out who your secret admirer is, despite refusing to talk to Jeonghan about him being a possible suspect.

Day 6- Saturday

A sliver of light forces itself through your curtains, piercing your eyes and pulling you from your peaceful sleep. Luckily, you and Jeonghan had convinced your manager’s to let you keep Saturdays to yourselves. For you, Saturdays are for sleeping in. For Jeonghan, Saturdays are for spending the day doing anything but going to work. He never lets you sleep in for too long because Saturdays are for spending time together.

Crawling out of bed and checking the time, you decide noon is definitely too long to sleep any more than you already have. Feet padding to the door of your room before exiting and slowly walking to the kitchen.

A voice comes from the living area, “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. I was starting to worry you needed true loves kiss.”

Scoffing at his comment, you turn to see him wandering into the kitchen behind you, “How long have you been up?”

“Since about eight.” He pauses, pointing to the vase of flowers, “By the way, I got your funny looking flower from the doorstep. I put the note on the counter next to the vase.”

Looking to where he is pointing, there is a new flower added to the vase. It looks far more different than any of the other flowers. The bright red flower looks like a firework of some sort, petals spiked up like a 90s hairstyle. You grab the note from where it sits on the counter, reading the words carefully.

I hope to be the one to make you feel safe when I am around.

In the language of flowers a Scarlet Bee Balm represents protection and prosperity.

The first person you think of when you think of feeling safe is Jeonghan. He is always around and is only ever a phone call away if you need him. He has always been your shelter from every raging storm of swirling thoughts or any scary situation you have ever been in. He isn’t the only one though. You feel safe around Seungkwan, Joshua, Minghao, Ryujin, and Youngji.

Even after your conversation with Ryujin and Youngji yesterday, you could still be very wrong about who this secret admirer may be. Ignoring Youngji’s advice, you decide not to ask Jeonghan if it is him gifting you flowers. Hinting wouldn’t be so bad though, right?

“You know, I still have no idea who these could be from.” You turn to look at Jeonghan, who only shrugs and turns away from you.

Just as you are about to speak up again, he asks, “Do you want coffee? Or something to eat?”

While you declined Jeonghan’s offer to make you coffee, the two of you decide to discuss food options for lunch. With neither of you wanting to go out, you settled on ordering takeout and binging the rest of the show the two of you had recently started.

You gather utensils and anything you could possibly need from the kitchen while Jeonghan sets up the living room. Carrying what you need into the living area, you spot Jeonghan, who is spreading your favorite blanket across the couch. He would have had to go and get said blanket from the closet for this occasion because the blanket that is bound to the living room is draped across the back of the couch, where it usually sits.

The wait for the food was not as long as either of you had expected. Or maybe it was and neither of you had noticed exactly how long it had taken—too caught up in random conversation to even notice the time roll by until the doorbell rang, alerting you of the food's presence.

Jeonghan gets up from his spot on the couch, lightly tapping your leg to let you know that he could get it himself before leaving the room. Only a moment later, he reappears in the doorway with two bags in hand and a smile on his face.

Pressing play on the TV, you dig through the bags he sat on the coffee table, placing the food in front of the two of you. While eating, you and Jeonghan discuss the events of the drama playing on the TV. Too caught up in your own theories and the plot of the show, you hadn’t noticed the sun lowering itself to the horizon.

“The sun is already setting?!” you feel as if you had wasted the day.

Jeonghan is quick to settle you worries, smiling brightly at you, “That’s okay! Now we can call it a movie night!”

The sun beams peek through the window, showering Jeonghan in a golden light. His skin shines and his eyes sparkle. His smile is still present on his face, not a hair on his head is out of place. If someone had told you to reminisce on your favorite picture it would be him in this moment.

“You okay, Darling?” his voice breaks you out of your daze.

Nodding your head, you move to close the curtains a bit more in hopes that you would not get caught staring at Jeonghan again. When you take your spot next to him again, he pulls you into his side as the credits to the last episode of the show drift across the screen.

Jeonghan scrolls through the movie choices, his arm draped across your shoulders and his thumb gently drawing shapes on your arm. This was anything but out of the ordinary, but part of you couldn’t help but feel that this time was different.

Pulling your legs up to your chest, you lean further into Jeonghan’s side, resting your head on his shoulder. He decides on a movie and tosses the blanket over your laps, laying his head on top of yours.

By the fourth movie of the night you have managed to find yourself lying down, Jeonghan pressed between you and the back of the couch, a blanket draped over the two of you. One of his arms is draped across your middle while the other rests under your head. Your eyelids feel heavy, sleep trying to overcome you. Jeonghan’s breathing is evening out behind you, his body warm against yours, lulling you to sleep.

Day 7- Sunday

When your eyes open, you notice that the warmth of the body behind you was no longer there. Sizzling sounds and a delicious smell make their way to you, making your stomach growl. You slowly sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and making your way into the kitchen. No matter how many times you see it, the sight of Jeonghan standing in front of the stove, strands of hair falling over his face as he moves food around a hot pan, will never fail to take your breath away.

His voice travels through the air, soft and still sounding tired, "Good morning, Darling."

"Good morning, Love." Sending him a smile, you walk over to where he stands, looping your arms around his waist and pressing your body to his back.

With your cheek resting against him, you can feel the laugh that reverberates through his body, only serving to make your smile widen. He covers your arms with one of his own, silently warning you about the hot stove only inches away. He draws shapes on your arm with his thumb, the room silent except for the sizzling of breakfast.

After a few moments of silence, you pry yourself away from Jeonghan, slowly moving to sit on a stool next to the bar. You have the perfect view of Jeonghan as he plates the food, turning slightly to slide a plate towards you.

When he moves to sit next to you, he plants a short kiss to the crown of your head, softly brushing the hair down with his hand, "I got the flower off of the doorstep by the way."

You hum in response, letting him know you heard him, more focused on the food than the new flower. There was never really a time when you thought Jeonghan could be more than a friend, but everything about this morning has seemed so natural. Neither of you have to try to feel comfortable with each other. Comfortable with affection. Now that you're on a mission to discover who your secret admirer could be, the possibility of Jeonghan being the one leaving the flowers is exciting.

The two of you ate in a comfortable silence. Once you are both finished, you reach to grab Jeonghan's plate from him, willing to wash the dishes since he cooked the food. He gently swats your hand away, grabbing your plate and moving toward the sink, "I dirtied them, I'll wash them."

Rolling your eyes at the man in front of you, you make your way over to the vase, spotting the new flower added to the vase, the deep red petals that fade into yellow spread evenly around the center. The small card sitting in front of the vase reads:

You bring joy to my life.

In the language of flowers a red and yellow Gaillardia represents joy.

Placing the card on top of the growing stack, you turn to see if Jeonghan is done with the dishes. You move to the other side of the sink where he is rinsing the dish he just washed, starting to dry the dishes and put them away. The two of you work as a seemingly effortless machine, the dishes being done and put away in a short amount of time before the both of you move back to the living room, ready for the lazy day to begin.

…

You spent most of the day rambling on about some of the funny meanings behind flowers, Jeonghan joking about getting you flowers that mean he hates you. While you felt bad for burying him in your research, he had soon joined you in your research, telling you about the random flower meanings he had found.

So here you are, lying across the couch, legs draped across Jeonghan's lap as the two of you go over the different meanings of flowers. A knock on the door catches your attention, groaning as you lift yourself off of the couch and make your way to the door.

As you open the door, Seungkwan comes barrelling in, flowers in hand, "I brought flowers! The store was going to throw them out because they weren't selling! Can you believe that!? They would throw away perfectly good flowers! Shame on them."

"Please, do come in." The sarcasm rolling off your tongue as you close the door completely flying over Seunkwan's head.

His ramblings continue as he makes his way into your kitchen, setting the bunches of Tansies on the counter. You get a good look at the flowers, recognizing them from your research, "Kwannie! Aren't these flowers meant to symbolize war?"

Seungkwan's eyes widen, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, "Yes, because I'm declaring war on you," he rolls his eyes, "You're really reading into this whole secret admirer thing aren't you?"

Jeonghan snorts, a smirk making its way onto his lips, "We have been researching flower meanings all day."

You're too focused on Seungkwan's comment to pay any mind to Jeonghan's sassy response, "How do you know about that?"

Seungkwan let out a loud laugh, "Youngji was being weird and eventually just asked me if I was leaving you flowers with cute notes. While I do love you very much and I truly cherish our friendship, I'm not your secret admirer."

A puff of air comes out of your nose, a small laugh following. The newfound relief of only having two possible options for your secret admirer taking over you as you launch yourself at Seungkwan. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he laughs, wrapping his own arms around your middle, "I'm not sure if I should be offended that you're so happy that it isn't me or if I should be happy?"

"Kwan, I love you, but not like that. I was so worried I would end up hurting your feelings." You sigh, pulling away from his embrace and chuckling along with him.

Seungkwan happily lets you know that he never told Youngji that he wasn't your secret admirer just to keep her on edge as the three of you carry the flowers out to the backyard. Jeonghan said he would order dinner for everyone if Seungkwan was staying for a while, in which Seungkwan nodded and smiled happily. The two of you stayed outside, placing the Tansies around the edge of the back door while Jeonghan went inside to order food.

"Oh! Is Shua home? We could invite him over?" Your sudden excited voice shocks Seungkwan, his head snapping to look at you.

He shakes his head, "He won't be home for a while. He's working late today. But don't worry, I'll make sure he eats."

Seungkwan seems to notice the way your face falls slightly at the knowledge of Joshua not being able to join you, "He's off tomorrow! I can let him know to visit you at the store?"

Smiling brightly, you turn to look at Seungkwan, "I'm off tomorrow too! Do you think he would want to hang out tomorrow?"

A bright smile appears on his face, his cheeks bunching up under his eyes, "I'm sure he would! Send him a text later and ask."

You nod, making a mental note to text Joshua later on, before getting back to making the flowers look pretty. You joke with Seungkwan as you both discuss flowers and all of the new meanings you have learned. The two of you now had another thing in common that you could talk about and that made Seungkwan more excited as the conversation went on.

Day 8- Monday

A hand on your shoulder shakes you awake, a soft voice calling out for you to wake up. Groaning, you role yourself over, facing away from the assailant.

"Don't make me play What Does The Fox Say on repeat until you get up." Your body shoots up upon hearing the threat, your head knocking into Jeonghan's.

The two of you simultaneously place your hands on your heads and let out a pained moan. Jeonghan is the first to start laughing, the ridiculousness of it all getting to him. Your laughter soon follows, the pain in your head becoming less and less.

After settling down, Jeonghan lets you know that he is leaving for work and that he left you some coffee on the kitchen bar. He makes his way to the door, you quickly following behind him at the thought of the coffee waiting for you.

Shortly after Jeonghan leaves, there is a knock at the door. You half expect it to be Jeonghan coming back because he forgot something, so when you open the door to Joshua, you are a little surprised. He stands on your doorstep, his dark hair swept away from his face, some strands making their way onto his forehead. He looks casual—comfortable even—with an oversized flannel falling over his shoulders, a soft smile on his face as his eyes sparkle even though the sun is nowhere to be seen. The cloudy sky doesn't need the burning star for light, you have it standing in front of you. He lifts his hand toward you, a light pink bloom settled in it, "This was in front of the door."

You thank him, moving to the side to let him in. He heads to the kitchen as you follow behind him, too busy staring at the odd looking plant to notice the bag of food in his hands. You grip the card attached to the flower, reading over it as you walk to the vase on the other side of the kitchen:

I am ready to start showing you my true feelings.

In the language of flowers Valerian represents readiness.

You place the card with the others, a soft smile on your face as you turn to talk to Joshua but he beats you to it, "I brought breakfast in case you hadn't eaten yet."

The nervous smile on his face warms your heart, "You're the best, Shua."

"Anything for you, Sweetheart." He chuckles, pulling food from the bag and setting it on the counter.

The pet name wasn't a new addition to your conversations, but it causes a blush to spread across your cheeks, your heart rate speeding up and the smile on your face uncontrollable. You make your way over to stand next to him. He hands you some food and motions for you to sit down, soon taking a seat next to you with food in front of him.

…

Joshua smirks, eyes lighting up with glee as he places a yellow draw four card down on the table in front of you, "Uno."

"Oh, come on! That's so unfair!" You throw your hands into the air in exasperation.

He tilts his head to the side, looking like an innocent puppy, "How so?"

"You saved that till the very end to fuck me over." Your whining did nothing to startle him.

"That's just strategy, Sweetheart." His voice is calm, never wavering despite you trying to rile him up.

Practically growling at him, you slam your hand down on the deck, pulling four cards from the top. You stare at the four new cards added to your hand, mumbling under your breath, "You're lucky that you're pretty."

You hadn't expected him to hear you, but you must have spoken louder than you thought because he is quick to turn the compliment on you, "I'm not the pretty one here."

Laughing at the absolute absurdity of his comment, you shake your head, "Liar! Have you seen yourself?"

He is quick to join your laughter, refusing and throwing compliments back your way. All of the anger you had regarding the intense game of Uno the two of you were playing quickly dissipates. It isn't anxiety inducing to compliment him or to receive compliments back. Though the tone of your voices is light and joking, the both of you know that every flattering remark made is nothing of the sort.

This is the most competitive you have seen Joshua, completely ready to throw more praise your way if you don't back down. Though determined to win, you know this war would never end if you didn't accept his flattery soon, "Fine! You win," pulling out the draw two card you had pulled from the stack earlier and placing it down on the table, the smirk never leaving your lips, "Now, draw two."

Joshua's jaw drops, a bright smile soon taking over, "Buttering me up just to shoot me down, huh?"

Forming a finger gun with your hand, you pretended to shoot him. He brings a hand up to cover his heart, falling back onto the couch. Laughing at his antics, you fake a very posh English accent, "Even if you die, you cannot escape the infamous draw two."

Joshua sits up, pretending to cry as he sniffles and picks up two cards from the deck while copying the accent you used, "I shall avenge my own death."

The two of you had managed to finish the game despite the laughter that often overcame the both of you. You had made a victorious comeback and though you rubbed it in Joshua's face, he was a gracious loser. The conversation between you had somehow turned to discussing how to spend more time together. With both of you being busy, it felt like your friendship had grown apart. Spending the day with Joshua had proven that feeling completely wrong.

The front door opens, Jeonghan walking in and pausing your conversation with Joshua, "Oh. Hi, Joshua."

Joshua smiles at Jeonghan, greeting him back before Jeonghan disappears from the room. Quick to excuse himself, Joshua stands, "I didn't even realize I had been here this long. I better get going."

You walk to the door with Joshua by your side, "Thank you for hanging out with me today, Shua."

"The pleasure is mine, Sweetheart," He steps through the threshold of the door before continuing, "Let me know anytime you want to do this again."

You're quick to extend an invitation to spend more time with him, "You and Kwan could come over tomorrow evening for dinner if you want."

"That sounds great! I'll let him know." Joshua smiles and gives you a nod before turning to walk home. You close the door behind him and let out a sigh.

Day 9- Tuesday

You spend most of the day talking to Minghao about your possible feelings for your friend, "Listen to me, Hao. He is too perfect."

"I have two words for you: down bad." He holds up a finger after each word, emphasizing his point.

Throwing a soft punch into his arm, you let out an annoyed groan, "I'm serious. I don't think I want whoever this secret admirer is to be anyone else."

Minghao sighs, placing his hand over yours, "That still leaves you to figure out who you have feelings for."

You gave him a confused look, unsure as to what he meant after all you had just told him. He looks at you as if disappointed, "You always talk about Jeonghan like he hung the moon. Then you start gushing about Joshua. You tell me that you can't see yourself wanting it to be anyone but either of them, so you need to figure out who you really want it to be if it is one of them."

Unsure about confirming your own feelings, you stayed silent allowing Minghao time to talk. He goes through every moment you have mentioned either of the men you felt for, letting you interrupt whenever you wanted to confirm or deny a deeper meaning behind them.

When it seemed that you no longer wanted to discuss your feelings, Minghao changed the subject, "You were given a white rose this morning, right? What did you say the card said again?"

Nodding your head, you pulled out your phone—having taken a picture of the card that was attached to the flower—showing it to Minghao.

I have always felt a spark with you, but maybe now you feel it too.

In the language of flowers a white rose represents new beginnings.

Minghao raises an eyebrow, "Do you think it's just a coincidence that this sounds like Joshua?"

"What makes you say that?"

"The note insinuates that you may not have had feelings before, meaning they feel like they could have made that change recently." His words stuck in your head, forcing you to think over the possibility.

…

When Joshua and Seungkwan show up at your door, you are quick to let them in, leading them into the kitchen and conjoined dining room. Seungkwan swiftly makes conversation with Jeonghan who is standing in front of the stove, finishing up the meal. Noticing how easily the two fell into conversation, you turn to Joshua, “Those two will ignore us if left to their own devices.”

Joshua laughs at your accusatory tone, “Honestly, I don’t doubt that, but what are we to do?”

“Let them know we are not to be left out.” You place your hands on your hips, dramatically tapping your foot like a disappointed parent. Joshua breaks into a fit of giggles as you make your point so loudly that the two men standing on the other side of the kitchen turn to look at you.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, copying your stance, “Damn, we can’t leave you alone for five minutes, huh?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, the frown on his face apparent, “You have Joshua to talk to.”

“The point of us having dinner together was to all spend time together.” you pout at the two men.

A slight glare comes from him, “Oh, really? I thought it was so you could spend more time with Joshua?”

Jeonghan’s comment sounds less like a joke and more like his feelings are hurt but before you could address it, Seungkwan cries out, “Yeah, you don’t love us anymore.”

“My poor babies. I love you both very much.” You cradle Seungkwan as he holds you close, continuing to fake cry.

The odd tension was successfully broken by Seungkwan’s antics. Jeonghan turns to pull the food off of the stove eye, portioning it out onto the plates next to it.

As everyone sits around the table, eating and making conversation, the topic of all of the different flowers adorning the vase that sits on the counter in the kitchen comes up. Jeonghan only shrugs after the vase of flowers is mentioned, "It's a bit creepy, don't you think?"

Quickly snuffing out the negative light brought to the flowers, you smile, "No, I think it's sweet."

Joshua's face contorts into that of visible relief, though his words seem to relay the opposite, "It is a bit random, is it not?"

"Yeah, and only one of each flower?" Jeonghan adds.

"Oh, yeah, and the notes about how meaningful each of those flowers are, so stupid," Seungkwan's voice is nasally and his head tilts sassily as he speaks, "Let them fucking live, guys. It's a cute gesture."

You send Seungkwan a thankful smile, him returning one much brighter than yours. Joshua and Jeonghan are practically silent despite the sound of utensils hitting the plates as Seungkwan jokes about the two men just being prudes. He once again cuts the tension in the room, not allowing it to bring down the night and allowing everyone to finish up their food.

After stacking the plates and moving them to the kitchen sink, you say goodbye to Joshua and Seungkwan before Jeonghan moves to walk them out. As you begin to wash the dishes, Jeonghan joins you to dry and put them away. It's calming, being close to one another and not having to speak, yet seamlessly working together even after the awkward tension felt earlier in the night.

Day 10- Wednesday

You gently place the new flower into the vase, pleasantly surprised by how perfectly it fits in with the other flora. The white petal curls at the end, looking like snow on a mountain peak. The card dangles from the stem:

Your beauty is unspeakable, yet it is only one of many things that made me fall for you.

In the language of flowers a white Calla Lily represents attraction and beauty.

A voice sounds close to your ear, successfully making you jump, "Well at least the card isn't wrong."

You look at Jeonghan, who must have read the card from over your shoulder since he's so close to you, confusion drawing your features together. He stares at you expectantly, "You are beautiful."

Your cheeks burn, the compliment seemingly heating your entire body as Jeonghan's face lights up with a smile that could cure the world. He lets out a small laugh, so soft and airy that it sounds like it comes from an angel. Something about Jeonghan in the mornings is so peaceful, so domestic, so perfect that you couldn't seem to see yourself without him.

…

The day has been a long one with customers complaining left and right about things that were completely out of your control like prices and sizing. You are just ready to go home. You glance at the clock to check the time. Three more hours, you tell yourself, just three more hours until you're free. Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

"Would you want to come over after work? I could pick you up, if you want?"

The text from Joshua was completely out of left field, not introduced by even a simple hi. That didn't make it any less enticing, so you give him the time he can pick you up and text Jeonghan to tell him you wouldn't need a ride home.

"Why are you smiling at your phone?" Minghao's voice rings out in the momentarily empty store.

When you turn to look at Minghao he has a shit eating grin on his face as he stalks toward you. You hadn't even noticed you were smiling until he said something about it, "Joshua asked if I wanted to come over. He's gonna pick me up from work."

The excited smile that made its way onto Minghao's face rivaled that of a kid on Christmas, "You're gonna make a move right?"

"No. No way. I don't even know if he likes me like that." Your voice was stern, letting him know just how much you like Joshua without even realizing it.

Minghao looks nothing short of annoyed as he runs his hand down his face with an exasperated sigh, "You're an idiot."

Those are the only words he says before walking away from you to finish sorting through the racks of clothing. This only leaves you to mull over your feelings and as tempting as they are, they are also terrifying to come to terms with.

The last three hours of your shift seemed to go by faster than the beginning of the day had. You weren't sure if that was caused by your excitement to spend more time with Joshua or if it was a simple coincidence. But now that you're sitting next to him on his couch, watching a movie and sharing the popcorn that sits between you, it seems a bit more clear as to what made your day go by a bit easier.

…

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" His question comes out of the blue.

You glance at the window before turning to face Joshua, "In the dark?"

He shrugs, "Why not? It's pretty peaceful at night. If you don't want to, we don't have to."

Quickly shaking your head, you assure him that it wasn't really a concern, "No, that sounds nice actually."

Standing from your spot next to him, you wait for him to join you. A smile makes its way onto his face, surprised by your sudden enthusiasm. Both of you make your way out the door, the cool air hitting your skin.

You're not sure how far from home you are or how long the two of you have been walking. All you know is that you never want this moment to end. The conversation was effortless and when there was nothing to be added, the silence was peaceful. Joshua turns in the opposite direction of where you two are walking and pauses, "We should probably head back."

Turning in the same direction, ready to head back with him, you give him a nod. He slips his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers, gently swinging them between the two of you.

When you're just a few minutes from your houses, small raindrops begin to fall from the sky, bouncing when they meet the sidewalk. You hold out your free hand, letting the rain hit your palm.

The rain comes down harder with every passing moment. Just as the heavens seem to open, Joshua pulls on your hand and begins to speed up. Taking his hint, you pick up the pace until the two of you are running down the street, hand in hand and giggling at the absurdity of it all.

When the two of you make it back to your houses, Joshua pulls you onto his porch. The two of you attempt to catch your breath, your laughter making it more difficult than it should be. His hand is still laced with your own as you both calm yourselves. You weren't aware of how close you were until your laughter calmed down and you could still feel his breath on your face.

When your eyes meet his, your breathing stops. It's almost as if the world stops turning, everything around you ceasing to exist. You're unsure of how long you've been standing there, but you're snapped out of your trance when he moves some of the wet strands of hair behind your ear. You're closer now. So close, you're sharing breath.

Joshua blinks as the clap of thunder that sounds through the air seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. His voice is low when he speaks, "It's late. You should head home and get some rest for work tomorrow."

Nodding your head, though disappointed, you agree with his statement. You turn to walk off of the porch, Joshua stopping you with a hand on your elbow, "I can grab an umbrella for you."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head, "I'm already soaked. Two more feet to my house won't do anything."

He chuckles at his own proposition, noticing how silly it sounded, "You're right. Have a good night, Sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Handsome." Smiling brightly at him, you jog down the stairs and over to your own door, waving at him when you see him still standing on his porch, watching to make sure you get in.

Day 11- Thursday (different pov? Main focus is Jeonghan)

He stares down at the flower in his hand, debating on leaving it in front of the door to be found. He holds the bloom of small white flowers on a single stem in his hands, the words on the small card hanging off of the stem stare back at him:

You are the sweetest soul I have had the pleasure of knowing.

In the language of flowers white Alyssum represents worth beyond beauty and the sweetness of the soul.

They are words that Jeonghan wishes he could say. Words that he feels could never come out of his mouth. He decides to take the flower inside, placing the card on the top of the stack of others, and setting it in the vase.

Preparing for the day ahead, he waits for his favorite person to join him in the kitchen. He hands you the coffee he brewed only moments earlier as he watches happiness bloom on your face when he points to the new addition to the vase. He can't help but feel his heart swell at the sight of how excited you are about the simplicity of a flower. Jeonghan lets you have a moment to read the card that was once attached to the stem before motioning for you to head to the door.

The ride to work was filled with a comfortable silence between the two of you, soft tunes flowing from the radio. Jeonghan drops you off at the shop door, watching you smile and wave him goodbye as he pulls away.

Work was slow for Jeonghan, but he knew that at the end of the day he would get to go back home with you. The plan was for the both of you to go out to the bar with Joshua and Seungkwan tonight. Jeonghan just had to get to the end of his shift.

…

Music blasts from the bar and into the streets. Jeonghan's arm is linked with yours as he leads you into the bar, Seungkwan and Joshua rushing to sit at a table in the corner.

Joshua had greeted you with a compliment, successfully making you smile brightly. That's when time seemed to stop. The jealousy that swarms Jeonghan's brain gets the best of him, a seemingly permanent frown settling on his face.

The night was lively and fun with people dancing around and laughter filling the air. Jeonghan had tried his best to keep his cool while listening to Joshua's hopeless flirting. A few drinks in and Seungkwan is dragging you away from the table and to the middle of the dance floor.

Jeonghan is sweltering in his calm rage, "I know what you're doing."

Joshua's eyes light up in surprise, "What do you mean?"

"You're trying to win them over. You suddenly have time to spend with them and they always want you around." Jeonghan's voice is just loud enough to be heard over the music, but stays stern as he stares directly into Joshua's eyes.

Wanting to salvage his friendship with Jeonghan and his chances with you, Joshua struggles with how to respond, "Look. I don't mean to cause any sort of strain between you and me or in your friendship with them."

Jeonghan sighs, knowing that this shouldn't be changing how he feels about Joshua, "I don't want this to turn into a competition. That won't do anyone any good. You're both my friends, but they are my best friend, and I don't want them hurt."

"I understand that you're just looking out for them and being cautious, but I know you love them too." Joshua's statement makes Jeonghan's next words catch in his throat. He suddenly wasn't so sure of his own motives for talking to Joshua. He knows he loves you, but he assumed the jealousy he felt was caused by his fear of his best friend no longer feeling the same for him. In reality that jealousy was caused by his fear of his best friend not feeling for him the way he does.

Joshua slides out of his seat, nodding his head toward the dance floor. Jeonghan takes the hint, standing from his chair and following Joshua, easily slipping next to you and Seungkwan.

You grab Jeonghan's hand as he easily falls into pace with you, hips swaying with yours and bodies pressed closely together. Anyone could see that you were comfortable with Jeonghan and that makes him swell with pride, knowing that you chose to stay close to him even when Joshua is an arms length away from the two of you.

Jeonghan's focus is on you. The way your hand holds his. The way your body moves with the beat of the music. The way your smile reaches your eyes. The way you're so close to him that he can hear your joyful laughter, something he deems far better than the music playing.

Seungkwan and Joshua join the two of you. Your four bodies are moving so closely together that it causes all of you to laugh at the ridiculousness of how you may look to outsiders looking in. Jeonghan notices that your hand never leaves him, whether it be grabbing his arm, resting on his chest, or holding his own hand.

The night was still young, but the alarm set for work the next morning limited what your group of friends could do so Jeonghan gathers your things and ushers you out the door, making sure Joshua had a hold of Seungkwan before exiting the bar. After getting you into the backseat of Joshua's car, he rushes to the other side and climbs in. Joshua pushes a whining Seungkwan into the passenger's seat and then moves to get in the driver's seat.

The drive back to the house was filled with Seungkwan arguing about needing the music on the radio so loud that it bursts eardrums. While Joshua tried to convince Seungkwan to leave the radio alone, you sat in the backseat, head on Jeonghan's shoulder, giggling like a maniac. Jeonghan knows you're not half as drunk as Seungkwan is, so he isn't worried about how you'll feel in the morning. Jeonghan makes a mental note that Seungkwan would most likely not make it to work tomorrow.

When Joshua pulls into his driveway, Jeonghan thanks him for driving as he helps you out of the backseat. Joshua nods to Jeonghan, trusting that there was no animosity between the two of them as he is left to struggle with getting Seungkwan inside and in bed.

Day 12- Friday

"Does your head hurt?" Jeonghan's voice comes from down the hall, he must have heard you open the door to your room.

You laugh, making your way to the kitchen, "Not as bad as it could be."

Jeonghan stands next to the counter, flower in hand, "This one looks like it came from a bush instead of a root."

His comment is nonchalant as he gently hands you the flower. He's right, the stem is thicker and has more branch off points than the others had, but there was still a note attached:

Soon enough you’ll know who I am, when I hope my secret love will no longer need to be hidden.

In the language of flowers a white Gardenia represents secret love.

Jeonghan must have come back into the kitchen as he now leans against the doorway, "Are you ready, Darling?"

Nodding your head, you slide the card off of the stem and place the flower into the vase with the others. You follow Jeonghan out to the car, slipping into the passenger seat.

Jeonghan drives down the road in silence, his right hand resting on the console in between the two of you. You place your hand on top of his, slowly lacing your fingers together. Jeonghan squeezes your hand, the smile on his face becoming a permanent stain for the rest of the ride.

…

"You're telling me that you went out last night and didn't dance with Joshua?" Minghao's statement sounds more like he is shocked than annoyed.

"I mean, technically, we all danced together." You defend yourself while working through the racks of clothes.

Ryujin's voice rings out from where she leans against the counter, "Babe, are you serious right now?"

Youngji speaks before you have the chance to respond to Ryujin's rhetorical question, "So who did you dance with first?"

Your voice is quiet when you answer, "Jeonghan."

Minghao's groan is the first response you hear, followed by Youngji's facepalm and Ryujin's head hitting the counter. This has been what the day has consisted of so far. Youngji and Ryunjin had come to bother you at work and Minghao decided that would be the perfect time to corner you into realizing your feelings for someone.

"When are you going to realize that you two would be perfect for one another?" Minghao's exasperated tone proves his belief that you should be with Jeonghan.

Youngji hums in thought, "I don't know. The way they talk about Joshua seems like they would be perfect together."

"I see Jeonghan drop them off every day," Minghao turns to direct his next words at you, "The way he looks at you is something that would make fairytales envious. When he drops you off. When he picks you up. When he brings you coffee in the middle of the day or brings you food when you forget your lunch. He's in love with you and I think you're in love with him too."

Ryujin smiles at your shock, "That sounds like something, huh?"

"I hate to be that person but… Seungkwan is a close friend of mine. Therefore, I am always around Joshua because they're roommates. Joshua never shuts up about them," Youngji moves her attention to you, "He talks about you like you hung the moon and the stars. Like you make the world turn. Like you are the soul reason for his existence. And every time you talk about him, there is this light in your eyes that is just a little too bright to be friendly."

You had never noticed or paid much attention to the things that Minghao and Youngji just told you. The idea of Joshua or Jeonghan liking you as more than a friend had only crossed your mind a few times.

Groaning in frustration, you rest your forehead on the clothing rack, "That doesn't help, guys."

"Even I am conflicted at this point. Maybe just let things happen? Don't try to figure it out but don't suppress your feelings either?" Ryujin's comment is the most helpful one of the whole conversation.

You send her a smile, "Thanks, Ryu."

She nods, returning the smile. Youngji sighs in defeat and understanding while Minghao looks deep in thought. His features are sharp, eyes focused in a glare and lips pursed. It's silent for a moment, everyone letting Minghao compile his thoughts before he speaks, "That's better than falling for the wrong person under a false pretense of feelings influenced by us."

It takes a lot for Minghao to admit that his idea isn't the best or most important so you take his words to heart. Deciding for yourself to just let whatever happens happen. As they say: Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be.

…

When you get into the passenger seat of Jeonghan's car, he has the brightest smile plastered on his face. Curious, you nudge his arm, "What's got you so happy?"

Jeonghan only shrugs in response, the smile never leaving his face as he pulls onto the road. Though you're still somewhat confused, you just assume he will tell you when he wants to.

As he continues to drive down the road, you notice he doesn't pull off on the road that leads you both home, "Uh, Hannie? Where are we going?"

A giggle escapes him as before he responds, "It's a surprise."

It isn't long until he pulls into a small parking lot that leads into the park. You look at Jeonghan, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion and waiting for him to answer your silent question of what you are doing here. He gives you no answer, only gets out of the car and opens the back seat, pulling out a blanket and a brown paper bag. He points to the two cups of coffee in the front cupholders, "Will you grab those, Darling? There is a cardboard holder in the console."

"Sure thing, Love." You don't ask questions and grab the two cups, finding the cardboard holder and placing both cups inside before getting out of the car.

He drapes the blanket over the arm that's holding the bag and holds out his other hand for you to take. With the convenience of the cupholder, you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers. He lightly swings your hands back and forth as he leads you to a spot close to the river. Releasing your hand, he spreads the blanket out over the ground before sitting down on it and patting the space next to him.

You take your seat next to him as he begins pulling out some of your favorite pastries and snacks from the paper bag. Smiling happily at the display of food, he looks up at you and gestures to it, "Surprise picnic!"

The way the light shines down on him makes him look like an angel, the only thing missing is his halo. His eyes sparkle with so much love and happiness. His hair falls over his eyes as he looks at you, his toothy grin never leaving his face.

You just have to see those beautiful eyes of his. Before you can stop yourself, you gently move the hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. It isn't a gesture that is uncommon between the two of you so he doesn't mind, nor does he say anything about it. He just continues to look at you like you are God's greatest creation.

You both spent some time eating and talking before Jeonghan suggested going for a walk along the river. After helping you fold the blanket up, he drapes it back across his arm, quickly moving to the nearest trash bin to throw away the trash you have.

When you are coming to the end of your walk, you spot an older lady sitting on the bench near the river. She is about to get up when her cane falls from where it was leaning up against the bench. Both you and Jeonghan rush over. Jeonghan grabs the cane and hands it to the old woman, smiling politely and offering her his arm to also help her stand.

She takes his arm, patting his hand as she stands, "Such a nice young man."

When she looks in your direction, she turns back to Jeonghan and then back to you. A bright smile spreads across her lips, "And such a lovely couple."

Neither of you correct the old woman as she nods to herself and shuffles away from the two of you. Jeonghan chuckles lightly, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to the car to head home.

Day 13- Saturday

The bright yellow bundles form a solid sheet of flowers on top of a singular stem. You gently run your hand across the top of the plant before looking at the card attached:

As the day where you find out who I am comes closer, it is time for me to become braver. I have loved you despite everything and will always continue to do so.

In the language of flowers a yellow yarrow represents being brave and courageous as well as saying I love you in spite of everything.

You place the plant in the vase, noticing that some of the other flowers are losing a bit of their color. Jeonghan clears his throat from behind you. When you turn to face him, he nods his head toward the door, "You ready to go?"

The day had been spent sleeping until noon and then lounging around the house for a few hours until you both had to get ready to go to the cookout Seungkwan had planned. That is when you finally went outside to see the plant on your doorstep. Nodding, you follow him out the door, walking over to the fence separating your yard from Joshua and Seungkwan's.

The gate separating the two yards is cracked open, allowing you to enter their yard. Seungkwan is yelling at Joshua about how he's grilling the meat as Joshua looks shocked at Seungkwan's accusations of him being a bad cook.

Walking closer to the grill and looking over Joshua's shoulder, you shrug, "It looks like he's doing fine?"

"You're here! I didn't notice you guys come in!" Seungkwan's attention is now on you as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him in a very warm welcome. Soon after, he pulls Jeonghan in for the same hug he gave you.

Everyone sits in chairs that are placed in a circle, eating the meat that Joshua grilled. The conversation moves along without effort, ending with Seungkwan suggesting you all play badminton together.

Joshua's confusion was apparent on his face as he spoke, "We don't have a net though?"

"We can use the chairs!" Seungkwan's excitement was not to be squandered as he had already planned an answer.

After setting up the chairs as a boundary, Seungkwan splits everyone up into teams. Team one consists of you and Seungkwan while the second team is Joshua and Jeonghan.

You made a deal to end the game whenever a team made it to seven points. With every missed birdie, Seungkwan would scream. No words, just a pterodactyl screech of disappointment. It didn't matter if you missed it or if he did, his frustration knew no bounds. Needless to say, your team lost.

When Joshua scores the seventh point for his team, Seungkwan dramatically falls to the ground as Joshua and Jeonghan celebrate their win with a high five. Seungkwan demands he switch teams with Jeonghan, who happily agrees. Jeonghan makes his way to your side, Seungkwan getting up and going to stand next to Joshua.

The start of the next game seems to be a loss from the start for you and Jeonghan. The birdie seems to fall perfectly in bounds every time you seem to think it is out. It takes one close call for you to lunge for the next one, successfully falling to the ground after hitting it. Seungkwan's gasp was all you heard and though you knew he was dramatic, you feared you may have hurt yourself worse than you thought.

You didn't feel any serious pain so when Joshua asks if you are okay, you fall into a fit of laughter, "This was actually a genius attempt at a distraction so we could get a point."

You pull yourself up from the ground with Jeonghan's help. He dusts some of the grass off of your shirt as he looks you up and down, checking for injury. When he finds none, he lets out a small chuckle which leads Seungkwan and Joshua to do the same knowing you really are okay.

Joshua speaks up, pointing to the birdie that fell perfectly within the border on their side, "We'll give you that point."

"We will?" Seungkwan seems scandalized by the thought of letting us have the point.

Only slightly offended by his lack of etiquette, you glare at him playfully, "I earned it, Kwannie!"

Seungkwan groans in fake annoyance, "Fine! I guess I cared about you too much and lost sight of the game."

Somehow, your fall was like the last bad omen of your game had been broken. There wasn't a single birdie missed by your team, but it seemed like Joshua and Seungkwan couldn't get their game together.

When the seventh point was given to you and Jeonghan, Seungkwan was back to screaming, demanding another team change. You trade places with Seungkwan, now teamed up with Joshua while Seungkwan tries to make a game plan with Jeonghan.

This game runs longer than the others with the four of you finally getting into a good rhythm. You and Joshua work well as a team, successfully keeping the birdie in the air when it comes to your side. Seungkwan is running circles around Jeonghan, determined to win.

Finally, the winning point is scored in your favor. Joshua runs to you and lifts you into the air, spinning you around in a show of victory and excitement. You lock eyes with him as he sets you back on your feet, both of your breathing quite labored from the badminton game and the laughter that spilled out after your win. It is as if the world stops moving, neither of you focusing on anything but one another and how close you are.

Seungkwan's screaming as he runs to the two of you, grabbing your arm and shaking it as he whines, is what breaks you out of the sort of trance you are in. Smoothing down your shirt, you pretend that your heart isn't beating out of your chest as you focus on Seungkwan being a sore loser.

After pouting about how he lost every game, a light bulb seems to appear above his head as a bright smile spreads across his face, "Do you wanna see my flower bed?!"

His question is directed at you so you nod your head, returning a smile. Seungkwan bounces excitedly and grabs your hand, dragging you to the side of the house. As soon as you walk around the corner you are bombarded with a plethora of exuberant colors. The flowers almost cover the entirety of the ground.

"This side of the house gets the best sunlight." Seungkwan's enthusiasm seeps out through his voice.

Smiling happily at how proudly he shows off his flowers, you pay them a compliment, "They're beautiful, Kwannie."

That's when you notice it. Some of the flowers look oddly familiar. The pink Valerian that was on your porch earlier that morning are spaced out around the other flowers. The tall yellow Yarrow, Roses, Tulips, Asters, and bushes full of Gardenia's work so effortlessly together that it is unmistakable that those flowers are in a vase on your counter at this very moment.

You and Seungkwan discuss the different flowers and how he takes care of them. You keep your sudden realization to yourself, not wanting to jump to conclusions or even ruin anything that may be planned.

Day 14- Sunday

A single red rose stares at you from its place on the ground. You pick the flower up, flipping the card on the stem in your hand:

I love you.

In the language of flowers a red rose represents love and desire.

The morning sun hits your skin, warming your body on the outside. You read the note over and over again, the voice in the back of your head knowing who left it and causing a different kind of warmth to spread in your chest.

Walking back inside the house, you take the rose to the vase and place it inside with the other flowers. You know that this is the last day you will receive a flower as it is the one year anniversary of you moving into this house with Jeonghan, but you aren't sure of what exactly that means. Will you never know who your secret admirer is? Will they finally reveal themselves to you? Will you have to confront whoever you think it is?

Choosing not to think too much about it, you start making breakfast for Jeonghan and yourself. As you're shuffling around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and moving food around in pans on the stove, Jeonghan shows up in the doorway, "This is a pleasant surprise."

The look on his face is not one of surprise, but one that tells you he is teasing you. Before you can complain about his teasing, he comes over to you and helps you finish the food.

After breakfast, you lounge around the house, not wanting to do much of anything. Jeonghan sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone as the TV plays in the background. Occasionally Jeonghan will show you what he has scrolled upon and you do the same.

…

A knock at the door forces you to stand from your spot on the couch and make your way to the door. You pull the door open, the sight in front of you bringing a rosy tint to your cheeks.

Joshua stands on your porch, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a nervous smile on his face as he rubs the back of his neck. He doesn't say a word, he doesn't have to. He simply gestures for you to take the flowers. That's when you notice that every flower you have received in the previous two weeks is in the bouquet.

The voice in the back of your mind is screaming at you, telling you that it was right. You aren't sure what to say, but that doesn't matter as Joshua finally speaks, "You don't have to say anything. I know this is kinda strange. I just needed you to know that I'm so very thankful that you moved in next door. That you became my friend–one of my best friends even. I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me anything. It has been killing me not to tell you."

His nervous laughter is enough to tell you that he's worried about your response. You aren't even sure what you want to say and nothing that pops into your brain properly conveys your feelings, so you quickly pull Joshua into a tight hug. He wraps his arms around you, one hand softly running up and down your back as you both stand there in silence.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind you causes the two of you to pull away from one another. You turn to see Jeonghan standing in the doorway, arms crossed like a disappointed parent, "So it was you."

It isn't a question, but a confirmation of a suspicion. Joshua's nervous laughter is back, eyes frantically looking around for a way out of the situation causing Jeonghan to respond with a sigh, "I know we are friends, but if they ever have a complaint about you, your ass is grass."

You can see Joshua's shoulders slouch, visibly more relaxed by Jeonghan's words, "You don't hate me?"

His eyes were hopeful as Jeonghan let's a puff of air out through his nose, "Not unless you fuck up."

The two men smile at each other—one of understanding. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, taking the bouquet from your hands, "Come in when you're done. I guess I'll start making lunch."

He closes the door, allowing you and Joshua time to yourselves. Joshua still seems nervous when you turn to look at him, smile still showing as he plays with his own fingers. Your words escape you before you have time to get nervous, "Are you gonna kiss me or what?"

Joshua lets out a laugh, the nerves seemingly dissipating as he grabs your hands to pull you closer to him. His hands lead yours to his sides, your bodies now pressed against each other. Both of his hands cup your face, thumb softly gliding across your bottom lip before reaching your cheek. His forehead presses against yours, noses bumping into each other and breath fanning your lips before he finally leans in and presses his lips to your own.

His lips are soft against yours. Your hands grip the front of his shirt as your lips move together. The way he holds your face in his hands as if you painted the sky just for him makes you melt in his palms.

Slowly pulling away from one another, you both begin giggling like school children on a playground. His fingers trace the side of your face, seemingly committing it to memory, "So does this mean we're together now?"

You playfully scoff at his question, grabbing his hand and leading him inside, "I sure hope so."

Jeonghan's voice sounds from the kitchen, calling for the two of you. When you follow his voice, you see him stirring a pot on the stove before he turns to face both of you, "We are setting ground rules. Rule number one: no fucking when I'm home."

Joshua's face reddens as you burst out laughing. Jeonghan's face is stern, slightly offended by your laughter, "I mean it, you guys!"

Both your lunch and the rest of the day were filled with Jeonghan giving rules and lecturing Joshua on how to treat you. Knowing your best friend will always have your back, you feel the world around you come together as you glance to see Joshua sitting by your side.

[laceandsilkhandkerchiefs]

The Tutor Part 2 (Snzfic, Original Characters)

Part 1

It has been entirely too long since I promised to write a second part of this story, but that's often how it goes for me when I'm writing snzfics unfortunately.

Anyway, you can follow the link above to read the first part of this tale, but as a general reminder this takes place in the 1770s and features two of my OCs- Kit (Christopher) Annesley and Eleanor Seton. Kit is a tutor for Eleanor's younger cousins, and she lives with a wealthier branch of her family after her parents passed away.

And as an additional addition, my laptop has broken and I haven't gotten it fixed yet, so I'm posting this from my phone. Please let me know if there's any formatting weirdness, I know Tumblr mobile can be difficult.

I think that's all... enjoy!

If he had thought he could make it through the day with only minimal discomfort, Kit was proven decisively wrong by midday. As his pupils sat down to eat their meals, he ducked out into the hall where he could tend to his nose in relative privacy.

Sitting on a window seat with a heavy sigh, Kit took a handkerchief from his pocket (Eleanor's, he was reminded yet again by the embroidered border) and pressed it to his already much-abused nostrils. Over the course of the morning his efforts to hold back his need to sneeze had caused the congestion in his head to build until he had a pounding headache and wished for nothing more than to be able to curl up in bed and sleep off what was proving to be a monstrous head cold.

Giving his nose a quick blow did little to make him feel better, although it did rekindle a tickle which had him sneezing into his elbow rather forcefully. Thank goodness he was alone- he wouldn't want to disturb anyone with his sneezes, and he could feel more brewing behind his eyes.

"Mr. Annesley?"

Kit's head shot up at the sound of Eleanor's voice, his cheeks rapidly darkening as he saw she was standing in front of him. He'd been so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed her draw near, and now he was at a loss for what to do or say.

"Miss Seton!" he managed to squeak out. "I, um, that is..."

"I don't mean to offend, but you look awful," Eleanor interrupted. "Surely you don't still believe yourself to be fit to teach?"

Kit, more than a little taken aback at the forcefulness of her statement, briefly contemplated lying and claiming he was alright. However, the pulsing ache in his head and sinuses reminded him that not only was he decidedly not alright, there was also very little chance he could convince Eleanor that he was.

"I admit, I have been contemplating setting the boys to study on their own for the afternoon," he conceded. "My cold does seem to have worsened slightly."

"More than slightly, I would say, but it hardly matters now. Please, tell me if there is anything I might do to assist you."

Kit's cheeks now felt as though they were on fire, and as he doubted he had developed a fever in the last two minutes it was no doubt due to embarrassment. He hoped Eleanor hadn't noticed, though it was difficult to tell from the sympathetic look she was giving him. It could've meant anything.

"I would not wish to trouble you, as I am quite sure you have more important things to attend to. However..."

Eleanor raised one eyebrow as Kit's voice trailed off. "Yes?"

"E-excuse... m-ihh..." he held up one finger as his nostrils flared, the need to sneeze halting any further attempts at speaking.

"Hih-ish'uh! Hihh... heh'zschew! Heh-esch'uh!Huh..." Kit took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing as his nose threatened to send him into a dizzying fit of sneezes once again. God, but he wished he could climb into bed and never emerge again.

"God bless you, Mr. Annesley." Eleanor's voice was soft, her eyes holding an emotion Kit couldn't quite place. Not pity, not sympathy, and concern wasn't quite right either. Perhaps a mixture of all three? Or something else entirely?

The feeling of a soft, cool palm pressed against his forehead startled Kit out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see that Eleanor had pressed her hand to his forehead. Now at a complete loss for what to do, he sat very still, and when she removed her hand after another moment he immediately wished she hadn't.

"You don't feel feverish to me, thankfully."

"Indeed, I, ah, I thought as much."

"What is it you wished to ask of me before we were so rudely interrupted by your nose?" Eleanor asked, a touch of humor in her tone.

"Oh! Well... perhaps I might prevail upon you to check in on your young cousins this afternoon? They are quite capable of working on their own, but I fear they will see my absence as an invitation to be rowdy."

"Certainly, I would be glad too. I know only too well what they can be like." Eleanor grinned at him. Kit smiled back sheepishly.

"I thank you, Miss Seton, truly. I shall have to repay your many kindnesses as soon as I am able."

"As I fear I am growing tired of saying, it is no trouble at all, sir. Now-"

"Ehschiew!" Kit interrupted her as he bent into the handkerchief with a sudden sneeze, more forceful than any that had come before. He blinked, having startled himself.

Eleanor chuckled. "To bed with you, Mr. Annesley. I believe your nose agrees with me."

[theharrowing]

A Very Harrowing Halloween

after much deliberation, i have decided that i am going to make an attempt to accept drabble requests, headcanons, and games for the spooky season! i will only honor requests that are sent in a very specific format, so be sure to read below before popping into my ask box.

first, some disclaimer stuff:

you must be over the age of 18 to submit, and your age or age range must be displayed in your bio. i will not write for you if it is not, even if you are not asking for a smutty drabble. for this reason, anon is turned off through the month of october, so if you need to make a burner account to display your age and participate, please do so.

i will only write about members of bts and a reader character. i am not accepting requests for any other groups or celebrities, nor am i making up original characters.

you absolutely must fill out your request the way it is specified below. copy and paste into the ask box. asks sent without these specifications may be deleted or ignored until i feel the urge to write in another 6-12 business months.

just because you submit, does not mean i have to write. i have no idea how stressful the next month is going to be, and i may end up fulfilling only half of them, or only one of them. if something seems fun, i might hold onto it to fulfil it another time. (i still have headcanon and drabble requests in my inbox from god-knows-when i was asking for them.)

now onto the fun part...

drabble request details:

your request must contain the following information:

pairing: (can be member x member, member x reader, multiple members x member, multiple members x reader.) genre/au: (any type of relationships, tropes, or alternative universes; smut, angst, fluff, crack. if you want to leave this open for me to decide, just say so!) what makes it halloween themed? (vampires, werewolves, black magic, horror film tropes, etc. you must include something that makes the fic scary, but if you are undecided and want my assistance to decide, just let me know!) are you okay with dead dove? (graphic violence, murder, etc. if yes but there are things you are absolutely not okay with, let me know!)

you may provide a summary of no more than 20-30 words. keep all details out; this is a drabble request and will not be a very detailed piece of writing.

i will not be posting your original ask, so you can divulge things to me that you may not want the public to know, especially in the dead dove area. i will tag you in the post once the request is fulfilled.

headcanon request details:

headcanons are pretty straightforward. just be sure it is somehow halloween themed or it will be ignored!

i will be posting your original ask attached to headcanons.

game request form:

this-or-that games that are somehow halloween themed are accepted! those not on theme will be ignored! here is an example of one of my past this-or-that games! (i am currently working on some carnival/circus ones, so no need to ask if that is something you are into!)

all you need to tell me is what the topic/theme is and whether you would like it to be explicit or not! i will take care of the rest.

i will not be posting your original ask. you will be tagged in the post once the request is fulfilled.

no other kinds of requests are accepted!!!

i reserve the right to change this information at any time, and i will be sure to reblog with updates if i do! if you have any questions, feel free to sound off in the comments or shoot me a dm!

[ex-textura]

Your post about your OCs quest names got me thinking...

If they were companions what would be their likes and dislikes, how would a player gain their approval? 💜

Okay I know I've been holding onto this for So Long but I've been Thinking™️ and that's not my forté.

Wall of text incoming because I've been writing this on my phone and. Formatting is a lot of work..

× Auric's approval would be difficult for a chaotic aligned character to get I think. He'd approve of kindness, following the rules, defending the weak. He'd love saving Mirkon and Arabella. He'd disapprove of taking the idol for Mol though. He'd probably also approve of you drinking Jaheira's truth wine. If you could recruit his sister, he'd approve of every kind action toward her, but he'd disapprove of flirting with her. Also letting Astarion bite you. He never could trust him. Also talking to him about music or poetry would get huge approval boosts. He's a big romantic.

× Naught's approval is a bit more all over the place and probably harder to get in general just because they don't really feel very strongly about anything until later in the game. But being kind to animals is a big approval, while doing the opposite is gonna make him hate you. Especially with birds. They'd approve of being outwardly flirtatious and forward with your intentions. They'd definitely approve of licking the damn spider. And throwing dung at the goblin outside the camp. Also, even though they can't read and aren't really inclined to, taking any opportunity to show off your smarts, teach him something new would be like a full +10. They like nerds. If you can be snarky with Nine-Fingers Keen, too, he'd approve of that.

× Ciaran approves of being nice. Helping the helpless. Saving people. All the big heroics. Play music with Alfira. Motivate the tiefling kids. Tell him you trust him.Do Not Do Not do the murder tribunal. Don't let Shadowheart kill Nightsong. Don't let Astarion ascend. Under no circumstances side with the goblins or he'll just leave. Generally everything Astarion dislikes in act 1 will be a Ciaran approval. He'd also approve of petting every single animal in the entire game. All of them. They're so soft please pet the babies.

× Jinx. Likes. Chaos. Steal the idol, why not. Throw some dung around. Play music with Alfira. Tease Mattis with the ring trick. Drink the truth wine and play truth or dare. Let the weird ox do its thing. Send him up on stage at the circus. Mess with Akabi and cheat at the wheel game. Pet the animals. Lick the spider. Get sent to jail. Break out of jail. Let Volo pick your brain. Any opportunity to say something weird or off-putting will probably get an approval, if only cause he'd think it's funny. But also talking about magic, poking at magic, anything that involves appreciating the gift that is magic - for good or ill. Jinx is also kind so not necessarily self-sacrificing acts of kindness but helping people, doing the right thing, general Good Boy approvals. Disapprovals are less common but outright cruelty is generally where he draws the line.

× Amaris approves of knowledge, and follows the tenets of their goddess. Read the book of dead gods, the necromancy of thay (sure it's evil but think of the knowledge contained within!), anything you can get your hands on. Open the chest at the Selûne shrine in the owlbear cave. Protect Isobel. Let Astarion feed on you (vampires may be undead but they are still children of Selûne's light and deserve protection if they seek it, and do no harm. And Astarion is trying okay? Kinda. It's enough.) Ask questions always, exhaust that dialogue tree! Agree to save the tieflings and the gnomes over and over again. And Barcus. Do Not let Shadowheart kill the Nightsong. Do not convince the nurses and Malus to kill themselves, do that with your own hands. Don't try to convince them to use the tadpoles. Don't speak ill of the gods. Except Shar. Speaking against Shar will always net big approvals. And again, the usual "Karlach/Wyll/Gale approves" from helping people apply to them as well. Let them talk about Selûne, and home, and their best friend Morridah. Take them to Sorcerous Sundries. Be a little kinky.

[beastiaried]

𝕾𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖉 𝕬𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

“Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love."

Indie Davrin from Dragon Age: The Veilguard . Source content and headcanon based. Non-selective and open to AU, OC, and crossovers. Discord given to mutuals only. Personals do not interact.  Rules under readmore.

First of all, thank you for visiting this page.  Even if you only skim this, I’ll love you forever.  Most of these rules are pretty basic, common sense stuff, but I would really appreciate it if you read them.  I know it’s long, but I’m just trying to make sure no one is offended or uncomfortable.  I’ll try to make this as painless as possible.  Bear with me.  I’ll try to bold the basics.

            — the basics.

I have a few verses to choose from, and I’ll probably place you in the one that will most easily fit with your character’s canon unless otherwise specified.

Davrin isn’t always the most pleasant person. Please know that anything mean said is not a reflection of the mun’s feelings.  IC =/= OOC.

Don’t god-mod.

OC and Au friendly, but please have an about page so I can gauge whether our characters will be able to interact.

Memes and opens are free game – anyone can send one or respond to one.  However, I may not respond for some reason or another: it may be in violation of one of my other rules, or due to external factors.  If you’re worried that I missed something, feel free to come to me about it, but please don’t constantly badger me for replies.  It’s rude.

I reserve the right to refuse to roleplay, especially if I’m uncomfortable.

DO NOT under any circumstances try to bring me into out of character drama.  If you have a problem with me, contact me privately or just unfollow.  Vague blogging, callout posts and the like are annoying, and I ask that you would tag them.  This is something I will unfollow over if I so please.

            — on selectivity. 

I will be selective with my threads and who I interact with.  I would love to interact with everyone, but I’m very busy with school and other blogs, and I don’t want to overload myself.  If this bothers you, feel free to unfollow.  If you have any questions about whether I have time, feel free to jump into my ask.

Also, I am far more likely to RP with mutuals. That’s not to say I won’t RP with those I don’t follow or those who won’t follow me, there may be exceptions. But it is far more likely.  That being said: if I follow you, I want to write with you.  Probably a lot. I’m just too shy to say anything because I’m a weenie pissbaby.

Starter calls, unless otherwise specified, are for mutuals only.

            — on content.

I’m 20+, so mature content is cool with me.   NSFW and triggering content will be present on this blog, but it will also be tagged in the following manner: n.s.f.w., tw:

As for smut: first of all, I will not smut with anyone under the age of 18.  Don’t ask me to; the answer will be no.  And just in general, don’t come to me looking for smut.  I’m not terribly good at writing it, so it’s very unlikely that it will occur on this blog.  I need to be pretty comfortable with someone to smut with them.  If by some miracle a thread is looking like it’s going to get smutty, feel free to hop into my ask and talk to me about it.  We’ll figure something out.

In relation to that, please do not send me overtly sexual memes if we have not interacted.  Kissing memes are fine, but I tend to get uncomfortable with anything beyond that.  Please respect this.

            — on replies.

I’m an adaptive roleplayer, meaning I’ll likely respond in a manner similar to yours.  If you format, I’ll format.  If you don’t, I won’t.  That sort of thing.  I also try to match length with my replies, but some days I struggle.  If you’re ever unhappy with the quality or length of a reply, please let me know and I’ll do my best to fix it.

I don’t always get to things right away.  I’m notorious for avoiding drafts, and especially right now, I’m pretty busy with schoolwork.  However, sometimes I’ll reply at the speed of light.  It’s really varied, and I’m sorry about that.

Sometimes, I’ll drop things that’ve been in my drafts for too long, or things that I feel aren’t going anywhere.  If you think I’ve dropped/missed/lost something that you wish to continue, come to me politely and we can talk about it.

            — on shipping.

I’m admittedly kind of a ship-whore.  If there are sparks, I likely ship it.  I ship Davrin/Chemistry, but again, it’s rather unlikely that Davrin will engage in a sexual or even a romantic relationship.  Them’s the breaks.  BroTPs are great though.  Also, I’m only human: I sometimes play favorites with my ships.  Sorry.

Please please please DO NOT force a ship on me.  It makes me extremely uncomfortable, and I will not hesitate to unfollow or even block you.  I will try to politely let you know if I feel that our characters do/do not have chemistry.

            — on credit.

Most icons, art and edits are made by myself, and are usually tagged as #my art or #my edits. Otherwise, I do not own anything!

          — on the mun.

My name is Élise, I’m 20+, living in Midwest America, EST.  Feel free to contact me via ask at any time. I love talking to you guys! Discord is available to mutuals upon request – again, I reserve the right to refuse to give these for whatever reason.  I have no triggers, so as long as you talk to me prior to introducing something triggering to a thread, I’ll be cool with it. Just talk to me about it beforehand and I should be fine, but if I’m not feeling it, please respect that.

That’s about it.  Thanks so much for reading these.  Smooches! <3

[kagakumo]

a study of ... APATHY, the love for everyone, in search of lilies, the messenger, raised as god, inhumanity, the beauty in being human, the fear of death, welcoming death as much as life, craving family.

kimetsu no yaiba DEMON SLAYER multimuse frozen by nami

basic rules!!

this blog is not spoiler free!! i will be tagging all of my threads and posts that have spoilers with "kny spoilers" so just block that if you aren't caught up!!

i am not my muses!! please don't equate the beliefs of my muses to my own :'D

i won't hold back my muses, especially my villains.

you are welcome to injure and kill my muses!! all i ask us that we plot it out!!

formatting wise i use small text and i italicize my dialogue. let me know if you need normal sized text or anything else adjusted c:

nami is a freelance animator actively looking for jobs, so my activity might be spotty!!

i will never rush you for a reply. i will wait forever and a half and even longer!! we all have lives outside of rp and this should be a hobby, not a job! so no stress c: let's have fun and write our silly guys!!

muse list

canon.

doma | upper moon | primary

rui | lower moon | primary

kagaya ubuyashiki | demon slayer corp | primary

aoba hashibiri | botanist | primary

muichiro tokito | hashira | secondary

kokushibo | upper moon | secondary

oc.

silva | sun-eyed demon | primary