#At least not up until the end and that's when their relationship ends because the illusion of being in it together was what was keeping the

[postracehair]

altitude

max verstappen x reader | 1.5k

you hate flying. but it's a necessity if you want to see max during the f1 season. when you finally fly home together during a break, will you let him help calm you down?

cw: r hates flying, anxiety, kissing, like, lots of kissing, worried max, allusions to more than kissing, fluff, george/carmen cameo

a/n: she's so me! i hate flying! but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! wrote this way back after brazil, but have it now as a race week gift.

--

Everything changes very quickly after you meet Max Verstappen.

You are pulled into a world of action and luxury all because he wants you there. And you go willingly because you want to be with him, too. How could you not? The world famous champion is a kind, funny, and sweet man who loves his cats, his friends, and, as is becoming clear, you.

Much of the start of your relationship is scheduling. A day here and there between races, dinners and walks and movies at his place or yours. You spend a lot of time in airports when you can, working on the go and white knuckling your way through flight after flight. It's worth it to see him on the other side.

Somehow, you've never actually travelled together.

Until now.

The race weekend ends the best way possible -- the top step of the podium. A night of celebrations fades into an early morning flight on a private jet and this time, you're coming with. Because Max has three weeks off. He'll have to work, of course, spending time in Milton Keynes before the final stretch of the season, but for the most part you're going to have him all to yourself.

It does not occur to you until you're in the car on the way to the tarmac that Max has no idea how much you hate flying. You're in one of those big Sprinter vans, head on Max's shoulder as he scrolls through his phone. George and Carmen sit on the other side, the former's head tipped back as he dozes. Everyone is quiet and you're working a bit hard to keep yourself calm.

"What is it?" Max whispers. He puts his phone down and you look over at him. His hair is a mess, you can see that much even in the low light of the van. You reach out and run a hand through it.

"What?" you whisper back.

He shakes his head a little and wraps his fingers around your wrist. "You were all loose and then you got tense."

The frequent distance between you and the busy nature of your schedules demands that communication be top of mind. You do not lie to each other about your feelings, and you do not hide things. Even things like this.

"I don't really like flying," you say, softly. "I've never told you because we've never flown together. It just makes me kind of anxious. I've never been able to shake it."

His brows furrow. "Really?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him. "Just, maybe hold my hand during takeoff and landing. And if there is any turbulence."

"But -- I don't understand. Are you afraid?"

You know that there is really no way to make him understand but also that he won't stop trying to. Max gets afraid, he gets nervous. He's only human. But he combats it with sheer willpower, focus, and skill.

"I fly this way all the time," he says, urgent this time. "It's totally safe."

"That's not -- Max, I just get nervous. It's not really to do with safety. I just don't really enjoy it."

"Oi," George says, rousing. "What are you two yapping about?"

"Go back to snoring, George," Max says, not taking his eyes off you.

"Do I really snore?" you hear him ask in a hushed tone. Carmen shushes him.

"Pulling up to the plane now, folks," the driver calls back.

"Seriously," Max says, sounding a little desperate. "It'll be alright."

"I know. I fly all the time, Max." His frown deepens.

"To come see me," he reminds you. "If I knew you didn't like it, I would have --"

"What?" you interrupt. "Invented teleportation? It's okay, Max. Knowing it's to see you makes the whole thing easier, honestly."

This does not satisfy him. You can tell. It's a problem he can't solve -- his least favorite kind. There is no simulation to run for this, no meeting he can talk through, no track he can circle a thousand times.

The van door opens and you're all beckoned out onto the tarmac. You follow George and Carmen with your bag and Max is at your heels, his duffle slung over one shoulder and his other hand on the small of your back. Normally, he's not this touchy, but he seems reluctant to let your conversation in the van go.

"Max--"

"I'm thinking, liefje."

You roll your eyes. "About how to invent teleportation?"

"Something like that," he grumbles.

The jet is narrow, an aisle on one side and four rows of seats on the other. Four sets of two, a table between them. Carmen and George settle into one nook and you toss your bags into another. You slide into the window seat and Max sits heavily in the one next to you, still frowning. You let him, instead looking around to absorb the new experience.

It's much nicer than a regular plane, that's for sure. There is a cooler stocked with drinks and a cabinet full of what seems to be snacks. You can stretch your legs to rest your feet on the seat across from you. It's so early you figure all of you will just sleep, though Max's mood seems at odds with that plan.

The pilot introduces herself and gives a quick rundown of the route and airtime. You all nod and smile and then the doors close and the lights dim.

Max's hand finds yours immediately. You sit up a little and look over at him. He looks even more frazzled than he did at the hotel, when you both rolled out of bed and into comfy clothes. Soft pants and a hoodie that make him look boyish, younger than he is. But here, his cheeks are a little flushed and his jaw is set like he's about to get in his race car.

"What do you do normally?" he asks, softly. You can hear George's soft snores already. "When I'm not there."

"Max," you sigh.

"Tell me, please?"

The seat shifts under you as it heads for the runway. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

"Well, I don't hold some random guy's hand," you tease. He squeezes your palm and huffs. 

"He could be so lucky."

The plane comes to a stop and you know what happens next. Your mind remains preoccupied with Max -- a good thing, right now -- but your body tenses and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as the engines kick up and you pick up speed.

Max says your name but you don't budge. "Liefje," he whispers, much closer than before. You can feel his breath on your cheek as he gently holds your chin with two fingers and turns your face towards him.

And then he's kissing you. A closed mouth press of his lips to yours, firm but still. At least until you sigh into it, releasing your death grip on the arm rest to reach for him blindly, your tangled fingers between you. The kiss deepens, his nose sliding against yours as you part your lips and the chaste press becomes more. Max's tongue licks into your mouth leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to explore you. 

You kiss and kiss and kiss, so long that a voice in your head wonders if maybe you can do this for the whole flight, please? Max tugs your legs across his until you're practically in his lap, spread across the two seats like they're one.

"We're reached cruising altitude," the speakers crackle. "Feel free to move about, but please be mindful."

Max pulls away, a strand of spit glistening between you until he wipes it away with a smirk. His hair is even messier than before and his cheeks are pink. Lips swollen, eyes glassy -- you must look the same. Your heart is racing and you laugh, breathless.

"Well," Max says, then swallows. His voice is raspy, hoarse with desire. "Guess you have to fly with me from now on."

"Max." You pitch forward and settle where his neck and shoulder meet and inhale. His arms wrap around you and he holds you close. You can hear his heart racing just as fast as yours.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. "I know."

"I can do it," you remind him. "I do it all the time. I just don't like it, that's all."

You feel the press of his lips on your hair.

"I just don't like that I can't fix it," he says. "I can't get inside your head and make you know it's alright."

"No, you can't," you sigh. The plane jerks just a little -- a swoop of your stomach that has you gasping. Max's hold on you tightens and he says your name.

"How do you do this alone?" he rasps, mouth next to your ear as he rubs your back.

"I close my eyes," you say, taking deep breaths. "And I imagine you with me."

He curses softly. "We should get a jet by ourselves next time," he mutters. "Then I can really distract you."

That gets you to laugh, though you can't say you hate the idea. It makes you feel warm, makes you press your thighs together.

"Next time," you echo. "But for now..."

Max cups your jaw and ghosts his nose over yours. "For now..."

He brings your lips together.

[sunfairiess]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

tropes: 3rd person narration | soft boy jj | best friends to lovers | comfort | fluff

synopsis: reader’s battling against anxiety and during one of her anxiety attacks, jj’s there to help her.

warnings: heavy depiction of anxiety, anxiety attack.

wc: 2.1k

writing this as someone who suffers from anxiety and deals with it on her own, was really emotional; if you find yourself in this position too, please don’t be afraid to ask for help. mental health matters <3

song rec: breathin - ariana grande ♡

everyone fights their own monsters, some are physically visible, others are perceived. some people have to fight against their families, some against their friends. but one of the biggest and worst challenges, was to fight against your own head.

everyone is tormented by their own monsters. hers is called anxiety, the beast who had ruined her life.

at school, her grades started to drop because she was just so tired all the time she couldn’t even bring herself to open the textbook; half of the foods she used to love were cut out of her daily routine because she would get constant heartburn and stomach problems to the point where she wasn’t able to consume a full meal for days.

when it came to sleeping, she couldn’t fall asleep because her mind was always racing with awful thoughts. what if i don’t wake up tomorrow? do my friends hate me because i didn’t go out with them today? is my heart supposed to beat so fast? my back is hurting, is this a health condition? am i going to be alone forever? usually she would go on for hours, reaching three or four in the morning, until she either cried herself to sleep or she almost passed out because of how tired she was.

going out of the house became hard. she became afraid of taking public transportation because what if someone tried to rob her or kidnap her. she couldn’t take long walks anymore because what if something happens and i’m alone. she even had to stop going to parties because she couldn’t stand big and loud crowds of people anymore.

her mental pain became physical: constantly having back problems, her chest and throat always felt too tight to breathe, her body tingling out of nowhere all the time.

it would’ve been a lie to say all of this didn’t reflected onto her relationship with others; she never told anyone about her own problems, not that they could help anyway. so when she started to hang out less with her friends, she always had to lie. i’m grounded, i can’t go out. sorry, i have too much homework to do. i have the flu, i can’t come. my dad needs my help, i’ll come next time. eventually though, she would run out of excuses, and that’s how she ended up for the first time in a month at the château, surrounded by her best friends.

“girl, we haven’t see you in forever, i almost forgot your face.” kiara joked, nudging her a bit with her elbow.

“i know, i’m so sorry guys. past month has been crazy.” which wasn’t a lie per se, she had spent the last weeks having constant anxiety and panic attacks. in the morning, in the afternoon, at night. and every single time she felt like she was about to die, the impending fear of doom creeping inside her. it really started to become unbearable, to the point where she didn’t even notice how many days would go by.

“well you’re here now, that’s what matters.” pope chimed in, giving her a smile. somehow that made her feel a little bit more lighter, knowing that her friends didn’t actually hated her. anxiety made her overthink every little detail of her life.

even though she tried to appear relaxed the whole night, she still felt like she was being chocked by an imaginary hand, pressing harder every time she breathed. she was grateful that none of her friends noticed the stiffness in her body, it would’ve been to hard to explain everything.

at least she thought no one noticed. jj noticed, he always did. he would observe every little detail about her. and from the moment she stepped into the château he hadn’t been able to keep his gaze off of her, not even for a second. he missed her. he hadn’t seen her in weeks and he had become restless. day and night he would think about her, what she was doing, if she missed him, if she too dreamed about him like he did about her. that’s how it felt being in love with your best friend.

jj knew something was up with her. she was always full of joy and energy, but bow it seemed like she had lost her spark. he knew there was something wrong, especially when he saw her fidgeting with her rings, gazing anxiously around her. he knew something was wrong when she got up, excusing herself from the conversation, and almost running to the bathroom.

following her wasn’t probably too good of an idea, but jj was impulsive, so he did it anyway. amen to that, he would’ve dealt with the consequences later, like his confused friends asking him what the heck was going on.

as he entered the bathroom, she was sat on the toilet. her face so pale you would think she was about to pass out.

he sees her as she stares into the wall, her eyes fixed in front of her, full of fear. he notices as she bring her right hand to her throat, sliding slowly down her chest and pressing hard. he hears her breathing going faster and heavier, like she couldn’t catch a full breath. her hands shaking as she tries to ground herself and not slip into the arms of her anxiety.

jj had no idea of what an anxiety attack looked like, he had been fortunate enough to never had one, but he always thought they had to feel awful for whoever got them. but seeing her, his sweet little sunshine, shaking all over the place and being surrounded by a cloud of darkness around her, made his heart break into a thousand millions pieces. he wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how to do it in the right way. he just wanted to do something, and so he did.

“sunshine, hey. baby, look at me. c’mon lemme see your pretty eyes.” he kneeled in front of her, placing both of his hands on her knees and gently rubbing his thumbs against them.

everything was spinning around her, thoughts racing with all the emotions she bottled up and all the fears she always had. she couldn’t stop them, it felt like she was going to be swallowed up by a black vortex. but then she heard his voice, it was like hearing an angel talking. her gaze slowly shifted from the white wall to his eyes, his gorgeous blue eyes, usually shining like stars when they looked at her, but now they were the depiction of concern. she felt a sharp feeling of guiltiness running through her your veins, because the last thing she wanted was to make him sad.

“that’s it, baby. you are so pretty, my pretty girl.” he gave her a soft smile, slowly moving his hands from her knees to her thighs. he wanted to pull her close and hug her, but one time— and thank god for him and the one time jj actually listened to what he said— pope told him that when people had anxiety or panic attacks, most of the time they didn’t wanted to be touched. so, instead of being the usual impulsive jj he was with everyone, he took baby steps with her, not wanting to scare her or make her even more anxious.

her breath was slowly calming down, but the aching in your chest and the lump in her throat were still there, still feeling like she was going to suffocate any moment now, but jj pulled her out of her thoughts again.

“alright pretty girl, i need you to do something for me, ‘kay? i need you to take deep breaths with me, i know it’s hard but i’m here. you’re safe, i won’t let anything happen to you. breathe with me, baby.” his voice was so sweet and gentle, she actually thought she was going to cry because of how soft he was speaking to her and how he was trying to handle the situation. she nodded slightly, following his example as he took one deep breath and then exhaled. one deep breath and exhaled. inhale and exhale. and they went on, and on, until the tension she felt before started to leave her body, making her shoulders and back relax and her hands stop shaking.

jj didn’t say anything this time, he just looked as she regained consciousness of her surroundings. even though the attack was gone, it usually took hours before she could actually calm down completely. it was hard and she always handled them alone, but this time having him with her felt like a blessing from heaven.

feeling like she had just been pulled out of a dark hole, she launched herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. he let out a sigh as soon as he felt her flesh touch his own, his arms reaching for her hips and his face buried deep into the crook of her neck. they stayed like this for a almost twenty minutes. he only pulled her in tighter, not wanting to let go of her because he knew as long as she was into his arms, she was safe.

30 minutes later they were laying next to each other in the hammock, her head resting on his chest, the sound of his heart beating calming her, like a lullaby. his hands were both placed on her back, rubbing small circles against the thin fabric of her shirt.

jj really didn’t want to break the peacefulness that surrounded them, but he had to ask her why she never told him anything. he felt like he was failing at being her best friend. “why did you never tell me?” his voice was low, sounding almost like a whisper.

“i- i don’t know. i didn’t want to bother anyone, didn’t want to be a burden.” jj stopped moving his hands on her back, instantly lifting his head to look at her.

“okay, know that i’m not mad, but, firstly, i’m not anyone. i’m your best friend, you would never be a burden to me.” his hands moved to her cheeks, lifting her face. “i’ve been through hell and back these past weeks. not seeing you, not talking to you for more than 5 minutes on the phone, not touching you. it nearly killed me, y/n. i was always on the edge of a breakdown, constantly snapping at everyone because i didn’t know how you were doing. were you safe? were you alright? not knowing made me go insane.”

he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. he was pouring his heart out, which he never do, but he just felt like he had to do it now. “and i’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, that’s the last thing i want. i just wish for you to know how much you mean to me. you’re the most important person in my life, you’re my best friend, my ride or die, my partner in crime. you- you’re my first love, and hopefully you’ll be my last one too.”

her eyes went wide at his words, and honestly she thought she heard him wrong. “jj, what- what are you saying?”

“i know the night wasn’t perfect, but please just lemme say this now because i don’t know when i’ll get the same courage again. i love you, y/n. i love everything about you. i love that weird sound you make when you laugh too much, i love how your eyes shine when you’re talking about things you like, i love how after surfing your hair become all curly. hell, i love even the things you do that should piss me off, like when you throw away my joint because i’ve been smoking too much or when you scream at me because i got in a fight with some kooks again. i love you so much it physically hurts.”

her eyes were watery now, tears threatening to coming out in flows. she didn’t know what to say. because seriously, what do you say to someone who sees you as the most incredible human being, when you can’t even love a quarter of yourself?

you say nothing. but you can do something.

that’s why, in the quietness of the night, under the stars and while she was feeling at peace for the first time in weeks, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against it.

she wasn’t magically healed, she still had things to deal with. but now, she wasn’t on her own anymore.

[justyoursicanon]

Wade and Logan having the shittiest sleep schedules to ever exist

Logan because of nightmares

Wade's case would also be because of nightmares but other reasons are his undiagnosed ADHD and needing to move around or focus on a task until it tires him out completely and then sleeps

And then their reasons shift as they live together

Pre-Relationship they started cuddling whenever they managed to sleep while sharing the pull out, while Logan had some hesitation and concern over being that close to Wade god DAMN did he fall into it completely and immediately got used to it when the nightmares lessen

Wade had no objections, loves the cuddles so much and doesn't say a word in case it triggers Logan to stop

But even with these adjustments Wade still stays up kate doing Merc work or whatever the fuck he does in his spare time in the apartment

And because of that this leads Logan to stay up too because he needs Wade's very much constant dying-but-at-the-same-time-living body

And this makes Wade to try and sleep earlier or at the same time as Logan so he can get some sleep

In the end, he sleeps easily with Logan as well

So yeah, maybe their sleep schedules are still fucked but hey

At least they're both getting some well needed rest now

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Naive - L.C

💡Who: Lee Chan (Seventeen) x female reader 💡What: Best friends to ??? Angst. Thriller. Soft moments. Dark themes (please check warnings). 18+ 💡Word count: 11.5k 💡Warnings: Profanity. Stalking. Nonconsensual voyeurism. Nonconsensual photos. Cheating. Major injury (Not Chan or reader). Mentions of a car accident. Mentions of sexual harassment. Mentions of panic attacks and almost panic attacks. No smut, but suggestive content, some dirty talk and mentions of sexual acts. Very morally dark character. Drugging. Kidnapping. Restraints. Chan calls reader angel a lot (mostly because I don’t wanna use y/n), and baby in the second half.

Summary: Breakups are always painful, but at least you have your best friend by your side to make everything better. Right?

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- I know nothing about flower meanings, it all came straight from Wikipedia so don't blame me for inaccurate meanings, it's just a fic.

“It’s okay, he’s in the past, he’s not worth your tears,” your best friend soothes as you cry into his chest for the third night in a row.

“I-I should’ve li-listened to you,” you sob, gripping his t-shirt tighter and curling up smaller.

“It doesn’t matter now; what matters is you ended it and never have to deal with that asshole again.”

“A-asshole is too kind.”

Chan chuckles and tilts his head against the top of your head yet says nothing more and simply continues to hold you until you run out of tears for your cheating, pervert of an ex-boyfriend. Proving once again that Lee Chan is the only man you can ever trust to be good and honest.

Over a year ago, you met Lee Chan while in the gardening section of the bookstore. It was a cliché romcom moment where you both reached for the same book and your hands met before your eyes did. He smiled at you with a soft little chuckle and said something like “guess we both want to know what Victorian people thought flowers meant”, which somehow led to you both buying a copy of the book on the Victorian language of flowers to take to the nearby coffee shop with the intention of reading side by side. Though very little reading happened, and you found yourself sitting there with Chan for hours; laughing and talking as if you’ve known one another for years. It was like he was made to be the other half of you, designed with only you in mind.

At first, you thought maybe it was true; that Chan was your romantic soulmate. But you were seeing someone else at the time and pushed the thought of Chan being anything but platonic entirely out of your mind.

It’s a year and multiple failed relationships later, while you’re out shopping on a rare day off, that something changes.

“What do you think of this one?” Chan asks, drawing your attention to where he’s a few racks away donned in the black, leather biker jacket he just found on the men’s sale rack.

“Oh,” you murmur, suddenly hit with the realisation that your best friend is ridiculously attractive.

It’s not that you’ve ever thought Chan is ugly; in fact, you first paid attention to him in the bookstore past a glance because of how handsome he is. But that was over a year ago and your thoughts have never moved on from considering him the same kind of beautiful as you would a piece of art that you see in a store, yet easily move on past without looking back.

Yet now, you’ve noticed and suddenly can’t draw your eyes away from him.

“Hello?” Chan laughs, waving his arms to bring you back to reality when you do nothing more than stare at him for almost a full minute. “You alright? Getting hungry?” He pouts at you teasingly. “Does the baby need num nums?”

“I hate it when you say that” you remind and stick your middle finger up at him, making him laugh while you turn back to the sale rack you had been looking through.

“I know, why do you think I say it?” He cackles and bounces over to prod you and gain your attention back. “You didn’t say what you think? Do I look sexy?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you while posing in the jacket. “Should I get it?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a nod after taking his body in once more and turning away.

“Was that yes to getting it, or that I look sexy?” He murmurs from suddenly behind you with his mouth right by your ear. You jolt in surprise having not heard him approach, then turn to whack his arm while he cracks up laughing. “You think I’m sexyyy!” He sings loudly, just to annoy you.

“Why are we best friends again?”

“I took pity on you and your bad taste in men.” He definitely deserves the hit this time, even if he’s right.

Ever since you’ve known Chan, you’ve had nothing but terrible luck with picking men to date. You always think they’re okay at first, but then the red flags start popping up and begin waving manically in the hot air spewing from their mouths.

You really thought you had run out of bad luck and finally picked a good one with your ex. He was kind and endlessly attractive; a hard worker, yet always made time for fun and relaxation; and his parents loved you.

It lasted a whole seven months before you found another woman’s underwear in his car, and you realised you should’ve listened to Chan’s gut feeling about Kyle from the start. Finding a stack of polaroids of various women getting changed when you were emptying his apartment of your belongings that same night only made the heartache worse. Not only did he cheat on you, but he also likes to take photos of unsuspecting women through windows and cracked doors.

Upon turning your back on him three weeks ago, you decided to give up on men and always listen to Chan’s gut instincts from now on.

You don’t need a boyfriend; you just need your best friend.

Just when you’re about to leave your apartment building to meet with Chan for lunch one day, you come face to face with your ex. He looks, frankly put, like shit. He used to be so well put together, never to an obsessive degree but he was always well rested and tidy, but now he looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in at least two days with his hair sticking up a little as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly. He’s still wearing nice clothes, but they’re creased, and his shoes aren’t even properly tied.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss while glaring at the man and trying to step past him, but he gets in your path with his hands held up placatingly; he even doesn’t attempt to touch you or get in your personal space.

Vaguely, you think how weird it is of him to respect that boundary yet have polaroids of you half naked in the changing room at your gym. A completely separate gym to the one he frequents too, which somehow makes it even worse; that he went so far out of his way to take the photos you never consented to.

“I just want to talk to you, please? Just a few minutes and I’ll go, and you’ll never see me again,” he pleads. The genuine desperation in his eyes makes you relent and nod. “Can we go somewhere a little less public? I’m not asking to go somewhere isolated, just not the middle of the building lobby.”

Again, you relent and move to the side of the lobby out of the light foot traffic; still perfectly in sight of others yet far enough away to have a private conversation.

“Thank you,” he breathes out gratefully and relaxes a little as you lean one shoulder against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What is it? I’m going to be late to meet Chan.”

“Right, how is he?”

“Good, it’s Chan. He’s always good.” The words are a little pointed, designed to hurt, and the way his features flinch at the jab sends a little surge of satisfaction into you. Though there’s something in you aching at that same hurt in his eyes; it looks too real.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” he agrees softly, and you hum. “So uh, I just…I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”

“Cheating on me or taking photos of women without their consent?” You question, glaring again at the reminder of why you want nothing to do with this man before you. This pathetic, sad eyed, mess of a man.

It’s funny how far he’s fallen in so little time. Strange how a man who cheated on you in the backseat of the same car he often pulled you into with shared giggles, can break so much at being called out on his misdeeds.

You really thought he would just move on to the next conquest and forget all about you for good, just like he did while with the other woman. Or women. You never asked how many there were.

Yet the man before you doesn’t seem to have moved on at all.

“I didn’t do either of those things,” he repeats the words he had said to you a little over a month ago. You didn’t believe him then; you were so full of anger and betrayal as you tried to cradle the pieces of your shattered heart and hoped he hadn’t stolen any of the pieces leaving you unable to stitch it back together again.

Now that you’ve let go of most of your anger and Chan has helped you in putting the pieces back together to the point that your heart is almost whole and healing, you can see through the pain and tears and notice that this man in front of you looks genuine. He’s looking at you without any attempt to look aside or shrink away. He isn’t hiding.

“I found underwear in your car Kyle,” you point out, holding your ground even if you suddenly realise that something here doesn’t feel right. “And those photos in your apartment.”

“I know, I know, and I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck they got there because it wasn’t me.”

“You live alone and don’t share your car.”

“I know!” He exclaims, hands flying up in frustration, though it doesn’t feel like it’s aimed at you, especially as he steps back to make certain that he doesn’t accidentally hit you. Kyle’s always been considerate like that; always made sure to give you a wide berth when he flung his arms around in play or frustration. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a cheating pervert. A man can be against physically harming his partner and still betray their trust so deeply.

“Then only you could’ve put them there.”

“No, no, I didn’t though,” he steps closer while lifting his hands between you, though he brings them to his own chest instead of touching you. “Look me in the eye and tell me I have ever done a thing to make you think I would cheat on you or take photos without consent. I never even asked you for pictures; you were the one who offered and asked if you could send me pictures months into our relationship.”

The thing is, he’s right. Although you did have sex regularly and he would send you dirty texts when he was in the mood, Kyle never asked for nudes. You had to be the one to bring it up and ask if he was against that kind of thing.

Now that he brings it up, you can vividly recall him telling you that does enjoy nudes and would certainly enjoy seeing photos of you like that, but he also knows how dangerous they can be to send and receive because of hacking, losing phones or breaking up. He had been so genuine about it and triple checked that you were comfortable with it entirely before giving you consent to send him photos whenever you wanted.

“You had those polaroids, you didn’t need me to send you any,” you reason in a mumble. You don’t even know if you believe what you’re saying at this point, or if you’re just trying to explain the behaviour away. Something isn’t sitting right in you.

“Why would I want polaroids of random women I don’t even know when I have you?” He asks, eyes silently begging you to understand.

“There were photos of me too,” you answer.

“What?” He frowns confusedly. “I didn’t see those, just the top ones before you took them all away.”

“You know I was in there, at the gym changing rooms.”

“I’ve never been anywhere near your gym!” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I swear I have never been to your gym.” He looks at you imploringly as his hands drop. “And you know I keep my car clean, there’s no way I would’ve failed to notice that underwear; so if I did cheat on you, do you really think I’d miss the evidence and leave them somewhere you’d see them?”

You open your mouth to retort automatically, only to realise there isn’t a single word ready to roll off your tongue. He’s making far too much sense and that doesn’t make sense.

He cheated on you. He’s a pervert who takes photos of unsuspecting women in vulnerable situations. He’s a terrible person.

At least, you thought he was.

Maybe Chan is right and you’re just naïve when faced with a handsome man giving you big puppy dog eyes.

“I need to go,” you decide after a few long moments of trying to form some kind of reaction other than staring at him with furrowed brows. “Chan’s waiting.”

“Right,” Kyle lets out a disappointed sigh, yet nods resignedly and steps back as if giving you space to leave. He hadn’t been in your way in the first place but it’s a silent sign that he won’t try to stop you. “I guess I can’t say anything else to convince you that I didn’t do those things, and I never would. I…I wanted to marry you, you know?”

“What?” You whisper in shock, eyebrows lifting as your eyes turn wide. “Marry me?”

“Yeah,” he lets out a soft, humourless laugh and runs one hand through his hair while looking aside, a shy flush creeping onto his neck and ears. “I was in love with you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, well, no, actually, that’s a lie.” He looks at you and catches the way your face falls into a frown hearing him admitting to lying to your face like that. “I’m still so fucking in love with you that I can’t function properly knowing you hate me. I’m not asking you to come back to me; I know that won’t happen. I’m just…asking you to really think about it, about us, and me. I never lied to you, never showed you a false me. You know me better than anyone else. Do you really believe I did those things?”

“What took you so long?” Chan pouts at you when you sit down in your usual seat opposite him at your usual table in your usual café. “Angel?”

“Uh, so Kyle was at my apartment,” you inform, picking up your mug that’s been waiting for you for ten minutes already thanks to Chan always ordering for you both. Usually you arrive minutes before your food and drinks arrive, but today you’re late for the first time.

“What?” Chan’s face drops so drastically it throws you off for a second. You’ve never seen such a dark expression on him; you’ve never seen him so entirely void of any light. He doesn’t look like your best friend. “Your apartment? Did he force himself in? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I meant the lobby and no, he’s never hurt me. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He cheated on you, took fucking creeper shots of you in your gym and you think he’s above putting his hands on you?” He scoffs, shaking his head a little and pushes the salt across the table to you. You hadn’t asked for it, but you will before you start eating.

He’s always doing thoughtful little things like that for you, but you’ve never really noticed it until the last weeks. Silently noticing what you need and giving it to you with a smile.

But he’s not smiling now. He looks concerned now, rounded eyes locked on you and head tilted down a little as he frowns, almost looking at you through his eyelashes. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but he fooled you before, angel, he’s clearly trying to do it again. I don’t know what he said to you, but you’ve got that lost look you get when you don’t know what to do.”

“He made good points, Channie,” you reply as you salt your fries before putting the shaker down. Chan doesn’t even look at it past a quick glance before sliding it back to its home out of the way.

“What good points could he have for cheating on you?”

“He said he didn’t do it-” Chan sighs heavily, cutting you off.

“Angel, he said that before, remember? Why do you suddenly believe that piece of shit?”

“Because…he looked honest.”

Chan stares at you for a moment before he sighs and reaches over to hold your hands. “I say this with all the love in me, but you’re not the best judge of character, angel. You’re naïve, innocent. I love that you see the good in the world and everyone, really, I fucking love it; it’s really sweet and cute. But it’s going to get you hurt all over again if you let him fool you like this.”

You look down at your hands in Chan’s, then back up at his face. His gaze is entirely open; big eyes and soft, naturally pouting lips. Your heart skips a beat.

You look away while nodding in understanding, silently telling him that you’re listening to him as you free your hands so that you can pick up your fork.

“Good, I really don’t want to see you hurt again like that. It broke my heart,” Chan says, relaxing as he picks up his own fork to stab too many fries onto the prongs, which he then points at you. “If you break my heart again like that, I’m stealing your TV.”

“My TV?” You sputter in surprise before laughing. Chan grins around the too many fries in his mouth and nods. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me though,” he sings around his mouthful while stabbing more fries.

Even with the view of his partially chewed food in his mouth, you can’t really deny it.

“No! Stop it!” You giggle while trying to block Chan from entering your kitchen behind you. “It’s not ready!”

“Just tell me what you’re doing!” He replies, laughing along with you as he tries to dart around you.

“Not yet! Just wait, you impatient shit!”

“No!” He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you away from the doorway and spin you both, so his back is to the kitchen now instead of yours. “Ha!”

“No!” You gasp and reach out, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt and in a panic, you yank him closer harshly, unintentionally making him stumble into you.

“Shit, are you okay?” He worries once you’re both steady and he’s holding your upper arms to nudge you back just enough that he can look at your face. You’re frowning, though he can only see your furrowed eyebrows thanks to your hand being over most of the bottom half of your face to cup your nose as his shoulder had collided with it. “Oh, did I hurt you?”

“Asshole,” you murmur while nodding, even if it doesn’t hurt that much; you just honestly like being doted on by your best friend to the extent that you are willing to play up minor injuries to gain his gentle touch and attention.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologises, frowning at you as he carefully tugs your hand down. “Let Doctor Channie see.”

“You’d be a terrible doctor,” you reply, moving your hand down to let him cup your face so that he can tilt your head into the light coming in through the windows and see your features better.

“What? I’d be great!” He defends, pouting at you offendedly.

“You thought the uvula is what you pee from.”

“It’s not my fault!” He blushes a little at the reminder of his innocent mix up. “Nobody told me that dangly thing isn’t tonsils! And the pee pipe thingy starts with a U too!”

“Urethra.”

“Exactly, they’re so similar! They should name them differently. Anyway, that doesn’t mean anything, I’d still be a good doctor.”

“Yeah, until you try to catheter someone’s throat.” His expression turns unimpressed, and you can’t help but giggle. He rolls his eyes as his lips turn up into a smile.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to your slightly red nose.

“Mm, so what’s the verdict doc?” You tease, poking at his stomach and trying not to focus on the physical reminder that your best friend has abs under his baggy clothes.

“I think you’ll be okay with the right treatment.”

“And what treatment is that?”

“The best thing for a boo-boo,” he replies seriously, and then visibly nearly breaks into a laugh at the almost glare you land on him. “What?”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Yes you are. My baby,” he coos and taps his thumbs to your cheeks. You hope he doesn’t see or feel the way they warm at his words. “I specialise in baby angels, I know this.”

“You’re seriously ridiculous.”

“Mm, so, are you consenting to Doctor Channie’s effective boo-boo treatment?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You haven’t told me what it is yet.”

“You know what the treatment for a boo-boo is, angel,” he chuckles and tilts forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “Like that.”

“I didn’t consent to that treatment, I can sue you,” you mumble, trying to distract from the growing pink on your cheeks. Chan’s eyes glide over your features, lips turning up into a soft smile. “Stop smiling at me like that!” You whine, slapping his waist so gently that it can’t even be classed at a slap, more like you’re just putting your hands on his waist with a little force.

“But you’re so fucking cute,” he reasons, smiling wider. “My cute baby,” he murmurs lowly and brushes his nose against yours gently. Your breath hitches at the tender action while your fingers curl reflexively to loosely grip his t-shirt. “Do I have consent to administer treatment, angel?” He whispers, lips so close to yours that you can almost feel them moving as he talks.

“I…” Just as you start to nod, your phone starts to ring in the kitchen, making you jump in surprise and jolt away from Chan in a natural reaction to the unexpected noise. “I should get that.”

“Right,” Chan mutters, dropping his arms to his side with a disappointed frown as he watches you scoot around him to enter the kitchen.

When you pick up your phone from the counter, you’re more than just a little surprised to see your ex’s mother calling you.

You haven’t heard from her since the breakup when she messaged you to say that she doesn’t know what happened, but she hopes that you and her can still be friends as she values you so highly. You hadn’t responded then; you hadn’t wanted to interact with anyone who you knew through him, even if you had regret ghosting her afterwards because she genuinely is such a lovely woman who always treated you lovingly.

Still, even with the period of no contact between you, you pick your phone up to answer the call. “Hello?”

“O-oh thank goodness,” the still familiar voice sobs in relief.

“Auntie? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kyle, there-there’s been an accident.”

Just over an hour after receiving the call, you’re tucked up in between Kyle’s parents on the couch of the private room with their arms around you, both of them crying for their son as you do your best to comfort them while feeling numb yourself. You’re too in shock at the sight of the heavily injured man laid unconscious on the bed to process it.

When you had arrived with Chan right behind you, the pair had just about managed to tell you through their tears that Kyle had been driving to work that morning when another vehicle had violently run him off of the road.

It had been on such a quiet road so early that nobody else was around; no witnesses to give details of the other car, nor to run to his aide or call for help. By the time someone found the wreck in the ditch, it had been long enough that too much damage had been done.

And now, even after hours of surgery, there’s no knowing if Kyle will make it through the night, let alone wake up again. There’s only waiting.

So, you wait.

“They’ll call if there’s any sign,” Chan reminds as he helps you out of your jacket. “You spent two days by his side, angel, there’s nothing more you can do for him. He’s not your responsibility or person to care for anymore. His parents and sister are there, and they promised to call you.”

“I know,” you reply, moving woodenly as Chan leads you through your apartment to the kitchen with his hand in yours to keep you moving.

He flicks on the light and falls still at the sight of the mess you left on the counter from leaving so quickly three evenings ago to get to the hospital. He never learned what you had been refusing to let him see until now. “Cake,” he murmurs, noticing the half decorated cake on the counter, surrounded by all the items you had been using to decorate it.

“For your new job,” you reply with a shrug. “It’s no good now. Sorry, I’ll buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

“No, no, you don’t have to. Just knowing is enough for me,” Chan assures, turning to bring you in to hold against his chest where you melt against him with an exhale. “I appreciate the thought and effort you went to, angel; that means more than a store bought cake ever could.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t finish it.”

“It’s not your fault. Let’s order something for dinner and while it’s on its way, I’ll clean this up while you go shower.”

“Do I smell?” You mumble against his shoulder.

“Like sadness,” he retorts with a joking edge to his sombre tone that makes you jab your fingers into his waist in scold. He yelps and contorts away from your fingers without releasing his arms from around you. “And meanness.”

“Meanness,” you repeat, scoffing a short laugh and leaning back from his shoulder to look at him.

“Yes. It’s mean to take advantage of my weak spots.”

“You do it to me all the time.”

“Yes, but you’re the nice one, my angel,” he coos, pinching your cheek before he lets you go to nudge you out of the kitchen while you try to recall just when it got so normal for Chan to call you his.

Since becoming best friends with Chan, it’s not unusual at all to return home and find him in your apartment as if he owns the place. Honestly, you genuinely think he spends more time in your apartment than his own, especially the past couple months. The couch is practically his bed at this point.

What is very unusual however, is to arrive home to find the door slightly open and hear another voice talking with Chan from inside your apartment.

“Chan?” You call in a cautious, soft voice as you nudge the door open and peer around it.

“Hi, angel, welcome home,” Chan greets, smiling at you and motioning you to join him opposite the two uniformed police officers standing and talking to him in the entrance hall.

“What’s going on, Channie?” You ask as you stand at his side and cling to his hand while remaining just a little behind him and away from the officers. They’re both taller than you and Chan, with one of them being thick with muscle and rather intimidating. Though when he smiles at you in polite greeting, most of the fear melts away.

“This is Officer Choi Seungcheol and Officer Chwe Hansol, they’re here to talk to you about Kyle,” Chan explains, motioning to each man in turn.

“Is there news on who ran him off the road?” You ask, looking at the two men with hope in your eyes and chest. It’s been over a week since the incident and there hasn’t been any more information about who put Kyle into such a devastating condition.

The last you heard, they had managed to get sight of a damaged SUV in the general vicinity from CCTV a handful of roads away, but the plates turned out to be stolen from another car across the country over a year ago and the windows were blacked out so there’s no way to tell who was driving the car. Whoever it was clearly knows the streets well enough that they escaped the CCTV quickly and the vehicle hasn’t shown up since. Nor has one matching the description been scrapped or sent to be fixed.

“That’s not our department,” the intimidating officer, Seungcheol, replies while giving you another gentle little smile. “I’m afraid we’re from the sexual crimes division, ma’am.”

“Sexual crimes?” You whisper in shock. “Wh-what?”

“We’ve received reports that Kyle has sexually harassed and stalked multiple women over the past year.”

“No, he-he wouldn’t-” you argue, shaking your head as your hands start to tremble ever so slightly, so you hold onto Chan’s hand tighter with both of yours to try and cease the shuddering movements. “You’re wrong.”

“I understand that it’s hard to hear these things about someone you thought you knew, but we have to follow up every lead we have to get all the information we need to press charges.”

“He’s in a hospital bed!” You baulk and let out an incredulous laugh. “You want to charge a man who might not even wake up? What kind of a person are you?!”

“It’s not our choice, ma’am. We’re just doing our jobs and trying to get justice for the victims.”

“I’m not having any part in this. I have nothing to say to you. He never did a thing wrong to me. Get out,” you insist, pointing to the door. “I’m not going to let you bring these accusations into my home without proof.”

“We have proof,” the other officer speaks up, earning a slightly disapproving look from his partner, but he isn’t stopped. “We saw proof ourselves; photos of women taken from outside of windows and other positions that clearly show a lack of consent. And a hidden, digital diary alluding to the acts that match up with statements we received from victims.”

“Photos?” You repeat disbelievingly.

“Yes ma’am, and I’m afraid you were in some. Based on the angle and quality, we believe the photos were taken from a roof into what we can only assume is your own bedroom.”

“My bedroom?”

“Yes ma’am. May we see your room and take photos for comparative purposes?”

“My bedroom…” You can only repeat, too in shock to do anything else as you stare dumbly at the two uniformed men in front of you.

“I think she needs a moment,” Chan says while putting his arm around you to support your gradually weakening body.

“Of course, we’ll wait right here,” Seungcheol agrees in a gentle tone and nods understandingly.

Chan carefully takes you to the living room to sit you on the couch and kneels in front of you. “Baby, breathe, come on,” he encourages softly as he holds your face. “You’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t copy me, come on.” He starts to take exaggerated breaths; big inhale, hold, slow exhale.

You blink at him unseeingly for a few of his breaths before your eyes drop to his mouth and you naturally copy the man who has helped you level your breathing more times than you can count the past year.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises. “A few more for me, you can do a few more for your Channie, right?” You nod so he smiles and takes a handful more deep, steadying breaths, each of which you obediently copy. “Good, well done.” He leans forward and kisses your head. “I’ll deal with the cops, okay? You just sit here and let your Channie handle it all. You just relax, angel.”

There isn’t a single part of you that wants to face the officers and their accusations again, so you simply nod and let Chan tuck a blanket around you as you curl up against the back of the sofa, before he turns on the TV just loud enough that when he goes back into the hall to talk to the two men, you can’t make out their low murmuring voices.

Throughout the remainder of the visit from the two officers, you don’t move, just sit staring blankly at the cushions in front of you as your mind whirls.

You don’t know what to believe. When Kyle had visited you that day, you really did believe him. Even now, there’s a part of you that struggles to believe the sincerity in his eyes and voice to be nothing more than a clever act to fool you. He has never laid a hand on you, never forced you to do anything or kicked up a fuss if you rejected his advances. Kyle was good.

Or maybe not.

If the police aren’t lying to you, then they have proof; more photos, even though you took the ones you found that time and burned them all, and witness accounts, or well, victim’s statements would be the correct term.

You know it’s possible to spend your entire life with a person and never truly know them, but you truly had thought that you knew Kyle. You had been so close to falling in love with him; that’s why it had hurt so much. You truly had believed that one day, you’d fall mutually in love with him, with a good man, and have a happy life together.

But all this; the accusations, the proof you had found yourself even if you still struggle to accept it at face value, it just goes to show that you never really know a person.

“They’re gone,” Chan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. You turn your head to watch him cross the living room to sit at your side and invite himself under the blanket. He puts his left arm on the back of the couch in a silent offer that you readily accept, shuffling closer to tuck up under his arm and settle when it’s around you securely.

“Was it my room?” You ask, not really sure if you want to know the answer. But you need to.

Chan lets out a breath that sounds like a reluctant sigh. It’s almost answer enough, yet you need to hear it. “Yeah, angel, it looks like it was your room. They took photos and are going to go to the roof of the motel opposite to take a photo from there to see if it matches. I’ve given them my number to keep me updated and so they contact me if they need to, not you. I told them about the photos you found too and that you burned them so no-one else can have them.”

“Should-should I have reported him then?” You wonder, suddenly worried that you had potentially endangered women by not stepping up.

“Maybe,” he replies in a way that you just know means he thinks you should’ve, but he doesn’t want to upset you.

You curl up smaller and turn your face into his shoulder to let the familiar, soothing scent of his cologne and laundry detergent ease you.

Chan tilts his head on top of yours and holds you that bit tighter. “At least he can’t hurt anyone else anymore.”

The words are supposed to be comforting, but they don’t comfort you at all.

The news comes only a few days later.

It didn’t take long to gather evidence to support the accusations against Kyle. The warrant for his home turned up the photos and a hidden memory stick containing a written diary with documents matching dates of some of the statements, though many more entries without a woman to match to the words. The police just had to confirm the evidence and talk to some people before moving forward with it, like they did with you and Chan.

If it wasn’t for Kyle’s condition, the case would’ve been closed only two days after the police visited you, and he would’ve been sent off to prison. As it is, the man still hasn’t woken and the doctors aren’t confident that he ever will, so he can’t really be held accountable for his actions.

When Chan tells you the news, you feel bad that for the first time, you’re glad that Kyle is unconscious and likely to never wake up; at least this way, he won’t have to face the accusations which a part of you still can’t believe are true.

What you are finally letting yourself believe though, are all the times Chan called you naïve.

“Delivery for the cutest baby angel to have ever existed,” comes the greeting from behind the massive bouquet of flowers almost shoved in your face the very moment you open the front door of your apartment to see who has been insistently ringing the bell.

“That is an obscene amount of flowers,” you murmur while eyeing the bouquet.

It lowers and your best friend’s head appears as he pouts at you cutely. “Don’t you want it?”

“Gimmie,” you encourage, making grabby hands. Chan grins and hands you the bouquet, which is literally three times bigger than your head, before stepping into the apartment while you wander off, happily admiring and sniffing the multitude of flowers.

It’s not unusual for Chan to bring you flowers at all; rather, it’s unusual for your home to not have flowers gifted to you from your best friend. Even if he can’t visit you he sends you flowers at least weekly, and the ones he sends tend to always be more extravagant as if he’s making up for not giving them to you in person.

Every single bouquet is always handpicked by Chan; he always chooses which flowers to give you, not based on their colour or scent but for the meaning.

One of the things that helped you and Chan bond when you first met was your shared love of flowers and their meanings. You both know the meanings of a vast array of flowers, and he always includes yellow roses in his bouquet to symbolise your friendship.

Today is no different; there is an abundance of yellow roses in the bouquet, but there are a mixture of other flowers often in yellow themes, as it seems rather common for yellow flowers to symbolise friendship and happiness.

But sometimes there’s other colours; a little pop of pink tulips to show he cares, white carnations with a cheeky wink as he calls you baby angel, fragrant lavender to remind you of his loyalty to your friendship. Every bouquet is carefully crafted as a message; to tell you that Chan is your best friend and will always be there to love and support you.

And today, right there amongst the usual flowers, a handful of light pink roses.

You run through your mental list of flower meanings. Pink roses tend to mean grace, dark pink for gratitude and light pink has a few meanings just like many flowers. Many of the flowers Chan gives you have multiple meanings, but when put together the bouquets he gives you all mean the same thing. However, light pink roses aren’t used to symbolise friendship, innocence, or care. They mean youth, energy, passion, desire. None of those really blend with the rest of the bouquet’s meaning and it throws you for a loop.

“Did they put in the wrong flower?” You ask, pointing to the light pink roses as you look over at Chan puzzled. He walks over to peer at the bouquet and where you’re motioning, before shaking his head. “But they don’t mean friendship,” you mumble confusedly and look at the flowers again as you try to decipher their reasoning.

Chan doesn’t say a word, just leans his left hip against the counter, left palm on the surface and right hand fiddling with the unused belt loop on your jeans as he waits.

“Wait!” You turn to face him while pointing an accusing finger at him. “Is this you calling me a baby again? Light pink roses for youth?”

Chan chuckles and shakes his head, sliding two of his fingers into the loop now you’re facing one another and letting his palm settle against your hip. “No, it’s not that, though that’s a good one, I should’ve thought of that.”

“Then what?” You tilt your head a little, pouting naturally with your innocent confusion.

“You know. I know you know this one, angel,” he encourages and tugs you closer.

“Joy of life?” You offer, too used to him leading you around and being physically affectionate to really register how close he has you, or how his thumb is gradually tugging at your t-shirt where it’s tucked into your jeans.

“No.”

“Well it’s certainly not energy, you always say I lack energy. Or are you trying to like, manifest energy for me?”

“No, but once again, that’s good, I’ll make you a manifestation bouquet one day soon.”

“Then what? I’m confused, Chan.”

“Want me to tell you?” You nod in confirmation. “What if I show you?”

“What?”

He smirks a little, then pushes off of the counter and cups your jaw with his left hand. “Should I tell you, or show you, baby?” He murmurs, voice pitching low in a way that sends shivers up and down your spine. He leans in closer, brushing his nose against your cheek and nose in a teasing manner, but he doesn’t do anything more. “Well?”

It takes a few seconds for you to react; your heart is racing with anticipation, and you need to swallow a few times. He pulls back and notices your gaze slide down to his lips. “Show me,” you say in a voice so soft and shy it’s practically a whisper.

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice; he darts forward to slot his lips against yours for the first time. There’s no hesitance in his movements, no gentle teasing and dancing as he eases you into it; he kisses you passionately from the first moment, guiding your head to tilt in the perfect angle to deepen the kiss to a filthy degree when he coaxes your mouth open only seconds after his lips touch yours.

You never expected this from Chan; never imagined he’d kiss in such a manner that you feel like he’s consuming your heart and soul in the best of ways. He’s only been kissing you for a few seconds, yet your knees are weak, and you have to cling to him to keep yourself upright.

The moment your hand grips the back of his neck, Chan groans in pleased approval against your mouth and pins you roughly against the counter; his hips pressed against yours and his right hand giving up being subtle about his wants as he yanks your t-shirt out of the waistband of your jeans so that he can slide his hand underneath and run his palm against your bare skin.

Of course, a kiss that passionate can’t go on for too long, you especially need to catch your breath as you hadn’t been prepared at all for the intensity and keep forgetting to breathe as your lips and tongue move with his.

Though when you press against his chest and turn your head aside slightly to try and catch your breath, Chan doesn’t stop kissing you, he just relocates his focus, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your neck.

“Wanted you for so fucking long, angel,” he admits, voice thick with arousal and sounding unfairly in breath even if his chest is heaving too. He drags his teeth over the crook of your neck making you gasp and grip him tighter. “Driving me crazy, ‘m so hard. Can I have you? Can I take you to bed and drown in your pussy? Fuck you so hard I owe you a new bed?”

“Fuck,” you breathe out and grab a handful of his hair to drag him back up. His eyes are so hooded that you’re not certain he’s even looking at you. He looks so far gone and it does dangerous things to you. “Y-you do so much for me, Chan.”

“What?” He blinks away some of the lust dazing him to peer at you confusedly, and a little offended and the out of place comment. “What are you talking about all of a sudden? I’m trying to take you to bed, and you say that? You can just say no, not do some weird speech.”

“I’m not doing that,” you assure and move your left hand off of his shoulder, down his torso and under his oversized t-shirt to find the button of his jeans. He looks down in surprise, then back up at you with desire flooding back into his expression and eyes as you skilfully get his jeans open. Neither of you care that they immediately drop to the floor around his ankles with the jangle of his keys in his pocket, as you get your hand in his boxers. “Let me do this for you.”

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, whatever you want angel,” he approves before leaning in to seal your lips back together.

After your tryst in the kitchen, which lead to half of the bouquet getting destroyed when Chan bent you over the counter chest first into the flowers, sex is suddenly on the table for the two of you. Often literally. It seems as if that encounter opened the floodgates of a year of repressed desire from Chan and alerted you to the fact that his passion is more than just a little reciprocated.

Of course, you’ve known for a while now that you’re attracted to Chan; ever since the realisation that day in the store thanks to the leather jacket, which he is often prancing around in, especially since he’s realised how much you like him in it. Sometimes he’ll even turn up at your apartment, open the zip of his jacket and reveal that he’s wearing nothing but your marks underneath, leading to you pinning him to the closest surface to expand on the collection.

What you hadn’t known is just how deep your attraction runs. That at some point within you, the lust starts to morph and before it reaches your chest, it turns to a love which squeezes your heart a little every time he slows down to press a soft kiss to your lips, or you find him looking at you with eyes sparkling with adoration.  

You never imagined that you would fall for your best friend, yet here you are, weeks into your relationship turning sexual, and falling asleep naked in his arms more often than not while not wanting the morning to come because you know he’ll leave before you’re awake so that he can go home and get ready for work.

There’s a part of you that has, on more than one occasion, almost blurted out that he should just bring his work clothes over; you’ve already made space in the wardrobe to hang his shirts and space in the drawer for his trousers. But you don’t.

As much as you’ve come to understand and accept that the love you feel for Chan is no longer purely platonic, you aren’t ready to move on from your ex. There’s still a piece of your heart in Kyle’s hands, even if they are limp in his hospital bed and your heart should’ve been released back to you months ago.

You’ve tried to move on; you thought it would’ve happened naturally thanks to your recently developed feelings for your best friend and the regular sessions of getting fucked dumb into various surfaces by the man.

Still, Kyle remains, and you don’t understand why your heart won’t let you love Chan entirely.

You hope that Chan is happy with this; that he’s content to spend spare moments between your usual hangouts and your thighs. You don’t want to have to tell him that you’re not over Kyle; you know that Chan doesn’t like the man. Although he never voices his displeasure in you still visiting the Kyle in the hospital, you can always see it in his eyes when you leave and how he fucks you that bit harder when you return.

Hope, it seems, is still stubbornly stuck in the bottom of the box, and has no place in the real world, especially not yours.

“You have a key,” you point out flatly when you open the door having expected the takeout you’ve ordered for dinner for yourself and Chan, yet find the man himself on the other side of the door with his hands behind his back and still wearing his work clothes. “What’re you hiding? Please tell me it’s dinner; I thought you’re the delivery man you know?”

“It’s not dinner,” he chuckles, then brings his hands around to reveal this week’s bouquet. Tulips; red, yellow, and orange. Love.

“Chan…” you trail off, not sure what to say and expression downturned when you look up at him. You can practically see the moment you break his heart.

“Oh, I guess I misread this,” he smiles embarrassed and awkward, even with the pain evident in his eyes. “I thought that you might return my feelings finally, but I guess not.”

“You’re not wrong,” you confess softly. “I just…I’m not over Kyle.”

“What?” His features scrunch in bewilderment. “You’re not over the man who would be arrested for sexual harassment and stalking right now if not in a coma? Am I hearing that right?”

“I still can’t connect that to the man I knew.”

“He really fucked with your head, didn’t he?” His arms lower defeatedly.

“No, he didn’t. He was just…good to me.”

“He cheated on you, angel, he wrote about it in his diary and other women have said as much too. What’s it going to take for you to accept that and move on?”

“I-I don’t know, Chan. I’m sorry but I just can’t do that. I’ve tried to get over him, but it hasn’t happened.”

“Well…I’m not going anywhere,” he declares and steps forward to offer the bouquet. “You may not be able to love me and be with me the way I want, but I still love you, with everything in me and I’ll be here for you all the same.”

“Won’t that hurt you?”

“Baby,” he chuckles and tenderly cups your cheek in one hand, the other still holding the tulips you’ve yet to accept. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you; I’ve been by your side through all of the assholes you gave your time to, even if they didn’t deserve it. This one will pass too.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“It will,” a flash of determination appears in his eyes as he smiles at you. “You’ll be mine soon enough, I promise you that, angel.”

At first, you had been cautious with Chan after his confession. You don’t want to hurt him and make him suffer at your side, so you pulled back on the affection and stopped the sexual aspect of your relationship entirely. Chan hadn’t been very happy and pouted at you when you turned him down the first time, but he didn’t push it and accepted it. Though he still reaches out to pull you close to hold and well, you don’t really want to quit him truthfully, so you let that happen.

After a few weeks, it’s as if the month of mind-blowing sex never happened and you and Chan are back to being nothing more than best friends. He keeps to his word and remains by your side as he always has, with no pushing or attempts to get you to reconsider and accept his love wholeheartedly.

Maybe that’s why one day when you’re laid side by side on a picnic blanket looking up at the stars with the snacks and drinks, which Chan supplied for the stargazing session, contently settling in your belly, you look at him and for the first time, you don’t feel as if your heart is missing a single piece.

“What?” Chan asks, side eyeing you amusedly when you’ve been staring at him instead of the sky for a few seconds too long. “Are you about to tell me that the stars in the sky don’t sparkle as bright as the stars in my eyes?”

“Where do you even come up with this stuff?” You laugh and nudge him playfully before sitting up. “Whoa,” you murmur when your head spins, eyes slamming closed and hands flying out to try and balance yourself.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Chan’s hands are on you in seconds as he sits up to support you.

“M wobbly,” you slur, trying to look at him as your hands grip him tight. “Channie,” you start to panic as the dizziness doesn’t subside at all, if anything it feels like it’s getting worse as he starts to multiply before your eyes. “S-something’s wrong.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Channie’s got you, lay down angel, Channie’s got you,” he soothes, gently laying you back down on the blanket and propping himself up on his right elbow as his left hand cups your cheek. “You’ll feel better soon; just close your eyes and let your Channie look after you.”

“Chan…” You’re finding it harder and harder to move your body with every second. It feels as if your muscles are turning to sludge and bones rubber. You try to lift your arm from where it flopped to your stomach when he laid you down, yet you can’t lift it.

Chan watches the panic fill your eyes and strokes his hand over your head, then back to your cheek again. “You’re okay, my love, I’ll never let anything happen to you. Your Channie will always look after you.”

You can’t even open your mouth to respond. A choked sound leaves your parted lips as your vision starts blurring darkly around the edges.

“I will do whatever I need to, to make sure that nobody can ever hurt you again, my angel,” his voice is taking on a strange otherworldly quality, fading in and out every other syllable.

It feels as if you’re becoming one with the ground under you. It’s still hard against your back, yet it feels as if you’re melting into it, like every point of contact is rapidly ceasing to exist as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“Close your eyes, baby,” Chan’s warped voice meets you. He says something else, but a buzzing appears, overlapping his muffled words until the high pitched sound is all you can hear.

You feel something touch your forehead and brush down gently, forcing your eyes closed. You don’t have the strength to open them again.

It’s pitch black, only the ringing for company until suddenly, it leaves.

There’s barely time to register the pure silence before your consciousness melts into the ground to join the rest of you.

Everything comes back to you all at once.

Your body jerks awake as your eyes fly open. The soft, natural light around you is too bright on your sore eyes and the gentle sound of the birds outside singing their morning song pierces your sensitive ears. Instinctively, you close your eyes and lift your hands with the intention of pressing your palms to your ears to block out the noise, but something stops you from raising your hands more than a few inches.

Panicked, your eyes open and look down to find thick, padded straps around your wrists and buckled in place with a chain connecting each to the wooden frame of the bed under you. You tug, but they don’t give. You try to move your legs, but your ankles are bound in the same way; even if you don’t look at them to check, you just know you’d see the same binds there.

“Breathe,” the voice is familiar, is the one that you’re so used to listening to that you find yourself listening and taking some deep, stabilising breaths without even thinking about it. “Good girl.”

After a few seconds, you realise that Chan is in the room; the strange room where you’re cuffed to a strange bed. You have no idea where you are; the walls look wooden and it smells kind of musty, like it hasn’t been used in a while, but the familiar scent of Chan’s laundry detergent meets your nose from the soft, clean pillow under your head when you turn your head to try and find the man.

He’s sitting in a rickety old rocking chair near the closed door of the small room.

There’s nothing else in the room; no curtains on the window on the wall, which the right side of the bed is pushed against; the window is cracked open, letting in fresh air but even from where you’re laid, you can see bars on the outside. There’s a bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling emitting a redundant, soft orange glow. And nothing else.

Just you, the bed, the chair, and the man you thought was your best friend looking at you as he gently rocks back and forth, back and forth, the chair creaking with every movement.

For tense moments, minutes maybe, you just stare at Chan in horror. This is not the man you’ve spent the past almost two years side by side with. This is not the man you had been seconds away from telling that you finally loved him with everything in you.

Your Chan is beautiful inside and out; with bright eyes always shining with mirth and adoration when they find you, and a smile that could weaken the toughest of hearts. He was love and happiness. Your love. Your happiness. You don’t know where that’s gone.

This Chan terrifies you. His face is flat, no smile, no sparkle in his eyes. He’s looking at you with an expression so dark and haunting; something similar to the way he looked when you told him that Kyle turned up at your apartment building all those months ago in the café, yet somehow so much worse.

For the first time since meeting Lee Chan, you look at him and you want to be as far away as possible, and then further. This isn’t a man you want to be near. Yet, you’re left without a choice.

“Wha-what’s going on, Chan?” You stammer.

“This is your fault, you know,” he informs matter-of-factly. “If you had just said yes to me that day, if you hadn’t held onto that fucking asshole, then this would’ve never happened. We could be at home, in bed; I could be buried deep in your pussy and filling you with cum again and again until you’re round with my baby. We could’ve been happy; had our family, gotten married,” he huffs a dry laugh and abruptly stops rocking. “We could’ve had the perfect fucking family, baby! We could’ve been perfect. But no! You had to cling to that asshole!” He gets to his feet, flinging his arms up in the air as his lips start to split into a disbelieving smile.

He doesn’t even seem to notice that you flinch and try to move further away from him as he steps closer. He seems entirely caught up in his own monologue as he starts to pace the short length of the room to your left.

“I’ve done everything I can to win you over! I studied you for fucking months before showing myself to you. Changed my hair, changed my style, even changed my fucking interests to suit your tastes!” He wheels around and stalks closer to put his right hand on the headboard above you while he stares down at you with eyes wide. “I fucking hate flowers, you know? Hate those stupid fucking things, yet I read every fucking book I could find to learn about them. Learned how to grow them from tiny little seeds all for you,” he points at you. “And what thanks do I get?” He laughs and pushes away from the bed to turn and take a few steps away. “Nothing! Okay, no, no, that’s not fair to you,” he concedes.

Chan turns to face you with his hands and features settled so suddenly into something so placating that you wonder if you had imagined the unhinged mess he was seconds ago.

“I got to taste that pretty little pussy and feel it around my cock, your mouth too. Fuck, baby, I could’ve held out longer if you hadn’t ended that but you, you little cock tease, had to give me a taste of heaven and rip it away from me.” He tuts disapprovingly and gives you an exaggerated pout. “You’ve really broken my heart, you know?”

“Th-then let me go and you never ha-have to see me again,” you try to reason, but he laughs; a full, loud, rolling laugh while leaning over with his hands on his knees as if you’ve told the best joke he’s ever heard.

“Oh, angel!” He exclaims as he straightens up, clapping his hands amusedly. “That’s good, really good. You’re so funny, baby, it’s one of the things I love most about you. You’ve always made me laugh.”

For a few seconds, he looks at you so tenderly that he looks like your Chan again; the Chan you fell in love with, the Chan you wish you had realised was a trick from the start. It makes sense that he always called you naïve when he knows from experience how easy it is to fool you.

“You’re mine now, ‘till death do us part and all that. Sorry I don’t have a ring for you, I’ve never been one for accessories.” He lifts his bare hands to wiggle them at you.

It’s only now that you realise he isn’t wearing a single piece of jewellery, something you thought wasn’t possible for your Chan. His clothes aren’t baggy and hiding his form, and hair no longer shaggy and in his eyes. He’s wearing blue jeans like usual, but these ones are straight legged and show off his thick thighs and ass; his plain white fitted t-shirt is tucked into his jeans neatly, showcasing his slim waist and strong upper body; with his hair neatly styled back in a casual, yet neat, manner. You’ve never seen him like this; he looks older this way, less playful.

It's another reminder that he’s not your Chan. He never truly was.

“I wish it didn’t come to this; you know?” He comments while walking over to sit on the edge of the bed by your waist and brush the back of his fingers over your cheek, entirely ignoring the way you flinch away from this touch, even if it is painfully tender. “You’re so beautiful; I’ve wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, even if you never saw me.” He sighs dramatically and gets up to stand beside the bed. “Even back then you looked anywhere but me. It’s funny though,” he muses, pacing a little as his lips start to lift and bring back that manic smile he earlier wore.

It scares the shit out of you.

“You never once questioned your bad luck,” he quotes your own words with a mocking tone, trying not to laugh as he does so. “Or how it only appeared once I came into your life. You really are fucking naïve, baby.”

“What did you do?” You whisper, horrified at the realisation that Chan had been the reason that all of your relationships have failed.

Now that you think about it, he had always warned you away from them all for some reason; some kind of claim of a bad feeling, a rumour, seeing them kissing another woman. You never questioned how he always had something to say about every single man you showed interest in, or seemed to know things he shouldn’t really know. You put too much trust in the man from day one and now it’s come back to bite you in the ass.

“Whatever I needed to. It was all so easy too, like you wanted a reason to leave them all. I really thought it was because you wanted me,” he laughs darkly and pins an equally as dark look on you as his smile drops. “And then Kyle came along. Fucking Kyle. Perfect Kyle with his clean record and respect and giant, squishy heart. Well, it’s extra squishy now I pushed him off the road,” he laughs, eyes lighting with twisted delight.

“No,” you choke out. “You- no- you didn’t- tell me you didn’t do that to him, Chan,” you plead desperately.

Chan laughs and walks over to lean over you again, his left hand braced against the headboard and the other playing with the strands of your hair on the pillow beside your head. “If only you had believed me. If you hadn’t let him talk to you that day; if you had just kicked him out and come right to me like you were supposed to, it would’ve never happened, angel. You had me right there waiting for you and you picked that asshole and now guess what?” He looks at you with a bright, manic smile, eyes wide and shining with mirth you wish doesn’t exist. “He’s never fucking waking up, baby!” He beams, looking so proud of himself. “I made sure of that!”

You feel sick to your stomach.

It must show on your face because Chan’s own falls and he frowns at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t my fault.” He scoffs and backs up from the bed as that terrifyingly haunting look returns to his features. “I didn’t think I’d have to go this far; I thought you’d accept all those rumours and evidence I spent so much time, money, and effort planting. I bribed and blackmailed so many people the past months. Got the asshole fucking convicted and you still refuse to pick me.”

Chan sighs heavily, as if it really does pain him, before he pivots and walks to the door to open it, though he turns just enough to look back at you.

“I can’t tell if you’re too smart to believe all that or fucking stupid to still want to be by his side after all the accusations. Maybe he did brainwash your naïve little self.”

He stares at you for an unnervingly long moment as if he’s trying to figure you out and wondering what exactly Kyle did to earn your loyalty, and how exactly he can mimic it to make you his.

“Oh well,” he decides with a shrug, making you jolt at his sudden voice. “Not that it matters anymore because I’m not letting you leave here. If you’re not going to be mine on your own terms, we’re doing it my way.”

He closes the door after him, and you break with the sound of the lock clicking into place.

Tears roll down your cheeks and temples, soaking the soft pillow under your head as sobs tear from your chest. You keep tugging at the binds holding you down, yet they don’t budge.

You’re stuck here.

Even if you somehow escape your binds, there are bars on the window and a lock securing the thick wooden door.

You’re stuck here. For good.

Forever.

Stuck with the man you had trusted to look after you, to be by your side for a long time. You just never expected it to be like this. You as his prisoner; his little plaything to do with as he pleases until he gets bored of you and then… you don’t even want to think about it.

The sun slowly rises higher and higher into the sky and finally, you stop pulling at your binds, stop crying; out of energy and tears with your whole body hurting, yet nothing in comparison to the pain in your heart where it’s stomped into the wooden floorboards and covered in Chan’s footprints.

You dread the moment he returns. Dread having to live your life like this.

But you know you don’t have a choice. You’re his now, to do with as he pleases. You no longer have a choice in how your life goes.

The click of the lock disengaging sends fear racing through your tired body, adrenaline pumping, yet there’s still nothing you can do as Chan steps into the room with a tray in his hands and a smile on his face.

“Hi baby, it’s time for food! I made your favourite.”

As you watch him approach wearing that same cute smile that first drew you to him, all you can do is curse yourself for being so fucking naïve.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tusswrites

[knnichs]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

you get injured while playing on court, kinich just happened to be watching.

c. basketball captain! kinich & volleyball player reader

t. character(s) are in a relationship with the reader, gn!reader, fluff, no use of y/n, not proofread, highschool/uni au, wc 1.1k

m. @lowkeyren @hanniejji author notes at the end!!

It was obvious your team was winning when it came down to the basics of fundamentals—the defense was thankfully taken care of by Sethos, who had just replaced Xiangling as a libero since she, unfortunately, had decided to opt out playing in the tournament. Sethos was great, though. Being an all rounder, he is quite talented with his ball control.

But when it came to the offense, you were certainly the star when it came to your team's attacks.

You call for the set, and steadily go a few steps to the back of the attacking line. Aether gives the ball smoothly, you step forward — right, left, right — then jumping, quickly swinging your arm towards the ball as you hit the line perfectly. The referee calls the whistle before you land, and the line judge points the flag down as they face the right end of your opponent's court. A seamless play.

You got distracted looking at the scoreboard, 23-22, it was a close match and all your team needed was to win this set before you already won. As you landed from your jump, you lost balance. Eventually rolling over your left ankle, and falling to the ground.

Your teammates checked up on you, surrounding you and helping you sit up before the medic came. The match got paused as they helped you ease the pain with an ice pack, and you were brought to the benches. There, several of the other players did their best to reassure you after your unlucky landing. You don’t feel too beat up about it, you already saw this coming when you checked the scoreboard before ensuring your safety when landing. 

You had only hoped Kinich didn’t see that.

He turns the tv on and gives you the remote, two plates of stir fry noodles on the coffee table and a glass of cold water. Kinich sat right in front of you, trying to set up a comfortable place you can rest in as you recover.

“Sigewinne said it was nothing serious, I’m fine.” You repeated for… maybe the 6th time this evening. All that gave you was a displeased look from your boyfriend, and he raised the ice pack away.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be paying extra attention to you then?” 

“Wait—I was kidding. That was a joke,” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure it was.”

Kinich knew what it felt like having an injury, one during the season at that. It’s devastating—that might be too dramatic. It was just sad knowing you wouldn’t be able to compete until you fully heal. Knowing your coach, Wriothesley, and Beidou, they certainly wouldn’t allow you to play until you got the go sign from your doctor. A very much so sure, go sign.

So, until you got to go on court again, his job was to take care of you.

“Wait one moment. Stay here,” he said before disappearing into the bedroom. He comes back with a few pillows and the world's comfiest comforter (it was his blanket.)

He knew you felt the least bit sad because of this. No matter how minor the injury was, this was the first time you were competing in a mixed tournament, and the first time the boys and girls team from different schools competed for a regional game. It was true you got to play with them multiple times already — your team captains had easily gotten close with each other, so naturally, tune up games or practices with them were common.

Wriothesley cared for his team, so did Beidou, and so did your coach. It was difficult trying to convince everyone you were fine when you already struggled walking to the benches. That’s not including the exhaustion you felt mentally after you sat down—immediately curling up and letting a few tears go was not a good image for you. But your teammates were supportive, they also cared.

Maybe it was a little selfish demanding your coach to bring you back in court, but you were swayed by the overwhelming sense of guilt. That you couldn't play properly for the team, that your opponent ended up getting the point, and that you injured yourself because you got distracted.

“I mean, in the end, you tried your best.” He put the ice bag back on the table once he had noticed it might be getting too cold for you. “That’s what matters most, right?” 

Kinich hands you the glass of water. “And you shouldn’t feel that beat up about it. They all said you need to rest so you could recover faster, just do as they say.”

You paused for a moment, he took the glass from you as you finished drinking, and handed you the plate full of food. Then, the boy went to sit next to you as you laid on the couch. He shuffled around trying to find a proper position, and your legs ended up on top of his lap. 

“This might just be one of the most disappointing games I’ve ever done.”

He brings a hand to your knee, trying to reassure you by drawing figures across your skin. 

“You’ve done worse,” and you throw a part of the blanket towards him.

You take a fork full of the noodles—savory and sweet, exactly what you needed after the game. Kinich knew you always had a craving for something sweet, especially after training, when you’re tired. You two end up in a convenience store buying froyo at some point while you eat in the back of the car, just talking about what had happened.

“They all care about you. I care about you.” He whispers.

Kinich stretched a little to reach you, pressing his lips to your forehead in a kiss. One hand holding yours as you place the plate on the table again. Thankfully this couch fits the both of you, otherwise you wouldn’t be basking in the feeling of his arms slowly snaking up your sides, enveloping you in a warm hug.

“I’ll clean up your injuries for you, I’ll come to your games, I’ll sit here in silence until god knows when—I’ll do anything for you, because I love you. And I will continue to.” 

He holds your hand again, your left this time, and you notice a familiar shine through your fingers. The promise ring he gave you way back when the two of you had your first anniversary with your relationship just two years ago with your favorite color as the gem.

“So please, rest.”

lowkey based on what happened to me during training last… last last week?? please do not play while having a fever!!! ANYWAY this is my first work for this au im doing cough there will be a masterlist for that soon. i fear. after this ill be working on other volleyball stuff esp with scara & sethos i AM STUDYING SETHOS’ CHARACTER RIGHT NOW. hes so fun & silly i love him

anyway, do expect more of these kinds of fics (volleyball au & highschool au) because ive been having intense brainrot for them recently. and i think i did well capturing kinichs character here bc ,,, hes a silly man . who (in my perspective) teases people who hes close with while still being respectful. I ALSO DONT KNOW IF PROMISE RINGS ARE A THING IN OTHER COUNTRIES pardon me if its not … i thought it was cute 😝 okay thats enough yapping SEE YOU

@ staarri 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai, plagiarize,or modify any of my works.

[torturedlexdepartment]

The Last Time (JJ's Version)

JJ Maybank x fem reader

Author's note: I apologize in advance 💀

Warnings: ANGST, fighting, toxic JJ, break up

Summary: after a turbulent relationship with JJ, you finally hit your breaking point

Six months is nothing. Six months flies by. You’re on the back end in the blink of an eye. But when you’re young, it’s everything. When he’s your first, he’s everything.

You were so sickenly in love with him that you couldn’t see anything else. Red flags morphed into pink while you wore rose colored glasses. Up until this point you were living in a bubble of that honeymoon phase. But things couldn’t stay perfect no matter how much you saw the stars in his ocean blue eyes.

The first time

JJ found himself at your front door after a fight that took place at a party earlier in the evening. Your disagreements usually ended in bickering or slightly raised voices. But nothing had ever gone this far. Nothing had ever hurt you this bad. He chased after you almost immediately, instantly regretting his behavior. When he knocked on your door, you couldn’t help but run to greet him with tears in your eyes.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Please come here.” He grabbed you gently, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly. You melted into him and when he grabbed you by the face to wipe away your tears, you suddenly forgot why you were so upset in the first place. All that mattered was that he was here now, taking the blame and showcasing the sweetest side of himself.

The next time

A couple of months have gone by and things have slowly begun to grow more complicated. The patience you once had for one another was starting to dissipate.

“You’re being fucking ridiculous.” JJ paced around the kitchen in the chateau while you stood by the sink, your stomach in knots at the start of another argument.

“How? You keep treating me like shit when everyone else is around and ignoring me.” You fought to hold back tears as you grew more frustrated.

“No Y/N, you’ve just been super clingy lately and refuse to give me room to breathe!” He spit out and the floodgates opened.

“So I’m clingy for wanting to spend time with you now? You’re fucking unbelievable!” You screamed, not caring who would hear.

“I’m not dealing with your childish shit right now Y/N. Grow up.” He stormed out of the shack, leaving you to weep alone. You sunk down to the floor, burying your head in your hands wondering if there was any truth to his words. When you finally calmed yourself down, you went into JJ’s room, packed all your things, and headed home.

A few hours had passed and now he was blowing your phone up. The calls and texts went unanswered as you continued to spiral. Were you really being stupid and pathetic? Or was he just turning into someone you never thought he’d be?

You just needed more time before you could deal with him. But JJ was stubborn and never knew when to just let things be. He always had to get his way. Yet you were the “childish” one. He showed up to your house at 10pm pounding on your front door. You stood close by, praying he would just leave but he continued.

“Y/N!” He yelled from the other side of the door.

“What do you want JJ?” You heard him sigh, relieved you had finally answered him.

“I want you to open the door baby, please. Let me talk to you.” He pleaded.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now J.” Up until this point, that was true but the begging in his voice was breaking you down.

“I’m not leaving until you open the door and talk to me Y/N. I’ll stay out here all night, you know I will.” You sighed heavily because you did know that. He wasn’t gonna leave until you at least heard him out. When you opened the door and saw him standing there, you felt yourself instantly soften. It was like magic, the effect he had on you. And it was the worst thing in the world at times like these. Times that you needed to be strong. You could never stay mad at him.

“J-”

“I am so sorry, okay. When I came back and saw that you were gone and you took your stuff, I freaked. I know I’ve been an asshole lately and I promise you baby, I will do better.”

And that’s all it took. That’s all he had to say. All he had to do. And you forgave him…again.

Countless times in between

Your one year anniversary was ruined by JJ getting nearly black out drunk and being obnoxious. You were driving home when you started arguing and at some point, he demanded that you stop so he could get out and walk the rest of the way. And no matter how much you pleaded, he wouldn’t get back in. He walked all the way to the chateau and the next morning, he was mad at you for abandoning him.

A huge blowup of a fight erupted when you caught him flirting with another girl at a party. You have been on the rocks lately, struggling to have even one good moment. But this was taking things too far. You swore you were gonna end it after that. But then he showed up crying at your door.

He got mad at you for going to the beach with John B without him. It’s been over a year and a half and at this point, you didn’t even bother apologizing anymore. You both just continued on like it never happened, like it was a normal occurrence. All he did was make you sad or angry. You struggled to remember why you had put up with this and for so long. It had gotten to the point where you both claimed to want to end things, but they were always empty threats. You’d come right back, the same way he would. Every single time…

You couldn’t count on one hand how many more times have happened since then. Big, small, stupid, pointless. It was everyday by the time you passed your two year anniversary.

The last time

You were arguing about something stupid, you couldn’t even remember what started it. And it blew up into the worst fight you have ever had. You were so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying. Tired of not remembering what happy felt like.

“I swear to god JJ, I’m so done with this shit.”

“Then fucking leave!.” The words cut deep like a knife straight through your heart. Those words and the cold expression on his face, finally made something inside yourself snap.

“If I leave right now, I’m not coming back.” You searched his face for any signs of emotion besides anger, but you couldn’t find any.

“But you say that every single time, don’t you?” He mocked as you desperately tried to hold back your tears.

“I promise you…this is the last time.” You had never meant something you said to him more, other than the words “I love you”. He didn’t respond. He wouldn’t even lift his head to look at you. You knew he was never going to beg you to stay, no matter how much you wanted him to. You wouldn’t bother with your things left behind. All you had to do was walk past him, right out the door.

You both stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity. He hadn’t uttered a word and you didn’t expect him to move an inch as you headed for the door. But he surprised you when he blocked your path. You scanned his eyes as he looked down at you, searching for any glimpse of the man that you fell in love with. You knew in your heart that he was still in there but he was buried so deep that you couldn’t help him come back to the surface. You could tell that he struggled with what to say and you knew that if you didn’t leave now, you’d both be stuck in this cycle of heartbreak. Before you could give it another thought you pushed past him and ran out the door, refusing to look back.

A few days later you were in a new hell after ending things with JJ. It took everything in you not to go back. Not to pick up the phone. You’d love to just hear his voice. But you knew you deserved better. You both did, so you resisted. Dealt with the worst pain imaginable to prevent further trauma. You had to love yourself more than you had ever loved him.

It was just past midnight when you heard him banging on your door. He had finally broke down and realized that you weren’t gonna come crawling back. That you meant what you said. A few minutes passed without you answering and he started yelling through the door.

“Please Y/N, I know you’re there.” You sank down on your side of the door with tears in your eyes. You could hear it in his voice that he was crying too and you fought with every part of yourself to open that door. After a moment, he stopped knocking and you heard him slide down his side of the door. You both sat there in silence, as close as you could allow yourself to get.

You let yourself reminisce about the good times. How he swept you off your feet on your first date. How he kissed you in the rain after he told you he loved you for the first time. How he swore he couldn’t wait to give you his last name.

“I told you.” You whispered loud enough for it to travel through the wood.

“I know baby. I know. And I won’t hurt you anymore.” You heard him stand up as you fought to keep it together. “I love you.” He said softly and made his way down your porch. And your heart shattered…for the last time.

[pansy-picnics]

YESSSSSSSS YES YES GOD. OH MY GODDDDDD. RIPPING MY SHIRT OFF LIKE THE HULK. YOU GET IT OP. I LOVE PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS (Says the aroace guy . Like okay fork found in kitchen cmon now)

No cuz LISTEN. romance and attraction is something that is constantly front in center in society as a whole….its a lot more understood than friendship or familial relationships. so it probably makes SENSE to hugo at least in concept.

Attraction is understood by a lot of people as like a biological instinct (And obviously its more complex than that but thats the most Basic idea thats been held for most of history i think). And hugos definitely been Attracted to people before. I think he kind of just sees it as a nuisance tbh. He just tries to gaslight himself into pretending it isnt there.

But platonic love….you dont have that physical reaction yknow??? I mean ive had what i can describe as platonic “crushes” before but it’s different….It could be different for other people ofc but in my experience platonic love kind of sneaks up on you. You might not even really notice its there. One day you’ll just be looking at someone and you’re like, “oh yeah. This one. Theyre the one. Theyre safe.”

They affect you in little ways. like influencing the way you think or the way you speak and you dont notice until someone points it out. You’ll pick up on words they use and everyday things will make you think of them. ITS JUST. GAH!!! I LOVE PLATONIC LOVE!!

I think platonic love is SUCH an important part of hugo’s general role in the story because like….This isnt his first rodeo remember? Hes done jobs for donella before. Hes probably crushed on a few people before. Maybe even people hes worked with. But clearly its never affected his performance before. none of these crushes have Permanently rewired his brain and this perspective he has of the world.

The reason team radical has such an impact on him is NOT just bc she’s gay for varian. It’s bc ALL OF THEM are the first people who have just Genuinely cared about her, with no ulterior motives, no strings attached, no romantic connotations, no nothing. Theyre the first people she’s actually connected with and felt like she could be herself around. and they’re the first to actually able to counter these mindsets that are so Natural to her- these mindsets that it’s every man for himself, that relationships are all temporary, and that she’s not fundamentally deserving of love. Varian, nuru and yong showed hugo a new perspective on life. ALL OF THEM DID!! NOT JUST VARIAN!!!

Its why platonic varigo is genuinely so important to me and one of the reasons i think varigo are the “best friends first/lovers second” kind of couple. its also why i dont really like them having chemistry like right off the bat. Because like…Them being friends first is the only reason their relationship as it is is even possible. Neither of them really had friends their age before and thats Why they really connect.

if it wasn’t for varian just…being a good friend, and him, nuru and yong all collectively showing hugo this new outlook on life….team radical would have just been another means to an end. Sure maybe hugo would’ve had a little crush on varian or found him attractive, but it wouldn’t have made him like, quit his whole job. He would’ve just done the work and moved on with his life. he wouldn’t have FALLEN IN LOVE like he did. Love and attraction are two different things and hugo didnt just have a crush on varian, he fell in love with him. and he fell in love (platonically, of course) with yong and nuru too.

THATS what changed him!!! Genuine human connection and love!!! It had nothing to do with romance!!! And i feel like people just tend to focus on the yaoi or whatever when like…It means nothing if we aren’t seeing hugo form these bonds with the group as a whole and watching his outlook change as a result! without the core feature of genuine human connection and friendship the yaoi wouldn’t even EXIST!!! 😭😭😭

I especially need more library/betrayal scenes with the whole group bc it genuinely makes me so mad when they’re Just about varigo and nuru and yong are just. Left behind? NOBODY EVER WRITES NURU AND YONG REACTING TO THE BETRAYAL…..NOBODY WRITES THEM HELPING HUGO WHEN VARIAN GETS POSSESSED. THEY’RE JUST. LEFT BEHIND AND THEN THEY SHOW UP AT THE END WHEN THEY HAVE THEIR GROUP HUG OR WHATEVER….SOMETIMES NOT EVEN THAT!!!

IT BREAKS MY HEART BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT JUST SIDE PIECES TO VARIGO!!! 😭😭😭 GAHHH. I NEED MORE TEAM RADICAL JUST ALL BEING BEST FRIENDS AND LOVING EACH OTHER!!!!! I NEED YONG AND NURU TO PLAY A PART IN THESE MAJOR PLOT POINTS TOO!!!!

I feel like we don't talk about how Hugo would be weirded out by the concept of having friends enough. Like we all pretty much agree that Donella, while maybe not being outright abusive, was at least not an amazing parent figure and made Hugo live a life that wasn't super healthy. But I haven't really seen anyone talk about how he probably has never felt platonic love.

I like the idea that it wasn't Varian that convinced Hugo to leave Donella, it was Nuru and Yong.

Hugo would have at least had a crush before, if not an actual relationship, he's aware that liking someone made you want to do stupid stuff, like quit your job, abandon your mother figure, and live with them for the rest of your life, but wanting to do that sort of stuff for someone you have no attraction to whatsoever? Huh?

I just love the idea that while Varian was a huge part in changing Hugo, it took friendship with no hint of romantic connotations to finally win Hugo over.

[somuchbetterthanthat]

Silco and Vander spending years as bitter enemies, with now wildly different ideals on how to get their city respected/at peace/freed, etc. and .... still having the annoying and absolute realization that they still won't achieve anything if the other is gone;;

Vander is the first one who makes it obvious, the day someone tries to attack Silco and he and his people show up to beat them up get them to fuck off. It leads to the first time seeing each other again since Vander tried to kill Silco himself, and it's NOT good, but they also still know each other best, still can read each other's gaze, etc.

Silco's way to "protection" is much more subtile, mostly because Vander has become the peaceful face of Zaun, sort of (how ironic), rather than the symbol of its freedom, but it still happens -- generally it's taken care of in shadows.

Eventually, of course, it becomes... sensible to communicate in SOME fashion. Sevika agrees the first few times to be a placeholder - then she grows annoyed and tell them to grow the fuck up; so they start sending letters again -- crypted, of course, with old-fashioned ways of doing it that only them still remember using from... Days long gone.

Vander, once again, is the first one to make it personal (another apology; a little reflexion on how his kids are doing; a "do you remember-"). Silco never answers those beyond "do you think I care? Focus on what matters now, if you please." right until one day he's the one bringing a memory up first.

Anyway, something something, the Kids, something something, Silco and Powder, something something, they both end up rekindling their relationship, forging a new, proper connection, never quite forgetting the past but trying to be stronger from it, and they raise teenagers together and free their city. Or something. At the very least both kinda judge their daughter when she starts dating a cop.

[every-kuzu]

Please I beg you to do a character analysis on Kakuzu <3 from whichever part of him you'd like

okay. i’ve got a two hour car ride and a playlist to listen to - lets take a crack at this.

i’ve talked about this a little in response to another ask, so i’ll be bringing up stuff that i have touched on before, but first and foremost - kakuzu is a very guarded character. a lot of the time, you need to pause and really observe him, peel back the layers, which is something a lot of naruto fans don’t really do - probably because kishimoto didn’t spend a lot of time on him and hidan. hell, there are some things that even i didn’t notice until i started this blog and had to pause and observe him.

so. when you ask the average naruto fan about kakuzu, what’s the first thing they would think of? money, most likely. and his love for money is a big part of his character - but is it really the biggest? he says that the only thing you can have faith in is money, which i have no doubt is his actual philosophy, but he still backs away from asuma and his bounty (which it’s clearly been shown that he wants) when pain calls them back to ame. hidan complains and tries to bargain for more time, but kakuzu shuts him up and falls back immediately. this could’ve easily been a moment where he too tells pain that they need more time, but no.

because kakuzu is loyal. one could even be so bold as to call him loyal to a fault, especially in the past and even more especially given his past. that loyalty is what allowed takigakure to betray him in the past, yet he still shows pain that very same loyalty. he even tells hidan that the mission they were given by pain is absolute - another thing that is very unexpected, given his backstory.

so what does this tell us? that kakuzu believes in akatsuki's plans, or at the very least has a lot of respect for pain. (this plan being nagato's original, not any of the three-or-four-different-plans-in-a-trenchcoat-bullshit that showed up in the war arc.) now, kakuzu is also very obviously jaded from a long life in a world like naruto's, so i'd say it's up to interpretation how much faith he actually had in akatsuki, but do you really think he'd stay if he didn't see himself getting anything out of it in the end?

and that brings me very-much-not-seamlessly to my next point: he's not as uncaring as he acts, and this is best illustrated through his relationship with hidan.

now, when you look at their relationship, the general consensus would be that they hate each other. and once you look a little deeper, it seems like hidan cares more then kakuzu. according to some sources, he only joined the akatsuki because of kakuzu, and he openly shows concern for him in the fight versus team 10 + kakashi. but what's often overlooked here is that kakuzu does the same, and that's likely because you have to look even deeper to see it.

on the surface, kakuzu seems to be at the very least annoyed with hidan at all times. he berated him and talks down to him most of the time, and hidan retaliates. they seem to be at each other’s throats most of the time. but kakuzu has a lot of faith in hidan’s abilities. the minute hidan gets his curse on asuma, kakuzu’s thoughts are about how he’s 35 million ryo richer, which shows that he truly believed that hidan had it in the bag. the same goes for the fight with team 10 + kakashi - when they get separated, kakuzu openly expresses that he believes that hidan will kill shikamaru. he also shows concern for hidan, which is best shown, again, in the fight with team 10 + kakashi. kakuzu might not show it as openly as hidan does, but he does care about him. unfortunately, since we get to see so little of them, this is the best example i’ve got and we can only speculate how this care extended to the other members of the akatsuki.

which brings me to the next thing i want to touch upon - his anger and how it’s presented to us. or rather, not presented, because it’s an informed flaw.

the kakuzu we’re told about through other characters is apparently famous for entering a murderous rage every time something annoys him, but the kakuzu we’re shown doesn’t match this. the kakuzu we see is jaded, stoic, and grumpy, but he’s never mad. the most we get is him taking a single swipe at hidan after he griped about a bounty, but that was just in the anime. we know that he’s killed four former partners in this murderous rage of his, but he never shows a sign of being even close to snapping in the manga. and yet this “anger” is what most of the fandom chooses to cling to when it comes to him, which i think is because it’s something that can be observed from how other characters talk about him and not something that you need to observe from him. still, kakuzu’s murderous rage is an informed flaw, which i think is disconnected from how he’s presented to us, especially when we dig a little deeper.

in the end, i don’t really have a conclusion to all of this. it was mostly a way for me to point things out that most people might’ve not noticed. but in the end, this is just my personal interpretation of all these little things, and i’m not trying to claim that it’s the only correct one, but i’m just saying - i believe that there is more to him under the surface.

[thesillymask]

Hiii!

I recently found your blog and you're literally the first person I found who writes for Abel, I actually love you for that!

Anyways, may I please request an Abel x gender neutral or fem reader who is a singer? (it can be just headcanons) The rest is up to you!

Thank youuu! <3

aaaaw thank you! I'm happy to be the first to write about Abel. I looked in several places and didn't find anything about Abel x reader/Y/N, so I decided to do it myself ✨

I made headcanons because I love making headcanons!

Abel x NB!Singer!Reader Headcanons

warnings: My versions of Eve and Abel's siblings

Aaaw the music, one of the most beautiful and incredible creations ever... Abel was one of the first children to discover music, along with his brother (cough cough- Cain- cough cough). He listened to the sweet songs his mother sang, so soft and comforting...

Adam had already made a stringed instrument with wood, branches, string and other things, and Abel watched his father play from afar. He liked the sound his father's invention made, it was so different... And little Abel found himself very fascinated by it.

Abel remembers like it was yesterday when he created his own stringed instrument, Cain helped him make it and he was so happy and excited. Of course, when he played it for the first time, it didn't go great... But he was a determined boy, and he trained until he perfected his talent with the instrument.

Now back to the present, how did Abel meet you? Well, he met you at a show you were performing in heaven, so cliché~ Norea was bugging him to go out to see a show that was going to be on that night, and he simply gave in.

So there he was, in a crowd of winners and other angels waiting for the show to start. He was nervous because he was so out of place at that moment... And that's when the show started, the screams of enthusiasm from the crowd were almost deafening, and the screams that Norea was giving next to him were no better. He was about to say he didn't want to be there anymore and leave, until You appeared on stage and the music started.

He was surprised to see you singing, your voice was... Divine... Simply divine... The way you sang the song with so much passion while the sounds and instruments played along. he found himself so enchanted by the scene before him, his eyes practically glowed and this did not go unnoticed by Norea

At the end of the show Norea was practically dragging him backstage to come and talk to you. Abel was extremely nervous and panicked, trying to make his sister stop and for them to just go home, but she is persistent. It was then that you heard from one of the security guards that two of the first man's sons wanted to speak to you, which was quite shocking to say the least.

Abel was blushing and nervous while Norea was praising you and talking about how amazing the show was, then she mentioned that Abel was very amazed by the show and started to talk about Abel having a big passion for music too and started talking about how you two would get along. Abel was so nervous and embarrassed about this, what was Norea's problem!?

Amazingly enough, you two actually became friends, and then it evolved into a relationship. he should thank Norea for that

The love that both had for music was something that made you both connect so quickly and intensely. Sometimes Abel would just sit next to you in some quiet place and start playing his guitar while you started singing softly. Abel started listening to your songs, he loved hearing you voices.

Before, was it Norea who dragged him to see yours show? Well, now he was the one who dragged others to see his beautiful beloved sing! He wanted to show his friends and siblings how talented and amazing his beloved was.

He would definitely be your number one fan, screaming louder than everyone else and competing with the others in the audience to be at the front of the stage so he could see you.

He would always go backstage at the end of your shows to praise you and shower you with hugs and kisses. He is so sweet to his beloved singer.

If you let him, he will hang out in your dressing room while you get ready for a show, he will help you if he can and tell you how beautiful you look.

"This is my favorite singer! Now go on that stage and show everyone how amazing you are, angelcakes!"

Oh if you create a song dedicated to him... Oh man, He'll turn into a euphoric and emotional puppy, He will cling to you and tell you how much he loves you and then point out to everyone that the song was dedicated to him.

Yay! Finally some Headcanons! I love writing my Headcanons!

And thank you very much for the 100 likes and 10 followers! I didn't expect to get so many followers and likes with only 4 posts, thank you very much! I'm happy to know that you like my posts! 💖

[melatonindeficient]

random not so random arcane parallel or whatever this is

One of my favourite arcane relationships is that between viktor, jayce, and Mel (and not just cause them plus me is my dream polycule).

But another thing about them is how their storylines are so very different yet so deeply similar and intertwined and one of the reasons why is because they, more than anyone, time and time again share the theme that you can't escape where you come from.

I say them more than anyone else because they practically have entire seasons dedicated to that sentiment. Season one is them attempting to escape who they are (jayce, a scientist, Viktor, a person from the undercity, Mel, her family and that past) while season two is them being forced to look that past in the eye and embrace it.

The thing is, this embracing ends up not being for the better with Viktor because in returning to the undercity he feels indebted to "heal" it and then the whole wide world goes to shit. On the other hand, Mel and Jayce are forced to look their demons in the eye and work through them. Mel's case is more obvious, but with Jayce, though he doesn't go back to being a scientist (he can't really do so given the circumstances) and still takes on a leadership role, he does revert back to his initial dream of progress. He does something good for Piltover. That's all he wanted.

But though it was for the worse with Viktor (until the last literal five minutes of the show when he rethought his values and his actions thanks to Jayce) and for the better with Mel and Jayce, it takes elevation for Viktor and degradation for the other two for this change to happen. There is a parallel between Mel and Jayce in which they are both stuck at the bottom of a cave of sorts, and Viktor is quite literally floating in his paradise. It's a sort of heaven and hell, but strange because in this situation Mel and Jayce have little reason to be punished so severly (or at least, if they are being punished so should the eugenist but whatever). I guess it could be commentary on what one deserves based on whether or not they do something about their preconceived beliefs and the circumstances of their birth (because we know that they think pilties = good, zaunites = bad when it's actually the other way around) but that's a whole nother conversation.

But again, the whole heaven hell thing shows that the only way for them (particular Viktor and Jayce in this situation) to undergo great change was to see life from the perspective of someone, at least symbolically, opposite from them (as in going from the top to the bottom of society and vice versa). And it's even odder because the great change that they experience is literally just a reversion to who they were supposed to be from the start. They had to see life in an opposite way to go back to being the same.

It also shows that a person of a "lower class" can be elevated to the heights of heaven and we can call them a success (because they are) but there will forever be something wrong if someone is placed below someone else. All it proves is that the existence of a class with more power than another is bullshit.

Ekko (and alternate Powder) says that sometimes the only way to move forward is to leave some stuff behind but with Mel, Jayce, and Viktor the only way to move forward was to quite literally do the opposite: they had to reaccept what they'd left behind to do some good, real good in the world.

[mutalieju]

Finished Paul Jenkins run of Hellblazer on this reread.

It's... Okay? It has some great moments for sure (Constantine shitting out his alcoholism and guilt in a public toilet to make a clone of himself was great, the issue about John being an unreliable narrator was good... in general lot of the single issue stories are good like the one where john spirals because he accidentally killed his girlfriend's pet fish and hallucinates plane crashes etc, catastrophizing about it. )

Sean Phillip's art is good, Warren Pleece's less so, not enough gross and interesting visuals, no trippy disturbing imagery for the most part. Some of the stuff a more... experimental artist could have done more with. I feel like Pleece's caricaturish art style especially really undersold some of the body horror for example with the ghost with a hole in her head etc.

Dani is underutilized and underwritten, unfortunately. Jenkins does approach the racist aspects of british national identity in an earlier issue with the black woman who is not welcome in the fantasyland of british folklore but then it just doesn't come up with Dani at all until they visit her family in the US.

Underutilizing Dani is one of jenkins's main sins in this run tbh...

Just in general Jenkins has the tendency to play it safe so it doesn't take any big swings. Like lot of the time when white writers have talked about racism in Hellblazer it has been Bad but at least it was trying, even if it fell on its face. Jenkins on the other hand loves to play with concepts like royal bloodlines having mythical properties without stopping to consider the implications, all the while having supposedly sympathetic characters throwing slightly racist jokes around.

The same thing with female characters too. Apart from its nasty treatment of Ellie (which is bad!) the misogyny tends to be more subtle and come in the form of sidelining female characters, especially when it revisits older storylines.

It's still certainly better than most new 52 stuff John has been involved in. I liked how Jenkins wrote John's relationships with kids and how his guilt over Astra influences them. I really liked him becoming a godfather and being horrified by the responsibility.

I liked some arcs. I think Critical Mass is still my favourite of his.

It's nice to tie up the Astra stuff for sure and I enjoy the tone of the arc where it's hopeless most of the time including at the end despite handing out John a massive victory and bringing the Newcastle thing to a close.

As far as the supporting cast goes I enjoyed the guy who was addicted to personalities and summoning famous dead people to get possessed by them and also the epileptic grandma.

The run ends pretty weakly with a literal deus ex machina and while I think it works well especially as a setup for the next writer to take over it's not really earned.

[nebula-remnants]

who wants to hear me ramble About a dca au? of course you do

so quick warning it's a sun x moon au/fic in the works. mainly doing this because I need to brainworms OUTTTT so I can temporarily focus on another sun x moon fic I'm working on with my buddy, @alynwrench.

(tiny tid bit from my current rough draft just as a showoff)

"Nonetheless, Show me your thorns, I'll show mine. I can’t promise I'll acknowledge the sharpness of mine nor the way your body withers and spreads its infection. We’ll embrace and till the end of our time we’ll slowly pierce through one another without taking the time to understand why. What starts as a harmless prick will grow until it’s too late to pull apart, too late to take any of it back."

Long have I been absolutely obsessed with psychology and accurately representing different sides to it. this has eventually lead me to where I am now, making a giant ass fic about a silly comfort ship. I've seen the ship interpreted all sorts of ways but when I look at them I see two stubborn and opposing characters that conflict so harshly yet hold the potential to be something truly loving if in the right environment. (COUGH this au is gonna have a lot of angst...)

this Au is going to cover serious topics, and keep a heavy focus on the psychological aspects and needs of a relationship, especially when trauma is introduced. Things are going to get MESSY, but I hope to end it off nicely when the time comes. (to be even more obvious I plan for this to be major hurt/comfort. I won't torture you guys FOREVER, there will be a happy ending. I at least hope that INTERESTS A FEW PEOPLE)

is it gonna stray from canon severely? yeah, but over time i've learned not to care as much. it's fanon made content, all of it strays from canon interpretation in some form. I know I got people's hopes up in the past, but I truly find myself in the middle ground of being obsessed with either side. All I hope is that I represent their personalities accurately enough in a way people can agree, even if it's in a completely different context.

I hope when I finally have everything together and I can share more about it. I kind of wanted whatever I said about this project to be better put together but I guess it's not time for an official introduction yet. I will say to anyone that read this far thank u for listening to me yap teehee, I'm getting really close with a draft I feel like I can finalize. i've been, very critical about this project your honor.

[chirpsythismorning]

The way fans on the st sub are almost all in agreement Nancy ending up with neither Jon nor Steve wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, and how they can even come up with a sleuth of reasons as to why, honestly pretty valid and fair reasons, but then are absolutely gobsmacked when fans merely speculate something along those lines for El is, quite something.

[everymadara]

Chapter 625

[tortoisesshells]

burke for character bingo please <3

Burke Devlin

Character Opinions Bingo