#First of all there’s the ever present “if you killed yourself then you wouldn’t have seen this” that I hear when I see something

[caterpillarinacave]

Just saw the northern lights in my backyard I am having a moment

[luvsupa]

“SHALL WE RESUME, MY LADY?”

tags: heianera!sukuna, trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, kissing, servants are bullies :(, BLOOD + KILLING, smut-ish (?), ANGST, readers called little one, my lady, my queen, sukuna lovessss reader but doesn’t wanna show it.

w.c: 1.8k

a/n:ITS BEEN LONG SINCE I WROTE PART 3 FOR SUKUNAAA, so pls read (part 1 + part 2) to understand this :p (or don’t 😔)

-part 1 was my first ever story so pls don’t mind the terrible writing 🤕

+ likes and reblogs are appreciative!!

for weeks now, since your intimate encounter with sukuna in his chambers, his words have echoed relentlessly in your mind:

“you belong to me, mind, body, and soul.”

unable to shake his haunting assertion, you find yourself lost in a fog during your duties, drawing the king’s scorn for your clumsiness—pathetic, he silently judges.

you’ve been desperately trying to avoid sukuna, feeling his ominous presence lurking near the servants’ quarters, dangerously close to your room. each night, you pretend to be asleep, hoping he won’t enter.

uraume and the other servants and concubines have noticed your distraction, their whispers and spiteful glances intensifying your growing distress.

just as you’re lost in your thoughts, walking towards the grand kitchen, you feel yourself being harshly pushed—nearly losing your balance. you turn to face the two brunettes who always accompany sukuna in his chambers.

“look at her,” one sneers, her voice dripping with contempt. “she looks even more pitiful than usual. you’d think she’d try harder, especially with tomorrow’s annual gift-giving ceremony.”

your heart drops, and you feel the blood drain from your face as the realization hits you—you had completely forgotten about it. shit.

the other brunette catches your expression and smirks, leaning closer.

“oh, you did not know?” she mocks, her eyes glinting with malicious pleasure. “did you truly forget? lost in your own little world? pathetic. do not think sukuna-sama has not noticed your incompetence. if i were you, i would be prepared to face his wrath tomorrow.”

before you can respond, the brunettes walk away, laughing cruelly amongst themselves. fear grips you as you stand there, contemplating the consequences of your forgetfulness. this time, he might seek to end my life.

sukuna spared your life once before, but now? you’ve truly done it.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

morning arrives, finding you sleepless and anxious, having spent the night wrestling with decisions on what gift would appease the king of curses. regret gnaws at you—you could have been better prepared.

if only you had listened to uraume’s instructions, you wouldn’t be scrambling now to please sukuna.

a loud groan escapes you, not just from lacking a suitable offering but from the impending threat of losing your life in front of everyone.

your thoughts shatter as your door creaks open. uraume enters, carrying a basket laden with ceremonial attire.

“sukuna-sama will return soon from his mission,” uraume states matter-of-factly, approaching your bedside and handing you the basket. your gaze fixes on the black and gold kimono. “in the meantime, prepare your gift for our king,” they remind you, prompting your heart to skip a beat. you nod gratefully as uraume exits the room.

you linger, captivated by the elegance of the wooden basket. slowly, an idea begins to take shape.

i hope this idea will work…

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you hurriedly slip into the black and gold kimono uraume handed you, the fabric draping elegantly over your curves as you smooth out its silk folds.

grabbing the basket, you rush out of your room, navigating through the crowded hallways filled with servants, concubines, and guards all preparing to present their gifts to the king.

anxiety grips you as the chatter rises, signaling the ceremony may have already begun. finally reaching the garden, you drop to your knees, swiftly gathering orchids, red camellias, and wisterias.

heart pounding, you carefully arrange the brightly coloured flowers in the basket, leaving space for more. glancing around the vast garden for inspiration, you freeze as you spot a familiar figure in the distance, surrounded by guards and soldiers.

shit.

your pulse quickens as sukuna approaches the estate. you force yourself to calm down, needing clarity to finish your task.

turning to the fruit garden, you ignore the dirt on your kimono as you hurriedly gather peaches, oranges, and pomegranates from the trees, arranging them neatly in the basket.

with your last-minute gift finally perfected, you hope he will at least appreciate the effort. as cheers and applause erupt, signaling sukuna’s arrival, you hasten back to join the line of gift-givers, heart still racing with fear.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the ceremony unfolds in a chamber unfamiliar to you, far larger than sukuna’s usual domain, filled with hundreds and hundreds of servants seated on comfortable cushions, rows of expectant faces awaiting the ceremony’s commencement.

as you wait nervously, you glance around at the lavish offerings others have brought—paintings, gleaming gold jewelry, fine silk robes, ancient artifacts, perfumes, and oils. in contrast, your basket of fruits and flowers seems painfully simple.

whispers and snickers ripple through the crowd, directed at your low-value gift, almost insulting to the king, as the laughter grew louder and more pointed. the embarrassment increases, now overwhelming you.

“silence.”

his voice cuts through the room like thunder, instantly quieting the chatter as all heads bow. only you remain defiantly gazing at sukuna from his elevated throne. he looks magnificent, his towering frame draped in a dark cotton robe that accentuates his scarlet eyes—those unsettling eyes that draw you in despite your fear.

“do you consider yourself more worthy than others to not bow?”

his voice pierces through you, shocking you out of your thoughts. you hadn’t realized you were staring at him so openly. a nearby servant nudges your head down forcefully, a silent command to acknowledge sukuna’s authority.

uraume then signals the first row to approach sukuna with their gifts. as he settles into his throne, one of his lower eye fixates on you with a chilling intensity, reminding you of the difference of ground upon which you stand.

the two brunettes, who supposedly despised you, were the first to present their gifts. all eyes watched as they offered lavish amounts of gold and diamonds to sukuna. you couldn’t help but notice the satisfaction that spread across his face, a subtle amusement evident as he casually placed the gift with one of lower arms behind him.

they took their places on either side of his throne, making way for the next in line. as the line shortened, your turn approached rapidly.

you watched with nervous anticipation as sukuna accepted one of the servants gifts— the beautifully sculpted artifacts and golden treasures—

slash!

the servant’s head was cleanly severed, a loud thud echoing through the room. gasps filled the air as the shock spread through the assembled crowd. some of the seasoned servants were used to sukuna’s impulsive acts, but this was the first time you had witnessed such brutality. blood splattered across his face, yet he remained unfazed, awaiting the next offerings.

you covered your mouth, stifling a scream of horror. the fear of becoming the next victim intensified as you compared your gift to the high valued gift he had just received.

how could he appreciate your offering if he did not enjoy the artifacts?

you were on edge, continuously hearing numerous slash and thuds that kept racing your heart. his gaze seemed to linger on you, intensifying your dread.

unaware that it was your turn next, you suddenly found yourself on the elevated floor, your gift clearly visible to all below. laughter erupted among the watching servants, their anticipation of your downfall.

you felt all four of his eyes fixated on you, observing your trembling form, your eyes flickering nervously as you struggled to stay composed. stepping cautiously over a puddle of blood, you nervously approached his throne.

with trembling hands, you presented the basket of flowers and fruits. below, the two brunettes knelt, their mocking laughter ringing in your ears.

sukuna silently observed the basket, his large hands delicately holding the tiny fruits. he plucked out peaches, pomegranates, and oranges with two hands while the other two hands carefully examined the flowers, bringing them to his nose to inhale their earthly fragrance. then, to your surprise, sukuna’s lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“little one,” he said in a low velvety voice that sent shivers down your spine. “you surprise me.” 

the crowd exchanged puzzled glances, uncertain of how to interpret sukuna’s unexpected reaction. the two kneeling servants looked up at sukuna in disbelief, their faces turning pale as they realized their own gifts, despite their value, had not elicited such a response.

sukuna carefully placed everything back into the basket, then lifted a ripe peach to his lips. his intense gaze locked onto yours as he took a deliberate bite, savouring the sweetness. loudly humming at the sweet taste.

unexpectedly, two of sukuna’s free hands reached out and gently grabbed your waist. you squealed in surprise at the sudden contact as sukuna swiftly spun you around, placing you on his lap with your back is against his chest. his third hand delicately tilted your chin, looking up towards him.

“‘kuna…” you began, mindlessly calling him by a forbidden nickname. but his lips cut off your words in a hungry kiss. the taste of peach lingered on his lips, blending with the sweet intensity of the moment. his kiss was fierce, brimming with a raw passion.

sukuna’s large hand snakes up to the crevice of your neck, and to your surprise, another mouth formed on his hand, trailing down to suck and kiss a sensitive spot on your neck. a soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by his kiss, and he grinned at your reaction.

the brunettes stared up at the two of you with utter jealousy, never having received such intimacy from their king. the entire room gaped in shock; they had never witnessed the king of curses succumb so readily to a mere servant.

sukuna then pulls away, leaving you dizzy from the closeness. his presence seems to envelop you, making you feel intoxicated by his mere touch. with a gentle touch, sukuna adjusts your slouched posture, his hands holding you firmly against his broad chest. leaning down, he kisses your ear softly.

“you will judge which gift is worthy,” he begins, his closeness making your head spin even more. “if anything displeases you, I will take care of it,” he murmurs, hinting at even more slashes. another hand snaking up to your neck, softly applying pressure to restore your stability.

if anything you feel a rush of arousal.

“i will obey your every command, my queen. i am yours to command,” he declares softly, causing you to whimper in response. gasps fill the room as they witness the king of curses submitting himself to you.

“shall we resume, my lady?”

[sweetfushi]

Hi there!! I would like to request akaashi, iwa, and kenma x reader when he caught reader simping about him to her friends eventhough they haven’t date yet..

🏕anon

HE CATCHES YOU TALKING ABOUT HIM.

fluff | keiji akaashi, hajime iwaizumi, kozume kenma x reader, mentions of a breakdown but nothing happens | word count. 1.9k ◦ notes. my first named nonnie :o

KEIJI AKAASHI.

“I’ve only ever seen him in two places; in class and in the school gym. I’ve never actually interacted with him in either one,” you admit sheepishly to your friends, who are giggling and smacking you in excitement.

“No stop! We’ve talked to him before because we know Bokuto, he’s actually super sweet! He’d totally like you if he doesn’t already– if you just talk to him!”

You practically swoon at the idea, your squeals alongside the similarly high-pitched noises of your friends reverberating through the school’s backfield. Initially you had gathered after class to have snacks and talk after school, but that turned into intense fangirling and wingwoman-ing.

“He’s so cute I could just- agh,” you whine, rubbing your palms on your eyes as you pout at the near certainty of never being able to be with him. He’s so out of your league; playing for the school’s volleyball team, being friends with one of the most popular guys in school, having the calm demeanour that practically every girl looks for in a man. If he wasn’t seeing someone already, you likely still wouldn’t be in his list of romantic options.

Alongside the aforementioned and your lack of spatial awareness, you’re entirely oblivious to the person approaching the bench you’re sitting on, until one of your friends has to grab your face to make you stop talking - stop talking about the very person who’s now observing you curiously. You don’t take the hint until you hear Akaashi clear his throat from behind you and bend down to pick up the volleyball that landed by your feet.

“Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh,” is all he receives from you in response, to which he smiles kindly. A smile that has you inches away from bursting into tears about how much you miss someone who isn’t yours.

He eyes you once more before jogging back to the corner in which he and Bokuto appeared to be practising, your eyes following him as he did so and observing his every jog and step.

Following that interaction, your group falls silent for a few seconds, until you slam your head onto the bench table and let a muffled scream rip from your throat - enough to express your humiliation but also keep it among your friends, unlike your previous conversation.

“Kill me, I can’t ever look that man in the eyes again. Do it now, quick and painless while I’m not ripping my hair out.”

One of your friends snorts out a laugh and smacks the top of your head. “Girl, as if you could ever look that man in the eyes. Don’t worry about it, he was smiling.”

At that, your head snaps up and you launch yourself across the bench until your face is centimetres away from your friend’s. “Was he really? Don’t lie to me, I didn’t see him smiling.”

She shakes her head. “That’s because you were too busy wallowing in your self-pity and staring at us to realise. He walked off like he got the biggest birthday present of his life.”

And as told, Akaashi had jogged back to Bokuto with a massive grin, rather uncharacteristic of the man who typically - at most - cracked an amused smile. Thus, when Bokuto sees him coming back with such an expression, the ball becomes the last of his concerns. He leans over to observe Akaashi closely, humming curiously.

“Did something happen?”

“Ah, nothing really. Don’t worry about it.”

“Akaashi.”

“Bokuto.”

The owl-like man groans and snatches the ball in mock frustration, to which Akaashi chuckles and gently pats him on the back. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to inform anyone that he’d started grinning at the mere sound of you giggling about the prospect of interacting with him.

HAJIME IWAIZUMI.

For the past ten minutes, you and your friends had entered a routine of squealing about the prospect of being Iwaizumi’s lover and shushing each other when the excitement became too loud. Eventually, it reached a point where the latter was no longer done - no one was supervising the volume of your swooning and dreaming.

“He’s so dreamy,” you sigh, resting your right cheek on your right fist.

“And jacked, I mean he could probably pick you up easily,” one of your friends comments, waggling her eyebrows and laughing at the drastic change of colour in your face.

You’ve interacted with Iwaizumi a few times, enough to classify him as a friend, but not enough that you’d expect to see him frequently or even anticipate him thinking about you. In actuality, the man doesn’t go a day without you crossing his mind, to the point where he starts questioning where the hell he developed his interest for you from. That’s not to say you’re not an intriguing person, just that he hadn’t had a serious conversation with you that wasn’t interrupted by something - whether that was the both of you needing to head to class or Oikawa yelling his name.

“I’m telling you, I’m getting taller, you asshat,” Iwaizumi grumbles to a very tired and sluggish Oikawa.

“And I’m telling you I don’t care whether that’s true or not as long as you’re still a reliable spiker.”

Iwaizumi smacks the top of his head with a passion so strong it would seem as though the two were words away from killing each other.

The two continue to walk through the school’s lengthy corridors until they approach the gym’s open doors. A message was sent out to the Seijoh team group chat, following which all that came as responses were thumbs up reactions to the message. At least they weren’t ignoring it.

As the two men walk into the gym and toss their bags in a corner, Oikawa can hear chatter and laughter from people other than him and Iwa, sufficient enough to distract him from the impending practice match. After greeting the others and agreeing on a rotation for the game, Iwaizumi’s ears perk up at the sound of his name. He knows it doesn’t come from his lot since they’re too busy stretching to care, so he’s fairly certain it’s coming from the group of girls he can see in the gym’s far other side - the spot reserved for basketball. His interest is only truly piqued when he notices your familiar face.

Though, he can’t just walk over there and question you.

Matsukawa has his hands on the ball, tossing it into the air and catching it. He’s not really paying attention to what Oikawa is babbling about behind him, so Iwaizumi seizes the opportunity and politely asks for the ball from him. Once Matsukawa hands it over with a heavy sigh prior, Iwaizumi practically launches it to the other side of the gym.

“Oikawa, you absolute trash,” Iwaizumi grumbles with faux annoyance before jogging over to get the ball, providing him with enough of a chance to get within your close proximity and overhear your conversation.

“Iwa’s so hot. I need him as mine so so bad. I die every time he talks to me.”

“That is highly concerning,” Iwaizumi intercepts into the conversation after retrieving the ball, to which you scream and slap your hands over your mouth as if you were caught leaking confidential information (which isn’t too far from the truth).

Your friends are gaping and avoiding eye contact with both you and Iwa in an attempt to appear apathetic to the whole situation, something they fail at tremendously.

“T-That was not about you,” you sputter.

Iwaizumi raises a brow and feigns consideration, though he doesn’t say anything to point out the fact that there is no other Iwaizumi in the school, let alone one that talks to you. “I’d hope not. Wouldn’t want you dead now, hm?”

And that’s all he says before flashing you a knowing smile and heading back to his group.

KOZUME KENMA.

The bell above the door jingles as you step into Ukai’s shop. You wave at him as he lights a cigarette and dusts his hands off on his apron. Other than a sweet treat, you’re not sure what else you want and it certainly doesn’t help that you’re a group call with your friends. As usual, you grab your favourite sweet before starting to survey the shop’s contents; from bread to ramen to buns. All the while, you catch sight of Ukai scrolling uninterestedly on his phone.

“I know he’s quiet but trust me, I’ve seen how he is with Kuroo and he’s just reserved,” you retort to your friends as they question your interest in Kenma. “Shut up, I know you guys have all met and talked to him, you know how he is,” you laugh. They all have chemistry together and always tell you about how depressed the blond looks in class.

“Heeey, boss. Heard you’ve taken’ on Karasuno. We’re headed over there now and I wanted to give ya’ my condolences,'' you hear Kuroo tell Ukai, followed by a loud exhale from the latter. Where there’s Kuroo, there’s usually Kenma, so you instantly tense up and feel self-conscious about your appearance and the way you carry yourself.

“If this game is a waste of my time you’re buying dinner,” Kenma finally grumbles.

You feel your heart pound faster and a squeal bubble in your throat. It’s ironic that his tone is that of disinterest yet you’re so very interested in the smoothness of it.

“Guys, he’s here right now,” you whisper into the mic of your earphones.

“No way!”

“Is Kuroo with him? Tell him I said hi!”

“Just your luck, huh?”

You try to tune their comments out in an attempt to steady your breathing before they turn to the aisle you’re in and catch you having a near-breakdown. You’ve never really talked to Kenma one-on-one, Kuroo has always been there. Not that you have anything against the charismatic captain - and it’s not as if you have the courage to talk to Kenma alone. That was slightly juxtaposing in that little to no courage is required to talk to someone who’s of little words.

You finally catch sight of him getting what appears to be his usual, considering how fast he locates the items and tosses them into the basket Kuroo is holding. You continue to walk down the aisle you’re in, in search of a new drink to try.

“Guys, Kenma likes the same pie I do. We’re so meant to be together,” you giggle into the mic, to which your friends sigh and verbally reprimand you for your delusional theories.

“Excuse me.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice behind you, but move out the way. Kenma grabs one of the drinks he’s eyeing and surveys it in his hand. When he glances at you, his eyes widen to attention. “Hey, it’s you.”

Smiling awkwardly, you nod. “Yeah.”

“Were you just talking about me? I heard my name.”

“Huh,” you say dumbfoundedly, before acknowledging the fact that Kenma had just heard you giggle about your mutual taste for apple pies. “Oh, u-uh, I just noticed that we like the same pies.”

He nods, convinced that you were simply talking to yourself and not giggling to your friends about how in love you are with him. “Have you tried this drink? I don’t know if it’s good,” he asks you.

You’re still a bit dumbfounded by the whole situation and he notices, which is why he waves a hand in your face and calls your name. All you register is that Kuroo now approaches behind him and snickers knowingly at your expression.

“Oh, blondie, you’re so oblivious.”

“Huh? To what?”

“Exactly.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[subskz]

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 01

note: this is part 1 of a series (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, strangers to friends to lovers, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, a bit of pining, kissing, slight suggestiveness but sfw (eventually nsfw)

summary: after the past three years you’ve had, whether or not you make it through the fourth all comes down to a single thread. fortunately, you find that thread, with chan on the other end. now, it’s just a matter of who needs it more—you, or him.

word count: 15.7k

By the time the spring semester of your senior year rolled around, you were coming apart at the seams.

It was subtle, not something anyone else would notice—you wouldn’t let them. Angling and maneuvering yourself so that it could never be visible to others was a skill that came all too naturally.

Still, you knew it wasn’t a question of if those seams would ever come completely loose, it was a question of when.

The past three years had been a near-constant fight to keep yourself afloat, with each one lining up to present a brand new, life-altering event tailored just for you. Two of which seemed like the end of the world, and one that truly was.

A heartbreak of your own volition. The loss of someone irreplaceable. Another heartbreak for good measure, also of your own volition. With the number of lessons the universe had packed in for you, you were certain that you’d be able to pass on to your next life without any problems.

Third time's the charm.

That was how the saying went, but for your own sake, you had to enter your final year of university stubbornly clinging to the hope that surely, fourth time would be the charm instead.

Incidentally, charm did come, in the form of Bang Christopher Chan.

It had begun with the most trivial of interactions. On the first day of your PHYS 408: Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics course, out of breath and—despite the cool February air—nearly working up a sweat from racing around the physics building like some kind of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshman, you’d made the very innocuous decision to take the first empty seat you could find. Near the back of the class, close to the door; the perfect spot for someone looking to get their credits in and clock out.

What you’d failed to notice until after you’d sat down, however, was the brooding statue of a boy occupying the chair right next to yours, resting his cheek on his hand and staring at the whiteboard with a look so fierce you would think it had personally wronged him somehow.

Seo Changbin. You’d seen him around more than once, having shared a handful of classes with him over the years, but never daring to approach him. You weren’t exactly someone you’d describe as faint of heart, but something about his muscular build and intense gaze, always made darker by the shadow of a cap, had you wary enough to keep a distance.

Not that it was difficult to steer clear of him, anyway, when he was the last to arrive and the first to leave as soon as each lecture hit its designated time limit—and that was if he’d even shown up to begin with.

You still remembered the first thing you’d noticed after settling down next to him, that being, that he was surprisingly much shorter than you’d initially thought. All those times you’d spotted him from afar, tapping along to the beat of his music or killing time in the activity center between classes, had given you the impression that he was as gifted in height as he was in muscle.

That didn’t change the fact that his intimidating presence more than made up for it, and you had taken great care to not veer into his personal space when you slipped your notebook and pencils out of your bag to prepare for what was sure to be a grueling learning experience.

The second thing you’d noticed about Changbin, was that he himself didn’t have a bag—or any kind of work materials, for that matter. There he sat on the first day of class, with nothing but a caseless Samsung S23 Ultra, a pair of headphones, and a ridiculously large bottle of what you’d assumed to be some kind of energy drink. It was almost impressive, in a way, how he hadn’t even tried to fool himself into thinking he’d be productive this semester.

You’d heard horror stories from your upperclassmen about this Thermodynamics professor. His strict grading criteria and endless list of hyper-specific rules were enough to make anyone with your degree plan dread taking his course; the most notable of said rules being that he prohibited any and all forms of technology in his classroom. It hadn’t taken long for him to single out every student who had dared to present even the tiniest flash of fiberglass around him, and Changbin was no exception.

In retrospect, it should’ve been inevitable to you that twenty minutes into the introductory lecture, he’d lean over and awkwardly ask you if he could borrow a pencil.

Wordlessly, you’d nodded and passed him a complimentary sheet of paper along with your pencil bag, allowing him to choose for himself. To your astonishment, he’d reached for your pink, Sanrio-themed mechanical pencil without a single moment of hesitation, whispering his thanks.

You’d never thought a smirk could be described as shy before you saw his. It was unexpected, coming from someone who looked like he bent iron bars for fun, but a welcome surprise regardless.

What had been even more surprising, was that this strange affinity for cuteness wasn’t a one time thing for him—not even close. With every passing Tuesday and Thursday morning you spent in his company, you soon came to discover that the Seo Changbin you’d created in your mind and the Seo Changbin existing before you were two very, very different people.

“You’re here!” he piped, loud enough to turn a few heads in his direction. “I saved you a seat.”

The flimsy, neglected notebook occupying your chair as some kind of placeholder was such a pitiful sight that you couldn’t help but snort.

“The seat I’ve sat in every day since our first class?” you hummed. “Thanks, Bin.”

“You’d better mean that,” he complained. “This place is lawless, someone might get bold one day and take your spot.”

“They’d beg me to take it back after five minutes of your nagging.” You passed his notebook back to him with a grin. It was hardly used and horribly undersized for a course as rigorous as this one, but you still considered it an improvement over the sorry state he’d been in when you first met.

You slipped into the familiar spot, unzipping your bag and preparing your study materials. “Shouldn’t I be the one surprised that you’re here, anyway?” you pointed out. “To what do we owe the honor of Seo Changbin having perfect attendance in an 8:00 a.m. class?”

“You know exactly what,” Changbin shuddered. Beneath the visor of his cap, you saw his eyes dart towards the podium, landing briefly on your demon of a professor. “Besides, senior year and all. It’d be pretty sad to take an extra semester just ‘cause I slacked off.”

You made a small noise of agreement. “So, fear and pressure,” you dropped your pencil bag dramatically on the table. “Now you sound like a real college student.”

Changbin perked up as he spotted the coveted flash of pink amidst your sea of pens and highlighters. “There she is,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Thought I’d have to make it through this quiz without my lucky charm for a sec.”

“You keep calling it that,” you mused, fishing the pencil in question out from your pouch. “What makes it so special?”

Solemnly, he took it from your hand, curling his fingers around the pink plastic with all the grace and delicacy in the world. He gestured for you to lean in closer, as if preparing to share some deep, profound secret with you.

“It never runs out of lead.”

You nodded, putting on your best fascinated face. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d been the one refilling it.

“Plus, I’ve aced every quiz I’ve taken with it so far.” Changbin’s eyes gleamed as he continued. “It’ll get me through midterms for sure.”

You reached out mischievously, threatening to swipe it from his hands. “In that case, I might just use it for myself.”

“Don’t even joke about that!”

Though your mood was light, it still soured the slightest bit at the mention of grades. Of the three quizzes you’d taken so far this semester, Changbin had scored better than you on two of them. It was a silly thing to be bothered by. You knew by now that he wasn’t lacking in intelligence by any means, but you also knew that intelligence alone wasn’t enough when it came to this course—or astrophysics in general. Certain levels of discipline and hard work were just as essential to your success, and it was difficult to ignore the question of what you seemed to be missing in those departments, especially when Changbin came across as so carefree about his studies.

With the way everything else had been crumbling around you since you’d begun university, the last hope you could cling to was at least maintaining your GPA until graduation. It had been the one constant in your life, an oddly comforting escape that you could pour your focus into when all else failed. You couldn’t afford to slip up—to be anything less than exceptional—for even a moment, not when your field of study was so fiercely competitive.

“You’ve definitely been doing well for yourself,” you commented. “It can’t all be thanks to Cinnamoroll, can it?”

“Oh?” the corner of his mouth curved up into a smirk. “Is that your way of complimenting me?”

You rolled your eyes, immediately accepting that you wouldn’t get anywhere without buttering him up first.

“I just think it’s unfair to give my pencil all the credit instead of that genius mind of yours, that’s all.”

Your tone was far too sweet to be natural, and you were sure that Changbin could see right through it. Even if he did, he played along anyway, lifting his chin proudly and letting out a satisfied hum.

“It’s true, it’s true,” he boasted. “Keep going.”

“Beauty, brawn, and brains,” you marveled, throwing a hand over your heart to really sell the idea. “You’re living proof that a guy can have it all.”

It was hard to describe the strange, high-pitched sound he made in response. Whatever it was, it helped your efforts feel just a bit more justified. Changbin scrunched up his nose, suddenly at a loss for words, and you were once again reminded of how utterly laughable it was that just two months ago, you’d found him intimidating.

“Ah, seriously,” he cleared his throat, trying to recover from the momentary lapse in bravado. “Alright, I’ll be honest. I get a lot of help from my friend.”

Your interest piqued, and you inched a bit closer. “Your friend?”

He crossed his arms, looking contemplative, and for a second, you thought he might demand more compliments before going into any further detail.

“He’s a couple years older than us, but still studying. He used to be on the astrophysics track before switching to music composition senior year.”

Your eyes widened a bit, half-perplexed, half-impressed. Astrophysics to music. It was a bold change to say the least, not one you could ever imagine yourself making, especially if it’d been close enough to his graduation that he had to take extra semesters.

A lightbulb flickered to life in your head, effectively cutting off whatever you’d planned to say next. “Wait a minute, music composition? Don’t tell me—?”

Changbin clicked his tongue, that same, sheepish expression creeping its way right back onto his face.

“Yes.”

“The same guy you—?”

“Yes,” he repeated. “Chan. The same guy I make music with.”

No matter how hard you tried, you could never suppress your amusement when you remembered the deeply unserious name Changbin and his friends had chosen for themselves.

“So, he’s one third of the famed 3RACHA,” you said it with a bit too much glee, your smile only widening when he shushed you as if the word were some kind of bad omen.

“Why are you embarrassed? The stuff you’ve shown me is really good.”

“I know.” A genuine compliment amidst your teasing only seemed to fluster him further, and he averted his eyes with a grumble. “Ah, forget it. Can’t believe I was gonna be nice and ask if you wanted to study with us.”

You paused. It was easy to forget sometimes that Changbin could be more observant than he let on. Still, you wondered if your earlier shift in demeanor had really been that obvious.

A part of you, the more prideful part, wanted to dismiss his offer right away. It would be like admitting that you were struggling with the course—which, realistically, you knew was ridiculous to care about when every one of your peers was going through the same thing. If the average class scores that your professor so proudly made known were any indication, it’d be a miracle if you weren’t struggling.

Before you could open your mouth to respond, however, the dull, lifeless voice of Dr. Choi rang out through the room, signaling the beginning of the lecture. You put away your study materials begrudgingly, cursing yourself for becoming too immersed in your chat with Changbin to get any last-minute cramming in.

Changbin, on the other hand, looked relaxed as ever, tapping your pencil lazily against the tabletop while the quizzes were passed out. You braced yourself, mind racing with all the knowledge you’d accumulated over the past weeks as a copy of the deceptively short quiz was slid over to you. It was a mere three questions long, but you’d be lucky if you finished them all in the time given to you.

Your eyes landed on the first Gaussian Probability Distribution word problem, and your head went blank. That was all it took for you to lean over to Changbin and whisper.

“I might have to take you up on that.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Noon couldn’t come fast enough.

Your Thermodynamics quiz, not to mention the lecture that followed, had effectively drained your energy before the clock had even struck 9:00, with a full day of classes and assignments still lined up on the horizon.

As anticipated, you’d barely managed to complete the set of problems, even with all your preparation and practice. It could’ve gone much worse, but it was still enough to solidify your decision to join in on the study sessions Changbin had proposed.

He’d eagerly sorted out the details with you after class, planning to meet later this week at his and Chan’s apartment. It hadn't dawned on you until that moment that the latter of the two would probably be expecting some kind of payment for his tutoring services. After all, him helping Changbin out was one thing, but you were a complete stranger.

Changbin, however, had shut the possibility down as quickly as you’d brought it up. According to him, not only would Chan not ask you for any compensation, he’d outright refuse to accept it, even if you tried.

“The only thing Chan loves more than meeting people is helping them,” he’d told you, sounding so sure of himself that you were inclined to believe it.

Even so, it was a bit odd. A former astrophysics major, making a degree switch as drastic as music composition, and still being willing to revisit the same, headache-inducing subjects he’d so narrowly escaped, for free? The more you learned about this Chan character, the more you began to question what kind of person he really was.

Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you were, in fact, ravenous.

You picked up your pace, drawn in by the welcoming aromas wafting from the campus food court. The feeling of your cell phone vibrating against your thigh made your steps falter a bit, and before you even slipped it out of your pocket, you already had a good idea of who the caller might be.

“Hi, Iseul.”

“Where are you?” she sounded expectant and slightly annoyed, sending your brain on an urgent mission to recall if you’d somehow lost track of plans with her.

“In the student union?” you answered cautiously. “Why?”

You were met with a dramatic huff crackling through the phone speaker.

“I’m outside your place,” she said, as if it were obvious. “Please tell me you didn’t have lunch already. I picked some up for us.”

You blinked, thoroughly confused for what was neither the first nor the last time as to what this girl’s thought process could possibly look like. After two years of friendship, you could confidently say that you had no idea.

“Sorry, did you text me or something?” You pulled your phone away from your ear to open your messages.

“No,” came her reply, tinged with the slightest hint of defensiveness. “But is it so crazy for me to expect you to actually be at your apartment? Y’know, the place where you live?”

“At noon on a Tuesday? A little,” you said plainly. You chose not to bring up the fact that she had to be well aware of your schedule to organize this meeting the very instant your lunch break started.

Another huff. “Well, are you coming or not? There’s a million things I need to talk to you about and I don't know how much longer I can wait here before that security lady accuses me of loitering again.”

You checked the time. It was only a short, ten minute walk to your apartment complex, you could definitely make it before your next lecture.

“Alright, alright. I'm on my way.”

“You’re the best,” her tone changed so abruptly that you almost laughed out loud. “See you soon!”

The call ended before you could get your own goodbyes in. With how quickly she’d hung up, you’d think she had something else to do besides stand around waiting for you to arrive.

Regardless, you hardly felt irritated, well-acquainted with Iseul’s behavior by now.

Your friendship with her had blossomed by pure accident, even with some reluctance on your part. One too many times sophomore year, you’d encountered her in the computer lab at the same ungodly hour as you, battling an army of technical issues with no one around to solve them considering that even the lab assistants had long taken their leave for the night. The first two instances you’d spotted her, slamming her mouse against the desk and cursing violently at her monitor, you’d kept to yourself—albeit with a tinge of guilt—and focused on your own approaching deadlines. After the third time, however, you’d figured the universe was trying to tell you something, and decided to help her out before she rendered every piece of equipment in the lab unusable in her academia-induced fits of rage.

From there, she’d latched on to you in a heartbeat. After all, someone who could help with tasks as incomprehensible to her as troubleshooting Microsoft Excel was sure to be reliable in other areas. On top of that, her newfound interest in you had only doubled when she’d found out that you happened to be living in the newest phase of apartments on campus. Suddenly, she had made the executive decision that you were the best of friends, and that every waking moment of your free time should be spent together at your place.

You might have been offended by her comically transparent motives if you hadn’t discovered soon after that your floorplan was just a few square feet bigger than hers. What she probably wanted most, you’d figured, was a friend.

Your initial misgivings aside, you were grateful to have Iseul in your life. She was someone who could be kept at a safe distance. Not physically, (her constant barging into your space would never allow that) but emotionally. A bit too preoccupied with herself to ever delve into personal matters that you’d rather keep to yourself, but still considerate enough to care about you. At least, in the bare minimum of ways, which was really all you needed from her. She was convenient and comfortable, and you’d long found your rhythm with her despite many labeling her a pain to get along with.

As you began making your way out of the dining hall to meet her, the sight of someone entering from the far side of the building made your heart drop to your stomach.

You froze, suddenly rooted in your place, feet heavy as cinderblocks. It shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you. You were bound to see him again, eventually, whether on campus or through some other unfortunate crossing of paths later down the line. You’d known this and braced yourself for it, too.

Still, no amount of time would’ve ever been long enough.

A very specific type of dread crept up on you, one you hadn’t felt so intensely for almost a year now. But the way it filled up your chest and spread through your skin was all too familiar, like it had never left your system to begin with. Like the kind of person you were before was still inside you, lying dormant.

Resentment and remorse fought for their place in your mind. Somehow, they both felt unjustified. He didn’t deserve to be the target of those emotions, and you didn’t deserve to have them. He hadn’t done anything—that was exactly it: he hadn’t done anything.

You told yourself that you had no right to feel this way. But it didn’t change the fact that he embodied everything you wanted to forget about the past three years.

He hadn’t noticed you yet; at least, you hoped desperately that he hadn’t. You weren’t going to stick around until he did, either. You shook your head, as if to forcibly expel the thoughts before they took root in your brain, and spun on your heels, making your way towards the exit located as far away from him as possible.

In that moment, you were more grateful for Iseul’s impulsive tendencies than ever.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

You rubbed your hands together in an attempt to warm them up, praying that the clouds would hold out until you and Changbin made it to his apartment. It was an unusually cold day by April’s standards, and the sharp winds and ominous gray sky promised a rain that was sure to be bone-chilling for whoever got caught in it.

“Right there,” Changbin pointed at the building you were approaching, finger landing in the direction of a balcony on its third floor. There was a soccer jersey for a team you didn’t recognize hanging off the railing, flapping in the wind so wildly that you were concerned it may fly away altogether. “See, the walk isn’t so bad, right?”

It had been nearly half an hour. Granted, the journey home took longer than expected thanks to Changbin, despite having lived in this complex for two years, still managing to lose his way somehow.

“I’m starting to understand why getting to class on time is so hard for you.”

“I told you, I’ve never taken this route before!” he objected. “I’m just not used to coming from the east side of campus.”

You relented, deciding you’d teased him enough along the way. “It’s alright, it was a bonding experience,” you gave him a playful smile. “I just hope Chan won’t mind that we’re late.”

Changbin waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t worry. He’s probably holed up in his room working right now. Doubt he even knows what time it is.”

It sounded like a dig at the older boy, but there was no hint of scorn in Changbin’s voice, just honest affection.

A strange feeling had been periodically bubbling up inside you all week, and at the mention of Chan, it made its presence known yet again. Whether curiosity or anxiety was at the root of it, you weren’t quite sure, but it grew stronger and stronger with each step you took up to their apartment. By the time you reached the third floor, you found it hard to focus on anything else.

Changbin fumbled with his keys for a moment before unlocking the door and swinging it open. You made note of the plated number on the wall next to you as he did. 8-325.

“Well, we made it in one piece,” he stepped to the side, inviting you in. You accepted with an appreciative nod, and as you slipped off your shoes, your eyes scanned over the living room and kitchen areas in front of you. They were surprisingly neat, with just a few stray socks and water bottles scattered here and there. Even the state of the kitchen sink wasn’t all that bad. No rotting food, no mountain of dishes, no overflowing trashcan.

“Wow,” you murmured, impressed. “It’s clean.”

Changbin snickered at that, as if he’d anticipated your exact reaction. “Minho raises hell if we let it get any worse than this.”

Minho. You’d almost forgotten about their other roommate. Like in the case of Chan, you hadn’t met him, but you’d heard a few things here and there from Changbin. He was a year older than you—a Computer Science major, if you remembered right—but still an undergraduate due to him taking a gap year after high school to work. You wondered if Changbin was some kind of magnet for these people, with his unique balance of childish antics and emotional maturity giving any upperclassmen he came into contact with no choice but to take him under their wing, even sticking around until he graduated like true, responsible older brothers.

“Chan!” Changbin’s voice rang out through the apartment, louder than you thought was probably necessary. “Chan! We’re here!”

There was no response for a minute or so, and just as you shrank back in preparation for another ear-splitting shout from Changbin, you registered the faint sound of a door opening down the hall.

“Coming!”

For some reason, you held your breath.

Shrouded in a mass of black, from his hoodie, to his pants, to the beanie on his head, out shuffled Chan.

He was just an inch or two taller than Changbin, but similarly to him, he had a strong presence. Maybe it was the way his clothes made him look like a walking void, or maybe it was the way he appeared so friendly in contrast to them. His eyes were gentle and his face was weary, but kind. He looked like someone who smiled a lot.

“Sorry,” he pulled his headphones down, letting them rest around his neck. “I lost track of time.”

Changbin gave you a knowing look, as if to remind you that he’d told you so. “It’s okay, I figured.” He conveniently left out the fact that you and him had arrived beyond schedule.

Chan turned to you, tired eyes finding you for the first time. You introduced yourself with a quick dip of your head, and he did the same. You thought it would end at that, but to your surprise, he reached out his hand, wiggling it around slightly to push back the oversized sleeve that had been covering his palm.

“Nice to meet you!” he chirped.

You took his hand, unable to stop yourself from flinching the instant your skin brushed against his.

He was warm. Unnaturally so.

It set off every last one of your nerve-endings, seared through your veins. You might’ve attributed it to his clothing, but all three of you were dressed in thicker attire given the weather. Surely, he had to be cooking up a ridiculous level of heat in that hoodie for his skin to be burning the way it was. On top of that, he didn’t look sweaty or flushed in the slightest. There was just a natural, rosy complexion to his cheeks (which, upon second look, you noted were quite soft in comparison to the rest of his masculine features).

You blinked, realizing with a start how long you’d gone without returning Chan’s greeting.

Changbin bumped his shoulder against yours, and you cringed inwardly. That had to be some kind of record for how fast a first impression could crumble.

“Nice to meet you, too.” you tried to quell the awkwardness, but the way you pulled back all too quickly only seemed to make things worse.

Chan eyed you for a split second longer, his stare flickering down to your hand so briefly that you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it. He flexed his fingers once, then the look of concern on his face morphed into a polite smile.

It was an unfortunate moment for you to notice that he had dimples.

“Is it too toasty in here?” He angled his head towards the thermostat. “I can change it if you’re uncomfortable!”

Just a minute ago, you would’ve told him that you were fine. You’d been perfectly content with your body temperature up until you’d come into contact with the human furnace that was Bang Chan.

You had half a mind to question if he was the uncomfortable one, with all the heat that was practically radiating off of him, but Changbin spoke up first.

“Have you been outside today?” He shivered. “Trust me, this is perfect.”

At that, he strolled over to the kitchen table and plopped down his belongings, looking more prepared to learn than you had ever seen him in class. Chan's smile didn’t waver despite the fact that he obviously hadn’t been asking for Changbin’s opinion, and he exchanged a glance with you, as if you were old pals rolling your eyes over a mutual friend.

You smiled back at him, determined to let this guy believe that you were, in fact, capable of understanding social cues.

“I'm gonna grab my old notes,” he informed you. “Make yourself at home!”

You thanked him quietly, making your way over to the table and joining Changbin in the seat closest to him. As soon as Chan was out of earshot, he nudged you curiously.

“What was that?”

You put on your best neutral front. “What?”

Changbin squinted, eyeing you up and down. “You were acting weird.”

You considered playing dumb, but quickly decided against it. Knowing him, he wouldn’t stop pestering you until you gave him the answer he wanted.

“He was hot,” you shrugged.

“He was what!?”

You tensed up. “No, no, not like that. I mean he was hot, like, physically.”

His mouth hung open, and you weren’t sure what to be more annoyed with: your abysmal choice in words, or his seemingly deliberate misunderstanding of you.

“He felt hot,” you clarified. “Like, his skin. That's all.”

The explanation only seemed to tickle Changbin further, and you elbowed his side irritably, trying to shush his delighted cackles.

“Okay, so, you weren’t acting weird. You just are weird.”

“I'm serious!” you protested.

“He's not better looking than me, is he?” he continued dramatically. “You didn’t do anything like that when we first met.”

You exhaled, composing yourself before you grew defensive over something so ridiculous. “Because your hand didn’t feel like the surface of the sun.”

Changbin nodded solemnly as if he understood, but the look on his face was still completely unconvinced. “Yeah, yeah,” he clicked his tongue. “Just don’t go falling in love with him, alright?”

You snorted, not bothering to dignify him with a response.

That was the last thing you needed—the last thing you wanted, even. To spend another few years building something that you could already predict the demise of. Another few years constructing a tower that you would never even get to see completed, let alone make a home in. Because it was sure to crumble; that was the only thing it could do when its foundation was never fit to support anything to begin with.

The sound of Chan’s approaching footsteps snapped you out of your unpleasant thoughts. He'd taken longer to return than you’d expected, and you could only pray that he hadn’t overheard your conversation with Changbin. He did seem like the type, after all. To pretend like he was still in the other room so that you could be spared the embarrassment of getting caught in the middle of a conversation about him.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

Two notebooks, a laptop, and the colossal textbook required for PHYS 408: Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics—co-written by Dr. Choi himself, of course—were all dropped on the table before you. You felt a glimmer of hope. Chan seemed to be serious about helping out, so much that you wondered if this arrangement truly could be the extra boost you needed to finish the semester with an A.

He settled into the chair opposite you and Changbin. “So, next up is the midterm, yeah? I guess we should start from the beginning.”

“Inexact differentials, please,” Changbin requested. “I still don’t get them.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, lips twitching in amusement. “Since when are you so ready to study?”

“Since we got our new recruit,” he leaned back in his chair. “There’s less pressure on me now that your wrath is split between us.”

You let a soft chuckle slip at that, trying to imagine what it might take to anger someone who appeared as good-natured as Chan. Said boy cleared his throat, looking a bit embarrassed.

“I swear, I’m not that harsh.”

You nodded, fully aware of Changbin’s talent for exaggeration. “I don’t think anything can scare me after Dr. Choi, anyway.”

“That’s true,” he giggled. For how charming it was, it didn’t last nearly long enough.

You pulled your eyes away before landing yourself in another incriminating situation.

“Alright, inexact differentials it is.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Forty-five minutes into your first study session, you’d come to make two very important realizations about Bang Chan.

The first, being, that he wasn’t exactly the best at explaining things.

He’d typically start on the right track, but it wasn’t long before he’d veer off on tangent upon tangent, tacking on more and more information until it became a full-blown ramble, all loosely connected with a series of “um”s and “y’know”s before being clumsily wrapped up with a final “so…uh, yeah!”

You didn’t hold it against him. He was clearly a smart guy, and you knew firsthand what a nightmare these topics could be to teach to other people, especially taking into account that it had been two years since he’d learned them. Even with his less than articulate methods, you still found yourself grasping concepts exponentially better than you ever did in your thermodynamics lecture, and that was because Chan seemed to be gifted with what you could only assume was an endless supply of patience. He’d repeat himself as many times as deemed necessary, perfectly content with rereading his notes, checking the textbook, and even searching things up online until he was certain that both you and Changbin had understood.

The second realization you’d come to, was that your concerns about whether or not you might get to hear more of his laughter had quickly been put to rest.

He giggled at everything. At you, at Changbin, at himself. Sometimes, he giggled at nothing at all, just to fill the silence. It was admittedly fascinating to see the way his face would change, from the stern expression he wore when offering guidance, to the sheepish smile that’d appear when he stumbled over his words.

After hearing his laughter for the better part of an hour, infectious and melodic and, occasionally, ending with the faintest squeak, you still hadn’t gotten sick of it. Though, you did find yourself thinking that he had to be either an extremely self-conscious person, or an extremely giddy one for giggling to come as naturally to him as breathing.

“Does that make sense?” Chan tilted his head. “Let me know if you wanna go over it again!”

“I think I got it,” you smiled.

In truth, you didn’t, but it was a matter of dignity at this point. Enthalpy was one of the most basic properties you needed to know in order to build on concepts infinitely more complicated than it, and if you held up the review any longer to focus on something so mundane, you may not be able to show your face around this guy ever again.

It didn’t help that somewhere along the line, the looming clouds outside had broken at last, bringing about the downpour that you’d anticipated all day. Each explosive clap of thunder chipped away at your focus more and more, making you prone to stupid, easily avoidable mistakes that frustrated you to no end.

You thought your answer had been convincing, even making sure to look him in the eye when you’d said it, but Chan still didn’t let up.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“Oh my God,” Changbin’s voice turned up in a whine, his earlier enthusiasm nowhere to be found. “If you explain this one more time I’m seriously gonna go crazy.”

Before Chan could respond, the sound of keys jingling amidst the steady patter of rain caught everyone’s attention. You turned your head just in time to see the door creak open, letting in a violent gust of wind, and, with it, the lean figure of a stranger.

He was soaked. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, clothes hanging off of him like heavy drapes, and sneakers forming small puddles on the wooden floor.

“It’s raining,” he announced.

Changbin broke out into a fit of laughter, and you bit your lip to prevent yourself from doing the same. Chan, though clearly on the verge of losing it as well, still rose from his chair like a reflex and grabbed a hand towel from the kitchen. He tossed it to the other boy, who you could only guess was Minho.

“I was starting to wonder where you were,” Chan remarked, voice shaking with barely contained glee.

“I got sick of waiting for the rain to stop, so I made a run for it.” Minho dumped the water out of his shoes and shut the door in disgust. “Then I remembered why I don’t run.”

The small towel didn’t do much for his drenched state, and after a few moments of shaking it haphazardly in his hair, he gave up and let it rest around his neck instead.

“You should shower and dry off,” Chan told him. “You’ll catch another cold.”

Minho grunted in acknowledgement, but rather than following through, he strolled over to the kitchen. As he did, his gaze landed on you for the first time, giving you a clear view of his face.

Every striking feature of his was balanced out with a soft counterpart. Sharp, intense eyes with puffy bags underneath, a sharp, prominent nose between full cheeks, and sharp, catlike lips above a round chin. It was a delicate combination that not only made him attractive, but interesting to look at, as well.

He studied you for a moment too long, just enough to spark a sense of unease inside you.

“That’s no good, Changbin,” he clicked his tongue at last. “Don’t tell me you’re such a hopeless case that Chan had to find you a second tutor.”

“It’s a study group!” Changbin cried indignantly. “And what the hell kind of introduction is that? Say hi!”

The corner of Minho’s mouth curved into a smirk, like it was made to do exactly that. Similar to Changbin’s, it wasn’t sultry, but unlike Changbin’s, it wasn't shy. It was mischievous and playful, like that of a child’s cheeky grin.

His attention shifted back to you, and he gave you a proper greeting. It was surprisingly polite, all things considered, even ending with a short bow.

He popped open the refrigerator door, leaning forward in a way that had to be uncomfortably cold given that he was still dripping wet.

“I had a few pudding cups left in here. At least two,” he called out.

“Wasn’t me,” Chan piped with the speed of someone who was accustomed to being the first suspect.

Minho pulled his head out from behind the door, accusatory glare locking right on Changbin.

The boy shifted guiltily next to you, unable to hold eye contact with Minho for longer than a few seconds.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Minho shut the fridge with a hum. “That’s alright.” His voice was breezy and sweet, a complete contrast to what came out of his mouth next. “Just sleep with your door locked until you buy me new ones.”

“Hey,” Changbin whined. “That’s scary.”

He tugged at your arm as if expecting you to rush to his defense, and you settled for giving him a comforting pat on the back, not nearly familiar enough with Minho to joke around with him like that. Given how Chan was watching in amusement, you figured this was a regular occurrence for them, anyway.

Following Minho’s arrival, your review session more or less fell apart. The idle chit chat eventually led into a full on conversation, and when Changbin shut his textbook with a luxurious stretch, you knew there was no chance of getting him to open it again.

You didn’t mind, really. The three of you had covered a lot of ground in the time you’d spent studying, and you were already worlds more confident about the upcoming exam. Your main concern, now, was how you were going to get home. It was well past sunset, and the thick sheet of clouds had darkened the night more so than usual, not allowing even a single drop of moonlight to break through. That, coupled with the fact that it was still very much pouring outside, complicated your plans a bit.

Sitting there as the odd one out among the group of friends, you couldn’t help but feel like you were overstaying your welcome, but any attempts you made at suggesting that you brave the storm and head home were emphatically shut down.

“It’s okay,” you tried to convince them. “I really should get back and have dinner.”

“Have dinner with us!” Changbin didn’t miss a beat.

You hesitated, uncertain as to whether it would be more rude to accept or decline.

“It doesn’t look like the rain’s gonna stop anytime soon,” Chan reasoned. “Why don’t we eat first?”

Minho, in vengeance of his fallen pudding cups, loudly declared that he wouldn’t be cooking dinner for anyone. It became clear to you in that moment that he was probably the only thing standing between his roommates and malnutrition, because their go-to second option (if not their only other option) was instant ramyeon.

So, there the four of you sat, crammed together on their living room couch, watching some obscure superhero movie that Changbin seemed to know every line of, and slurping away at your noodles.

They had turned out tasty enough, with the extra spices and sauces you’d added to make the flavor a bit more appealing, but with the way Chan scarfed down his share, you might’ve thought it was the best meal he’d ever had. He was all satisfied noises and delighted fist shakes, looking happier eating instant cup noodles than you’d seen some people look their entire lives.

He was cute, you decided.

Though the movie lessened some of the pressure you felt to socialize, a faint air of awkwardness still lingered around you, only ever really ebbing when you and Changbin would interact in between his passionate lore discussions with Chan and his bickering with Minho.

Chan seemed to sense early on that you weren’t fully relaxed with the atmosphere; at least, you assumed as much judging by his periodic efforts to pull you back into the conversation.

“Everything good?” he’d asked at one point, leaning over so you could hear his whisper above the movie.

Even with Changbin serving as a buffer between you two, his persistent warmth still found you.

“Oh, yeah.”

Not your most eloquent response. To be fair, you hadn’t anticipated his question. It didn’t seem to have convinced him, but he’d given you a smile, anyway.

“Alright. Just know that you’re more than welcome here, yeah?”

You were grateful for his kindness, but at the same time, it had caught you off guard. It wasn’t a regular thing for you, being read with such ease by someone you hardly knew, and you couldn’t decide if you were just being uncharacteristically transparent that day, or if Chan was too perceptive for his own good.

Changbin was Changbin. That in itself helped you loosen up a bit, as well. He behaved in virtually the exact same way around the older boys as he did with you—albeit, leaning more into his childish side—and it filled your chest with a pleasant sort of relief. He considered you a friend; close enough to treat you with the same intimacy that he treated people he’d known for years.

Minho, on the other hand, was more of an enigma. Not rude by any means, but not overly accommodating, either. The one thing you were certain of was that he was incredibly funny. Witty, too. He didn’t speak as much as Chan or Changbin, but when he did, it was always something memorable. His voice had a playful lilt to it that never seemed to go away, like nothing he said was meant to be taken too seriously.

As the night continued and the four of you had all eaten your fill—or, several fills in Chan’s case—your reservations slowly but surely melted away. You spoke more naturally, joked with Changbin the way you always did when you were together, and even found yourself comfortable enough to make a few snarky comments about the film’s ridiculous plot and cringeworthy special effects, to which Changbin took great offense and Minho had let out a few laughs.

As for Chan’s laughter, another few hours of it still hadn't made it any less endearing. In fact, the more you heard it, the more hooked on it you became.

By the time the storm had passed and you could finally head home safely, you found yourself a bit wistful that your impromptu gathering had come to an end.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

“So,” Iseul’s eyes twinkled. “What’s the verdict? Is he cute?”

Straight to the point. It was something you liked about her, usually, but in this scenario, you almost wished she’d never asked.

Ever since that day, you’d felt an inexplicable sense of…well, you didn’t quite know what it was. Discomfort, unease, foreboding; they were all too extreme to describe the feeling. All you knew was that something peculiar stirred inside you whenever you thought back to Chan. Maybe it was because of your clumsy first interaction, or maybe it was because of that nagging, uncanny belief that he could see right through you from the very first moment you met.

It was unfair, in a way, because you knew for a fact that he’d been nothing but friendly every time you’d hung out with him—a delight to be around, really. You could easily see why he was the social butterfly that Changbin made him out to be.

“Hello?” Iseul complained. “I'm not gonna stop asking, even if you ignore me.”

In retrospect, telling her about your new study routine with Changbin and his mystery friend—however offhanded it had seemed at the time—probably wasn’t your smartest move.

“Yeah. Really cute, actually.”

You may as well have told her that he’d asked for her hand in marriage with the squeal she let out. “I knew it, I knew it! Tell me everything.” She nearly knocked her drink over in her rush to scoot closer to you.

It was hard to keep a straight face. Even when you knew it was short-lived, her enthusiasm over the simplest of things was contagious.

“What’s there to tell?” you feigned nonchalance in a way that was sure to annoy her. “I go to him and Bin’s place, we study, I leave.”

“Come on,” Iseul pouted. “There has to be more to it than that. What’s he like? Do you have a picture?”

“A picture?” you echoed incredulously. “You take a commemorative selfie every time you study thermo?”

“Like, his Instagram or something!”

“He has three posts, and none are of his face.”

Iseul deflated at that, and you broke out into proud chuckles. You were being difficult, sure, but the part about his profile was at least true. A picture of his hand holding up a peace sign at the beach, a picture of what you assumed to be his dog back home, and a surprisingly clear shot of the moon; those were the three precious images Bang Chan had felt compelled to share with the world, with the most recent one being from almost two years ago.

“He’s got a nice smile,” you offered.

Iseul took the bait instantly, perking back up. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Dimples, too.”

“Cute.” She clasped her hands together, looking lost in a dream. “That’s it, I have to see him.”

“What’s got you so interested, anyway?” you mused. “Aren’t you talking to someone?”

With the way her face dropped right back into a grimace, you knew you’d touched on a sore subject. “No,” she said curtly. “I mean, am I? Does it count as talking when you’re lucky to get a reply every six hours?”

“You’re just clingy,” you teased, already bracing yourself for when her hand flew out to swipe at you.

“I’m totally low maintenance!” she cried. “Anyway, I don't even want Chan for me. This is about you.”

You shifted in your spot, that same, strange feeling twisting in your stomach, stronger this time.

“Me? What do you mean?”

Iseul put her chopsticks to the side, giving you a look that was far too serious given the topic.

“I’m finding you a boytoy.”

You nearly laughed out loud, only stopping yourself in the nick of time when you caught that she wasn’t joking in the slightest. 

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!” she insisted, bravely holding her ground in the face of your disbelief. “What are you gonna do when I settle down and don’t have time for you anymore? I gotta make sure you have someone to entertain yourself with!”

Your amusement wavered just a bit. You knew she meant well, but when it came to Iseul—or anyone, for that matter—trying to do things for your sake, you’d long accepted that you’d prefer if they didn’t even bother. 

“There’s no rush,” you pointed out. “You have to actually get a text back before you can settle down, right?”

“Oh my God! I'm trying to help you and this is the thanks I get?”

“Thanks, Iseul.” You reached out to give her an apologetic pat. “But I don’t need any help with that.”

Suddenly, her lips curved into a devious smirk, and you had a sneaking suspicion that she’d misunderstood what you meant.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” she drawled. “Never forgetting that dreamboat you had following you around like a lost puppy all sophomore year. What was his name again—?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you cut her off a bit too harshly, regretting it as soon as you did.

Iseul frowned. “It was just a question.”

“You’re right, sorry.”

“What ever happened to him, anyways?” she continued, apparently not taking the hint. “Things ended so suddenly with you two.”

You tried not to bristle. After your near-encounter in the dining hall the other week, he’d been occupying your thoughts far too often for your liking. That, coupled with those peculiar feelings that had sparked within you upon meeting Chan, had you unreasonably on edge ever since. 

“I told you,” you tried to sound casual. “It just wasn’t a good match. I don’t think he really liked me all that much.”

Iseul scoffed, not buying it for a second. “Please, he was obsessed with you.”

The urge to tell her everything right then and there was more tempting than ever. To unload all the bitterness, the guilt that had been building up and weighing you down for the better part of two years now. You knew you couldn’t, though, not when it meant having to break the very same news to her that had led to the end of your relationship. The chances of her reacting the same way that he had were slim, but even the smallest possibility was more than enough reason for you to stay quiet. You’d kept it tucked away for far too long now, anyway. She’d only get upset if she found out now.

“Obsession isn’t the same as love.”

Iseul grew quiet for a moment.

“I guess,” she mumbled.

She turned her attention back to her soda, as if the conversation had suddenly become too heavy for her tastes.

You didn’t blame her, but it further solidified your decision to leave what you’d wanted to say buried in your heart.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚï�� ˚。⋆。

Several doses of caffeine were in order.

Anyone who happened to witness the unfortunate sight of you and Changbin stumbling out of Room 118 of the physics building, spiritually battered and bruised and barely able to process your surroundings, might’ve thought you’d just gone to war.

It wasn’t much of a stretch, considering the exam you’d just taken. You felt ridiculous for ever thinking the two hour time slot was overkill; in actuality, it had been a rare display of mercy from Dr. Choi.

“I’m dropping out,” Changbin declared.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll do it,” he insisted. “Before I lose my mind for real.”

He slumped heavily against you, and it took all your strength to support his muscular body so that the both of you wouldn’t be sent toppling to the floor.

“After everything Chan’s done for you? You might just break his heart.”

Changbin seemed to take your joke a bit too seriously, a horrified look crossing his face. “Can you imagine how that would’ve gone without his help?”

“Don’t even wanna think about it,” you shuddered.

For how excruciating the thermodynamics midterm had been, it was more because of the psychological torture aspect than the difficulty of the content itself—though, its difficulty was nothing to sneeze at, either. The one positive that had come from this hellish experience was confirmation that choosing to study with Chan had undoubtedly been the right choice for you. Every topic you’d managed to review over the few meetings you’d had so far stayed fresh in your mind during the exam, so vividly that you could even recall the inflections in Chan’s voice whenever he’d sing his sentences at random. You weren’t sure if it was intentional, or if it was even something he was aware that he did, but you’d caught on to it right away.

Because his melodies helped you remember better, of course, not because you found it endearing.

“We really need to thank him,” Changbin bumped his head against yours. “Let’s bake him a cake.”

“You can’t even crack an egg.”

“Who told you that!?” he bolted upright, miraculously regaining his energy.

You kept your lips sealed, but it didn’t take long for him to narrow down the suspects.

“Minho…” he muttered. “Who the hell shares that story with someone they just met?”

“I agree that we should do something for Chan, though,” you tried to stay on topic before Changbin could get riled up about Minho. He was already sour on him after he’d bought replacement pudding cups as threatened, only to smugly be told that they were the wrong brand.

“I’ll think of something when my brain isn't fried.” Changbin shoved his hands in his pockets, looking contemplative for a second. “You never answered my question, y’know.”

“Hm?”

“About him being better looking than me.”

His words caught you so off guard that you actually stopped in your tracks, turning to give him a look of pure disbelief.

“Seo Changbin,” you said plainly. “You can’t be serious.”

“What?” his tone grew defensive. “This is important stuff! You’re supposed to be around the same level of attractiveness as your friends. It’s scientifically proven.”

You so badly wanted to hold your unimpressed stare, but it was impossible when the man in front of you was speaking without an ounce of shame.

“First of all,” you began. “I've told you a million times that it had nothing to do with his appearance.”

It was Changbin's turn to look unimpressed, but he waited for you to finish.

“Second of all, you’re a very handsome guy, Binnie,” you tacked on the nickname for maximum effectiveness. “So if I were to fall in love with anyone, it’d obviously be you.”

You truly meant the compliment, but a little extra flattery never hurt when it came to him. A wide, embarrassed smile spread across his face like clockwork, and he reached out to smack your shoulder, giggling at an unnaturally high pitch.

“Geez, don’t say it like that,” he complained. “I wasn't ready.”

You shook your head. “You’re so simple.”

For both Changbin’s peace of mind and your own, you hoped now that the issue would be dropped. You had enough confusing feelings about Chan already without Iseul and Changbin blowing things completely out of proportion.

“Wanna get some coffee?” you suggested. “There’s a really good kiosk on the first floor of the library.”

“I think I’m gonna head home and nap, actually. I’ve got another exam tonight.”

You let out a sympathetic hum. “That’s rough. Good luck, Bin.”

“Thanks,” he sighed dramatically. “Treat me for all my hard work once midterms are over.”

“Sure, I’ll even save up so I can afford your rich kid tastes.”

Changbin grinned at that. “On second thought,” he pulled his hand out of his coat pocket to reveal your pencil; his lucky charm. “You’ve given me more than enough.”

He attempted to pass it back to you, but you nudged his hand away gently.

“Keep it. Maybe it’ll help with your next exam.”

From there, you and Changbin said your goodbyes for the day. You decided to head to the coffee shop on your own, in desperate need of some kind of energy boost so you wouldn’t crash the instant you returned to your apartment.

As you made your way over to the campus library, your mind drifted back to Chan. It seemed to do that a lot, recently.

You wanted to do something to express your gratitude to him, but it was difficult to decide on what when you knew so little about the guy. Changbin could always help in that department, of course, but then there was the issue of actually getting Chan to accept it.

Despite not having walked nearly long enough to work up a sweat, you felt strangely heated when you approached the library entrance. Not only that, your hands were clammy, and you had to wipe your palm on your clothes before reaching out for the door handle. The warm, addictive scent of coffee flooded your senses as you entered the building. You almost connected your sudden rise in temperature to its cozy atmosphere—that was, until your eyes zeroed in on a figure seated at the table directly across from where you stood.

He was hunched over his laptop, consumed by his dark clothes so that he was hardly visible to anyone passing by, but you’d already reached a point where you could’ve recognized that side profile anywhere. A distinctive nose peeked out from behind the hood pulled over his head, thumb brushing over his lips as he concentrated on the screen before him.

Driven by an urge you couldn’t quite place, your feet drew you in his direction, and you had to force yourself to come to a sudden halt. He looked busy—exhausted, too—it was probably best to leave him alone.

Just as you turned to continue over to the coffee stand, dark eyes flickered up to find you, as if on cue. Recognition flooded his face, lighting up with a smile.

You gave him a small wave, and to your surprise, he gestured enthusiastically for you to come over to him. You adjusted the strap of your bag, feeling unusually self-conscious, like you’d given too much away with just your stare. Still, you steeled yourself and padded over to his table.

“Hey!” Chan removed his headphones, hood slipping off along with them. “I was just thinking of you.”

You blinked. “You were?”

“Yeah, you and Bin had your exam today, didn’t you?”

“Oh, right. He just headed home, actually.”

He pulled out the chair next to his, inviting you to take it. You hesitated for a moment before accepting, giving him a grateful nod.

As you settled in next to him, it dawned on you that this was the first time you’d ever seen him without some kind of hat or beanie on his head. You hadn't even known that his hair was curly. It felt akin to a crime to have been robbed of the sight; soft, brown ringlets falling just above his eyes and swooping out at his nape, almost like the tail of a duck.

“How’d it go?” He tilted his head curiously. “Alright, I hope?”

“Well, let’s just say I understand why you switched majors.”

Chan’s laughter filled your ears, a blissful compensation for the past two hours you’d just had. He reached out to tap your shoulder lightly as he giggled, and you weren’t sure why it made your heartbeat pick up.

“That bad, huh?”

“It would’ve gone a lot worse without your help,” you confessed. “Thanks again for studying with us, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, of course!” Chan chirped. “I’m glad to help.”

“Are you sure there’s really nothing I can do in return? I hope you’re not holding back just ‘cause I’m Changbin’s friend.”

You were careful to ask a second time after your failed attempt at convincing him to accept some kind of payment—favor, anything—during your first study session. Just as Changbin had predicted, he’d brushed you off with a polite smile, insisting that it was the least he could do. Despite your best efforts, you’d ultimately stopped pressing the issue to avoid coming off as too pushy.

Chan waved his hand, dismissive, yet again. “Nah, you don’t have to worry about that. It’s no trouble at all!”

“How about I buy you a coffee?” You motioned in the direction of the kiosk. “Just one cup, and I’ll stop nagging.”

“Ah.” He scrunched up his nose in distaste. “Sorry, I don’t really drink it.”

You stared, waiting for some kind of indication that he was just messing with you, but it never came. Suddenly, his perpetually worn-out state made perfect sense.

“A college student who doesn’t drink coffee? They should study you.”

He grinned, looking a bit embarrassed. “If you need me as the subject for your research next semester, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” you giggled. “But then I’d owe you double.”

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, and you tried not to focus on the way his thumb came to run over his full lips again. You’d never seen lips shaped like his before; when you looked closely enough, they resembled a soft-edged heart.

“How about this? Give me your number and we’ll call it even.”

Your mouth nearly fell open. You hadn’t pegged him as the type.

“That way, we can say we’re officially friends,” he continued, completely oblivious to your shock. “And helping out a friend is normal, yeah?”

Friends. It was odd to hear him say that. You weren’t really sure if you could consider someone you’d spent just a handful of hours with your friend, but for what it was worth, he seemed to be speaking sincerely.

Your brief moment of panic melted away. Another case of unintentional flirtatiousness on his part, after all. It was relieving, in a way, because you could only imagine the effect someone like him might have on people if only he knew how to utilize his charm.

“Alright, you win. Just a warning, though, I’m not the best texter.”

“Me neither,” he admitted. “But if you ever need anything or wanna chat, I’ll be there!”

As you exchanged phone numbers, every one of your instincts called for you to be suspicious of Chan, to believe that, surely, he must have some kind of ulterior motive behind his eagerness to befriend you. But you knew what ill-intent looked like by now,—you’d be a fool if you didn’t—and there was none behind his eyes, just an honest desire to help in any way that he could.

It was almost foreign to you, something you’d never really seen in any other person but one.

“There! You’re debt-free.” Chan handed your phone back to you. He’d taken it upon himself to add a wolf emoji next to his contact name, and you shot him an amused look.

“My friends say it reminds them of me,” his voice turned a bit sheepish, as if realizing how silly it felt to say out loud.

You softened. “That’s cute.”

“You think so?” He reached up to fiddle with his piercing, and you noticed for the first time how red the tip of his ear had become. Probably a side effect of his concerning levels of body heat. “What should I put next to yours?”

“A flame?” you joked. “So you can remember me as the girl who sucks at thermo.”

Chan flexed his fingers. “I like it,” he giggled.

You stole a glance at his laptop as he edited your contact, met with a sea of sound waves, audio files, and incomprehensible icons taking up his screen.

“So, were you working on something?”

He perked up. “Oh, yeah! Just messing around with some sounds, really.”

You leaned in a bit closer despite not understanding much of what you were looking at. Even with your lack of expertise, you could see that whatever he was doing was more than just messing around.

“Is it for a class?” your interest piqued. “Or for 3RACHA?”

Chan’s breath hitched, loud enough for you to hear, and you wondered for a moment if you’d said something wrong.

“You know about that?”

“Bin’s shown me a few songs! You guys are really good.”

He ducked his head, the flush on his ears creeping up to paint his cheeks the same shade. Oh. He really had been flustered the entire time. It excited you more than it probably should have.

“Ah, thank you,” he chuckled breathlessly. “Sorry, I’m just a little caught off guard, I think.”

You considered changing the subject for the sake of his comfort. What he said next, however, quickly quelled any concerns you had. “Which one did you like the most?”

He lifted his gaze shyly, looking so hungry for approval that you made a mental note to ask him more about his music in the future.

“Zone!” you didn’t miss a beat. “I especially love the lines in Māori.”

His face broke out into a grin so wide that his eyes almost squeezed shut from sheer happiness. “I sing that part,” he beamed. 

Of course he did. You tried to imagine it—the bubbly, unassuming boy in front of you delivering lines with such power and confidence. It intrigued you, just like everything else about him. From the first day Changbin had described him to you, he was like a puzzle that you were determined to collect all the pieces of, to bring your understanding of him to completion.

Your original goal in coming to the library now long forgotten, the two of you stayed at his table for at least another hour, chatting about all sorts of things. You learned that while all three members of 3RACHA had a hand in composing and songwriting (a fact that you made note of for future, Changbin-teasing purposes) Chan played the biggest role when it came to arrangement. With a bit of prompting on your part, he gave in and showed you a snippet of what he’d been working on before you arrived.

Placebo was the working title. It had a hopeful, upbeat melody that made you feel light and strangely nostalgic. There were no lyrics yet—Chan was still waiting on Jisung, the final third of the boys, to finish up his parts. As it turned out, he was the wide-eyed, messy-haired junior you’d spotted hanging around Changbin all those instances over the years, and one of the first people that Chan had befriended upon moving from Australia. How they’d come to meet when Chan was three years older than him, you had no idea, but you figured this guy could become best friends with his prison guard if he really wanted to, so it didn’t seem worth questioning.

Even with its half-finished instrumental and lack of lyrics, you could already sense a potential new favorite in Placebo. Though, if you were being honest, given the expression on Chan’s face as he played it for you—earnest and giddy and biting his fist in anticipation—you might've said the same regardless of which song it was.

“Do you really like it?” He kept his eyes on the screen, but you could see the glee plastered on his face.

“I do! It makes me happy.” You slipped his headphones off and passed them back to him. “You have to show me when it’s finished, okay?”

It didn’t seem possible, but his smile grew, cheeks rising and dimples flashing. “Okay, promise.”

He held out his pinky to seal the deal. You hesitated, wincing inwardly when you remembered what had happened the last time your skin touched his. Even so, you were determined not to fumble another interaction with him, and you braced yourself before hooking your fingers together.

The heat was still very much there, though not quite as drastic as before. It didn’t jolt through your nerve-endings like it had when you’d first met; instead, it kindled at your point of contact and spread steadily along your skin, from your pinky to your palm until it warmed your entire body. Gentle and intense, all at once.

Chan looked like he had something to say, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, your phone buzzed to life on the table. Reluctantly, you unlaced your pinky from his and reached for the device, unsurprised when you saw Iseul’s name in glowing white letters.

“Sorry, one sec,” you excused yourself, knowing that if you didn’t take her call now, many more were to come.

“Hello?” your voice came out winded, and you swallowed hard to steady it.

“Are you busy?”

Your eyes darted to Chan. He’d turned his attention back to his laptop, humming quietly to himself.

“Kinda, is everything alright?”

“Oh,” she paused. “What’s up?”

“Just in the library,” you left out the fact that you were with Chan, not keen on fueling her newfound desire for matchmaking.

“I need help planning my schedule for next semester,” she sounded stressed, but you knew by now that even the most easily-solved of problems could be the end of the world in her eyes. “Literally none of these marketing sections work for me and I need this credit to graduate. I’m going fucking crazy trying to move my other classes around.”

There was no excuse for you to say no, other than the fact that academics were the last thing you wanted to think about after the midterm you’d just had. That, and, you were enjoying your time with Chan more than you’d like to admit.

“Alright, I can help you figure it out. I’ll just need some time to get to your place.”

"You’re the best,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “Hurry, please.”

At that, she hung up, probably to get right back to abusing her laptop’s trackpad with furious clicks. You slipped your phone into your pocket, and when you began gathering up your belongings, Chan’s gaze shifted back to you.

“Heading out?”

“Yeah,” you wished you didn’t feel so wistful about it. “My friend needs help with her fall schedule, she’s kinda freaking out.”

A knowing look crossed his face, lip twitching with the faintest hint of amusement. It wasn’t lost on you, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he hummed. “Just think I understand now why you wanted to repay me so bad.”

You had half a mind to be taken aback, but it felt strangely expected of him, like you’d known that such a minor detail would be enough for him to catch on. That tendency you’d noticed from the first day you’d met him, making itself known more and more each time you crossed paths. 

“Think you’re the only one who can do people favors?” 

“Course not,” his smile mirrored yours. “I hope things work out with your friend.”

“Thanks.” You rose from your spot, wondering briefly if you should say what was on your mind before parting ways with him. “It was nice talking with you.”

“You, too.” He held up his phone, wiggling it around as a reminder. “We’ll talk more soon!”

In the end, you left the library without a single drop of caffeine in your system, yet somehow, you felt more energized than ever.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Six weeks and several study sessions later, you had come to make two more very important realizations about Bang Christopher Chan.

The first being, that he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d warned you about his texting habits. You’d always thought you were bad at responding in a timely manner, hell, you’d thought Changbin was bad; but when Chan said he wasn’t the best texter, he didn’t just mean that he could be dry or slow or forgetful, he meant that most of the time, he simply didn’t text at all.

Instead, he liked to call.

You didn’t really mind—you tended to prefer talking to people over texting, anyway, but you’d admittedly been stunned when, after a week of radio silence following your encounter in the library, he’d contacted you out of the blue for no reason other than to “catch up”. No warning, no opening text, just an unexpected call that ended up stretching into a thirty minute conversation before you had to hang up and head to your next class. Another short period of no contact, and then, it had happened again. This time, just a few days following your first chat.

His calls, you’d also noticed as time went on, sometimes came at the most ungodly hours of the night. Once or twice, you’d woken up in the morning to find a missed call notification followed by an apologetic text a few hours later.

chan 🐺 (5:23 a.m.) sorry haha, didn’t realize how late it was

It left you perplexed as to when this man ever got a wink of sleep.

Even with your conversations being so sporadic, you found yourself looking forward to them regardless. He always had something interesting to share with you, from stories about people he’d met and the places he’d been, to music discussions and recommendations, to a vast array of space knowledge that he seemed to have neatly filed away in his brain. He talked about space a lot, like it was his friend. The moon, especially. It was undoubtedly your favorite topic of conversation, not only because it was a shared interest, but because the pure wonder and adoration with which he spoke of it stirred a warmth inside you like no other.

On top of all that, he always made an effort to check in with things on your end as well—in fact, it was always the first thing he asked about the moment you’d pick up, which might have been the most confusing detail of all. He was simultaneously the most absent and the most attentive communicator you’d ever met.

Once it had been made apparent to you that this routine may very well become commonplace with Chan, your curiosity had piqued enough for you to finally question him about it. His explanation, however, almost had you wishing you’d never asked, because nothing could’ve prepared you for his simple, sincere, “It’s just nice to hear your voice, y’know?”

That led into your second, more troubling realization. Somewhere along the line, you seemed to have developed a bit of a soft spot for Chan.

It had dawned on you some weeks ago, when the two of you had visited a new ice cream shop near campus that you’d mentioned was your favorite. When you’d recommended the place to him, you’d never once considered that he would take it as a suggestion for you to accompany him in trying it out. In the end, he’d ordered not one, not two, but all three of the signature flavors you told him you liked the most, detailing his thoughts about each one, with plenty of delighted hums and vocalizations in the process. Much to your horror, you’d listened to him chat passionately away with the most hopelessly endeared, involuntary smile on your face, knowing right then and there that your fate was sealed.

For that reason, your limited interaction with him was more like a blessing in disguise to you. The moment you’d discovered just how often your thoughts seemed to be preoccupied with him, your first instinct had been to distance yourself, to cut off all unnecessary contact until the pesky, ever-present daydream of his melodic laughter was forcibly expelled from your brain. Your regular meetings with him and Changbin, however, had made your efforts increasingly difficult, and you couldn’t shake the fear that, with how naturally Chan seemed to tune in to your emotions, it was only a matter of time before he noticed you behaving differently around him.

Today brought with it another moment of reckoning, another test of your resolve in the form of a two hour study session. You’d managed to get by the last few without any major slip-ups, making you especially grateful that Changbin was around to ensure you behaved more like your usual self.

bin 😑 (5:36 p.m.) oh, i forgot to tell you i can’t make it today

You stared down at your phone in disbelief, nearly coming to a halt in the middle of the road.

You’d texted Changbin this morning to double check that you were still on for studying this evening, even making sure to reach out hours in advance so he could reply before it was too late. Clearly, you’d have to give him at least a day’s notice from now on, because you were just a minute away from his complex when he’d decided to graciously inform you that he wouldn’t be coming.

you (5:36 p.m.) are u serious??? i’m almost at your place

bin 😑 (5:38 p.m.) sorry sorry it’s game night w/ minho and jisung lol. but chan’s home dw

you (5:38 p.m.) game night...you do realize this is for the final right? why isn’t chan with you guys?

bin 😑 (5:39 p.m.) relax mom i’ll come to the next one ;;; and he said he’s fine studying w/ you instead

A sense of dread twisted in your stomach. Regardless of how kind-hearted Chan was, you knew there was absolutely no chance in hell he would’ve preferred to stay home on a Friday night, tutoring you on the most demonic subjects known to man, while his friends hung out without him.

bin 😑 (5:40 p.m.) are you mad ㅜ

you (5:41 p.m.) ur a bad kid

bin 😑 (5:41 p.m.) huuuu ㅜㅜ

you (5:42 p.m.) i’m just gonna head home and tell chan we should reschedule

bin 😑 (5:42 p.m.) noooo don’t do that chan doesn’t care i promise lol

bin 😑 (5:43 p.m.) he probably prefers it this way tbh

You paused, hand resting uncertainly on the stairway railing.

you (5:44 p.m.) what do you mean?

A minute passed, then another, and still no response. You huffed, assuming you’d reached your Changbin text quota for the day, and you locked your phone irritably. If Chan was expecting you, you supposed you had no choice.

It’s not a big deal, probably. You told yourself as you trudged up the stairs. Still, it felt like one. The prospect of being alone with him stressed you out as much as it excited you. No long-distance advantage of a phone call, no Changbin serving as a bridge between the two of you; just you versus Chan and his accidental charm for the next two hours.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door of unit 8-325. You wondered briefly if he’d even heard, considering his headphones were virtually glued to his ears most of the time, but you didn’t get the chance to worry much about it before the door swung open, much sooner than you’d expected.

“Hi!” he greeted cheerfully. “How’ve you been?”

No hoodie on today. It made sense, given how much the weather had warmed up, but you personally felt that the muscle tank he had on instead wasn’t really necessary. His curls were out, too.

So, it was safe to say you weren’t doing well.

“Powering through the end of the semester,” you flashed a quick smile, shuffling inside and slipping off your shoes. “You?”

Chan shut the door with a noise of sympathy. “Same here.”

Your eyes scanned over the apartment. It felt undeniably empty without Changbin’s steady, familiar presence next to you or without Minho slinking back and forth between his room and the kitchen, making sure to cause as many distractions as possible each time he did.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out. “Changbin just told me that he wasn’t coming. If you wanna do this another night and go hang out with the others, that’s totally fine.”

He looked surprised for a moment, turning to look at you properly. “It's all good! They’ve been obsessed with that game for weeks, I got kinda sick of it, anyway.”

“Oh,” you frowned.

Chan sensed that you were still unconvinced—of course he did—and he gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here because I wanna be.”

You knew it wasn’t his intention, but your heart still skipped a beat.

“That’s what I’m so confused about, I guess.”

He simply chuckled in response, as if that were enough to explain himself. Despite your lingering concerns, you decided not to press the issue any further, and you made your way over to the kitchen table as usual to set down your bag. You realized a moment too late that you had chosen the chair right next to where his laptop was placed. Just as you were debating whether or not you could get away with switching before he noticed, he slipped into the spot next to you, blissfully unaware of the impact it’d have on your psyche for the rest of the hour.

“I’m glad you came,” he commented, setting up his own study materials. “Feels like it’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

You wondered if that was his way of letting you know that he felt you’d been avoiding him. Well, avoiding was a bit of a stretch. More like limiting your exposure, taking him in moderation so you wouldn’t get addicted.

“It does,” you agreed. “And not just ‘cause you disappear off the face of the earth when I don’t see you in person.”

“Hey, hey!” It was defensive, but good-natured as ever. “I’m just not much of a phone guy.”

“Right, you’re more of a laptop guy.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

“Speaking of,” you gestured to the device in question. “Have you made any progress on Placebo?”

He perked up, visibly brightening at your mention of the song. “A bit,” he chirped. “Actually, I rearranged some parts of it.”

“Oh?”

Chan’s eyes twinkled, and you got the feeling that something mischievous was brewing in his mind. “Not gonna show you yet, though.”

“And break our promise?” you feigned hurt.

“Our promise was for me to show you when it’s finished, yeah?” his grin was far too proud, like he’d been waiting for his chance to pull something like this. It was a newer side of him you hadn’t quite gotten used to yet—playful, cheeky.

“The fine print, huh?” you clicked your tongue in defeat. “Alright, you win.”

“That’s two for me, so far.”

With the way he giggled, it felt more like a win for you.

A good half hour had passed before the two of you began any actual studying, and it wouldn’t have bothered you—not in the slightest—if you weren’t already concerned about taking up too much of Chan’s evening. It didn’t help that he seemed to be a bit unfocused today as well, prone to veering off topic even more so than usual and leaving his attempts at explaining the material harder to follow than ever.

He pressed his lips together into an uncertain line, squinting at his laptop screen as he tried to make sense of the application of Sommerfeld expansion. Absent-mindedly, he crossed an arm over his chest to cup his neck, biceps bulging in the process. You’d learned from your talks with him that he was a swimmer, but you hadn’t quite expected him to look like that beneath the oversized jackets and hoodies that he wore so religiously. It was hard not to stare, to admire every toned curve and vein that protruded ever so slightly when he flexed his muscles. 

You wondered what it’d be like to touch them; if they were as firm and powerful as they looked, or if they were surprisingly much softer, just like his demeanor. You also wondered how they might look beneath you, held down by your grasp.

“Sorry,” he sighed at last, bringing you back to your senses. “I’m not really sure about this one.”

You tore your eyes away from his arms, face heating up despite not being caught. “No worries.” You put your pen down. “Do you wanna take a break? I feel like we’re both kinda out of it tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He looked relieved, and a bit self-conscious. “To be honest, I barely even understood this stuff when I was an astrophysics major.”

It was an offhand comment, but it caught your attention. You’d admittedly begun to assume as much after your second or third study group under his guidance, given the way consulted outside sources so often, but to have it confirmed brought about a whole new level of respect for Chan. And, maybe something else.

“Have you been learning thermo all over again just for me and Bin?”

His gaze fell, as if realizing in alarm that he’d inadvertently exposed himself to you.  “You could say that,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I actually think I’m studying more now than I ever did when I took this class.”

A part of you wasn’t sure whether or not to be bothered that you’d been tutored by someone who wasn’t exactly qualified for the past month and a half. But no matter how badly his act of selflessness could have ended up for all three of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but affection for the boy. Well, that, and a bit of guilt for even putting him in this position in the first place. He’d gone out of his way to re-teach himself concepts that were by no means easy to grasp, solely for the sake of helping you and Changbin out. And he had. You knew for a fact that you’d not only seen improvement in your scores since meeting him, but in your confidence in the subject as a whole.

“You’re seriously too nice for your own good,” you murmured.

He reached up for his ear, tugging at his piercing. “It’s nothing, really.”

“It’s not,” you said firmly. “Not many people would do that, especially for a stranger. So, thank you.”

“Of course,” his voice was light. “We’re friends, after all.”

“Right.”

Friends. The first time he’d said it, you’d been doubtful—both in regards to whether or not you could actually call yourselves friends, and in his intentions in doing so. Hearing it now, you felt just as strange about it, but not for the same reasons. You could safely say you were friends, that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was, you wanted to be more.

“Did you like astrophysics?” you asked the question before you had the chance to say something else, something far more stupid.

“I did,” he sounded genuine, but tense. “Well, for the most part. It just felt like the most…practical thing I could do, y’know?”

“Can I ask why you changed majors?”

It was a detail that had been nagging away at the back of your mind since Changbin had first mentioned it to you. You weren’t sure why it felt so important to know, like an essential piece of the puzzle.

Chan paused, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. It barely lasted a second, but it instantly had you wishing you’d curbed your curiosity and said nothing at all.

“It’s kinda a long story,” he said slowly. You could tell he was trying to sound casual about it. His body language, however, was more than enough for you to see that he wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible. “I guess it was just something I needed to do at the time.”

“I understand,” you decided to drop it, for his sake. “No need to get into it, if you don’t want to.”

He gave you a grateful smile. “Some other time, yeah? Can’t be telling you my life story when I’m supposed to be helping you prepare for finals.”

You hummed softly in agreement, and just like that, the atmosphere was relaxed again.

Still, the question lingered in your mind.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

It was inevitable to you, at this point, that any and all sense of time would be lost whenever you and Chan got to talking. What you’d intended to be just a short break from studying to recharge, eventually morphed into another hour and a half of you two chatting away—with a few failed attempts to get back to work here and there. That was why, when the clock struck 9:00 p.m. to mark your third hour with him, you were hardly surprised.

“Why don’t I walk you home? It’s late.”

You tried to ignore the way his offer made your stomach flip.

“Oh, no you don’t have to.” The words were out of your mouth like an instinct. It was tempting, so, so tempting, but you knew that any more exposure to Chan was sure to make your soft spot for him develop into something much more troublesome. “It's a pretty far walk.”

He tilted his head, confused as to why the distance was even worth mentioning.

“Ohh, I see,” his voice took on that same, unfamiliar quality from before. “You don’t wanna spend any more time with me, is that it?”

You blinked, scanning his face for some sign of hurt or offense. Instead, all you found was a playful smile, eyes crinkling and dimples flashing.

He was teasing you.

“You got me,” you played along, throwing your bag dramatically over your shoulder. “I only spend my Friday nights studying thermo with people I can’t stand.”

Chan giggled. It was shy and cute; the giggle of someone completely unaware of how enamored with him you really were.

“In that case, making me walk there and back shouldn’t be a problem, right? Since you hate me so much.”

You relented. It was a losing battle from the start, anyway.

The air had grown a bit chillier after sunset, which, much to your relief, meant Chan had thrown on a jacket and covered up his criminally distracting arms. You felt a strange sense of peace as the two of you strolled along the sidewalk out of his apartment phase, stealing glances at him as often as the streetlights would allow. He had his hands in his pockets, swinging them with each step he took and swaying his head along with the breeze that brushed through his curls.

It was hopeless. You were so hopelessly taken by him.

“There she is,” you remarked, slowing your pace to gaze upwards. “That moon you love so much.”

It reflected a pure, white light among the sea of stars, owning the sky in all its Waning Gibbous glory.

“Beautiful,” you heard Chan murmur.

You looked over at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his eyes illuminated by the moon as he stared up in awe. Instead, you found him staring right at you.

He seemed taken aback for a moment. Even so, for once, he didn’t look away. He simply smiled.

Warmth spread through your chest, and you knew this time you couldn’t blame it on his body heat.

“I think you have us both beat,” you said softly.

At that, he broke eye contact. He ducked his head with a shy puff of laughter, pressing his cheek into his shoulder to hide his face. You rode the high of it for the rest of your walk home together.

The two of you were mostly quiet as you neared your apartment complex, letting the silence hang comfortably around you. Despite the long walk, neither of you were in any particular hurry, and when you approached the front gate of your building, you couldn’t help but feel that the time had slipped away from you all too quickly.

“Thanks again for walking me home,” you murmured. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he grinned.

Your hand rested tentatively on the handle, not yet wanting this moment to end.

“Not gonna try to return the favor, are you?” His eyes sparkled in the low light. Even when he was messing with you, he still sounded seconds away from becoming flustered himself.

You smiled. “I’ve got something in mind.”

Before he could say anything else, and before you could second guess yourself, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was quick and innocent, but it made his breath catch in his throat all the same. 

When you pulled back, Chan’s fingers came to hover over the spot your lips had been moments ago. You wished the lighting in the hallway was stronger, so that you could fully see the furious blush that you knew was spreading across his face.

His eyes flickered down to your lips. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to for you to hear him willing you to do it, begging you to do it.

So, you leaned in again and kissed him.

The heat that surged through you was different this time. It didn’t make you flinch or jolt back in alarm; it drew you in. However soft you’d imagined Chan’s lips to be—plush and heart-shaped and irresistible—the reality was infinitely softer.

Your hands reached up to cup his face. His warmth fed into yours, and vice versa, and somewhere in the back of your mind, it became clear that the fire had been coming from both of you this entire time. He sighed sweetly into the kiss, tilting his head forward, trying somehow to deepen it even further, like he wouldn’t satisfied until you were completely melded together.

The two of you might have stayed that way if your lungs hadn’t begun to cry for air. Reluctantly, you pulled away, leaving you both breathless and longing for each other’s warmth again. All the efforts you’d made to hold yourself back around him seemed so laughable now. You didn’t want him in moderation, you wanted all of him.

Chan’s eyes fluttered open, dark and dazed. The sight made you want to pull him inside with you, to take him apart bit by bit and put him back together again, over and over until you knew him inside and out.

Instead, you brushed your thumb over his burning cheek, touch harboring a gentleness that masked the ache inside you.

“Get home safe, Channie,” you whispered.

[tonberry-yoda]

Off Guard - Toji Fushiguro

notes - I don't want to be a mother, but the urge to write a fluffy parent fic hits sometimes, and I have been brainrotting for an AU where Toji is a good dad and a good husband. Also this is the first time I'm writing for Toji <3 Glad I can spawn in every once and a while to drop something :) Hope you are all well !! word count - 788 genre - fluff

It was strange to see Toji’s soft side. Even though the two of you were married and he had been the little spoon on more than one occasion, it was still rare to see him smile and become a big ball of fluff.

But after you had Megumi, it was getting less and less rare.

You were seeing the love of your life fall in love all over again with another part of you. Another part of the both of you. In his big hands that were able to kill, he held Megumi as if he were going to break. He would press little kisses onto his forehead and even read him bedtime stories.

It was a side of Toji that was new, but so easy to love.

He claimed that he wouldn’t care much for being a father and even told you that he would probably end up doing the bare minimum, but you knew it was a lie. He was scared, and to be honest, you were too. Fear melted, however, when you saw your baby’s face for the first time and Toji cry at your side. You knew immediately that he was going to be the best father ever, even if his insecurity of being a dad got in the way.

Toji would leave quite a bit. It was because of work, obviously, so it didn’t bother you. But eventually, it did start to bother you. As Megumi got older, he began to miss his father and you began to worry more and more about him. You knew that Toji was strong, but he was in a line of work that could get him killed. You weren’t prepared for it to be just you and Megumi, even though most of the time, it already was.

“Toji,” you whispered when Toji had gotten home late, crawling into bed next to you. “Do you ever miss me during the day?”

Toji wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the back of your ear. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“Answer the question.”

“Of course I do.”

You turned to face him and he tipped your chin up. You could barely see him in the dark room, but you knew you were looking into his eyes. “Of course I miss you.”

“What about Megumi?”

“Always.”

You felt his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, but you still felt off. Toji stopped kissing you and cupped your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m worried about you.” You heard Megumi shuffle in his crib and you lowered your voice.

“Worried? Why?” Toji whispered.

“What if one day… you don’t come home?” You could feel yourself tearing up, but you didn't want to cry, especially if Megumi heard you.

“y/n,” Toji held you to his chest and you felt yourself relax. He was so warm, “I will always come home.” He kissed you on the forehead and you smiled, falling asleep shortly after.

You trusted Toji. After that, you knew he would keep his promise, and just like he said, he always came home. He began to bring home flowers or little toys for Megumi, and he started feeling more present, even though he was gone just the same.

On his days off, he would care for Megumi and let you relax. He would play with him in the backyard or color with him in the house and you would watch from afar with a smile painting your lips.

You fell in love with those boys so hard that sometimes it was hard to just watch.

Once, when Toji was showing Megumi how strong he was by lifting your son only with his bicep, you stepped outside, letting the cool summer breeze hit your hair. You walked to Toji and Megumi – who were non stop giggling –  and you pressed a kiss onto Toji’s cheek. Somehow, he got flustered and looked at you in shock. You smiled at him and he tucked his own hair behind his ear with his free hand. You giggled and pointed to Megumi, who looked like he was going to fall at any moment, and Toji cursed under his breath and helped Megumi, letting the boy crawl onto his back.

His attention quickly turned back to you, though, and he pulled you in for a kiss. You both ignored Megumi trying to pull out his father’s hair in the process and instead focused on Toji’s arm wrapping around your waist and the small, “I love you,” that escaped him before he went into the house to make lunch.

You stood in the grass barefoot and watched the golden sun set. Everything felt right and you knew it was going to stay this way.

~~~~~

jjk masterlist | pinned post

2024 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[disneyprincemuke]

you’re embarrassing me * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: inthaf logan and femdriver live in my mind rent free like i love them and they are absolute best friends, your honour!!!

i might be at work today but you can’t stop me from thinking of logan hunter sargeant

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

“happy birthday!” logan smiles, extending his arm to you. “sorry i’m late — i had to get benny to wrap your present.”

you look up from your spot at the other end of the table. you smile, putting your phone down. “oh, i was just about to ask you where you were. thanks for even bothering to get me something!”

you hop up from your position and push yourself through the rows of seats that are strewn lazily. “thank you.”

“of course,” logan smiles, wrapping his arms around you. he presses a kiss to your “happy birthday again. thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

“it wouldn’t be complete with you,” you giggle, pulling away.

it wasn’t until you turned back around to the table that you noticed that your friends were staring at you. alex’s jaw is dropped and george looks absolutely gutted. in the corner, lily and carmen are giggling to themselves while lando had his camera up and pointed at you.

“what?” you ask, scoffing slightly at the camera flash that goes off.

alex’s arm comes out to grab george’s shoulder. “she hugged him.”

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah, so?”

“you never let us hug you,” george says slowly, eyebrows furrowed in frustration at you being oblivious. “you damn near killed me the last time i tried to hug you!”

“yeah?” you hum, grabbing logan’s wrist to drag him along with you. “you sit with me.”

“what?” alex scoffs. “i’m sitting next to you.”

“not anymore. i’ve got a new favourite williams driver,” you beam, shaking his seat to get him off the chair. “and anyway, i already told you logan’s sitting next to me. you’d have bullied him all night if i don’t stop you.”

“and i told you first come first serve!”

“who’s the birthday girl? me or you?” you drop logan’s arm and put your hands on your hips. “who?”

alex starts to act flustered, slumping his shoulder and grabbing his cheeks with a smile. “you’re saying i can be birthday girl today? you serious?”

“ah, piss off!” you groan, shaking his seat again. when the thai doesn’t budge, you look over his head. “lily! alex is being an ass again.”

“alex.”

“yeah, okay. fine,” alex sighs in defeat, pushing himself off the seat. he turns to you. “you get a pass today because it’s your birthday. this won’t happen again, bro.”

logan giggles as he takes the seat previously occupied by his teammate. “what dish did you get? do you have a birthday cake?”

“no, we were waiting for you, silly!” you laugh and pick up the menu from the table and lean into him. “we also just arrived not too long ago. because somebody-“

“hey! it’s not my fault the uber cancelled on us!” george screams from your other side, reaching forward to hit you on the shoulder. “it’s not my fault!”

“it is,” alex sighs, shaking his head. he looks at logan. “this idiot forgot to tell us he booked a taxi — i was fresh out of the damn shower!”

“no, it was her fault!” george fights back, pointing at you.

at that point of the argument, you’d already drowned them out while you looked at the menu for something to order. you simply look up and press your lips together. “are we ordering cake?”

“absolutely! it’s a birthday, duh?” alex scoffs. “anyway, let’s take a picture so you can post it on your instagram about how great friends we were to you.”

you stare at alex. “sure. if you say so.”

you turn as lando gets up to ask someone to take a picture. “wait, your hair is messy,” you grumble, instinctively reaching out to fix logan’s hair. “how benny let you leave looking like this, i’ll never know.”

“what?” you hear logan mutter, pulling his head back slightly. “i did my hair. you don’t like it?”

“what?” you go up an octave as you try to laugh it off, retracting your hands. “no, it looks good.”

“but you said-“

“oh, look! lando’s found someone to take a picture,” you point over at the man holding lando’s camera. you dust off logan’s shirt and straighten it slightly. “look good — i’m announcing to the public that i’ve adopted you as my grid kid.”

“he’s turning 23 this year, you know that, right?”

“shut up, alex.”

[kitwalker02]

When Time Means Nothing

Joe Goldberg x Reader

Warnings: It's Joe Goldberg so obviously kidnapping stuff, drug use, injury, masturbation, literally wanting this man to break every bone in my body

Summary: Takes place in that three hour time gap when Joe went to get moonjuice while on acid. He gets a sudden urgency to begin his life with you and is willing to do whatever it takes…after all, broken bones heal quicker than broken hearts.

You wanted to trust Joe Goldberg.

You fell for him the moment you saw him, but you would be lying if you said his life was an open book, that he had no secrets.

You loved him but it would be a lie to say that you trusted him.

First, you found the keys. Then it was the storage room.

And then you found the cage.

But the worst of it was the cage wasn’t empty. A bed was inside, a desk, books, souvenirs...used tampons. It had been lived in and was ready to be lived in once more.

You could only wonder how you were ever going to face Joe again.

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t have to wonder for very long. Joe had his own suspicions of you and caught onto your snooping quickly, following you to the storage unit. Damn, nanny cams.

“Don’t say anything. Don’t look at anything. Just…come here.”

But it was all too little too late. Something grave and unspoken passed between your shared terrified gaze…you knew something now that you could never unlearn.

Now it was up to Joe to be able to trust you or kill you trying.

He took your phone and held your hand, backing you into the oversized glass box, whispering empty promises the entire time of coming back for you, trusting you…loving you.

Not even twelve hours later, he was cuffing you to a table with a sure plan of escape. One that, within the next sixteen hours, involved never seeing you again.

You were left alone and abandoned, your heart was heavy with rejection and your wrist was raw from tugging at the time-sensitive handcuffs.

“There is no self override.”

You rolled your eyes remembering Joe’s words, finally halting your movements. Glancing at the timer on the cuffs, you saw that there was less time ahead of you than there was behind. Who knew what that meant for Joe Goldberg and where he was at by this point?

He hadn’t believed you when you tried to convince him that you were different. That you loved him and that this recent dark discovery did nothing to taint the perfectly imperfect way in which you saw him.

Well, of course, Joe didn’t believe you. Why would he? He had caught you snooping after all.

Desperately wanting to ease your lonely heart, you thought back to your final interaction with Joe. You didn’t see the harm in attempting to entertain yourself due to the current circumstances and, with just a pang of guilt, you slipped a hand between your thighs, thinking back to the way Joe had looked down at you as he explained the cuffs. His expression and tone were so condescending, a defense mechanism he had used with you before instead of getting emotional. In your mind’s eye, it all further ignited the fire in your lower belly, remembering the way he crouched in front of you and grasped your wrist. Tightening the cuff you had put so gently on yourself. His calloused fingers were wrapped so firmly around your wrist, the veins in his forearm prominent as the grip of the cuff became almost bruising.

With your eyes closed, you could still feel his grip, the heat of his body so close to your own and his warm breath rafting over your face…

Suddenly the garage door was opened.

You ripped your hand from under your skirt as the screech and slam of the door being forced up brought you right back to your less-than-ideal present.

That was until you saw him…

Your heart started pounding, you easily recognized Joe as he stumbled into the storage unit, clumsily pulling the door shut and almost falling to the concrete floor from the force of it.

“Joe?”

You called out to him, but he didn’t seem to hear you as he pushed a few curly strands of hair out of his face that had fallen in his struggle.

You tried again, “Joe! What are you doing here?”

You struggled against your restraint as Joe began to approach you. His steps were slow and uncalculated, and he watched you through unfocused eyes, mouth slightly agape as he concentrated on getting one foot in front of the other.

“I thought you were leaving…” You reached your hand up to him and Joe grasped it weakly, stumbling into a crouch before you. He shook his head slowly, breathing somewhat heavily. You smiled at that, but your grin quickly fell when you noticed something in his hand and you couldn’t help but flinch when Joe brought a large white flower between your faces. He held it so close that the dainty white petals grazed the tips of your noses.

“I couldn’t stay away.” It was a struggle for him to get the short sentence out and you furrowed your brows at his slurred words and dilated pupils. “Joe…are you fucking high?”

Staring at you in disbelief, Joe shook his head roughly. “What? No!... Yes, but-“ He shuffled closer, ignoring the disapproving look on your face.

“Listen….You.” He said, dropping his voice a few octaves as he spoke the last word. He brought the flower closer to you, tucking it behind your ear with clumsy fingers. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I want a life with you.”

You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. Your heart swelled at the confession. That was all you could ever want. But Joe took your silence as a bad sign and his face dropped. “Do you want that with me?”

You didn’t even try to stop the huge grin from splitting your features. Tangling your fist into the soft tendrils of hair that rested at the base of Joe’s skull, you tugged him forward for a messy kiss, that was borderline painful as your teeth clanked in your eagerness.

Joe barely reacted, not quite registering your lips on his until you pulled away. You placed another wet kiss on his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder, your hand leaving the back of his head to instead wrap around his shoulders. You clutched at the dark dress shirt he wore, holding him to you in a tight embrace.

“I want that more than anything, Joe.”

Slowly, Joe’s warm hands came to rest on your back, the gentle action brought your body that much closer to his and you could feel his heartbeat in his chest against your own. Your hearts were in sync.

Just as you began to relax for the first time since you wandered into here, Joe abruptly tore himself from your embrace, instead slamming his hands down onto your shoulders, holding you roughly. “We have to get you out of here. Now.” He told you urgently, his eyes were wide, panicked.

You were taken aback by his sudden outburst and frowned at Joe. “Well, that’s great and all but we still have another-“ glancing down at the little red numbers ticking away on the cuffs, you released a sigh, “six hours.”

“Fuck that.” Joe scoffed, bringing his forehead to rest against your own. “Time means nothing when you’re in love.” He had to cross his eyes to maintain eye contact with you and you couldn’t help but smile at how innocent he looked in that moment.

“Okay then, Romeo. Did you get a key or something? Because you said it yourself, there is no overriding the system, remember?”

Rolling his eyes at your lack of imagination, Joe moved his hands to grasp the forearm of your trapped hand. “No. No, key.” He slurred softly, eyes not entirely focused as he stared at your wrist a little too hard, trailing one hand down to intertwine his fingers with your own. “But I know a little trick.” He looked up at you with a toothy grin, closing his right eye awkwardly in what you assumed was supposed to be a wink but came off as something of a twitch or a really slow, one-eyed blink.

“What trick?” You asked hesitantly, looking at him confused.

Joe cleared his throat dramatically, obviously excited by your question as he tightened his hold on you and shifted himself closer. “Well, I read…somewhere…once, that if you break your thumb you can slip the cuff right off.”

Your eyes widened in horror. He wouldn’t-  “That is so…cool, but we aren’t going to do that, right? I mean, what is six hours in the grand scheme of things?”

Tsking at your reluctance to trust him, Joe shook a finger at you before grasping your thumb in a fist. “That is where you are wrong. A lot can go down in six hours.”

You tried to pull out of Joe’s hold, but between the handcuff keeping you to the table and Joe’s tight grip, you didn’t get very far. “Woah, woah, woah. This is a terrible idea! I mean, you’re not even sober right now, Joe! And besides…it’s going to hurt like a bitch!”

Staring up at you through glassy eyes, Joe addressed you seriously. “I know it’s going to hurt but, you have to trust me, I have never been more clear-headed in my entire life. And besides-“ A sudden desperation washed over Joe’s features and your heart went out to his unexpected display of vulnerability, “it’ll hurt a lot less than dying. I’ve got blood on my hands, Y/N, and I’m not going to lose you too. I won’t lose you.” Your free hand came up to caress his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. “I’m not going anywhere, Joe Goldberg.” Taking in a shaky breath, you swallowed hard. “And…I do trust you.”

Releasing a relieved sigh, Joe gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can scream as loud as you want.” He informed you, gesturing around the room. “I made sure the walls were soundproof.” You gave him a nervous smile, not wanting to think about why that was something he thought of. “How thoughtful of you.”

“And I’ll be quick.” He continued, making two quick clicks with his tongue. “In and out.” You honestly wished he’d shut up already. You swore he’d said more in the last ten minutes than in the entire time you’ve known him and every word he said did less and less to ease your anxiety.

“On three?” Joe asked, waiting for your nod of approval. He instructed you to take a deep breath with him before turning what was left of his attention to your hand. “One…” You leaned your head onto his shoulder, holding onto him tightly and doing your best to relax your hand within his own. “Two..” You bit down on your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to prepare yourself for what was to come when a sudden hot pain shot through your hand, setting your bones on fire. You couldn’t stop the scream of agony and surprise that tore through your throat.

“God damn it, Joe!” You shouted, making him flinch. “You didn’t say three!”

But Joe ignored you, saying nothing as he hurried to guide your hand out of the cuff. You yelped when the metal accidentally grazed your now dislocated joint. You buried your face further into the crook of Joe’s neck not being able to stop the hot tears as he wrapped his fist around your thumb once more before jerking your finger up. Your jaw dropped at the resounding pop it made as your thumb slipped back into its socket.

Joe supported your now injured hand in his own as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling your shaking figure into a tight embrace.

“It’s done. And you’re safe just like I promised.”

You sniffled, rubbing your tear-stained face into his dress shirt as you clutched his back, returning the embrace. You couldn’t help but be impressed with how efficient Joe had been with the whole thing but you were never going to tell him that, opting to be pissed off about the entire situation.

“Let’s, please, just get the fuck out of here. I think I need an ice pack.”

Joe gently pulled you off of him so he could look into your eyes, bringing a hand up to caress your quivering jaw as tears continued to roll down your cheeks.

“We are going to get the fuck out of here…forever, but first, there’s this script I need to finish.” Your eyes widened in bewilderment. What was he on about now?

Joe shook his head when your frown deepened at his words. “No, no, no. Listen! It’s going to be great…and the best part is, you won’t be in the sequel.”

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Pissing on Romance's Grave

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship WARNING(S): tw Kaiser

Today is worse than a plague.

Well… Exaggerated inner turmoil aside, you’ve been having an awful day. It’s like you’ve been waddling through a swamp of bullshit. Even now you’re climbing up the stairs to your apartment because the stupid elevator broke. Could’ve been worse, you suppose — at least you weren’t inside when it malfunctioned.

The feeble attempt at optimism, however, isn’t easing your hatred and misery at all. Proof of your ever present anger is how you almost rip the door off its hinges after you unlock it, barging in, then closing it with a bang again.

While taking off your shoe, you register a strange smell. Of something burnt. Maybe you’re resigned to the fate that it’s probable you’ll die today, so while you are alarmed, it’s not enough to make you hurry and run with your other shoe still on. Even when you do begin your trek with heavy footsteps, your pace is brisk at best, following the scent right to your bedroom.

You don’t hesitate, but perhaps you should’ve, since it would’ve given you a moment to brace yourself. Still, nothing could’ve really prepared you for the sight that greets you once you enter.

“I can explain,” Kaiser says with wide eyes, reaching out his hands in front of him in case you try to lunge at him and go in for the kill.

Your bathrobe looks burned. Usually this isn’t an observation you’d be making, but you’re forced to now, what with Kaiser wearing it… for some godforsaken reason. Your bed is in even worse condition, tattered and covered in soot, melting candles knocked over. Wax sticking to the ruined sheets. Rose petals are scattered all over the floor. Many of them are ashy like they got caught up in whatever incident occurred. Three more candles dripping over the flowers and the carpet, all these things culminating in a giant mess.

What the actual fuck are you looking at?

“Open the window!” you scream at him then gesture towards it, maybe in case he doesn’t know what a ‘window’ is. It wouldn’t surprise you at this point with the way things are going.

“I did!” Kaiser says, annoyed, as if he has any right to be giving you an attitude in this situation. Though, recognizing the murderous intent in your face, he fumbles to reach out and open it. “I did, but I got cold, so I closed it.”

“Yeah, speaking of, why the hell are you wearing my bathrobe?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring mine-”

“Why do you need to be wearing a bathrobe. At. All.”

“For the atmosphere.”

“For the atmosphere?” You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “For the atmosphere?! There’s no atmosphere, this is just a fire hazard!”

“It was going to be romantic-”

“Why did you close the window even though the room hasn’t aired out and stayed inside? Why were you even- What if something happened to you?!”

Kaiser smirks at you, content all of a sudden, before he crosses his arms. You could punch him in the face. “Oh, so you’re worried about me. You’d be sad if I died.” He says all this in the tone of announcing a triumph he’s holding over your head.

You ignore him, stepping over one of the roses. Kaiser regards the action with mild offense, which you don’t notice, since you’re too lost in the haze of your rage to even comprehend what’s going on. “How did you even manage this?”

“There was a miscalculation.”

“What does that mean?”

“I, um, I… tried to pose on the bed,” says Kaiser. This is the first time you’ve seen him look shameful during your entire time together, averting his gaze away from yours and all. Which is one way to affirm his statement and plan are particularly stupid, since he’s the type to stare at you straight on, unflinching, and smirk at you while telling you the dumbest shit.

“Pose?”

“You know. You know what I mean, right? Like a French girl? Yeah, like that.” The more he explains it, the more pathetic his mumbling is getting. To think even Kaiser, who’s obsessed with the sound of his voice, is capable of an inside voice.

You’ve never been so tense in your life. You might be developing a hernia in your neck. “Oh right, of course. Right! Because why wouldn’t you do that while wearing something flammable? I’m so stupid, how didn’t I think of that? Also, why in the world were you trying to LIGHT UP THE CANDLES AGAIN?! Like, let them rest, they’re already fucking done for! I saw you!”

“For the- for my artistic purposes. Of course. A real visionary doesn’t just give up after a small mishap.”

“And! The key I gave you is for emergencies! Not for you to-”

“But it was!!! A fucking emergency!”

“-set fires in my home! What are you even doing here?” You finish off your speech with a huff. Your tantrum has exhausted you, but at the same time it’s convenient you can use Kaiser as a verbal punching bag because of his lunacy.

Now he’s channeling his kicked puppy eyes. Like, he’s trying his best to force himself to cry, you can tell by the way he’s squinting at you and straining. When the effort proves futile he gives up and settles for glaring at you. “Alright, I know I messed up, but it’s obvious I was trying to surprise you for our anniversary.”

You blink at him. Then stay quiet.

“You forgot!” he accuses, trying to distract you from being mad at him by creating some fabricated emotional torment. Then he tries to force himself to cry again, and all you do in response to the display is roll your eyes.

Damn, you can’t believe your day has been so awful, your one year anniversary slipped your mind. These people are working you to an early grave.

“Whatever,” you say, before making a vague motion all around. “Clean up.”

His jaw hangs open as if he’s scandalized. “What? You want me to clean this shit all by myself?”

“You inflicted this on my poor bed alone. Clean it, now.”

Seeing that you’re apparently not dying of guilt, Kaiser decides to switch tactics. “But! My beloved, light of my life, fire in my groin-”

“That’s-” you interrupt your own sentence with a groan and resist the urge to either sock him in the jaw or find a way to knock yourself out through some obscure pressure point. Then you shake your head. Unfortunately it does nothing useful like for example maybe erasing the last twenty-four hours from your mind and instead remains as a meaningless gesture. “Not how it goes.”

“I know,” he says, satisfied with himself and his ridiculous antics. At least you think he must be from his annoying, smug grin. Though immediately after Kaiser appears to get a mood swing because his lips twist down again. “I can’t believe you forgot about our anniversary, though. And now you’re making me act like a maid. Do I mean nothing to you? You’re breaking my spirit here and this is an unethical dynamic-”

“Micha, I don’t give a fuck about your guilt tripping act. Just clean this up so we can enjoy the rest of our day.”

“Fine. Whatever. You win. You win! Your heartlessness wins against my romantic soul. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You grit your teeth. “Shut up and get on with it.”

“Okay.” He deflates like a particularly depressed balloon.

You then proceed to watch as Kaiser makes his way around and acts like gathering and throwing away rose petals is the most difficult thing anyone has ever done. In his mind, this experience must be the most suffering anyone’s ever endured — but who knows what goes through his head. Several times, he offers to buy you a new apartment because he ‘doesn’t feel like dealing with this’ and since it’s ‘below him.’

And the whole time you’re observing him and his behavior, you can’t help but wonder what mental institution this man must’ve crawled out of to then find his path leading to you.

[bambisnc]

WHAT WE DONT WANT PART 3 WE NEED ITT!!👺👺🔥

with the setting moon [ft. j.wy]

-> + [series m.list]

pairing : wony x reader genre : fluffyy/angstish + fake dating trope! (but its not fake anymore?!?) cw/tw : dying mention + kissing + ik this is actually not accurate fr but wikihow said this so i js ran w it -> i do suggest looking at it b4 u read! wc : 1 ish page ehe

"the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

“not as beautiful as you darling~”

wonyoung, your fake girlfriend, obviously refuses to leave a single opportunity to make your face flush delicately with her subtle remarks, teasing comments or scattered suggestive touches. you need practice, she insists, if anyone is to believe the two of you are dating.

but it’s been months since that one wednesday afternoon when she’d roped you into her plan to make her ex jealous. it’s been months and you can’t help but feel shocked as you compare the wonyoung of then - focussed on her goal of showing up her ex and his new girlfriend and rigidly following the rules she’d set between the two of you; to the wonyoung of now - who seems to have zero inhibitions when it comes to you, breaking rules one by one until you're not sure you can even recall there being any in the first place.

it’s killing you. and you’re sure she’s completely unaware.

it pains you how the practice sessions always escalate to various heights of intensity. it pains you how she still manages to weave in adoration and care in every single action of hers.

exhibit a : she currently has you in her car; one hand carelessly resting on your thigh as the other scrolls through her phone looking for a playlist she liked.

also notable is that her car is parked in the most gorgeous setting you could ever imagine; fairytale-like in all its essence with a view of glimmering city lights and quiet grassy land behind you.

you allow your head to lean back on your seat, and bask in the starlight through the sunroof with your eyes fluttering shut.

… you won’t deny that your seemingly nonchalant remark about the moon was more to scope out her thoughts. about this situation. about you. the japanese legend was rather popular but it wouldn’t be right to assume she did know about it. 

she probably didn’t know about it.

but if she did, would she have answered it the way you hoped..?

wonyoung’s grip tightens on your thigh ever so slightly, in a playful manner but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart run laps. her phone now abandoned, she allows herself to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

it’s like she can always sense when your mind wanders away and is more than willing to bring it back to the present, back to her.

as if you could ever bring yourself to leave.

“hey. earlier what you said about the moon..,” she places a light kiss right at the corner of your mouth, “i actually meant to say that, yeah it is. and now, i can finally die happy..”

oh.

oh.

notes : ANON ILY FOR THIS ! ! + sighs </3 i think this is the end of wony chronicles </3 + [m.list] song rec : off the record c'mon now it's the official theme song 4 the series .. <3

[extinctspino]

can do a wednesday x fem! reader where the reader has the same personality as her <3

Alike

Pairing: Wednesday x femreader

Wordcount: 860

Warnings: none

Author's note: This was a bit harder than I thought it would be, haha. If you didn’t like the way it turned out you can always message me!

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“Why are you awake.” As soon as you woke up you heard Wednesday’s cold voice. “Should I not be awake right now?” You got out of bed and stared straight into her eyes. They were as dead as yours.

When you first met her you were the slightest bit surprised. You weren’t expecting a girl like her to become your new roommate, but deep inside you, you were a little gleeful. 

You saw her walking with her family... toward your dorm room.

Both of you arrived in front of the door at the same time. “Y/n, good timing. This is Wednesday - your new roommate.” Ms. Weems started opening the door, but you didn’t move. Neither did Wednesday. 

You looked each other straight in the eyes, not sparing a single second to blink. 

“Cara Mia, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Gomez and Morticia watched your weird staring contest before returning their attention to Ms. Weems who was telling them all kinds of things about the school.

“The longest someone lasted sharing a room with me was a week.” You didn’t break eye contact. “Let’s see if you can break the record.” And with that, you left her side and entered your room. 

Wednesday didn’t show it, but she liked having this competition. For her, it was just another poor soul who dared cross paths with her.

“Y/n will give you a tour around campus and tell you its and bits about the school.” Ms. Weems gave you a pointed look, wordlessly warning you. 

Hah, those were good times... now back to the present.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up today.” This was like her way of saying good morning to you. 

“Me too.” You replied with slight disappointment evident in your voice.

The other students thought you two would eventually kill each other. You threatened each other, had the same murderous thoughts sometimes and even your glares matched.

You would compete with each other during every. Single. Class. Even the teachers had enough at a certain point. 

But it was quite the opposite. You would never admit this to anyone, but you appreciated all the quiet time you got and you felt super relaxed during her solo cello sessions. 

Every time she played cello you secretly glanced at her through the window and remembered every single note she played. 

Fortunately for you, these sessions happened more than once a week. You would lie down on your bed, close your eyes and imagine the most gruesome things possible while listening to her solo.

A lot of time passed and almost everything stayed the same. Both of you were still as hostile as ever, but something was different. 

The next time she was playing cello, you were leaning on the ledge of the ‘balcony’ while watching the blue moon that only occurs once in 2 or 3 years.

You didn’t even realize she stopped playing until she stood next to you, admiring the moon just like you had been doing for the past 15 minutes. 

You glanced at her and with the way the moon was shining on her, you felt things you had never felt before. 

It felt as if a spider just settled into your stomach and started creating an entire cobweb. ‘Is this what they call butterflies?’ You asked yourself. ‘I prefer the term spiders though.’

“Wednesday?” Your voice was filled with all sorts of emotions for the first time in your whole life. You didn’t know what to do, but at the same time you knew exactly what to do. 

Wednesday shifted her gaze from the moon to you. You became very uncertain all of a sudden. Maybe the moon was affecting you, making you do all these crazy things. That’s what you tried to convince yourself.

You gazed at the moon one more time as if asking for its power. “Would you like to die together one day?”

...

...

...

...

...

Wednesday let her facade slip and there was an imperceptible emotion in her eyes. Maybe a soul was looking at you through those chambers of darkness after all. 

If you asked anybody else the same question they would be freaked out, but Wednesday knew entirely what you meant.

You started leaning in toward Wednesday. Still inches apart but so so close. Wednesday copied your action and also leaned forward.

“Only if I get to choose our coffins.” That was all you needed to hear. You closed the gap between you two and you had never felt so helpless before.

The way her soft but cold lips made your knees go weak. The way she pulled you in deeper as if you were going to run away if she let you go. The way she was as desperate as you, if not, more desperate.

If only you didn’t need air to survive. You pulled away breathlessly. Your forehead against hers, your eyes still closed. Only the sounds of catching breaths were heard. 

Both of you opened your eyes and stared at each other. The moon was like a paid actor standing there, illuminating in the dark. You locked eyes with her.

“Till death do us part.” 

It was safe to say that she broke the record and became the new record holder.

[emelinstriker]

Macaque ♡ Bath Time

First of all, this is all still SFW, but would be leading into NSFW with the ending implication. So this still counts as Fluff. Also I personally would call him Mac-Mac, so that shall now be implemented into my fics.

That being said...

CW: slight suggestive vibe, nudity, mild gore(? had to hold back a lot from making it full on detailed descriptions), maybe faint yandere behavior if you squint

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

"I've told you before. Hands off my territory... No one to blame but yourself."

The dark-furred simian dropped the demon's corpse onto the pavement with a dark grin. It's been a while since he really got to do this to another demon. He's been holding back his true strength ever since he met you, in hopes of not scaring you off... Well, at least he didn't usually attack demons with you around. That didn't mean he would kill them even when you weren't present.

However... this particular demon crossed the line. Not only did this demon return to the apartment complex, the Six-Eared Macaque's territory, despite having been warned... But this demon also threatened to kill him, as well as you and your neighbors right after.

Little did he know that your husband was a lot more capable than any other ordinary demon this guy had ever faced before, by far. Despite his size compared to the intruder, he could easily fold him.

And of course, Macaque didn't take this random demon's threats lightly. Killing off a threat to you and your home once in a while wouldn't be so bad, no? Surely a little bit of self-defense in the name of your safety should be fine.

So he did what he seemed most fit. Getting rid of the pest that spoke of those threats. After all, endangering you in any way, shape or form was off-limits. Anyone attempting to break this one simple rule had to deal with the consequences and would be punished by your loving husband...

Violence may not always be the answer, but life is multiple choice.

And death was just one of the options.

A quite merciful one at that.

Macaque glanced down at the blood that now stained not only his clothes, but his fur too. He rolled his eyes, grumbling about needing to take a bath. After all, he wouldn't want his beloved to be stained by another demon's blood when he hugged them. And thus, he disposed of the body by engulfing it in a shadow portal. He was torn between letting it fall into lava or the ocean, but he decided that lava would be the quickest solution. If the corpse somehow managed to not be gone by the time the Demon Bull Family saw something floating on the surface of one of their lava pits, then they could simply see it as a nice aesthetic gift to their home.

He used another shadow portal to return to your shared apartment's living room. Everything was quiet, so much so that he had no problems hearing all your neighbors without even trying, which the shadow monkey already anticipated. Usually it was him that would come home later than you, but not today since his plays were scheduled for only half of the week. And it was a good thing he had the day off. Who knows what would've happened if you came home first and encountered the demon he got rid of instead!

After making his way past your bedroom door, he let a shadow clone enter and pick some fresh clothes for him. Meanwhile, he prepared his bath. The dark-furred simian noticed the lack of a shampoo bottle near the bathtub, so he ended up picking the plum-scented shampoo from the cabinet beneath the sink. Macaque was considering using body wash as well, but decided against it as most of what the blood got on was pure fur anyway. His shadow clone then walked in with fresh clothes, placing them on the closed toilet seat before vanishing back into his shadow.

However, before he could undress, his ears caught the sound of keys clashing by the front door. He smiled to himself at the implication- Only you had keys to the apartment since he didn't need keys to enter. And his assumption was indeed correct.

"Mac-Mac, I'm home!" Your lovely voiced called out from down the hallway as you entered.

"Heya, sugarplum! I'll be right with you, just gonna take a bath first!" He called back through he closed door. It did take a while until the tub was actually filled with warm water, so in the meantime he inspected his nude, scarred form in the mirror. He sighed to himself as he tried getting some blood off manually with his fingers, but to no avail. It would be difficult to clean up some spots, for sure. Especially those splatters that ended up on his back...

Another thing he did while waiting for the bathtub to fill up was to listen in on what you were doing. From what he could still hear past the noises coming from the faucet and your neighbors, apparently you were eating dinner. Presumably leftovers from the fridge as he did not recall you cooking anything earlier that day.

Once the tub was full, he turned off the faucet, then climbed inside and began to clean himself up. Macaque started off by washing all his fur on and around his head, at least that was easy to do. There wasn't even all that much blood stuck in there in the first place... Well, except for maybe the front.

He was so busy rubbing the blood off his arms that he didn't hear you walking towards the bathroom. At least until you lightly knocked on the door, pulling him back into reality.

"May I come in? I need a dry towel for the kitchen", you asked. Your husband told you that you may enter, so you did.

It was far from the first time you saw him without clothes, so it wasn't exactly awkward when you came in and picked one of the thinner towels. After choosing a fitting one, your eyes glanced over at the dark-furred simian. Honestly, he was already handsome by default. Him without a shirt was even better. But his wet, shiny fur glistening in the light of the bathroom made him look a lot more appealing on top of it all.

Suddenly, his own gaze landed on you. He seemed a bit confused, but this little bit of confusion was quickly wiped away as his smug grin took over.

Shit. He probably heard your heartbeat increase... Curse his intense hearing!

"What's the matter, sugarplum? Like what you see~?"

You were about to respond in a flustered, passive aggressive manner... Until you noticed the amount of red that was still very much present on his fur. You paused for a second before becoming concerned. "What happened? Did you get into a fight? Is that your blood?!" You asked frantically.

Macaque's grin left just as quickly as it came. "No, no! Well... I mean yes, I did get into a fight. B- But this isn't my blood!" That statement only eased your concerns a bit.  You simply stood there in thought with the folded towel in hand... Until he seemed to try wash off some blood his back, but to no avail.

"Do you need help getting it off?" You asked as you slowly put the towel onto the sink.

He raised an eyebrow at you before waving his hand dismissively. "I wouldn't mind the company."

You hummed in amusement as you made your way over to the bathtub, getting onto your knees next to it. Macaque handed you the bottle of shampoo and you put a portion of it onto your hand, putting the bottle next to you on the ground. You then scooped up a bit of water with your other hand and mixed both liquids together. Afterwards your hands were free to roam around your husband's back, trying to get rid of the red colors and the faint stench...

Honestly, you couldn't tell if it was just the blood because his fur seemed to stink on its own.

Suddenly, the dark-furred simian started to purr as you started gently cleaning blood around his tail. You actually had a somewhat hard time cleaning it... Macaque's joy over you handling his tail so gently only made it move around more. That in of itself wouldn't have been much of a problem, but we have to take his extra strength into consideration. He may be holding back by a lot, but his tail was still able to casually pick you up if he wanted to. So trying to keep it still enough to properly get rid of stains was a challenge.

You grinned at his tail's excitement, "Do you want me to wash the rest of your body too or what?"

The shadow monkey halted before fake-thinking with a hum. "Only if you get in here with me."

You gave him a blank look for a few seconds. Macaque thought this suggestion was a bit too much for you today. You barely got off work after all. Thus he was about to apologize... until he heard you take off your own clothes.

He paused as his tail's tip flicked back above the water in anticipation. His head whipped to the side to see you put your clothes onto his own pile or dirty clothes. With your body now in the nude, you approached the bathtub before demanding him to scoot over so you could sit behind him. You then positioned yourself so he was sitting between your legs, practically having been captured so he could never escape. (He wouldn't have minded to be honest.)

And without another word, you proceeded to continue washing him. Mainly his back and sides due to his fur's locations, but you occasionally would brush over part of his chest. Most of his fur in the back wasn't even bloody, but it was still nice to help clean him. At one point his tail wrapped around your waist as he leaned back into your hold, purring while slightly rubbing himself against you. You cooed at him being adorable and tried countering him by pushing your body firmly against his, trying to reach at least part of his legs better.

However, the moment you got to his hips towards his abdomen, he chuckled. "Not low enough, sugarplum~"

You rolled your eyes at his words with a flustered smile, "Mac-Mac, you can clean that area yourself. I can barely even clean your legs from here." He pouted as his head turned to face you, just so you could see his disappointment. You grinned at him in return.

"Do I at least get a reward for cleaning up the rest myself?" He asked with a knowing smirk as his gaze lowered towards your body below the water. That cheeky little bastard... You raised an eyebrow at the monkey's suggestion. The fact that his tail seemed to slowly make its way towards your thigh didn't help the situation.

You sighed in defeat as you nuzzled into your husband's furry back. "Okay fine. But, only one round, got it? I still have work tomorrow, and you know how much our stamina differs."

Macaque chuckled, using his hands to position your arms around his torso, your hands against his chest. "I can't promise anything, sugarplum~" He swiftly turned around more until he was able to give you a quick kiss on the lips, his hands holding your head for better access. "I love you."

In return, you leaned in as well for a kiss that would last a little longer. "I love you too..."

"Well, guess I better get to cleaning now, just so we have more time for my reward~", he said in his low voice as he pulled away. It didn't take long for Macaque to completely clean himself, especially with this new motivation literally sitting behind him with a flushed, yet amused look.

Maybe you should offer him this type of reward for doing house chores, just to motivate him into actually doing those more often.

> Masterlist <

[run-little-hero]

“So your plan didn’t work out, obviously,” Villain prompts, an all too casual jab considering the circumstances. “Still thinking about killing me?”

“I haven’t ruled it out.”

Villain smirks, entertained. “If you kill me, who will keep you company now that you’re dead?”

Correction, Hero thinks. Should be dead. You’d think being caught in a massive explosion of metaphysical power would be enough to ensure destruction. Evidently, it wasn’t.

Hero wraps a layer of gauze around their aching forearm, scraped raw in the wreckage. “Not exactly dead.”

“But a ghost all the same.” Villain is lounging at the back of their stolen van. Hero is in the drivers seat.

As with most things, in Hero’s opinion, Villain is to blame for their present circumstances. They shielded them from the blast with a homemade forcefield generator, which received the brunt of the power discharge before collapsing. It saved their lives—cosmetic wounds at most. They’d both survived much worse.

But for the first time, Hero can’t convince themself the life of justice is worth living anymore. Not that they could go back alone. They’ve successfully helped their enemy escape. They murdered Supervillain. They’ve given up.

Hero tears the gauze and ties it off using their teeth. They glare at Villain. “I might be here with you now, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what you’ve done. I can’t ever forget.”

They turn away from Villain, reaching for a bottle of painkillers. Memories flood their mind of faces cut down by Villain. Innocent victims, Hero’s friends, Supervillain. They’re both haunted—it’s why they’re consistently drawn together.

Villain asks, “Why did you do it?”

The ‘it’ in question being Hero’s master plan to take them down together. Hero had partnered with Villain on order from the Agency to eliminate Supervillain once and for all. But it was never about Supervillain, Hero knows that. They had a chance and they took it. To fulfill the mission they’d been working towards half their life. Hero detonated Supervillain’s weapon.

‘Why did you do it?’ Any other Hero would’ve killed Villain without sacrificing themself.

‘Why did you do it?’ The answer alludes Hero. It’s like they’ve cast their line and got a bite, but can’t bring themself to reel it in.

Villain continues, “Couldn’t abide my dying alone? You had to bury your own guilt and make yourself a martyr in the process?”

Hero scoffs. “Please, I won’t be—“

“That’s how they’ll frame it.” Villain puts on their best news anchor impersonation. “‘Self-sacrificing hero presumably dead after defeating dastardly villain. Bodies yet to be recovered. Slaughtered supervillain left behind.’”

Hero frowns. “They won’t stop looking. Even if Superhero and the agency make that statement, they won’t rest until they have proof of our demise. They know better than that.”

“Unfortunately, I agree. We’re too much of a threat together.” Villain steps to the front of the van, sliding into the passenger seat. “But I’m less interested in them. I’m anxious to know what you’ll do next.”

Hero can’t look at them. They can’t reconcile that they’re alive and they’re together despite the pain they’ve inflicted on each other. On Supervillain. On everyone. They should’ve died in the explosion. Why couldn’t Villain let them have that?

“Why did you do it, Hero?”

“I had to.” A tear lands on the back of Hero’s hand.

“Tell me.”

“I wouldn’t face what we’d done. I couldn’t.” Hero can’t recall crying in front of Villain before. They can’t find it in themself to be ashamed anymore.

“Couldn’t admit you loved it?” Villain reaches towards Hero, putting a hand on their shoulder “Will you kill me then? Cut out the heart of your darkness? Go back to infuriating politeness and 30-hour weeks at a desk instead of in the field?”

You flatter yourself. But then again, they’ve become so twisted that Villain can read Hero better than anyone. Bringing back Villain’s head on a pike might be the only way to clear their name. If only they’d died when Hero intended, they wouldn’t have to grapple with such a choice.

It’s a terrifying type of awareness, being recognized my a monster. Hero can’t keep running.

Hero grips the steering wheel. “I think…you and I might benefit from some time away.”

They’re met with a smile. “I think we just might.”

—

snippet #11

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-five] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, lil bit of angst, smut (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 2.4k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: protected sex, public(ish) sex, switchy minho

“Min, what if we get caught?” you whispered, panting in his ear. 

It was hard to think straight while sitting on his dick but fragments of worries still bounced around in the back of your mind, vague reminders that what you were doing was illegal. It wasn’t as if you were some kind of saint, but you weren’t trying to get yourself on a registered sex offender list- especially not in Hawai’i of all places. 

“We won’t,” he assured you, “anyone who sees us will just think we’re cuddling.”

“Anyone with common sense will know exactly what we’re doing,” you muttered back. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

Minho held you still on top of him, fingers digging into your hips to stop you from moving. You didn’t answer right away.

“Baby?” he prompted, squeezing you tighter. 

The pet name startled you back into the present moment, making you stare down at Minho, blinking at him in surprise. He chuckled and freed one of his hands to rub your lower back under the hem of your shirt. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you confessed. “But if we get caught, I’m killing you.”

“If we get caught, my career is over,” he corrected, reminding you that there were more important things for him to worry about than yourself.

You always managed to forget that Minho was famous. Not even just famous, he was attached to the most popular boy group in the world. If he were to get in trouble for something like this it would make international news. And Minho’s parents would find out. Logically, you knew that his family finding out paled in comparison to the entire world finding out, but the first possibility was more daunting to you. Still, the idea of going viral for fucking one of BTS’s backup dancers on the beach was not something you wanted for yourself. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t then-” you said and started to lift yourself off of him. 

“I want to,” Minho assured you. “But I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because you’re worried about someone seeing. We can take this back to the car if you want, or the hotel, or we can be done for the night.”

You slumped forward, resting against his chest and letting him hold you. You didn’t want to cut it short but you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully relax if you were thinking about every worst case scenario possible. 

“Can we go back to the hotel?”

He nodded. “Of course we can.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, none of that. Don’t be sorry. I want you to be comfortable, yeah? The whole point of sex is to enjoy it.”

You nodded in agreement even though you still felt a little guilty. Minho stood and then helped you to your feet. He gathered up the blanket you’d been sitting on and shook it off. He handed you one side of the blanket and kept hold of the other so that you could fold it nicely. 

“Where’d you even get this from?” you asked. 

“What, the blanket?”

 “Yeah, have you been carrying that around in your luggage this whole time?”

“No, I took it from the couch in my hotel room.”

“Minho!”

“What? I’m going to put it back!”    “It’s all dirty now, though.”

“I’ll wash it,” he assured you. “There are a lot of laundromats around here. Now come on, let’s head back before it gets too late.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion. “How do you know that? Do you keep a running tab of every laundromat you come across?”

He led you by the hand back up the beach to the pathway to the parking lot, turning his head ever so slightly when he answered you so that you could hear him. “No, I just pay attention.”

“Shocking.”

Minho turned away from you again but you could see him shaking his head. You assumed he was also rolling his eyes at you. 

He threw the blanket in the trunk once you reached the car, and climbed back into the driver’s seat. 

“I don’t suppose you want to take the wheel this time?” he asked after you had already buckled your seat belt. “Since you do have an American driver’s license?”

You gave him a look. “Yeah, but it’s illegal for me to drive this car since I’m not listed on the rental paperwork as a driver.”

“You think we’ll get pulled over?”

“We might! I’m also not old enough, remember?”

He grinned as he put the car in reverse “I know. I was just kidding.”

“Rubbing it in my face again?”

“Of course.”

The drive back to the resort was comfortable. Minho pointed out every single laundromat you passed, even after you told him he’d made his point and didn’t have to keep doing so. You were the one to reach for his hand this time, threading your fingers between his without hesitation. He smiled to himself when you did that and squeezed your hand affectionately, something that did not go unnoticed by you. 

The spot in the hotel parking lot the two of you had left earlier was still open when you returned. Apparently, no one else liked to be out late, even on vacation. 

You let go of Minho’s hand to get out of the car and didn’t grab it again as you walked into the lobby. 

“Are you tired?” Minho asked once you reached the elevators. You knew the question he was actually asking was whether or not you were too tired to go upstairs with him. This was just his not-so-subtle way of asking. 

“I was tired when you dragged me out of bed but I’m too horny to sleep now.”

He grinned. “My room, then?”

“No, let’s fuck in my room,” you said sarcastically. “I’m sure your brother would love that.”

“Hilarious.”

“Thank you.”

The bell on the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival and you shuffled in together. Minho placed a hand on the small of your back and leaned forward to press the button for the eleventh floor, settling back against the wall next to you once it lit up and started to ascend. 

He dropped his hand again when the elevator reached his floor. You missed the warmth instantly. You knew the little things like that shouldn’t hurt your feelings. You weren’t a couple. He was too recognizable to be seen with anyone and have it not cause a fuss. Still, you found yourself wishing things could be different. It stung, even though it shouldn’t.

Minho stopped in front of what you assumed to be his door and fished in his pocket for the room key. He waved the card in front of the sensor, the electronic lock blinking green on the first try.

The room was dark, but Minho turned the entryway light on so that you were able to see into the space. His room was nearly identical to you and Jisung’s. The only difference was that the bed was against the opposite wall.

“You’re not sharing with Felix this time?” you asked at the realization that there was only one bed instead of two. 

“Our parents wanted us to, but we were getting pretty sick of each other so we decided to split the cost of an extra room.”

“Uh-huh, and it had nothing to do with this?” You gestured in between the two of you to emphasize the ‘this’ you were referring to.

“No, no, not at all!” Minho insisted, hand to his heart. “I promise, I didn’t bring you out to the beach just so we could have sex. I didn’t expect for us to- I just wanted to talk.”

Your mind went back to the moment where Minho had seemed lost in thought, like he wanted to say something important and then decided against it at the last minute. Was that what he meant? Or were you reading too much into it?

“I meant to tell you earlier,” he continued, “I didn’t want you to think that.”

“Oh okay,” you said, mostly because you weren’t sure what else to say. “It’s not a big deal if that was why you wanted to go somewhere. It’s not like we really do anything other than hook up anyway.”

“Not because I don’t want to! It’s just, it’s not like we can do normal couple stuff.” 

“You’d... want to do that with me?”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

Instead of choosing to address that, you pivoted. “Um, do you mind if I rinse off before we do anything else?”

Minho didn’t answer right away. He stood there staring at you with a look of concern on his face, bottom lip pulled in between his teeth as he tried to discern your sudden change in mood. “No, of course I don’t mind. But... are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

You shook him off and lied. “No. I just feel gross from the beach. Did you want to join me or not?”

He hesitated again and you could tell he wanted to press further but refrained. “Yeah, of course I want to join you.”

You undressed together in relative silence as you waited for the water to warm up. The mood was definitely different but you hoped you hadn’t completely killed it. 

You could feel Minho’s gaze on you, could feel questions lingering in the air between you, but again he didn’t push. 

You turned around and kissed him to make up for it and he relaxed a little. He let you distract him all too willingly, stumbling into the shower after you with his eyes still closed. 

You pressed Minho up against the tile wall and he moaned into your mouth. He was already hard again, you could feel his dick twitching against your stomach. You reached in between your bodies and took him in your hand, stroking him slower than you knew he liked. It was better than nothing but nowhere near enough and it wasn’t long until he was thrusting into your palm, fucking your fist like it was a toy. You teased him a little, drawing your hand out of reach every now and then just to watch him pout. You couldn’t help yourself. It was payback for all of the times he had teased you and the desperate sounds he made every time you threatened to stop were turning you on more than you would have liked to admit. 

Minho let you think you were in control until he flipped it on you, literally. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed your wrists and spun you around so that you were the one up against the shower wall. Your back hit the tile hard and you scowled in annoyance.  

“What’s that look for?” Minho asked, hiking your thigh up onto his waist. 

“You couldn’t just let me be in charge for once?” 

He laughed. “I thought you liked it like this.”

You sigh. “I do, it’s just... I was having fun.”

“I could tell,” he mused. “You had this evil little smile on your face while you were jerking me off. It was pretty cute.”

“How could you tell? You had your eyes closed the whole time.”

“That’s not true, I had them like this-” he pauses to squint, “some of the time.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“I did!”

“Can you just fuck me already? I’m tired of you.”

-

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, glaring at Jisung as he rifled through the items on the rack.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. 

The boys were going golfing, and being the good fake girlfriend you were, you had no other choice but to tag along. You wouldn’t be playing, thank god, but you had to cheer Jisung on, and apparently had to dress the part to do so. You didn’t have anything suitable for the golf course so Nikki had suggested Jisung take you downstairs to the gift shop to find something to wear. 

The resort you were staying at was right across from the course so the gift shop was full of golf novelties and athletic wear for your... convenience. 

“These are expensive!” you hissed at Jisung once you checked the prices.

“You’re not the one paying for them,” he reminded you. 

“I know, that’s worse!”

“You know how much he makes right? Besides, I’m sure your real boyfriend will love it on you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, you know that.”

Jisung looked annoyed. “Boyfriend, fuck buddy, booty call, sneaky link, situationship- whatever you want to call him.”

“Can we not talk about this?” you practically begged. “At least not here?”

He shrugged but dropped it. “You should get the polo and the skirt. It matches what I’m going to wear.”

You took Jisung’s advice and bought the items he suggested, paying for them with your own money. Even though they were pricey and you knew you would likely never wear them again, you wanted to exercise at least a little bit of financial freedom. You already felt guilty for the money the Hans had spent on you thus far. 

You thought about keeping the tags on the clothes and then returning them later, but it was hot out today and you knew you’d just sweat right through them. 

Jisung did buy you a little visor without you knowing. He presented it to you with a smug grin as soon as you stepped foot outside the gift shop, once it was too late to stop him. It was embroidered with a little cartoon quokka on the brim.

“We’re not in Australia,” you said, blinking down at the hat.

“Yeah, but it’s cute, right?”

“It’s really cute,” you quickly agreed. “Thank you.”

“Just thought you’d like it.”

He handed you the hat and then set off ahead of you back towards the elevators. You shook your head and scoffed out of earshot. You couldn’t figure him out. Last night he had made it clear that he wasn’t ready to talk, wasn’t ready to forgive you, and this morning he was talking to you like nothing had happened and buying you a sun visor because he saw it and thought you would like it? His mixed signals would give you a headache if you thought about them too long, but it was impossible not to. It was all you could think about. He was all you could think about. Well, him and Minho. 

You felt like an underdeveloped main character in a low-budget coming of age movie who only had enough brainpower to think about boys. Fucking exhausting, all of it. But what were you supposed to do? 

lmk what you think!! i always appreciate feedback :)

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Unfinished

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: none - this is fluff

---------------------

Today was anything but easy. Everything, absolutely everything, had gone from bad to worse. Arriving back at camp was the only reprieve you had gotten all day. You walked straight through camp, on a mission into the woods. Astarion watched you, everyone could feel the waves of frustration sloughing off you and decided it was wise to leave you be. Everyone except Astarion. 

He followed you deep into the night. He found you panting and sweating as you hacked your sword about wildly, slashing and chopping every tree you possibly could. You threw your sword down and launched your helmet at a tree before sinking down to your knees. You slowly took your armor off, Astarion watched you from the shadows of the tree line. You look utterly exhausted. Your skin was dull, the bags under your eyes were heavy and dark, you looked frail despite your strong abilities as a paladin. 

You sighed, setting down the last hunk of metal. You rubbed your aching muscles, desperate for relief. Sighing, you watched the stars as they glittered and danced about in the sky. Oh to be a star, beautiful and without limitations. You laid on your side, not wanting to even hold yourself up anymore. You breathed in the dirt and moss beneath you, letting your body go completely limp. You faded quickly, sleep finally conquering your overworked form. 

---------------------------

Your body shivered with the cool night breeze. Astarion draped a blanket over you, sitting next to you with a book and a knife. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he didn’t want to wake you either. He saw you struggle lately and today seemed to be the worst of it. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, he thought. You were a good leader for the little band of misfits but even leaders need reprieve. He watched you sleep for a bit. He had never seen someone so peaceful, completely vulnerable to the world. He memorized the soft curves of your face, he longed to touch them. Just a touch wouldn’t hurt. He brushed a bit of hair away from your eyes. Wrong move. Your eyes remained closed as you clamped your hand around his wrist while your free hand pointed his own dagger at his throat. Only then did your eyes wearily open. 

“Astarion?” you questioned, loosening your grip and pulling the blade back before setting it down. 

“Do you make a habit out of almost killing your companions? Or is that just reserved for me?” he said, his usual smirk and sultry tone ever present. 

You noticed the blanket over you, “Thank you…” you said and you snuggled in deeper. 

He nodded, you watched each other in comfortable silence for a few moments. 

“How is it that you have followed me for 200 years and yet your heart still speeds up when I am near?” he whispered, thinking you were asleep. 

You sat up immediately, eyes flicking to him. He looked surprised for a moment, neither of you sure who should talk first.

“You’ve known this whole time?” you asked.

He nodded, “I just haven’t figured out why or what you are.”

“I’ll tell you.” you sighed, scooting over to him. “I am… death.”

His eyes widened, “Beg your pardon?” 

“Well - kinda… I was death's apprentice… I got fired…” you chuckled at the end, trying to hide your reddening face.

“How do you get fired from being death?” he asked with shock in his voice.

“I refused to kill someone who’s time was up.” you shrugged, shying away from specifics.

“So why follow me for 200 years? I thought you were a ghost… a figment of my imagination. You never looked completely real…” he whispered the last bit.

“I retained my powers as a servant of death. Whenever you saw me, you saw my obscure form. I was basically a shadow.” you explained.

“Why didn’t you help me?!” he shouted, making you jolt.

“I wanted to… believe me, I did.” you whispered.

“Then why didn’t you?! You had every opportunity, all the power in the world - and yet you let me suffer! Why!” he was yelling now, pacing in front of you.

“Because I had no choice!” you shouted, making Astarion stop and look at you.

“When the Gur attacked you… It… it was you I refused to kill. Death may have relinquished me from my apprenticeship but death is a fickle mistress. She kept me from you, I couldn’t get near you unless I was a shadow.” you spoke as calmly as you could but your voice wavered as tears began to fill your waterline.

“How are you here now then?” he glared at you.

You forced your tadpole to connect with Astarion’s, making it wriggle uncomfortably in his skull. “The same reason you can walk in the sun.” you tapped your head a few times.

He sighed, settling down next to you again. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry… truly.” you mumbled, quickly wiping your tears away. 

“Why did you refuse to kill me?” he asked. 

“I… I just couldn’t. Something about your soul felt… unfinished. You did technically die, but not in the way death wanted. Dying is only valuable if a soul is gained, you kept your soul.” 

“And you paid the price for it… were you forced to watch me?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No, I stayed because… I wanted to make sure death didn’t come for you. I wanted to keep you safe. I did a rotten job.” 

“Two unlucky peas in a pod. In another life, we could have been friends.” he said, bumping his shoulder into yours, giving you a soft smile.

“And in this life?” you asked quietly, afraid of his answer.

“Truth be told - I always found comfort in your shadow. The ghostly figure who sang to me, prayed over me, whispered to me. Perhaps our luck is looking up now. Perhaps we could be something… more?” he finally turned his head to meet your eyes. 

You scanned his face, not sure what you were looking for. You acted on impulse, rushing your lips to his. He pulled you in by your waist, kissing you back. 

“The vampire spawn and the apprentice of death - quite the combination, little love.” he spoke as he kissed your neck a few times.

“We both have masters to kill, maybe we are fated to love after all.” you joked.

“200 years together and now you think were fated?” He laughed a bit. He had always been amazed by you, this strange enigma. His small bit of solace in horrendous times. And here he finds you, real, touchable, and best of all - you love him back.

-------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello! I hope this is to everyones liking, life is just really stressful (tis the season) so ideas are lacking but I will try to be consistent and at least post one new fic per week. Love all the support and appreciate every bit of it <3 Thank you all for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests. XOXOXOXOXO!!!

[dark-frosted-heart]

Clavis’ 4th Birthday Story (His POV)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Since meeting Emma, birthdays have become more special.

Year after year, it was a momentous occasion where I celebrated my birth as my fiancee poured her heart and soul into expressing her love for me. And not to be outdone, I too strive to make each year more enjoyable than the last—

Clavis: So you’re saying that you’re not giving your cute little brother a vacation on his birthday?

Chevalier: …

However, this year, before my birthday, my detestable older brother threw a wrench in my plans.

Clavis: Let me kill you just this once.

Chevalier: You’re welcome to draw your sword, but you’ll fail.

Clavis: Why. You’ve never harassed me like this before.

Chevalier: It’s official business.

Clavis: You can do it yourself.

Chevalier: The ambassador who caused issues is a friend of yours, is he not?

Clavis: It’s not the first time you’ve met them.

Chevalier: I made them cry.

Clavis: …

Chevalier: Give up.

(What’s the catch?)

Recently we received a report that a staff member of the embassy for a certain country was using their diplomatic immunity to commit crimes.

Although they needed to be dealt with, it wasn’t a dire situation and was something that Chevalier could handle alone.

(...Was it a miracle that I didn’t have any official duties on my birthday every year?)

(In any case, it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting a vacation)

With an impudent attitude as if to say our conversation was done, Chevalier returned his attention back to his paperwork.

(...Not only will Emma not be able to celebrate my birthday, she won’t even be able to spend time with me…)

(This sucks)

--

However, when I arrived at one of the royal villas on my birthday, my heart did a flip.

Emma: We have been expecting you, King Chevalier and King Clavis.

(Why are you here?)

She wore a tidy maid’s uniform and the skirt was long enough to cover her ankles, a wig that gave her a different hairstyle, and a pair of glasses.

Her voice was different too, but each move she made screamed Emma.

(This…is supposed to be a disguise)

(A surprise present?)

(I did tell her where I was going, but I didn’t expect this)

For a moment, I forgot that I was here on official business and smiled.

However, I couldn’t defy Emma’s expectations so I chose my next words carefully to not sound unnatural.

Clavis: Oh, a maid. I thought I’d have to take care of Chevalier here.

Villa caretaker: I hired a maid this year. Please understand that I’m getting too old to take care of this place myself.

(Perhaps the madam is an accomplice)

(I thought I wouldn’t be able to see her on my birthday this year…)

(You never disappoint me, Emma)

Acting as a new maid, Emma seemed ready to accompany us on our official business.

Naturally, as the original trap master, I couldn’t just stand by.

If she had a huge surprise waiting for me, then I’d need to return it with a suitable trap to not ruin my reputation.

--

Emma: Please wait, King Chevalier!

Emma: …The path over there is shorter, allow me to show you the way.

Clavis: Hmm…

--

Emma: Please wait, King Chevalier!

Emma: There appears to be something wrong with the carriage, so allow me to inspect it right away. If you can give me a few minutes…

Clavis: Oh?

--

Emma: Please wait, King Chevalier!

Emma: There may be a bomb planted in there, so please allow me to deal with it…!

Clavis: You’ll deal with it?

--

Emma: Ah, there’s also a pit trap there…Please wait!

--

Emma: Aaahh, there’s bananas falling from the sky so please wait!!

--

Emma: Wait, please wai—Aaaahhhhh

–

(Goodness, that was truly a sight to see. I didn’t know that she’d be able to see through all the traps I set for her)

Something that could only be done with love was truly a fitting birthday present.

Thanks to Emma, the hopelessness I felt a few days ago disappeared and I felt great.

However, there’s still some things that need answers.

Chevalier’s actions, as he presented a mountain of paperwork, was as puzzling as ever.

While the “new maid” was sent to get us some tea, it was time to settle this. 

Clavis: What’s your goal?

Chevalier: …

Clavis: You said I was needed for the embassy matter or else diplomatic relations would’ve been severed. However, these are papers that can wait until tomorrow. Why do we have to get through these today?

Chevalier: …

Clavis: Haha, you’re not saying anything. Can’t say anything about Licht like this, you know?

(I don’t think this man would do anything meaningless)

(So this means something)

(Both bringing me here on my birthday and this absurd pile of paperwork at night…)

I casually glanced at the papers.

The pile didn’t have anything concerning national politics, but rather the Michel territory.

Since it was the family that my mother’s had served for generations, it wasn’t unusual for me to be asked to assist in managing the estate.

However, the issue was that those documents were here of all places.

(This place has nothing to do with the Michel family.)

Clavis: Why did you bring this here?

Chevalier: You think I’d gone through the trouble?

Clavis: Haha. I thought you were trying to harass me.

Chevalier: This was delivered to the castle today. It’s addressed to you.

Clavis: Me?

I froze.

(There’s only one other person cruel enough to give me documents concerning the Michel territory)

Clavis: You don’t think they went to the castle, do you?

I glanced at Chevalier and he laughed at me.

Clavis: …She did. That old hag has too much time on her hands.

Chevalier: Lucky you? You happened to not be in the castle and she didn’t have time for long distance traveling. Someone else brought this.

(...)

Though my mother had passed, I had another relative who was alive and well.

The matriarch of the Lelouch family, my grandmother— 

I was currently in the midst of a private dispute over my fiancee that I didn’t want Emma to find out about.

If I had run into her on my birthday, there would be no time to celebrate.

This time I was saved because I just so “happened” to be off on official business somewhere  far away.

Realizing that…I found myself troubled.

(I've been saved. By this man no less)

(No, he’s not that kind of guy. Normally he wouldn’t involve himself in something like this)

Chevalier: It was convenient for me. That’s all.

(...)

~~ Flashback ~~

Clavis: Hey, Chevalier! It’s my birthday today. Let’s celebrate this year.

Chevalier: …

Clavis: Hey!

Chevalier: Do you believe you’re worth celebrating?

Clavis: I do!

Chevalier: …

Clavis: Don’t laugh at me!

Chevalier: If you want someone to celebrate, make it worth celebrating. Then we’ll talk.

Clavis: You’re always like this. Always talking about worth…it’s not funny!

~~ Flashback end ~~

(Ahh…He’s really making me angry)

Every year, Chevalier’s the only one that doesn’t celebrate my birthday and I avoid him because I don’t want to see his unpleasant face.

In hindsight, was it really a miracle that I’d never have worked on my birthday in the past?

The foreign faction’s schedule wasn’t as predictable as the domestic faction’s.

I did have some control over it, but not complete control. Only one person did—I stopped thinking about it.

(Enough. It’s only going to make me feel miserable)

Clavis: Chevalier, I still want you to step out. I can’t stand not spending any time with Emma on my birthday. If I win, I’m done with my duties.

Chevalier: …Fine. I’ll humor you.

(He usually ignores me)

--

Emma: How long have you known?

After clashing swords with Chevalier, I escaped with Emma, who happened upon us, to a nearby guest room.

Emma didn’t let me carelessly calling her my “lovely fiancee” go.

(Darn it. I’m still agitated)

Clavis: Oh, so the new maid was Emma all along…!

Emma: Don’t pretend to be surprised.

Clavis: Haha, don’t pout.

Clavis: I love you, so how could I not have noticed?

I’m confident that I can see through any of your disguises.

Emma: I guess I still need to practice more if I want to surprise you.

Clavis: Yes, that’s right.

(Her expression…I guess you can say it’s a mix of happiness and frustration)

Just looking at Emma, who’s an open book, makes me feel as if I’ve gathered up all the bliss in the world.

I felt so refreshed that I almost forgot the discomfort and disappointment I had felt earlier.

Clavis: But your aim wasn’t to surprise me, was it? My lovely fiancee, whom I didn’t think I’d be able to see on my birthday, appeared before my eyes and stayed by my side the entire time. Furthermore, she showed just how much she loved me when she saw through and stopped all my pranks. Is there a man out there that wouldn’t feel over the moon by this? I doubt it. I had another wonderful birthday this year. There were some complications, but you made up for them. 

Emma’s dissatisfaction transformed into joy.

(Ah…I feel like a fool)

Emma: It’s still too early to feel satisfied. The real thing’s just beginning. 

Clavis: Haha, is that so?

As I stared at her intently as to not miss a single movement, Emma’s face came closer and her lips touched mine in a way that was unusually honest for her tsundere self.

(There truly isn’t anyone in this world that’s as lovely as Emma)

(...Let’s forget about everything and celebrate. I want you to celebrate me)

Taking advantage of the fact that she lacked an iron will that couldn’t resist me fanning the flames, I tickled the back of her neck with my fingers.

I kissed her several times as if looking for something, but with no signs of stopping, I continued kissing her.

Perhaps it was the understanding that my birthday happened only once a year that encouraged Emma to wrap a hand behind my neck.

Emma: Apologies to King Chevalier, but…I want to spend the rest of the time with you. I’ll celebrate you for as long as we can, Clavis.

Clavis: Yes, of course.

I pushed her down on the bed hand placed my hands beside her so that she couldn’t escape— 

Clavis: I’m a man who likes to be celebrated, so I’ll let you celebrate as much as you want.

By the time I released Emma, the world was bathed in soft morning light.

Having passed out in the middle of the night, the moment she realized it was morning, Emma rushed out of the room and returned with cake and tea.

It seemed like she had made a rainbow birthday cake for me again this year, which made me smile.

(I really wanted to help, but…)

I didn’t feel like getting out of bed and propped myself up on an elbow, watching Emma fumble about.

Right now I just wanted to forget about everything and bathe in bliss.

Emma: Don’t you want to eat?

Clavis: Of course I do. But the problem is that I don’t feel like getting out of bed today.

Oh dear, what a problem indeed. I could eat if my kind-hearted, lovely fiancee would feed me.

Emma: ……

Clavis: Every year I look forward to being wrapped in your love.

Can you at least do this for the birthday boy?

Emma: …Just for today, okay?

(Hm…?)

Emma carefully set the tray with the birthday set on the bed and avoided making eye contact.

She looked embarrassed for some reason.

(I’m in the mood for eye contact though?)

Emma scooped up a piece of the colorful rainbow cake with the fork and I placed my hand on her leg.

Emma: W-what are you doing?

Clavis: Oh, would you like me to explain in detail?

Sure. I saw your exposed legs, so I thought you were offering— 

Emma: Hurry up and eat your cake, happy birthday!

(Ah, how cute…You truly are adorable)

She shoved the cake against my lips, but my hand didn’t leave her leg. Instead, I began to attack the back of her knee.

Emma: Nn…

Clavis: Haha, that was a sweet sound.

(Your weak spot)

As I continued to deliberately tickle her, Emma became more agitated.

Emma: The cake’s about to fall off.

Clavis: We can’t have that. I don’t want to miss a single piece from a cake you made.

Come on now. If you keep looking away, it’ll really fall. 

Fed up, Emma finally looked at me.

(Oh…)

Her serious expression was filled with allure.

The atmosphere was dizzying to the point of shattering all sense of reason.

(I know what that tsun-tsun face means)

(It’s the face she makes when she loves me so much she doesn’t know what to do with herself)

The confidence came not from conceitedness, but rather past experience.

Just like how Emma can see through all my pranks, I also know Emma pretty well myself.

Clavis: You really know how to please me, don’t you?

Emma: Do I?

Clavis: Yes. I present you with the honor of Lelouch Master. A title only you could earn.

Emma: That…

Might make me feel a little happy.

Clavis: Don’t feel so modest. You’re “very happy” aren’t you?

Emma’s cheeks slowly turned red and she tried to look elsewhere.

When I moved a finger as if to reprimand her, she returned her gaze to me as if understanding what I wanted.

(You might’ve not noticed, but the new maid would also sometimes let her gaze wander off)

(You’d look away any time I praised you for seeing through a prank)

(A habit whenever you get embarrassed. However—)

Clavis: Keep your eyes on me, Miss Accomplice.

After all, everything I do is out of love for you, isn’t it?

Not just now, but everything else up to this point.

Emma seemed to notice my implications.

Emma: Clavis, it can’t be that…all the pranks played on King Chevalier…they were— 

Clavis: As expected of the Lelouch Master. You’re pretty sharp.

(If you kept your eyes on me, you would’ve noticed sooner)

(...Because I couldn’t stop smiling)

Emma: You played me.

Clavis: Haha, you still have ways to go. After Master, you should aim for Legend.

Emma: Of course, I’ll get promoted right away. I’ll reach Legend next year.

Clavis: Oh, that’s a lot of confidence.

Emma: So, um…that means I want to understand you even better than before!

(...!)

She shoved the cake in my mouth and quickly kissed his cheek.

Emma, who distanced herself, looked like she was about to start steaming from embarrassment. But her eyes didn’t leave me as quickly as they did before.

(Every time you celebrate me, I feel like I can’t lose)

(...I got saved by Chevalier this year, which isn’t good)

(I have to learn to protect myself so that Emma can love me freely)

I wanted to give Emma more happiness than she had given me.

That’s why I have this strong desire.

Clavis: Now then, let’s see what your future holds.

Can you love me even more, Emma?

(I’ll pull some evil deeds behind the scenes…so that you can love me even more)

[hana-no-seiiki]

PLATONIC! YANDERE SIBCON! DEATH THE KID x READER

888 FOLLOWER SPECIAL (Thank you all so much!)

warnings: incest but as a joke. reader is biologically related to dtk, death and asura so they implicitly look alike. reader is described as perfectly symmetrical. angst.

status: unedited.

i.

Your father couldn’t have been more blatant when it came to favoritism. It was always [Y/N] this, and [Y/N] that. As the youngest out of all your siblings you were given special priority as a child up until the present.

‘[Y/N] is just the cutest, can’t you see?’

What was even worse was that Kid absolutely enabled such behavior.

Instead of being bitter like a normal person, he joined in on the spoiling.

You wouldn’t have minded it if it was just that. Who wouldn’t love to be spoiled by gods themselves?

But Kid always piled nagging on top of it all. In fact, it was twice as much as how he’d drown you in gifts.

‘[Y/N], fix your posture! What if you get back problems at a young age?!’

You were slouching for just a moment. In your room. Alone. How’d he even get in—

‘[Y/N] what is with your hair ? Your symmetry, it’s ruined!’

You only had a single lock of hair out of place. You had just woken up. Your breakfast was abandoned as he had yanked you to take a bath and style your hair.

“[Y/N]—“

“兄上!” You yelled. Swerving your body so fast that you almost fell down just to meet him eye to eye. You took a deep breath first, calming yourself as to keep your voice steady. “Please leave me alone. Aren’t you supposed to be away on a mission ? “

“But—“

“They’re right, Kid. Besides the sooner we wrap things up the sooner you’ll get to hang out with [Y/N]-様” Liz came to your rescue. Honestly if it weren’t for her, you were sure Kid would have been literally glued to you with how clingy he could be. He treated you like the most entrancing painting there could ever be, as if a second not looking at you would kill him.

At the realization of such an idea. Kid finally composed himself and dashed off. With not a farewell or goodbye wave in sight.

“Don’t worry, [Y/N]-様! We gotcha covered.” Patty squeezed your cheeks. Even she wasn’t immune to your cute charms.

“My wish to be left alone extends to the both of you. ”

“Eek!” The two teleported 5 feet away from you as they heard the tone of your voice. Despite being a powerless Shinigami, your presence demanded fear and respect. You were known for being an even more uptight version of your brother which was an achievement in itself.

“R-right! On our way!”

ii.

As the son of the embodiment of law and order. Death the Kid had a terrifying obsession with perfection. Particularly the perfection that is symmetry. The beauty of balanced reflection in its most immaculate form. The aesthetic of faultless proportions and details that make the whole so pleasing to the eyes.

The aesthetic of you.

It was natural for siblings to lovingly hate each other’s existence. Kid has literally battled his own brother.

But in that principle’s wake was your existence.

His passion to beat Asura seemed so human, so insignificant when it came to you.

Unlike him you had no ‘Lines of Sanzu’ and was thus never considered to be a candidate to become a Death God. You were never a threat. So he had no problem accepting his Father’s doting nature towards you.

You were always so cute. Always working hard for a future you wanted. A future that’ll never be yours. Your ambition was so infectious that along with succeeding his father, he wanted to be perfect for you.

You only deserved the best brother. One who had his lines completed. One that didn’t look like ugly, asymmetrical pig that he was in the present.

You weren’t home, as always. But Kid had gotten skilled at finding where you are. Call it his brotherly instincts but the most it would take for him to find you was a day.

You were gone for a month.

When Kid found you, you looked even more aggrieved than usual. The scowl on your face made heavier when you saw him.

The talk on the way back home was awkwardly silent. Despite that he still cherished the moment. It was rare to have someone as amazing as you alone all to himself.

“兄上?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you such a creep?”

“[Y-Y/N] . . . “ You gaze at your brother as crocodile tears fell from his beautiful face.

“If I disappeared that means I don’t want people to look for me. So don’t waste your time searching. Why can’t you understand that I want to be alone?”

“But—“

“Look for me and I’ll hate you. More than I already do.”

“You . . . hate me ?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?” You blew a strand out of your face that Kid often waxed to keep things ‘perfect’. Surprised that he doesn’t comment on it. His eyes have completely dimmed.

“. . . No . . .”

“If you died I wouldn’t care. At all. So don’t extend your sympathy towards me. It’s disgusting not to mention patronizing.” The distance between you two grew more as he stayed still and you kept walking.

Your final words to him goes unheard at that point. “You’re the next God of Death. Respectfully speaking, act like one.”

Kid couldn’t stop thinking about your words from before. Siblings naturally had love-hate relationships. But hearing you say that up front still left him shaken.

During battle, he kept muttering and muttering, completely unfocused. He would have been hurt terribly if it weren’t for the others shoving him around. Even then, he didn’t so much as budge as he was thrown to a wall. “No . . . it couldn’t be . . . have they perhaps . . . “

“What’s up with him?” Black Star stared at him while cleaning his nose with his pinky. The fight wasn’t dire at the very least and he was used to Kid’s unorthodox personality, but this time the young Shinigami was somehow more out of it than usual.

“Less talking, more fighting.” Maka scolded. She had long since given up trying to get Kid to fight and instead instructed Liz and Patty to wield each other. It wasn’t ideal but it was at least functional, unlike a certain raven-haired young man right now.

“That’s it! They must’ve hit puberty!” Death the Kid suddenly shouted. The side of his fist hits his palm as a lightbulb switches on in his mind.

“Not this again . . . “ Liz rolled her eyes. She tried moving him from an incoming attack but he doesn’t budge an inch.

“Oh, my poor [Y/N] they must be so confused! They don’t hate me, it’s just that I’ve been lacking as a brother!” His eyes sparkled at the revelation that hit him. “I must go back and tell them how much I love them!” He took off, forsaking the rest to find [Y/N].

He gets about a meter away before Liz carried him back.

“Nuh-uh. We have a kishin to take down!”

“My sibling takes priority!” He flailed around in her arms, slapping her in the process.

“Even I’m not like this towards Patty. You need to stop worrying about them so much. You’re more like a nagging wife at this point! Face it, Kid. They don’t like you much less want you around all the time.” Liz scolded him. Getting more and more irritated at his behavior by the second. You’d think she’d get used to his sibcon tendencies, but it still managed to amaze her how little he cared for anything but [Y/N].

“Oh no . . . what have you done?” Maka covered her mouth in shock.

“H-Huh? What do mean? I just talked some sense into—“ Liz doesn’t notice he stopped thrashing til he screeched into her ears.

“That’s it! You’re a genius Liz!”

“I am?”

“In order to keep my baby sibling safe and sound I have to marry them!”

“Wait what— That’s not what I meant—“

“I’ll get the papers sorted right away!”

And he’s gone. Poof. Just like that. Liz completely frozen in place.

“I pray [Y/N]-様 extends you their mercy.” Tsubaki, now in her human form, bowed. Genuinely fearing for Liz’s well-being.

Patty, on the other hand, stuck her tongue out. “Bye Bye, sis!”

“Patty, not you too!”

iii.

MONTHS EARLIER…

Your Father was an eccentric being. He annoyed you to no end but thankfully not as much as your brother did.

You inherited his obsession with Peace. Something that you defined as moments that you were alone. Free to just exist and not worry about being perfect all the time. Peace to you was the lack of your brother, the embodiment of chaos.

You’ve always wished to be separated from him, but knowing there was a potential for that to actually happened gave you the first taste of fear.

Is this what humans felt? This adrenaline rush, this excitement? All that in addition to dread and sadness at the same time?

“Is it true?”

“What is it, my darling?”

“Is it true that when 兄上’s lines connect . . . you . . . “

“Where did you hear this, child?” Death moved forward. His large body shadowed yours.

You neither move away or closer. Instead you stayed still. Eyes firmly kept in place. On his.“Answer me, 父上.”

“Yes.” The god looked to the skies. Even he had a time to depart from this world. Death was something not even the divine can escape.

“Will I also . . . ?”

“I don’t know.” His large gloved hand extended to pat your head.

“Then he’ll be all alone?”

“Hopefully not. Are you worried for him—“

You replied before he could even finish, “Why would I be? He’s the one responsible for worrying between the two of us.”

Death then picked you up. Holding you close to his face.

“父上？”

“Yes, my darling?”

You said nothing, stepping forward to hold your creator in an embrace.

“I love you too, child.”

iv.

THE PRESENT…

“[Y/N]?”

Death the Kid isn’t human. Far from it. He’s a god. He represented Law and Order; Death.

But in the face of all this, his responsibilities, his status, his entire being. He feels so utterly meek, so awfully human when he was with you.

Gods aren’t supposed to have favorites. Gods are supposed to maintain a balance when it came to their affections over mortals.

But for you, and only for you. Kid lowers himself. To love, to fear, to worship.

“What?” Your small hands barely half the size of his reached to cup his face. “Spit it out, 豕.”

“Will you stay with me . . . for the rest of eternity?”

“You’re my family aren’t you? Of course I will.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. You’ll always be here for your brother.”

“Tch. Misplaced worries is a weakness, get rid of it.” Your hands moved to leave his face, but he doesn’t let it happen. Instead he traps it there, where it belonged.

“Anything for you, my dearest sibling.”

Right. Kid had nothing to worry about. You were here with him. Living, breathing. Still as perfect as you’ll ever be. You were all that he had. You were all that he needed.

Still. He could not shake away the feeling of nothingness within his heart.

Notes: [These are mostly for me + explanations so feel free to skip] Y/N uses formal speech and ways to call their family members.

For Kid they use, Aniue and for Death they call him Chichiue which means exalted or honorable brother and father respectively.

It’s only when they asked Death to answer them that they drop the formalities and use casual language. But even then they still call him exalted father.

From what I studied, formal speech in some situations can be quite rude and robotic. So despite seeming like they respect their fam they’re actually being condescending if not distant. I might be completely wrong though so feel free to correct me.

It’s kinda like going up to friend of yours for years and using the same extremely polite language you might use for strangers or seniors in work.

Lastly, in case you didn’t understand; in part iv DTK replaces [Y/N] but made them more childlike, completely changing the way they spoke. Mirroring the way Death created him to be a better version of Asura. Also 4 / IV sounds like Death in Japanese.

Anddd a little reminder that whenever I tag a character as Yandere that means they have unhealthy ways to love. Please do not romanticize or seek to replicate it in real life. Despite adoring his sibling, Kid subconsciously looks down on them and sees them as powerless. True love always comes with respect people. He also changes a ton of personality traits for the replacement, only keeping their looks and disdain towards him. He only ever ‘loved’ certain parts of them.

Thank you for reading and for the 888 (now 900+) followers!

TRANSLATIONS:

兄上 — Aniue — (Archaic) Exalted / Honorable Brother

様　— Sama — Formal suffix/honorific.

父上 — Chichiue — (Archaic) Exalted / Honorable Father

豕 — Buta — Pig

©️ hana-no-seiiki 2023