#Him and Bad got good synergy

[pupstim]

Hnnngh i just really love that bit with q!Roier and q!Badboyhalo today. With Roier blowing up a majority of the school not realizing it was Bad's build. He thought it was the federation and that's why he was okay with blowing it up.

And it upsetted Bad! Bad went over to the supermarket after he blew up a bit of the pyramid to blow it up too and I think that's when Roier kind of realized that oh they just blew up one of Bad's builds an he was very sorry after that. He pretty much accepted the retaliation and knew he kinda fucked up and told Bad to blow it up. Bad thankfully went to just blow up more of ElQ's pyramid, I think he kinda realized then there was more to the story than Roier just griefing his build.

He did go back over to steal some more blocks, still a bit peeved understandably but Roier still was very apologetic and was like yea Bad take all you want and even promised to help Bad rebuild the school wanting to give him the blocks to do it! Because he didn't mean to hurt Bad and he really wanted to make it up to him and that communication is just... ugh. It's kind of on the level of the Tallulah Richarlyson painting thing a few days ago. It's the communication between the two of them, Roier apologizing and accepting Bad's feelings even understanding them and saying I'll do everything in my power to make this right again and then Bad accepting the apology and realizing it was a misunderstanding and even not placing any specific blame on anyone about what happened to the school.

They tease each other endlessly but they really care for one another. They're a fucking community and it just really shows.

[mochacoda]

python | csc

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x GN!Reader

Synopsis: When you broke up with your boyfriend to work in a different country, you didn't expect to see him ever again. But when you transfer to your company's Seoul branch four years later, the department head is your ex, and he’s made it his objective to make your life a living hell for leaving him all those years ago.

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Exes to Lovers | Office AU

Tags: emotions, miscommunication, heartache, workaholic!seungcheol, insecure reader, drinking, crying, begging, petnames (sweetheart, love), konglish w/ translations, no "y/n," this is for everyone who voted for cheol in the poll, loosely connected to too nice (joshua)

Word Count: 10.2K

“I hate him,” you seethe, your fists balled up, crumpling your rejected proposal. “God, I hate him.”

Your coworker, Joshua Hong, looks up from his cubicle with raised eyebrows. “Who?”

You breathe in deeply, willing your rage to dissipate at the sight of his confusion. Poor Joshua doesn’t deserve your anger. “No one,” you say, clenching your jaw. 

Open-mouthed, Joshua blinks rapidly, eyes flitting over to glance at the office you had just walked out of. The door to the room is marked with a name plate that has 최승철 [Choi Seungcheol] in bold, gold letters. 

“I’m fine,” you insist, hands uncrumpling the document you had just attacked. 

“Uh, okay?” he says with a healthy dose of doubt, elongating the “o” in “okay.” 

“I just—” you begin, then immediately shut your mouth. “Ugh, forget it.”

It’s one thing to crumple a proposal up, and another thing to start bad-mouthing your boss out in the open. You throw the tattered outline onto your desk, then plop yourself onto your chair. You rub your temples, and then mutter under your breath, “How did I get here?”

“Good question,” Joshua laughs. “Company synergy?” 

You groan, “Don’t ever say that word again in my presence.” 

“Mmh,” he says, walking over to your cubicle. “You won’t have to worry about my presence in a few months.” 

“Don’t remind me,” you sigh, dropping your head in your hands. 

Joshua would be leaving the Seoul branch and transferring to the New York branch in a few weeks. 

Curse your company for its commitment to “workplace synergy,” swapping out a handful of employees across all departments in its international branches every few years. If it hadn’t been for this horrible program, you wouldn’t be here right now. 

You want to rip out your own hair, at this point.

How did it even get to this? You shut your eyes, thinking back to older times. 

When you first got a job offer at the New York branch of your dream company, your initial reaction was elation. Your second? Doubt. Leaving Seoul was almost unthinkable, not to mention the fact that you’d be leaving your boyfriend behind, too. 

For the first few days after hearing back from the recruiter, you knew you’d accept, but kept the news to yourself. You’d heard of so many horror stories about long-distance dating, and after a long period of consideration, you wondered what the point was. 

You knew your boyfriend—really knew him. You knew he’d make sacrifices for you at the expense of himself, and it was impossible for you to accept bogging him down with a 14 hour time difference. He’d stay up waiting for your calls, instead of getting much needed rest. He’d worry about you all the time, checking the weather in Manhattan instead of Seoul and calling you constantly instead of his family and friends. He’d wait on you for as long as you needed, in an almost obsessive way, thinking it could make up the difference in distance. But he deserved someone who could love him in person, all of the time. 

It’d be better for Seungcheol if you just let him go, freeing him to focus on what mattered more to him. Like work.

He loved you too much to break things off with you himself, so it was better that you did it. For his own good. 

That’s what you told him, at least. 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“Cheol,” you said, teary-eyed. “Cheol, look at me.”

Seungcheol stared blankly at the ground, face frozen. 

“Please?” your voice cracked.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t handle?” he suddenly choked out, eyes flashing with hurt. His hands clenched, like he was holding himself back from saying more.

You swallowed thickly, reaching for his arm. “Cheol, I—”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, snatching his hand away from you. 

────୨ৎ──── 

But you had hidden the real reasons for the breakup. 

Because, deep down, you had always suspected otherwise. Somehow, everything had just become so complicated. Loving Seungcheol—which had once been something as easy as breathing—had become a dull pain in your chest, clouding your every thought with insecurities. 

Even from the start of the relationship, you’d loved him more, anyway. Back then, you didn’t mind it because you loved him so much, and he was always so, so sweet to you. But around the time of the job offer, paranoia had reared its ugly head, kicking your uncertain thoughts into overdrive. 

It was obvious that he didn’t really love you anymore. While you were job seeking, he was distracted. Always checking his phone, not really listening to what you had to say. He made time for you, but he didn’t necessarily make you feel like he loved you as deeply as you did him—it didn’t feel like he was the same guy that you started dating. 

Something about his actions just felt like he did them to claim that he loved you, rather than because he actually loved you. His actions were laced with a kind of surface level, superficial quality. 

He’d take you out to a fancy dinner, open the door for you, pay for the meal, drive you home—all the gentlemanly things he did when you started dating, too. But on the car ride there and back, and while sitting down eating together, he wouldn’t remember the things you had said about the little things happening in your life—a major change, when compared to the start of your relationship. 

And sure, he didn’t have an obligation to remember your next door neighbor's name. But shouldn’t he remember your favorite kind of pie, or your closest cousin’s name? Shouldn’t he just know not to check his phone every time it pings with a new email, or leave you to eat your stupid expensive pasta alone as he takes a call outside?

It was almost like Seungcheol had fallen out of love with you, but was staying with you out of some kind of obligation to continue what he had started? That was your only explanation for why he’d spend time with you, but wouldn’t pay close attention to the things you said. Every Thursday was movie night, and in hopes of trying to keep him away from work, you let him choose the movie every time. But what use was that, when he spent more time looking at his phone than the TV—and more importantly, you, for that matter? 

You’d been dating a ghost of a man. While you loved him, he tolerated you. 

If the two of you stayed together when you went abroad, he’d probably double down on texts, but he wouldn’t really remember anything you’d said if you mentioned details about them in calls. 

You didn’t bring any of these fears up to him, because you knew that he would continue to deny it. In fact, you’d imagined it in your head so much that you could see it when closing your eyes to sleep. If you confronted him, he’d deny that he didn’t love you anymore. But he’d be staring at the ground instead of looking at you. He wouldn’t admit that he was only with you because he enjoyed the consistency of your affection, and because he somewhat pitied you—and most importantly to him, because he wanted to prove to himself that he chose correctly when he started dating you. 

The pain of watching the love of your life push down his repulsion just to be with you was decidedly more horrifying than the pain of breaking up with him altogether. 

Right before ending things, it had occurred to you that Seungcheol might not have ever loved you in the first place, and that just hammered in the idea that you were making the right decision. He’d get over the breakup fast. He’d probably be thankful for it in a few years, even. If you saw him again, you’d both probably laugh, and in his head, he’d realize that he was grateful that you ended things so that he could focus on his real love, his career. 

If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that there was a bit of selfishness driving the breakup, as well. There was no way you could handle Seungcheol sacrificing things for you—if he lost sleep over you, if he worried about you, if he was distracted by you—because you knew he wouldn’t be doing it for love. 

Because he only ever cared out of a superficial need to prove to himself that he made the right decision in asking you out all those years ago. Not because he really loved you. 

Yes, he probably never loved you, and he would never know the real reason why you ended things. 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You give up so easily,” he spat out. “Was I nothing to you?”

Tears were running down your face. “Don’t. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Seungcheol laughed, then buried his head in his hands. “God, to think I almost—” 

He stopped, jaw tightening, then shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

────୨ৎ──── 

A hand comes down sharply on your desk, jolting you awake. 

“Sleeping while on duty?”

Wide-eyed, with tear-stained cheeks, you look up to face your ex-boyfriend. “부장님! [Department Head!]” 

Upon seeing your red-rimmed eyes, Seungcheol falters.

Swiping at your under eyes quickly, you bow your head to him slightly. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

He swallows roughly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to ask you why you were crying, and your heart drops. 

You will crumble if you hear the tone of voice he had used when you broke up with him.

“Excuse me,” you blurt with choked words. 

You don’t dare to look at his eyes. Instead, you get up from your seat, then immediately flee to the bathroom.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You can focus on work, now,” you squeaked out. 

Seungcheol scoffed again, a cruel sound of disbelief. “What makes you think I give a damn about work right now?”

“Don’t you? Always?” you sniffled.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite describe. He seemed angry, but not just at you. At himself, too—his hands were balled into fists at his sides, fingernails digging sharply into his palms. His throat bobbed, and you could see the intense restraint he was forcing on himself. He opened his mouth with a sharp breath, then closed it again, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. 

────୨ৎ──── 

You stare with glassy eyes at yourself in the mirror, trying to calm your racing heart down. It would be alright. You would be alright. 

If you just focused on your work, it would be fine. 

Leaving the bathroom, you square your shoulders. You’ll draft up a new proposal that suits his standards, and you’ll do it so excellently that he can’t possibly reject it. 

Hours later, and you’re standing outside Seungcheol’s office again. Taking a deep breath, you walk in without knocking or announcing yourself. 

The stack of papers trembles in your hands as you place them on Seungcheol’s desk. You keep your expression blank, steadying your breath, willing yourself not to let any emotion slip. “This is the revised proposal.”

Seungcheol doesn’t look up immediately. He takes his time flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room is suffocating, thick with words left unsaid from years ago. You stand stiffly, waiting, watching the way his fingers drag across the paper. Finally, he exhales sharply and sets the proposal down.

The room is unbearably silent as the question of approval hangs in the air. Your heart pounds so loudly you swear he can hear it.

He should say no immediately. It would be the easiest answer. The logical one. The one you expect.

But he hesitates.

His fingers curl against the polished surface of his desk, and his gaze lingers on the documents in front of him for just a second too long. It’s subtle—anyone else might not notice—but you do. His mask falters. Just a flicker.

And for a split second, you let yourself hope.

Then, his jaw tightens. His hands retreat beneath the table, as if physically pulling himself back. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, controlled, and restrained—nothing like the eager, puppy-like man you knew him as when you first started dating.

“We’ll have to decline,” he says, and it’s final. Unshakable. Like he hadn’t wavered at all.

You nod stiffly, as if you hadn’t just watched something slip through his fingers. As if it hadn’t slipped through yours, too.

“Decline?” you blurt.

His face remains impassive. “Yes.”

You blink at him, momentarily stunned. You had anticipated that he would be difficult, but this—it’s too fast, too dismissive.

You steel yourself. “Why?”

“It’s not good enough.”

Your fingers clench around the hem of your blazer. “Can’t you separate private and work life?”

He meets your gaze, eyes dark and cool. “I am.” His voice is devoid of any warmth. “I don’t care. Your proposal is bad.”

The words strike harder than they should, more than just a professional critique. A cruel, deliberate dismissal. You know it’s personal—for the past two weeks that you’ve been at the Seoul branch, it has always been personal when it comes to him. Your blood simmers.

“I see.” You force your voice to remain level. “Would you like to point out what’s wrong with it?”

His lips press into a thin line. “No.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escapes you. “Of course not.”

Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Four years ago, you didn’t choose me. So why should I choose your useless proposal?”

The shift is abrupt, the air sucked out of the room in an instant. Your nails dig into your palms.

“I have never loved anyone more than I loved you.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, the truth of them ringing through the silence.

He scoffs, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something raw. “You left me,” he says, voice edged with something dangerously close to hurt. “You. Left. Me.”

Your breath shudders. “You left me first.”

He leans forward, eyes searching yours, like he’s daring you to take it back. “How?” His voice is quieter now, but no less intense. “How did I leave you, when I was the one you abandoned in Seoul?”

Your vision blurs slightly. This. This is why it never worked between the two of you. He’s too bull-headed to even consider that he was in the wrong. 

You shake your head. “Why didn’t you fight for us?”

His jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you?”

A bitter taste coats your tongue. “You gave up so easily.”

His eyes flash. “No,” he says sharply, “you’re the one who brought up work all the time.”

Your hands tremble. “Because if it wasn’t about work, you wouldn’t talk to me!”

That stuns him. His mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out. His brows knit together, the first crack in his mask of indifference.

You exhale shakily, pressing forward. “Because if I talked about anything else, I knew you wouldn’t listen,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I knew I’d be talking to a man who loved the idea of me more than he actually loved me.”

Seungcheol flinches as if you had struck him. His throat bobs, hands clenched into fists on top of his desk. “That’s not true,” he grits out, but there’s something in his voice—something unsteady, like the words are slipping through his fingers before he can stop them.

“Isn’t it?” you press. His breathing turns uneven, his jaw tightening like he’s physically holding himself back.

“You made me feel like I was a burden,” you continue, the words tumbling out, years of buried pain unraveling in real time. “Like you had to tolerate me between meetings and emails. Like being with me was just another responsibility to check off your list.”

He exhales sharply, like the air’s been knocked out of his lungs. His fingers twitch, gripping the desk so tightly that his knuckles go white. “That’s not—” He stops, biting his tongue, like even he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence.

A bitter laugh escapes you. “You don’t even believe yourself, do you?”

Seungcheol stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor, his composure unraveling before your eyes. “I worked so damn hard for us,” he says, voice raw.

Your voice is small. “I never asked you to.”

His lips part, and for the first time since you stepped into his office, his expression isn’t blank or cold—it’s vulnerable. And it terrifies you.

His expression cracks, pain flickering through his eyes. “I was trying to build a future for you,” he says, voice raw, desperate. “For us.”

“You were so busy planning a future that you forgot to love me in the present.”

A tense silence falls between you, the weight of the past pressing down on both of you like an unbearable force. His breaths are uneven, his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping the edge of his desk.

Finally, he exhales, a bitter, tired laugh leaving his lips. He looks down at the proposal—still sitting there, untouched, still rejected.

“This meeting is over,” he mutters, his voice hoarse.

Your heart clenches painfully, but you nod, blinking rapidly to push back the tears. Without another word, you turn on your heel and walk out, leaving behind the shattered remnants of everything you once were.

When you get back to the safe haven that is your apartment, you retrace everything he had said. Or, rather, the accusations he had thrown at you. 

“You left me.”

“I was the one you abandoned in Seoul.”

“Why didn’t you fight for us?” “Why didn’t you?”

“I was trying to build a future for you. For us.”

Your heart strangely aches, remembering how shaken he looked when you called out his workaholic behavior. You had blamed him for the end of it all, but it takes two to end a relationship. Why didn’t you fight harder for him, back then? 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

You’re alone now. It’s what you wanted. To be free from the self-doubt that loving Seungcheol had drilled into you. 

Your chest constricted so tightly, you couldn’t breathe. 

────୨ৎ──── 

Two days after the disastrous office meeting, you’ve somehow managed to have the misfortune of sitting in front of your ex-boyfriend at a steakhouse for work. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the space. Your body practically vibrates from the tension. 

You can see Seungcheol’s gaze turn sharper every time he looks at you, and it makes it all the more insulting when he immediately brightens at Director Chun. You chug another glass of wine, hoping the buzz will numb the annoyance bubbling within you. 

“Thank you, Director,” you say, reaching over the table to shake your superior’s hand. “It was a pleasure.”

“No, thank you, Team Leader,” he chuckles. “We’re lucky to have such competent, young people working for us. I’m sure the Brennans will be thrilled to see this project come to a close so quickly.”

Seungcheol laughs. “We’re lucky to have you, Director.”

It’s so fake, you’re itching to get rid of the stupid grin off his smug face. 

“I’m sorry I have to leave so soon,” the director continues. “I’ll see you two back at the office?”

“Of course,” you say, standing up and bowing to him as he gets up from his seat. 

When the director finally leaves, you can’t help but clench your fists. Wanting to relieve the tension in your poor tendons, you reach for the wine bottle, refilling your glass for the nth time tonight. The rest of the restaurant is loud, but it is far too quiet in your corner of the room. 

Now you’re alone with Seungcheol.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension, thick and suffocating. Seungcheol, across from you, has his fingers curled tightly around the stem of his wine glass. His knuckles are practically white, the pressure of his grip betraying the storm raging inside him. 

He hasn’t touched much of his food, and barely spoke beyond a few clipped replies to you. He had really only responded to Director Chun all night. But it’s nothing new. You have long learned to recognize this silence; it’s the same, bitter one that had stretched between you in the months before you left him.

You don’t know why you told Joshua you could handle going to this. Why, after everything, did you let Seungcheol pull you into a setting so painfully intimate, so reminiscent of the past? The last time the two of you were in a restaurant like this, he had left for 40 minutes to take a call outside. 

Seungcheol swirls his drink absentmindedly, watching the ice shift in the glass before finally speaking. “You look well.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Small talk? Really?”

His jaw tightens, and he sets his glass down with a quiet thud. “Would you rather we skip the pleasantries?”

“I’d rather we not pretend this is anything other than what it is.”

“And what is it?”

You lift your chin. “You tell me.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. He looks at you—really looks at you—for the first time since you sat down, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s the same expression he made when you were in his arms, four years ago.

The one that made you feel like the only person in the world. The one that he used to assure you that he loved you. 

And you hate yourself, because you can’t help but remember that he looked so good when he was yours. Worse, you can’t help but notice how he’s still devastatingly handsome. 

Only now, his gaze is shadowed with something darker. Something unresolved.

“You know, when you told me you wanted to end things, I could’ve accepted it,” he says, voice steady, but his fingers twitch slightly against the edge of the table. 

You swallow roughly.

“I could’ve accepted it if you said you just fell out of love with me,” he continues, “But then.” He takes a deep breath. “But then, you told me it was for my own good. That I wouldn’t be able to handle long distance.”

Your hands grip your wine glass. You want to say something, but you don’t know where to even start.

“You told me you loved me, and then…” he trails, before shakily saying, “abandoned me, because I couldn’t handle it?” He dips his head low, hands joining like he’s about to make a prayer. 

“Cheol, I—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” 

Seungcheol stares intensely at his half-eaten steak, a strand of hair coming down from his forehead to poke at his eyes. Despite yourself, your hand instinctively lurches to tuck it behind his ears, before you quickly jolt it back. A cloud of shame begins to envelope your mind. It’s not fair. Why does your body remember him so well, even after he broke your heart? 

He takes a shaky breath before speaking again. “And you know what? That…that wasn’t even the worst part.” Choked up, he takes a deep breath and clenches his hands into fists to ground himself before continuing. “What’s worse, was what you said at the end.”

You furrow your brows, thinking back to all those years ago, right after you told him that he could finally focus on his work, and right before you walked away from him. 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you whispered. You didn’t dare to look at him. “I’m sorry I made you miss that convention for my birthday.” You sniffled, voice breaking. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. I’m sorry I made you watch those stupid movies, and that I made you go out when you didn’t want to. I should’ve been more considerate of your dreams, Cheol. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I only realized it now. I should’ve—”

You exhaled deeply, blinking your newest tears away. They fell down your cheeks in streams. “You won’t have to worry about that kind of useless stuff anymore, okay? You don’t need to deal with me anymore. I’m sorry you had to handle all of that for so long. I, I really lo…” 

You bit down on your lower lip, blinking desperately to get rid of your blurry vision. “I hope you get into the accelerator, Cheol. I know how hard you’ve worked for it. If anyone can do it, it’s you.” 

One last time, you smiled at him weakly, not meeting his eyes. “Goodbye, Cheol.”

And then you turned your back from him, walking away from the love of your life, partly because you really did wish him well on his startup journey, and mostly because you knew he was only with you out of obligation to himself—because he never loved you, anyway. 

────୨ৎ──── 

“Oh,” you say, eyes feeling strangely prickly. 

“I love—I loved you,” Seungcheol says, clutching his chest. He exhales roughly. “Did you not… see that?”

You blink rapidly.

His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes darting away for a brief moment. “I had plans for us,” he admits, voice quiet but strained. 

At the sight of his clear pain, your stomach twists uncomfortably. “Plans?”

He nods slowly, still refusing to meet your eyes. The candlelight on the table flickers between you, casting shadows that dance across his face, highlighting the tension in his furrowed brow. 

His mouth parts as if he’s about to say something—something important—but then he stops himself.

You reach across the table instinctively, your fingertips grazing his wrist. “Seungcheol. Don’t do this to me.”

He tenses beneath your touch but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he finally looks at you, and the sheer weight of emotion in his gaze nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. There is so much in his eyes—anger, regret, sadness, and a deep emotion you haven’t dared call love in years. All tangled together in a way that makes it impossible to separate one from the other.

“I was going to propose to you,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitches. For a second, the world tilts, the steady hum of the restaurant fading into white noise. You blink, your mind scrambling to process the weight of his words. “What?”

Seungcheol lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if mocking himself. “I had the ring. I had everything planned out.” He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I was just… waiting for the right time.”

A sharp, painful lump forms in your throat. “Cheol—”

“But you left before I could,” he cuts in, his voice breaking at the edges. His eyes are glassy now, raw with unshed emotion. “You thought…you thought I didn’t love you enough. But I did. I loved you so much I—” He sucks in a shaky breath, his hands balling into fists on the table. “I was trying so hard to build a future for us. I wanted to give you everything.”

Tears burn behind your eyes, and your hands are still on his arm, but they’re shaking. “I didn’t need ‘everything,’” you whisper. “I just needed you.”

His face crumples for a split second before he forces his expression blank again. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Silence stretches between you, thick with everything you had never said to each other. The weight of missed moments, of love given but not received in the way it was needed, settles over the two of you like a monstrous thunderstorm. 

You nearly choke on the sob threatening to break free from your throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His voice is hoarse, like he has swallowed glass. “Would it have changed anything?”

You want to say yes. You want to believe that if he had just told you, things would have been different. But deep down, you aren’t sure. Because the truth was, you had already been slipping away from each other long before you had walked out the door. 

You had told him you were leaving him so he could focus on his work. You had told yourself you were leaving him because he didn’t love you anymore. So, would you have really believed him if he had proposed to you? You’re not sure, but there’s no point in analyzing the hypothetical what-ifs, really. 

Because now, looking at the man who had once been your world, you wonder if you had ever really left him at all.

────୨ৎ──── Three Years Ago

It was Seungcheol’s birthday. It hit you while you were at the grocery store, in the fresh produce section.

You saw cherries.

You cried.

Later that day, your finger twitched over his contact on your phone, before falling to your hips. 

He was probably busy. He hadn’t texted or called you since the breakup, after all. He definitely wouldn’t want to hear from you even if he wasn’t busy, anyway. 

“I’m sorry,” you said out loud, knowing that the person who needed to hear it most wasn’t there. “I miss you. Happy birthday.”

────୨ৎ──── 

You blink, and suddenly you’re outside. There’s a chilly wind blowing against you, making you shiver. When you try to take a step forward, you find your body is too sluggish to move much. 

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Seungcheol says concernedly, his warm, strong hands finding an all too familiar spot against your waist.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your teetering body suggests otherwise. 

Somewhere between watching Seungcheol laugh at Director Chun’s obviously not funny jokes and trying to give your hand something to do instead of ball into fists hearing his confession, you had drunk far too much of the expensive bottle of wine that the director had bought for the three of you. 

Seungcheol says your name like it’s a warning, tone firm. 

But you can’t help but laugh. You’re too close to him now. And oh, he’s so warm. Instinctively, your body presses against him, because it’s familiar and comforting and something you’ve subconsciously been craving for the past four years with every fiber of your body. 

“I missed you,” you blurt. 

Seungcheol swallows roughly. 

“Fuck, don’t…” He can’t even bring himself to finish the sentence. “How did you get here? Taxi?”

You shake your head. “Too much money. Subway.”

“I’ll take you home, okay? Where are you staying now?” He squeezes your waist. 

“Mmh.” Thinking, you close your eyes, fully leaning into his touch. 

Three days ago, the company told you to move out of the original apartment they’d placed you in two weeks ago, and although you’d memorized how to get to your new place using the subway, you had yet to memorize the exact address. You’d always looked at your phone to double check, thinking that you’d be fine if you were stranded, since you’d always have your phone on you. Unfortunately, though, you hadn’t considered that you’d be lost if your phone died. 

“That’s not an address, sweetheart.” He inhales sharply, realizing his mistake after it leaves his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, tears welling in your eyes. “Don’t remember.”

Here you were, wasting his time again. You’d left him four years ago because you were a hindrance to his career, and now you’re doing it again. Old habits die hard, don’t they?

You sniffle, “I’ll sober up soon, don’t worry. You can just leave me here. I’ll walk to the subway.”

Seungcheol’s throat bobs. “Hey, hey, don’t be sorry. I got you, okay? I’ll take you back to my place, if that’s okay?”

You nod, your voice small. “Okay.” 

He breathes a sigh of relief. 

Before you know it, Seungcheol has escorted you into the passenger seat of his car, and you’re on your way back to the house you had called your home only four years ago. 

“Did you miss me?” you ask childishly, staring at the driver with sleepy eyes.

His Adam's apple bobs up and down. 

For a moment, you don’t think he’ll answer. But then, he says softly, “I did.”

“Oh,” you say, and then you feel your eyelids get heavier. You let them close. 

Right before you fall asleep, you catch him whispering something that sounds a lot like, “I missed you so much, sweetheart.”

────୨ৎ──── Six Months Ago

You blinked rapidly. “In the fall?”

“Yes,” Director Chun said. “I’ll be heading over to the Seoul branch as well, for a few months at the very least. I promise you’ll be under one of our best. Department Head Choi Seungcheol is known for being collaborative. I’m sure the synergy will be great between the two of you.”

You froze. Surely, not. 

“Choi Seungcheol?” you asked breathily.

“Yes. Do you know each other?”

“No,” you said, far too quickly.

“Ah, I see. Perhaps he was impressed by the work you did with the Jeons,” the director said with a smile. “He requested you directly.”

Oh.

Oh.

────୨ৎ──── 

Sleep is supposed to be relaxing, isn’t it? So why does it feel like your chest is going to cave in on itself, like a big boulder has plopped itself down on you? 

You open your eyes quickly, only to be met with a mess of short, dark brown hair. 

You try to blow on the hair, only to feel it enter your mouth. It’s horribly dry.

“Ack,” you spit.

And then it occurs to you that your hair has never tasted like this, or looked like this, for that matter.

You try moving one of your arms to get rid of the annoying strands, only to find that it has also been rendered immobile. You tense your core, trying to flop like a worm, but it’s of no use. 

You furrow your brows, straining as hard as you can, but nothing happens. 

For a moment, you wonder if you’re having a nightmare. 

And then the boulder moves.

Your eyes widen into saucers. There’s only one explanation for this. You’ve only ever known one man who gives bear hugs in his sleep like this. 

“Choi Seungcheol?”

“Fuck,” it groans. “Thought I told you not to call me that, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, wondering if you’re still dreaming. But when you open them again, you see Seungcheol’s face. 

Sleep lines are adorning his left cheek, and he blinks at you slowly. His pink lips are turned down in a slight pout, and the sight of him is so adorable, it makes you want to scream. 

“Did you…” you pause, mind racking an explanation. “Fall asleep on top of me?”

“You said you were cold,” he says slowly, eyes half-closed, voice deep. 

“Oh,” you say, then flush, feeling heat rush up the back of your neck and reach your ears. Trying to avoid eye contact with him, your eyes stray to your collarbone, and you see that you’re still wearing last night’s clothes. “Wait, did you let me into your bed with dirty clothes?”

“Mmph,” he says, rubbing his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Wow,” is all you can manage. He never let you do that when you were dating. 

“Go back to sleep, love,” Seungcheol mumbles. 

“Can’t breathe, Cheol,” you groan, patting his back. “Too heavy, baby.”

He groans but shifts off of you, then cuddles up next to you, hands finding your waist immediately. “Five more minutes.”

“Mmh,” you sigh contentedly. 

And as you close your eyes again, it occurs to you that Seungcheol is your ex, and that the two of you are definitely doing things that exes should not be doing. 

────୨ৎ──── Two Weeks Ago

You folded your pride. You extended an arm out to him first. 

“Department Head Choi Seungcheol, it’s a pleasure to work with you.” 

You spat his first and last name out like venom, knowing all too well that he hated being called by his full name. 

He stared at your outstretched hand, then scoffed.

Fuck. 

────୨ৎ──── 

When you wake up again, you’re alone in Seungcheol’s bed. Out of habit, your arm moves to pat the other side of the bed. 

For a moment, your mind flashes back to the lonely mornings you had with him four years ago. The days when the first thing you did after waking up was to check the other side of the bed, only for it to be cold. The hope of it all had fractured your heart slowly, but surely.

But today, for some reason, Seungcheol’s side is lukewarm. 

Confused at the lingering warmth, you sit up in his bed, rolling back the covers. 

Is it possible that he’s still here?

Then, you smell the distinct scent of ramen through the door to his room, which has been left slightly ajar. Planning on checking the kitchen, you move to get off the bed. But before your feet reach the ground, Seungcheol walks in.

He’s holding a tiny desk, the kind made for breakfast in bed. On it is a bowl of steaming ramen and a glass of water. 

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile, and oh—oh, it’s so full of endearment and joy and hope, of all things.

God, something about it is just so, so pure and domestic, it makes your chest constrict. Seungcheol had never made you breakfast in bed when you had dated, because he had always been the first to leave in the morning. 

But here he is, like he plans on making up for everything starting now. 

And with how bright his smile is, your heart is aching to just let him. 

“Is this… for me?” you ask in a small voice. Of course, it can’t possibly be for anyone but you, but something in you wants Seungcheol to admit it. 

Seungcheol nods. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

“Ramen’s your favorite hangover meal, right?”

You nod slowly, and Seungcheol grins, like he’s proud of himself for getting it right. But something about it pokes a nerve. What use is there in remembering it now, when you’re not together anymore? 

He watches you eat slowly, and you raise your eyebrows at the taste. 

“It’s really good,” you say between bites, giving a thumbs up. 

“Good,” he says, making intense eye contact with you. 

He’s completely focused on you, phone and computer completely out of sight, and it makes you squirm. Now that his attention is on you without any distractions, it’s too easy to see how gorgeous he is. 

You flush under his attention. “Stop looking at me,” you mumble.

“Don’t wanna,” he says dreamily, lying on his stomach on the bed, looking up at you with doe eyes. 

You giggle, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Seungcheol reaches out to swat your hands away from your face, taking the opportunity to hold your hands. When you look at him again, you’re taken aback by how serious he suddenly is. 

Your laughter fades. 

He takes a deep breath, and your heart sinks. You already know what he’s going to say.

“Can we… try ag—”

“Cheol,” you gently cut him off, withdrawing your hands from his familiar grasp. “Let’s not… we’re not…” 

“Why not?” He looks at you innocently, with wide eyes. 

You take a shaky breath. “I can’t do this again, Cheol. It’s not good for me, and it’s not good for you.” 

At first, he just blinks at you, as if he misheard. But then, something in his expression hardens. “Who says you’re not good for me?”

“What?”

“Who says you’re not good for me?”

“Cheol,” you say with a sigh. “Let’s not do this again. It’s not gonna work.”

“Who says?” his voice breaks. 

────୨ৎ──── One Week Ago

“Again,” he said dryly. “Redo the business model.”

You held back your anger. “Yes, Department Head Choi Seungcheol. Is there anything else you would like me to do?” 

“Care more,” he said.

You frowned. “I have my full focus on this project, sir.”

“Care more,” he repeated. 

────୨ৎ──── 

“I’ve changed,” he says frantically. “I can prove it to you, I promise.”

Your chest constricts. 

“I won’t ever let you be lonely again, I promise. I won’t let it happen, I swear. I’m so, so sorry I hurt you back then, but I’m not the same man you left. I will never hurt you again.”

You swallow roughly, the ramen leaving a salty aftertaste in your mouth. 

“Seungcheol…”

He shuts his eyes tightly, like you’ve wounded him. 

“Please, call me Cheol again. Please, I can’t stand to hear you call me that.”

“It’s your name,” you tell him gently. 

“No, it’s not. To you, I’m Cheol,” he insists stubbornly, crossing his arms. You have to remind yourself to breathe at the sight. Since when was his body so defined? You have to look away from his pronounced biceps to regain your will.

“Look at me,” he says with a frown. You obliged and he continues, “Sweetheart, please. I promise I will never hurt you again. Please, please, take me back.”

On the bed, he’s kneeling now, hands drawn together as if in deep prayer.

“I won’t let work get in the way of loving you. It was horrible and so stupid of me and I’m so, so sorry but it was only when I lost you that I realized I forgot what the point of working was. It was to provide for you, and I couldn’t do that if you were gone because I didn’t properly show you the love you deserved. I’m so, so sorry, my love. Please give me another chance?”

Seungcheol looks at you with so much sadness, but the history you had with his ghost makes you unsure about what to do. 

“I don’t know, Cheol…”

He smiles weakly, resigned. “At least you’re back to calling me Cheol, though. Right?”

You nod slowly. 

All of a sudden, Seungcheol lights up, like a last-minute godsend of an idea came to his mind. “If it’s too hard to say yes now, how about taking it slow?”

“What does that mean?” His definition of taking it slow probably isn’t like yours. 

“I can take you out on some dates, and then you could decide?” 

Your heart sinks. He’s so hopeful—eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouth parted. 

You don’t know if you have it in you to say no.

You press your lips together. 

Seungcheol must have sensed danger in your face, because he immediately interjects with a rushed confession before you even open your mouth.

“I love you. So much. I loved you then, and I loved you after you left, and I love you now. There was no one after you, you know?” He looks a bit crazed, hands scrunching the blankets roughly. 

Your heart jolts. 

He continues, “You were everything to me—and still are. There wasn’t a single day that I didn’t think about you. But I couldn’t bring myself to reach out because I thought you hated me.”

He’s not exactly wrong. You did hate him. Then again, there’s a fine line between love and hate. Both are powerful emotions that require you to care about the person in question. 

“I even quit the startup because I realized it had eaten up all my time, ‘cause it had taken you away from me.”

You gasp. This was the answer to why Choi Seungcheol, self-made entrepreneur who insisted on refusing to work for anyone but himself, had strangely become the department head of a company that he never had a hand in creating. 

“I was,” he sighs self-deprecatingly, “unemployed for a while. Until I heard you were working here, and then I made it my mission to climb the ranks until I could ask for you to get transferred to Seoul. And when you accepted, I was so…”

Your heart breaks a little for him.

“I thought it was a sign.” Hesitantly, he clarifies, “That you might want to try again.”

You inhale sharply. There he goes, again. Talking so sweetly. Back then, that was all he ever did to show you that he loved you. It wasn’t enough then, so why would it be enough now? 

At your silence, Seungcheol hangs his head, and your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to him.

Except it’s different now, isn’t it? He’s finally doing all the things you once wished he would. Isn’t that what you wanted from him? You don’t trust him yet. But he’s trying, now, and every muscle in your body aches with an impossibly deep desire to pull him into your arms. 

You exhale, and out with your breath goes your final worries.

Your lips part before you’ve fully decided what to say. 

"Okay."

It’s barely a whisper, but it might as well be a strike of thunder with the way Seungcheol’s head snaps up. His eyes widen, mouth parting like he’s afraid he misheard you.

"Okay?" His voice trembles, cautious, like one wrong move could shatter whatever fragile thing is forming between you.

Your throat tightens. The weight of this—of him—presses down on you, but you nod anyway.

For a second, he doesn’t breathe. Then, his face crumples, and the sheer relief in his expression makes something in you splinter. His hands twitch where they rest on the blankets, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. He’s waiting—because this time, he knows he has to let you come to him.

And you do.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lean forward. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away. Your forehead brushes his, a soft press that feels like a heartbeat between you. You feel the warmth of his skin, the way his breath mingles with yours in the inches of space that remain.

Seungcheol exhales shakily, like he’s been holding it in for years. His hands hover near your waist, unsure, unsteady. He doesn’t pull you closer—he’s learned now—but he craves it.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his touch, telling yourself it’d only be for a second. Just long enough to let yourself feel him, really feel him, without the weight of the past crushing you.

His voice is barely above a whisper, breath fanning across your lips. “Sweetheart…”

You could fall apart at the way he says it, so quiet, so reverent—like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he speaks too loud.

Your heart aches for more, but your mind reminds you of how he had left scars in your heart. For now, this form of affection would have to be enough. 

After a few minutes in his arms, you reluctantly pull away to check the address of your new apartment on your finally-charged phone. Seungcheol drops you off, walking you to your door. You don’t invite him in, and he doesn’t ask. But something about the way he looked at you, right before you walked inside your apartment, lingers in your mind long after he leaves. He’d looked at you like you’d hung every glittering star in the sky. 

Four years ago, you had decided that this gaze was something he’d manufactured while putting up with you. Maybe, you were wrong.

────୨ৎ──── 

Seungcheol keeps his promise of taking things slow. He’d arranged for you to meet him at a cafe the next day, and he’s already there when you get there. It’s a small, cozy place tucked into a quieter part of the city, the kind with warm lighting and the scent of freshly ground coffee drifting in the air. 

You hesitate for a second when you see him through the window, seated at a booth near the back, fingers idly tapping against the ceramic cup in front of him. Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you push open the door.

His eyes meet yours instantly, and for a moment, he looks breathless—like he’s just as nervous as you are. But then he smiles. It’s a tiny, careful thing, but it makes your heart drum a little faster anyway. As you approach, he stands up, hand on his heart.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, like he’s afraid to scare you away.

“Hey,” you reply, sliding into the seat across from him. 

The booth is familiar. For a second, you’re struck by the memory of late-night conversations, of stolen kisses over half-finished drinks. You really were deep in love, back then.

You shake the thought away as Seungcheol gestures toward the counter.

“Still the same order?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that isn’t quite a smirk but close enough that you recognize it as one of his signature expressions. You raise an eyebrow.

“You think I’d change it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, tilting his head slightly. “A lot of time has passed.”

You exhale a small laugh. “Yeah, well. Some things stay the same.”

Something shifts in his gaze, a flicker of relief, of hope, before he nods. He waves down a barista and places the order without hesitation—exactly how you like it. When the cup is finally set in front of you, you find yourself staring at it for a beat too long, a strange warmth pooling in your chest.

“Thanks,” you murmur, wrapping your fingers around the cup.

Seungcheol watches you, his own drink forgotten, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he leans slightly forward, forearms resting on the table as he asks, “So, what’s new?”

You take a sip, letting the warmth settle in your stomach before answering. “Well, I have a wedding to go to next month.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Yeah. My coworker from the New York branch, Lee Chan, is getting married next month. I gotta fly out for it.” You swirl your drink absentmindedly, watching the steam curl into the air. “It’s kind of crazy. Feels like yesterday he was complaining about bad Tinder dates, and now he’s getting married.”

Seungcheol huffs a small laugh. “Guess he finally found the right person.”

“Yeah,” you say, a little softer. “Guess he did.”

There’s a pause, and you realize that for all the implications, for the way the topic is naturally leading to the idea of a plus one, you don’t bring it up. And, notably, neither does he. The question lingers, unspoken but present. Instead, Seungcheol shifts the conversation.

“You still baking?”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “If you can even call it that.”

He grins. “That bad?”

“Worse.” You sigh dramatically. “I was trying to perfect my chocolate chip cookies, right? Like, I found this recipe online, and it looked completely foolproof. But somehow, I nearly burned down my apartment.”

His amusement vanishes instantly. “What?”

“I mean, not literally,” you backtrack quickly, waving a hand. “But there was a lot of smoke. And my oven might hate me now.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow in concern. “That apartment’s new, isn’t it?”

You nod. “Yeah, company orders. Still trying to get used to it.”

He exhales through his nose, tilting his head as he studies you. “Isn’t it hard? Being in such an unfamiliar place?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, uh, I guess?”

His tone is casual—too casual—but you’re not oblivious. You see the way he watches you intently, the way he’s gauging your reaction. He thinks he’s being subtle, but it’s clear what he’s hinting at. Someday, maybe you won’t have to be in an unfamiliar place. Maybe you could come back home, to me.

You let out a small breath, looking down at your drink. “It’s fine,” you say after a moment. “It’s just an adjustment.”

Seungcheol doesn’t push, but his fingers tighten slightly around his cup. “If you ever need anything…”

“I know,” you say, and you mean it. Because for the first time in a long time, it feels like he actually means it, too.

The conversation shifts again, moving from baking disasters to random anecdotes about work, about old stories that slip out without either of you realizing. And throughout it all, you notice something: Seungcheol is listening.

Not just nodding along, not just waiting for his turn to speak. He’s really listening—leaning in, responding at the right moments, his gaze locked on yours with a kind of attentiveness that makes your stomach flip in a way you don’t want to acknowledge yet.

It’s different. He’s different.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s why this doesn’t feel like a mistake.

Fuck, do you love him, still?

────୨ৎ──── 

After the weekend cafe date with Seungcheol came the work week, much to your displeasure. Today has been an especially exhausting day. The kind that seeps into your bones, weighing down your limbs, making even the simple act of unlocking your apartment door feel like a chore. You barely manage to kick off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch, groaning into the cushions.

You didn’t even hear your phone buzzing at first. It takes a few rings before you muster enough energy to blindly fumble for it.

“Hello?” Your voice is muffled, with your face buried against the pillow.

“You sound dead,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, laced with amusement but tinged with concern.

“Feel like it too,” you groan. “Long day.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then, softly, “Have you eaten?”

“I had lunch,” you say. 

Another pause. Then, decisively, “I’m coming over.”

“What? No, you don’t have to—”

“Too late. I’m already on my way.”

And just like that, the call ends. You blink owlishly at your screen, a bit too drained to call him back in protest.

Twenty minutes later, a knock comes from your door.

When you open it, Seungcheol stands there, hair still slightly tousled from the wind outside, carrying a takeout bag in one hand and a six-pack of your favorite drinks in the other.

“You used to drink these when you were stressed,” he says, holding up the pack as if that explains everything.

Your heart does something funny in your chest, but do your best to ignore it. Instead, you step aside, letting him in for the first time. 

Seungcheol makes himself comfortable in your kitchen, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He unpacks the food and searches for utensils without asking you for help. And before you know it, you’re sitting at your small dining table, warm food in front of you, while he nudges a drink toward your hand.

The silence is comfortable. You didn’t realize how much you needed this until now—until the tension in your shoulders starts to ease, until the simple act of eating next to someone who cares about you makes the world feel a little less heavy.

At some point, you sigh, rolling your neck to work out a kink. You hadn’t meant for it to be noticeable, but Seungcheol caught it immediately. Without a word, he shifts his chair closer and places a warm hand against your shoulder, thumb pressing gently into the tension there.

You freeze.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “I got you. Just relax.”

And somehow, without even thinking, you do.

It isn’t grand, or dramatic, really. It’s just the quiet comfort of someone who knows you better than you thought he did. Who is all of a sudden remembering the little things, after all these years. He eases the weight of the world off your shoulders without even trying.

You don’t pull away.

And neither does he.

────୨ৎ──── 

A week later, and the workday is winding down. But the plans you’ve been looking forward to—a nice dinner that feels like a step forward, another stitch in the frayed edges between you and Seungcheol—suddenly teeter on the edge of collapse.

You’re gathering your things when Director Chun steps into the office, looking around before his gaze lands on Seungcheol.

"Department Head Choi Seungcheol," Chun calls, his voice even but firm. "I need you to stay back for a bit. The New York office just called me about a misalignment between Mr. Han’s vision and the work we submitted to their team. We need to smooth it over before tomorrow morning. I estimate it won’t take very long."

Your breath catches. Director Chun always sugarcoats things. It wouldn’t be just a couple more minutes, it’d be several hours of extra work. 

It’s just a few words, a simple request by the director. But it’s enough to send you spiraling.

Because you've been here before.

You know how this story ends.

Your grip tightens around the strap of your bag as a million thoughts flood in, rapid and overwhelming. He’s going to say yes. Of course, he’s going to say yes. 

Work will always come first. It always has, always will. 

He’ll put you second again, and you’ll be left waiting, just like before.

The words you want to say—please don’t go, pick me, just this once—stick like molasses to the back of your throat.

You can’t stay here to hear him confirm it. You can’t bear to watch it happen all over again.

You walk away before Seungcheol answers the director, your feet carrying you toward the stairwell in a daze. The second the heavy door shuts behind you, a shaky breath escapes your lips. Your fingers press against your temples as you squeeze your eyes shut, willing away the sting that threatens to turn into tears. 

Your chest constricts so harshly, you think you might be having a heart attack.

It shouldn't hurt this much.

But it does.

The past and present blur together in your mind—memories of cold dinners, of unanswered texts, of waiting and waiting and waiting. Until you stopped waiting altogether.

Why on earth did you think that things would be any different, now? 

The door swings open with a rush of air.

"Sweetheart?"

Your stomach drops.

Seungcheol steps inside, eyes scanning the dimly lit stairwell before landing on you. His brows pull together in concern as he closes the distance between you.

"Hey," he murmurs, reaching out hesitantly. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head, stepping back before his fingers can brush against your arm. "You don’t have to be here, Cheol."

He frowns. "What are you talking about?"

Defeated, you let out a humorless laugh, gesturing vaguely. "You don’t have to chase after me just to make me feel better about you choosing work over dinner. I get it. I know how this goes."

A pause. Then, softly, "Is that what you think happened?"

The sincerity in his voice makes you falter.

You blink at him, your heart pounding, confusion creeping in through the cracks of your resolve. "What do you mean?"

Seungcheol exhales, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer. This time, you don’t move away.

"I told Director Chun I couldn’t stay," he says, voice steady. "I told him I had a prior commitment, and that I wasn’t going to break it."

Your eyes widen comically. "What?"

His lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. "I said no, sweetheart. I told him I had somewhere more important to be."

More important.

Your throat tightens.

"You—" The words catch, and you have to stop yourself from immediately replying, trying to process it. "You said no?"

"I did." His gaze softens, the weight of the moment settling between you. "I told you I wouldn’t let work come between us again."

His voice is quiet, but it carries years’ worth of unspoken apologies.

Of love that had once been misplaced, misdirected, but never truly lost.

Your eyes flicker over his face, searching. And the truth is written in the way he looks at you—open, unwavering, as if he’s willing you to believe him.

And you do.

It’s terrifying how easily you do.

The wall you’d built, the one meant to protect you from this very moment, begins to crumble under the warmth in his gaze.

Your breath shudders. "Cheol…"

His hand lifts, hovering near your cheek, close enough that you can feel the heat of it but not touching. His wide, sparkling eyes look eagerly into yours—giving you the choice, letting you decide.

Your chest tightens at his cute patience, the silent question lingering between you.

The space between you grows smaller.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, you’re impossibly close, the tips of your noses nearly brushing. His breath fans over your lips, and your eyes flutter shut.

He doesn’t move to kiss you, but that’s okay. Because you’re finally ready to cross that line. 

Tilting your chin up into him, your lips meet, and the warmth of him grounds you in a way that nothing else ever replaced, or ever could. His lips are so, so, soft, and as he melts into the kiss, he lets out a small content sigh. Everything about him is familiar, and yet, somehow different. It’s charged with a kind of electric buzz, the tension from the past weeks finally coming to a head. 

For a moment, the world is still. You only see Seungcheol. 

Then, in a voice so soft it almost disappears into the quiet of the stairwell, Seungcheol parts from your lips for just a centimeter, whispering, "I meant what I said. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m 110% for you, I love you."

You close your eyes, exhaling against his skin, relishing his touch. And you say the next words with a full chest, “I love you so much, Cheol.”

Because for the first time in a long time, you believe him. 

Masterlist

Author's Note: did u get the title?? seungcheol's the python bc he makes ur chest constrict and love is hard and hurts us sometimes anywayz happy valentines day <3

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

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[orangeocelotmartyn]

Martyn: Okay, question number two then. Uhh, saw the Minecraft movie recently, if you were in the same scenario--you wake up, naked and scared, you're in a desert biome, just about see a village on the horizon, and you've got maybe a bit woodland clearing over to the right side, what do you do? Your pockets are empty, you're not actually--I guess you've got clothes on--what are you up to?

Skizz: Well, you said naked and scared… Martyn: Okay! Fact. Skizz: I'm lookin for my-- Martyn: --you're swinging! Skizz: I'm looking for my better half in Naked and Scared, I'm findin' my buddy. (a chorus of 'oohhh' from the audience of Hermits)-- Impulse: Pulling on the heart strings-- Skizz: --I'm not going to woodland, I'm not stepping into any danger until I got my hero. And I'm making my whole existence about finding the other half of Naked and Scared before I move forward. I'm not taking on anything on my own because we're stronger as a unit, and we-we're synergy. We're always one plus one equals three. So I gotta find the other--(is shocked by Grian) haha, okay (everyone laughs) Hi. Martyn: That was-that was for doing math. Skizz: Dude, that was perfect, cause I literally-- Martyn: --bad math will get you shocked on this show. Skizz: Forgot what I was saying. (everyone laughs) The second you did that-- (Impulse laughs) Impulse: That-that was great. Martyn: That's cute. Impulse: I'm not gonna do that, I'm not gonna find him first-- Skizz: Cause I'm a liability-- Impulse: He's a liablity. If anyone's seen Naked and Scared, he's a bit of a liabilty, we share hearts, and so I think what I would do is, I would go straight to a desert temple-- Martyn: Nice-- Impulse: --raid the chests, uh, get some armor--cause a lot of times they'll have armor and stuff, and then find Skizz, and give him the armor (Skizz laughs) and then we can go into the woods and maybe find a Woodland Mansion and find some other goodies-- Martyn: That's brave. Impulse: I'm gonna first try to get something to protect my buddy, and then I'll track him down. Martyn: Aww. So there's belief, and then there's lack of belief. That's good. Skizz: Pretty much. Impulse: That's how the series works. Skizz: That's a Yin-Yang, man.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Bunji hear me out 🙏🥺👀. So imagine a satoru gojo!reader in the invincible. Mark down bad for her (you've seen the girls cosplaying him 😍👀) , homegirl would just be out saving lives just for the fun of the game . Ciecil would hate to see gojo!reader coming since most know how much gojo hates the higher ups in jjk and feel like she'd just love messing with him . Anissa and conquest trying to be funny with her man mark end up split on the ground . Invincible war ending before angstorm levy can try another one of his villain monologues . Please bunji 🙏🥺

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐨

Mark Grayson x Fem!Gojo!Reader (something’s there lol)

Summary || your existence was something unexpected, both infuriating to most, but also a pillar of strength when needed.

Note // superrr tired, but I liked writing this one. I only addressed the events that occurred with Anissa in the show, Invincible War and Conquest happen right after eachother (I’m too pussy to write those things just yet lmao).

Mark was sent by the Coalition of Planets to investigate a dimensional rift. He expected a universe-threatening villain. Instead, he crash-landed in the middle of a battlefield where [Name] Gojo was already handling things—casually levitating mid-air, arms crossed, while cursed spirits vaporized trying to land a hit.

Mark tries to step in to help. You stop him with a finger to his chest and a smirk: “You’re cute. But also in the way.”

Mark is stunned. Not just by your power, but your vibe—like you knows your the strongest and wants him to watch you prove it.

He respects strength, but he’s not used to someone being so… cocky about it. Meanwhile, you find his earnestness both adorable and a little exhausting.

Mark is the heart. Your the sharp edge. You fight for fun, for pride, because it’s a game of domination. Mark fights because he has to. It leads to arguments—but also epic synergy in battle.

People mistake you both for a couple constantly—Mark’s flustered, you lean into it. “Can you blame them?” You says, ruffling his hair. “You’re always chasing after me.”

Mark offers to fly you somewhere. You pretend to be impressed… then levitate beside him just to make a point. Next time, you ‘forget’ and lets him carry you bridal-style through a sky battle just for the bit.

Battle banter consists of something like this:

Mark: “We should try not to kill them!”

You: “They tried to kill us. You’re too soft. Want me to toughen you up, sunshine?”

Mark: “Please don’t call me that.”

Your sparring sessions are practically relationship therapy. You like pushing his limits; Mark wants to prove he can beat you. He never does—but he does improve. And you notice.

Mark reminds you of your younger self—before the arrogance fully settled in, back when you still had Suguru. His compassion gets under your skin in ways that surprise you. You sees potential in him, maybe even a kind of moral compass. Not that you’d admit it.

It’s painfully obvious. He’ll deny it to his dying breath, but he always stands a little too close, always looks a little too long. The others tease him. You just raise an eyebrow: “He blushes when I breathe near him.”

You both lost someone close—Mark with his father’s betrayal, you with Suguru’s fall. One night, during a rare calm moment, Mark asks if you ever wonder if you could’ve saved him. You go quiet. Then: “Every day.”

You claim your stronger than any Viltrumite. Mark says “no way.” So you make him hit you with everything he’s got. He does. You smiled through it.

Mark wouldn’t stand a chance. You would absolutely dominate the relationship. Not in a cruel way—but you loves being the most powerful being in the room, and Mark would lowkey love being the guy who got you to open up.

You call him “baby Viltrumite.” He calls you “Queen of Chaos” when he’s flustered.

Your the kind of couple that people warn you about: loud, passionate, terrifyingly good at fighting, and stupidly in love beneath the surface tension.

The golden light casts long shadows over the ruined shoreline. The cruise ship lies grounded, metal groaning as rescue crews scramble to help the injured. The monster’s corpse still steams in the distance.

You watch from a short distance, arms folded, your tight black shirt speckled with ocean spray and blood that isn’t yours.

Mark’s voice is raised now, his fists clenched. “You don’t get to lecture me about humanity! You don’t care about this world!”

Anissa steps forward, calm, firm, a little too sure of herself. “I care enough to warn you. Earth is weak. You are weak. You’ll understand soon, Mark.”

The tension snaps.

Mark lunges at her, anger driving his punch. Anissa blocks, but just barely—he’s stronger now, more focused, more dangerous. Still, she’s older. Sharper. Viltrumite-born.

The two of them collide like thunder, fists cracking like lightning across the sky. Sand explodes in geysers as they slam into the beach, sending terrified civilians scattering for cover.

Then—

Time halts.

A shimmer in the air. A stillness. And suddenly, you’re there—standing between them.

Mark’s fist stops just short of your shoulder.

Anissa’s next strike halts midair.

Both of them freeze.

You tilt your head, smiling that lazy, arrogant smile of yours. “Wow. You two really know how to ruin a sunset.”

“[Name]?” Mark stammers, stumbling back slightly. His expression softens—for a moment, relief flooding his face.

You glance at the crushed sand around you, the frantic screams from nearby civilians, the cracked pavement where someone nearly died. Your smile fades.

“You wanna break each other’s bones, fine. But do it without turning humans into collateral damage.” Your voice dips. Cold. Sharp. “I don’t do messy team-ups.”

Anissa narrows her eyes. “Who are you supposed to be?”

You blink, and suddenly you’re inches from her. She didn’t even see you move.

You lean in, eyes gleaming behind your bangs. “The reason you’re still breathing.”

And with that, you tap her chest—nothing more.

She flies backward like a meteor, skipping across the waves with a deafening crash. The ocean hisses around her impact site, the water parting from sheer kinetic force.

Mark stares, slack-jawed. “…I had that under control.”

You shrug, stepping back beside him. “Sure, sunshine. But you were taking way too long.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then sighs. “She said I was her ‘first warning.’ That the others are coming.”

Your expression hardens. For a brief flicker, your usual smugness cracks.

“Let them.”

Your voice is quiet. Final. Like you already know how this ends.

Now, the air smells like salt and ozone.

Rescue drones hum overhead. EMTs load the last few injured passengers onto stretchers. The wreckage from the cruise ship smolders in the distance, but the beach is mostly cleared now, thanks to your timely arrival. Civilians lived. No one got flattened. Clean work.

Mark stands near the water’s edge, hands on his hips, bruised, scuffed, and visibly rattled. He’s still watching the spot where Anissa vanished after your hit sent her flying halfway into next week.

You appear beside him without warning—no sound, no shift in the air. Just there.

He flinches. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

You smirk. “Only the cute ones.”

Mark groans, scrubbing his face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” you gesture to the mostly intact beach, “incredibly effective.”

He exhales slowly, his shoulders sinking. “Thanks. For saving the people. And… probably me.”

You glance at him sidelong. “That was your thank you? You sound like someone just told you your dog ran away.”

Mark chuckles softly, but there’s no humor in it. “She said they’re coming. Stronger ones. That I should’ve joined her. She sounded so sure I’d break eventually.”

You pause.

Then you reach out and flick his forehead—lightly, but enough to snap him out of the spiral.

“Hey,” you say, voice low. “You’re not breaking. Not while I’m around.”

He looks at you, really looks. There's weariness in his eyes, that deep-soul tiredness he carries after every fight where the odds were rigged from the start.

“But you won’t always be around,” he says quietly.

You don’t answer right away.

Instead, you walk ahead a few steps, letting the waves lap at your slippers, arms crossed. The wind whips your hair, your silhouette sharp and untouchable against the dying sun.

“I don’t stick around for many people,” you finally admit. “Most aren’t worth the trouble. Too weak. Too scared. Too boring.”

You glance over your shoulder at him.

“But you… you keep getting up.”

Mark’s brows lift slightly.

“You think that makes me strong?”

“I think it makes you stupid.” A beat. “But the right kind of stupid.”

He laughs, a little more real this time.

Then—more hesitantly—he steps up beside you. “So what now?”

You shrug. “Now? We prepare. Train. Fight. Win.”

Mark nods. Then, quieter: “And if we don’t?”

You flash him a wicked smile, eyes glinting. “Then we make sure the world remembers we went down swinging—and looking damn good doing it.”

He laughs again. Then looks at you for a long moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I meant what I said earlier. You scare me sometimes.”

You tilt your head, amused. “Flattery’ll get you everywhere.”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling now. “Yeah. I figured.”

[lillyloon]

Skratt the goblin, and his surprise eidolon partner "Lizard"

"Born in an empoverished Goblin-Human mixed community at the bottom rung of the social ladder, Skratt wishes to put his culinary talents to the test and become a renowned chef. His plans take a nosedive when he happens upon the wrong place at the wrong time, and gets an arcane crystal lodged into his chest, thus saddling him with brewing magical abilities, as well as an ethereal "passenger". Too bad magic of any kind is highly illegal in his country."

More tidbits below

- Skratt originally started his climb to "chef-dom" at a small local cafe, only for things to go downhill when he was sent to deliver an order, and accidentally crashed a secret ritual. Come next morning, he woke up with a gem lodged in his chest, a voice in his head, and no memories of the night prior. He may not know it, but punishment from the law is the least of his worries, as a secret cult of mages wish to retrieve that which he "stole".

- Due to the lack of food in his community, Goblins tend to offer up their portions for humans to eat: Goblins can sustain themselves off of nearly anything independently of freshness or edibility, and have an underdeveloped sense of taste, so they had little issue giving up their cleaner foods for others who need it more. Because of this, Skratt grew up wishing to better the dietary conditions of his friends and family back home, and took effort in learning each sapient race's dietary needs and limitations, so he could always prepare good dishes for all.

- He may not know it, but Skratt feels subconsciously ashamed of his goblin heritage, as goblinkind's tendency to impulsiveness and memory issues gave them a nasty reputation in certain parts. He tries to keep his "goblinish" traits away from view, such as his more... unorthodox culinary experiments,  which often include one of Goblin's most favored techniques: "If it exists, it can be Pickled".

- Skratt holds a love-hate relationship with fire. On the one hand,  it's a necesary step in most recipes. On the other, too much of it tends to send him on maniacal spirals. His first forays into the culinary arts landed him nasty scars on his head and hands, as his 'over-enthusiasm'  got the better of him. Fortunately, he learned to reel it in, as long as the fire's not too big. Naturally, the crystal stuck on his chest gifted him some fire magic of his own...

- "Lizard", as Skratt derisively calls it, is the large salamander-like fae creature inhabiting (?) the crystal in his chest. Though appearing as nothing more than a nonsapient beast, Skratt knows the being more than capable of communicating in its native tongue, though it loves to pretend for fun's sake. Because of the city's strict ban of all magic, Skratt finds it an abhorrent "passenger" at first, tethered to him and ready to burst out at a moments notice, risking them both being found out. Once they manage to form a shaky truce, they both grow to know and understand each other, slowly building synergy in thought and action, and influencing each other: Skratt learns to cut free and let lose, while "Lizard" starts to appreciate its goblinoid partner's passions, even taking up cooking itself.

- Skratt's favourite type of coffee is Dark coffee infused with chili pepper

[rollinouttahere-writes-misc]

Hi hope you’re doing ok ! Would it be ok if I request yandere Itadori with his best friend reader who nearly gets killed by a cursed spirit please 🙏

(If possible can the reader be female if not gn is fine with me ^^) (romantic if possible if not platonic is fine as well XD )

Lassitude

Yandere Itadori Yuji x Reader

2.9 k words

Summary: You just got to meet up with a friend you hadn't seen in a while, and now you're headed home after a fun day out. But you can't shake the feeling of being watched. It's nothing... right?

Warnings: female presenting reader, universe typical violence, injury to reader, death, yandere if you squint

“Thanks again for meeting up with me today, I know it was really short notice.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m just happy to see you again. When you transferred out of school so suddenly, I got really worried about you. I’m just glad that you’re okay.” You look over at Yuji and smile half-heartedly, “Sasaki and Iguchi have been asking about you a lot. You should probably reach out to them, too. I feel a little bad hogging you all to myself like this.”

A glimmer of hope sparks in your heart. Maybe there’s a reason he reached out to only you?

“Oh, are they? I didn’t think we were close enough for them to be worried about me.” Yuji scratches the back of his head, looking a little flustered. “But thanks for letting me know. You’re such a good friend.”

Ah. There it is. “Friend”. 

It’s not that you’re ungrateful for your friendship with Yuji, but… you would be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t want it to be something more.

Yuji is the kindest person you’ve ever met, and he held the first place title by a significant margin. Anyone would be lucky to call him a friend, and you were, but you couldn’t help how your heart felt. How it skipped a beat when he would lend you his hand to help you up. How it fluttered when he remembered your favorite snacks and drinks and would make sure to get one for you. How it felt like it was going to explode when he shot you a text asking if you could meet up today.

And today had been fun. You met with him at a local arcade that you two used to go to all the time. Despite all of the months apart, you fell into the same synergy and easy conversation that had always come naturally. It was as if you’d just seen him yesterday. He even won you a little Cinnamoroll plush from one of the claw machines.

“Is everything okay? You got quiet all of a sudden.” Yuji is just ahead of you, walking backwards with a concerned look on his face.

A well practiced fake smile is plastered onto your face following his question. “Everything’s fine.” Your fingers mess with the ears of your plush, “I was just thinking about how I wish we could do this more often, like we used to.”

The guilt that flashes across his face makes you immediately regret your words. Guilt tripping Yuji into hanging out with you more is the last thing you would want to do to him, so you quickly try to backpedal, “Not that I’m blaming you or anything! I get that you’re busy.”

“It’s okay,” the smile he flashes you makes your heart feel fuzzy, “I get it. I wish we could see each other more often, too. I’ll try to make more room for you from now on. I promise.”

“Really?” You can no longer contain your excitement. Without even thinking about it, you leap forward and all but tackle him in a hug, “Thank you! That’s the best news I’ve gotten all week!” More like all year, but you’re trying to at least pretend to be normal about this.

It dawns on you that this isn’t very laid back and casual of you. You release him and step back, clearing your throat and trying to act nonchalant, “I mean, only if you’re sure you have the time. I don’t want you going out of your way just for me.” You do. You absolutely do.

Yuji flashes his signature smile, “I want to go out of my way for you. You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Critical hit. Your face feels hot and you avert your eyes. How can he say something like that so casually? This would basically be a confession from someone else, but sweet sentiments like this are a staple of Itadori’s lingo. It almost makes you want to scream. How can he be so amazing and dense at the same time?!

“Thank you… I really appreciate that.” Oh god, you feel like your heart is going to burst again. “A-Anyway, it’s getting late. I should head home before my parents start to worry.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

Yes. Absolutely. More than anything. “No, that’s okay. I know you still have to get back to your new school.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.” The smile on his face was adorable, and it almost made you crack. But no, you need some time alone to calm yourself down.

“I’m sure. My home isn’t far from here anyway.” You decide to indulge yourself and give him another hug before turning to go your separate way. “I’ll see you later. Bye, Yuji!”

Yuji holds his hand out toward you, and for a second you think he’s going to say something. But instead, he retracts his hand and rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, see you later. Stay safe, (Y/N).”

A combination of disappointment and warmth fills your chest. His well wishes for you are nice, but you can’t help but be bummed that he didn’t say whatever was on his mind. It’s fine. You’re used to not getting exactly what you want from him. At least he’s still your friend despite the distance.

Walking home doesn’t take long, you weren’t lying when you said your home was nearby. But as you walk, you can’t shake off the feeling of being watched. You keep looking over your shoulder, hoping to see Yuji, but he isn’t there. No one is. It makes a chill run down your spine, prompting you to walk faster and hold your plush tighter. It’s nothing. You know it’s nothing, but that doesn’t make you any less creeped out.

Just as you make it home, your phone rings. Feeling like you’re safe now that you’re on the front steps, you slide your phone out of your pocket and check the caller ID. It’s Yuji!

Without waiting another second, you answer the call, “Yes?” Did that sound too eager? Probably. Too late to do anything about it now.

“Good, you answered.” Yuji sighs in relief and lets out an embarrassed chuckle, “Uh, I don’t suppose my wallet is still in your purse is it?”

Oh, that’s right! You offered to hold onto it for him after it flew out of his pocket while you two were playing DDR. As expected of him, Yuji got way too into it and his wallet got sent sailing through the air as a result of how hard he was dancing. “Hang on, let me check.” You hold your phone to your ear with your shoulder as you sift through your purse, “Yep! It’s right here.”

“Great, I’m glad I at least know where it is now. My bus pass is in there, so I’ll have to come get it from you. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Wait, I would feel bad making you walk all the way here and back. I’m home now, I’ll ask my dad if he can drive me there so you don’t miss the next bus.” Yuji starts to protest, but you silence him, “At least let me ask first. I’m sure my dad will be more than happy to help.”

You push open the door and get ready to call out to your father, but the words are knocked out of you. Something huge slams into your back, launching you through the air. You yelp from the surprise and pain of it all, then crash down onto the coffee table. It snaps under your weight, and you are left coughing and gasping for air after… an attack? What the hell was that?

“(Y/N)? What was that? Are you okay?” Yuji’s voice comes through your phone, and for a moment all you can think is that you’re amazed that you were able to hold onto it through that.

Before you can muster the strength to speak, you scream instead as something sharp sinks into your leg. You shriek and look down, finding blood pouring out of several holes in your leg and staining your sock, but- but nothing is there! You can feel something, but you don’t see anything!

More calls of your name ring through the home, this time from your parents. You don’t answer, you can’t. Whatever pierced your leg starts to move, and it’s strong! You continue to scream as you’re shaken violently, getting slammed into furniture and the floor by whatever has a hold of you. Your grip on your phone relinquishes, sending it flying away and into a wall as you’re flailed about.

“What’s going on?! What’s hurting her?! I don’t see anything!” Your mother sounds as confused as she does terrified. Her eyes dart all over the room, but she can’t see anything either. 

“Mom! Dad! Help me!” You wail and kick blindly with your free leg, and then you feel it. Your foot connects with something. Something is here, but why can’t you see it?!

Your father picks up the broken top of the coffee table, then slams it down over where your leg is bleeding from. Instead of hitting you, it stops about a foot above and breaks. Whatever was holding you lets go and appears to back up into the wall, making the framed photos fall off of it. A scratching noise cuts through the air, and when you follow them to the source, you see four sets of claw marks on the floor.

It’s when you look up that you start to get an idea of what attacked you. The thing is still invisible, but your blood is now staining its teeth. Several rows of long, razor sharp teeth glisten red, finally revealing something about what is in here with you.

“What the hell is that?” Your father looks dumbfounded, but he’s still clearly on high alert. He watches the dripping maw closely as it begins to move, circling to the right, blocking the pathway to the front door. “Get to our room and call for help! Now! I’ll hold this- this thing off!”

Mom didn’t need to be told twice. She had already been crouched down next to you when he gave the order. With a strength you didn’t think she possessed, your mom heaves you up onto her shoulder and runs.

The sound of scraped wood echoes through the house as the beast lunges at your father. He slams what remains of the piece of wood he was holding into what you assume is the face, but that’s the last thing you see before your vision is obscured by the walls encasing the staircase leading to the upstairs bedrooms. You want to cry out for your dad to come with you, but your voice fails you.

As soon as she makes it into the room, your mother locks the door and wedges a chair under the handle. You’re dropped onto the bed as she fumbles to get her phone out of her pocket and dial the right number, all the while looking over your wound.

It’s truly a sickening sight. The meat of your calf has been shredded from the monster that bit you. Is… Is that bone? You feel like you’re going to throw up or faint. Maybe both.

“We need help!” Your mother’s voice draws your attention away from the horrendous state of your leg. “Something broke into our home and attacked our daughter! I- I don’t know what! I couldn’t see it, but it bit my daughter and was throwing her around! She needs an ambulance, now! Hurry!”

Loud crashing and yelling is coming from outside of the room. It escalates to screaming, then cuts off abruptly into complete silence. No. No, no, no! This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening!

Your mother cries out her husband’s name, but there is no reply. “Oh god! Please hurry! I think it just killed my husband!”

Something heavy hits the door. Then again, each time harder than the last. The wood is starting to break, and the wall is cracking. It’s breaking down the door, and it feels almost certain that it’ll get through before help can arrive.

This is a fact that your mom seemingly also picked up on. She scoops you back into her arms and runs to the closet, sliding open the door and practically throwing you inside. She tightly clutches one of your hands in hers and holds your tear soaked face with the other, “Y-You need to stay quiet, okay? Don’t make a sound. I love you so much.”

She retreats and slides the door shut again before you can put together anything resembling a coherent thought, much less a sentence. No… Why is she doing this? She should be hiding too! Come back! Please come back!

The door to the bedroom gives in to the tremendous force of the monster outside of it and shatters. You can hear your mother let out a startled shriek, then a sob.

“P-Please… I don’t care what happens to me, just leave my baby alone! Don’t hurt her anymore, I’m begging you!”

There’s just enough of a gap in the closet door to let you peer through it. Part of you knows this is a bad decision. But you can’t bring yourself to look away. Remnants of the door crack and break under the weight of the blight attacking your family as it enters the room and encroaches on its prey. Your mother stumbles back and her phone is thrown at it in a last desperate attempt to ward it off.

When it finally steps into view, it’s covered in blood, and you instinctively know that it’s your father’s. The monster is almost as tall as your mother and quadrupedal. The mouth is disproportionately large, being almost as big as the misshapen head it’s a part of.

It corners your terrified mother, then attacks. She screams and tries to fend it off, but it bites into her arm and rips it from her body. Her wails of agony and fear make you begin to sob harder despite her pleas for you to keep quiet. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. That thing is going to kill her and then you, just like it did your father.

You tear your eyes away from the carnage just as your mother’s head starts to disappear into the razor sharp abyss. You can’t do it. You can’t watch. You know it’s over when her screams are cut short.

All you can do is sob as the beast approaches the closet. You don’t even attempt to move or defend yourself as the door is ripped out of its track, fully exposing you. There’s even more blood on it now. Worse yet, clumps of mom’s hair are wedged in between its teeth.

This is it. This is how you die. Massacred along with the rest of your family. At least you three won’t be separated for long. You stare in horror as it steps closer. You blink. Someone is over it. Then the monster is sent through the floor with the person you saw falling right with it.

What? Was that… pink hair? I- It can’t be…

A loud struggle is happening on the floor beneath you, but your brain is struggling to process it. It’s struggling to process any of this. You should be dead. Why aren’t you dead? You’re so numb to your surroundings that you don’t even notice when the fight stops. The only thing that tears you from your stupor is your name being called out.

After a few slow blinks, you focus your attention on the person in front of you. Yuji. It is Yuji. This doesn’t make any sense.

The complete lack of a response from you frightens him, and he shakes you, “Talk to me, (Y/N)! Please let me know that you’re okay!”

No. You’re not okay. Nothing is okay.

“Mom… Dad…” Your voice is hoarse and cracks with each word.

His expression becomes even more devastated. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry that I didn’t get here in time to save them.” He moves, then hugs you close to his chest, “But I saved you. I made it just in time to save you.”

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he is continuing to speak, but you don’t really hear any of it. It’s all a white noise to you. Why is this happening? Why are you still alive when your parents are dead? Viciously murdered by a thing that none of you could even truly see. Was this your fault? Did you unknowingly bring that thing home with you?

Itadori picks you up, but you just hang in his arms limply. The sound of sirens echoes in the distance. They’re far too late to be of any use now.

“I’m going to get you some help, but we can’t stay here. Just hang tight. You’re safe now.”

Safe? An invisible monster just murdered your whole family. You’re never going to feel safe again. But you don’t say any of this. You don’t have the strength, the will. You have nothing left, not anymore. What your friend does now is of no consequence to you. Nothing is.

You may have a pulse, but your life ended when your parents’ did.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok, so. Smashing together my recent posts (stoner Itama / the secret Senju weed empire money / co-dependent twins Itama and Tobirama) to make a cohesive narrative:

So, Itama survives AU.

In this, Itama and Tobirama are twins. They're very close, arguably closer to each other than Hashi is to either of them.

Growing up, after Kawarama died, Hashirama found a new friend in his boy by the river. Meaning the twins were sort of left to mourn on their own, their older brother no longer as interested in playing with them. They got to be almost dangerously codependent, and their father only encouraged it bc they were also training to fight as a duo, and the codependency made the team synergy go crazy hard.

On that note, they're absolutely terrifying in battle together for sure. They're nightmares on their own already, but together?? Let's say that as long as they're fighting side by side, they're on the same level as Hashirama himself.

Itama grows up to be a scientist like Tobirama, but in a different field of science— ✨️plants✨️

Itama is like, a bioengineer for plants. He's crossbreeding the fuck out of these bad boys, finding ways to amplify certain traits in some plants, erase them altogether in others, or mixing them up for the best of both worlds. Full doctor Frankenstein plant edition

It's fun bc he often gets help from both of his brothers, and he's also able to help the both of them in turn!

Hashirama helps with growing plants, meaning Itama doesn't have to wait the years this research would usually take. He can go from nothing to having his final product in days flat when it should have taken a fucking lifetime to do. If he fucks up it's no stress bc as long as he has the seeds, Hashirama can just grow him a new plant to start from! All he needs is one single seed and an entire world of new possibilities is unlocked.

On top of all that, the mokuton can affect the plants in ways growing by regular time doesn't, so Itama also gets to play with special mokuton plants too

Then Itama can give Hashirama all sorts of new plants to potentially use in battle, tho Hashirama doesn't seem to want to use want against the Uchiha. But like. He has them!! And it's fucking terrifying!!! Plus they can just in general bond over being plant enthusiasts. If Hashi finds a cool new plant or vice versa they can get excited about it together

Tobirama understands all to most of Itama's research, at least in theory, and will often help with his experiments. Likewise, Itama also understands all to most of Tobirama's own research (at least in theory) and can help him in return. Having their own specific fields of interest, they're often bringing a fresh pair of eyes and different thought process to the others experiments, and it's great for them both. SO many results.

Itama is let in on most of Tobirama's projects, and even if he's not helping he generally knows what he's working on and vice versa. They have few secrets and its actually just in general very good for Tobirama specifically. Like, mentally and support wise.

Because Itama never died to serve as that final push over the edge, and was instead there to offer emotional support, Tobirama didn't turn to necromancy. (If he had tho, Itama would have been fully on board— sorry Hashirama) Instead, maybe he's spending that time being even more focused on cool time/space jutsu or something.

So like, all grown up he's a poison specialist with a major wind chakra attribute and minor fire attribute. His main weapon is a pipe, which he just smokes normally on top of using its smoke as a weapon. He can put so much pressure into the smoke that it becomes physical, and can then be used as a blunt force weapon (on top of ofc the smoke being used as just smoke, and having different effects on its own)

He's immune to a lot of his smokes effects, but has special extra powerful versions of most of his go to weaponized smokes that are so strong they work even on him. Obviously, he doesn't usually use these in battle, but they're there as a last resort

Fun sort of chain reaction attack where he disperses some super flammable powder or smoke then tosses in a single spark and it goes up like fucking fireworks. Or a cool combo attack where Tobirama provides hella fog with whatever water is nearby, and Itama condenses it so thickly that it chokes out their enemies without having to lift a single finger.

He can make like, platforms of smoke to stand on or use as shields, and he's especially good at deflecting and redirecting enemy attacks with carefully condensed smoke shields summoned up at just the right angles. Like, imagine you throw a kunai and it bounces off some invisible platform, then off ANOTHER invisible platform, and somehow its still gaining momentum (propelled by summoned winds or wrapped in a slightly solidified veil of smoke thats moving it on its own) and hits you right in the eyes

He absolutely fucks around with making all SORTS of custom effects with whatever he's smoking, which also brings us to the idea that got me here in the first place ->

Ok so the joke about the Senju having a secret weed empire where they sell ultra special mokuton weed, but it happens fr in this AU bc of Itama.

Stoner Itama deciding he can make the weed even better and forgetting what the word self-control means and making objectively the best weed in the naruto world. Ultra delux genetically modified mokuton grown senju weed.

Tobirama kind of gets on him for it at first (not liking the idea of mind-altering substances) but then tries some and stares dead silent at a wall for 10 hours then silently gets up, makes several scientific breakthroughs, then passes out dead on the floor.

They get Hashirama in on it and start mass producing, then start selling it and very quickly and mostly accidentally create a secret senju weed empire (oops?) which also gives them hella funds or the war and other things

No one can even reproduce their weed bc they need the Mokuton to grow it right, they have no competition in the market. AND their product safety/quality is insane bc Tobirama's perfectionist ass helps oversee it

Bc of Itama's interference, Izuna lives, and when they make Konoha the weed money means the first shinobi war doesn't happen bc they can afford to bribe officials they couldn't before (and probably have a uhh. Much more relaxed Kage meeting that year.)

You can't go to war with Konoha !!! That's where all the best ninja weed comes from !!!

Itama and Izuna get along really well actually. Izuna's cringe fail ass does NOT know how to smoke and refuses to admit it, he also becomes Itama's favorite test subjects for new product bc he and his brothers tolerance levels are insane so they need like, a normal guy to try shit on

As a person, Itama is one of those really friendly, charming, easy to get along with guys who seem to have a ton of friends— but when you look a bit closer you quickly notice that while many of those friends share their woes with him, he doesn't really with them. He has lots of friends but isn't really close to any.

He's a pretty good mix of his brothers, seeming friendly and cheerful like Hashirama but much more down to earth, and with the same ruthless streak as Tobirama underneath all the gentle mannerisms. He might be more ruthless than either of his brothers when it really comes down to it, but he's very slow to strike or anger, and virtually no one but his brothers and Touka really know he even has that side to him.

He's Konoha's lead poisons expert, is 100% aware and helping Tobirama with all of his especially fucked up experiments, and honestly that should tell you enough— but most tend to get distracted by the soft smiles and sleepy expression.

Art interlude ->

Anyways uhhh. All of this only exists bc I started thinking ab stoner Itama getting dumped face first into modern Konoha with Izuna, the two of them having been hiding after pissing off Madara for unimportant reasons. They don't realize they're not in their Konoha, and proceed to run from Madara (who they still think is mad at them)

Meanwhile Madara is losing his fucking MIND trying to chase down the ghost of his brother, and also some guy...? Who is that actually? He doesnt really give a shit tbh, Izuna oh god please come back here— ARE YOU FUCKING HIGH RIGHT NOW?

@fashionredalert : Zetsu lived in fear of Itama because itama would have made him into an edible That's why zetsu is two colors, itama smoked one half of him before zetsu managed to escape. One half intact the other half charred black

Please?? The closest hes been to death in years.

Itama was put on this earth to smoke everything he physically can, he hasnt been sober since he was 13, he no longer knows the meaning of fear or sanity. If it can burn he can smoke it

Hes holding one of those tiny Zetsu's going "Hey look at this fucked up plant I found :DD" then taking it straight into the weed lab

Zetsu specifically had him killed in canon bc he knew he'd grow to be too powerful pass it on

[hwavsg4ch4n]

Awkward|| L.M

Note: hi guys, this is actually a music series (more info linked) bonus. I usually write multiple versions of a smut per song and choose which one fits the vibe the most. this one was actually supposed to be for SYNERGY (linked), but I reworked it and made it better for "Awkward". I haven't been here for a while and decided that I'm the kind of writer that likes to pop in randomly lol. I'm thinking about turning this into a mini-series separate from the music series. After you read this, please follow the link at the end and vote on the pole if you think this would be a good mini-series! ps. word count of 4,783... get a snack.

Disclaimer: I have decided not to no longer put any tags in my works to avoid unneeded spoilers. I will only warn when there are extremely triggering aspects in my work. Read at your own discretion.

Synopsis: You've been single for years, it's sad really. coming up with excuse after excuse as to why you should be okay. Then society introduced the appearance of 'soulmates', and somehow everything got worse. But then there's your boss, what should you do with him...

this is a mature work of fiction (18+), this does not represent any real-life figures, this is just for entertainment.

Music series bonus <masterlist>

You tilted your head back, gulping down the rich red wine as the brisk night air glided across your naked arms.

What was love? It was stupid, at least that’s what you always told yourself. Love is dumb, for the weak; and you weren’t weak. You wished you believed your thoughts, but you couldn’t help but crave love. What it felt like, sounded like, what it smelled like, what it tasted like. 

Jealousy was a disease and you hated to admit that you were practically hospitalized and in a coma from said disease. 

However, solidarity was alright sometimes. It was rewarding, no arguments, no having to worry what your partner was up to if they were taking care of themselves properly. You only had to worry about yourself… is it bad that was your biggest con to single life? Only having to worry about yourself.

You told yourself this for years. That was until early last year, when the CDC came out with a new phenomenon. They called it, soulmates. You thought it was corny. You watched as scientists explained the symptoms, and how it starts. How it feels, how you can differentiate your feelings blah blah blah, it was bullshit in your eyes. But not many felt the same. 

The day after the news of soulmates reached the public, your office became littered with pairings. Mia from accounting and Felix in your branding apartment paired up instantly. Everyone saw that one coming. They were frauds, had to be, the CDC said their research is still new, meaning they’ll need long-term volunteers that they’ll compensate. That's when fake soulmates started appearing. You called bullshit when the news stated authentic soulmates are now being deemed rare. The CDC just wanted to cover its tracks, hiding another economic decline. Soulmates weren’t real.

Your loneliness grew worse because of your slight rebellion. You didn’t put yourself out there, scared someone would falsely claim you as a soulmate. It’s nights like this where you want to let yourself fall in line. Here you are, alone at the Valentine’s Day company party for another year, this time due to self-sabotage. You already hated this holiday, but of course, science had to make it worse. On the balcony sipping expensive wine your boss bought for everyone, you tried your best to drown out the jazz music and giggles as coworkers showed off their engagement rings.

Minho watched you through the glass door of the balcony with hesitancy. He tuned out the conversation he was dragged into. “Mr. Lee, what are your opinions on soulmates.” He looked at the second department secretary, taking in her inquiry, “I’m not quite sure.” He was telling the truth, he didn’t think much of it, if it was true great, if it wasn’t, it didn’t really affect him in any way, probably just another pity thing. The marriage statistic was getting low, he read it in a paper. Minho took one more sip from his whiskey glass before setting it down and excusing himself.

Everyone in the office knew that Minho, the COO of this company, took a liking to you; everyone was jealous in fact. The kind, extroverted, unmarried, painfully attractive man… liked you. The seemingly cold, work-a-holic, introvert of a woman. He’s liked you since before the news came forth with their studies, yet you were oblivious. Your self-esteem is so low that you wouldn’t dare to even think a man like Minho would see you in such a way, not when people are trying to claim the bachelor every day. 

You looked over your shoulder as the balcony door opened. You smiled politely, “Mr. Lee, how are you?” You asked gently. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your voice, not even trying to hide the shivers that trailed down his spine at your tempt voice. “I’m doing well, but I couldn’t help but feel bothered when I saw you out here alone. Are you not cold, Ms. L/n?” You watched as he made his way next to you, leaning against the metal railing. He gazed at the city skyline, awaiting your answer.

You took another sip of wine. “It’s a bit chilly, but I can manage.” Short and simple, polite. That’s all Minho got from you. He's never wanted a person to rant to him for hours so badly, but that would be seen as unprofessional. He clears his throat, standing up straight. “Are you not having fun?” He asked. Maybe it was the wine that compelled you to answer him differently than you normally would. “To be honest, Mr. Lee,” He raised his brows, turning to you fully. “What is it?” You let yourself answer. “I don’t really favor office parties.” You chuckled before downing the last bit of your wine.

Minho frowned before biting his lip. “I hope it’s okay that I call you by your name,” He started, “Sure.” He gulped dryly before giving you an offer. “Would you like to get out of here, y/n?” You finally faced him, brows furrowed as your eyes lingered across his figure, taking him in.

White button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, black slacks, dark auburn hair fallen into his eyes, the eyes that were surveying you softly. It would be strange, to ride off into the night with your boss on the night the company is rumored to rename the festive party ‘soulmates night'. But you’ve had about 3 full glasses of wine, and you’re bored plus inquisitive.

“Where would we be going?”, he smiles.

After bidding an awkward goodbye to your coworkers, and avoiding questioning looks about the two of you leaving together; you finally made it to Minho’s car.  

“Wanna catch a late movie?” Your head tilted in question, he drove out of the parking lot the humming of the engine fills the silence. Smirking to yourself in disbelief, you agreed. 

The ride was filled with conversation, the longest non-work related conversation you’ve had with this man. He spoke of everything you didn’t think he’d speak of. How he missed home, how living in a bustling city was fun, but the sound of waves beat the sound of honking horns. You couldn’t help but ask him questions, you didn’t care if they were the right questions. You were comfortable, too comfortable. Was it the wine you downed? Maybe the grand looking air freshener in his car. It hurts your pride to admit that it might just be him. He smelled nice and spoke to you gently in that voice he would use to remind you of your lunch hour. 

You took in a breath as his hands on the steering wheel came into view, “Oh sweet jesus”. You pressed yourself into the black leather seat. It’s the wine, it has to be the wine. Minho turned to you as he finished parking, “You ready?” 

-

No one was there in the theater, no one but the two of you. You couldn’t focus on the movie, all you could focus on was how you were alone with Minho, completely alone with him. 

You were zoned out until you were pulled back to reality. “Are you enjoying the movie?” He whispered, not looking in your direction, his eyes glued to the projected screen. You couldn’t help but ask bluntly, “What are we doing?” 

Minho looked at you, you felt his gaze so you looked back. “Mr. Lee, it’s soulmates night.” He frowned, chewing on his popcorn. His heartbeat quickened, were you implying something?

 It was dark, but you could see him like there was the light of a halo above him. “What do you wish we were doing, Y/n?” Why did he ask you that? Why did he ask like he wanted to fulfill a wish?

You looked away, parted lips and furrowed eyebrows. He couldn’t see your face properly, he took your silence as rejection, and maybe he read you wrong. “I don’t mean to upset you, I apologize. Let’s finish the movie, then I’ll take you home?” You didn’t want to finish the movie, you weren’t even watching the boring movie.

Your heart was pounding, was this what proper desire felt like? It felt different from your crush on the Grey’s Anatomy guy. Was this what being wanted felt like? But he’s your boss… You felt a surge of warmth, a shallow buzzing feeling accumulated in your fingertips, must be excitement. Your conscious almost coming alive, fuck it, give in. You did just that.

Biting your lip you breathed in deep, “I don’t want to continue the movie.” You stated in a whisper. You couldn’t see it clearly, but Minho grew worried, worried he scared you off completely.

“Oh- would you like to, would you like for me to take you home now, Miss. L/n?” He didn’t want to use your first name, afraid of abusing his power. It made you flinch, “I thought you said… you were gonna use my name from now on?” You whispered. Finding his eyes in the slim light provided by the screen.

He licked his lips, although it was out of his nervousness, the action made you gulp. “My apologies, Y/n.” you weren’t aware of it yet, but you held all the power at this given moment. He’d do anything you told him to with no question.

“I do want to get out of here, but I don’t want to go home Mr. Lee.” You said, standing up, and grabbing your purse. Minho stood up as well, eyes never leaving your form as he studied you for unspoken answers.

“I would like to see where my boss lives, I’ve always been curious.” your lashes fluttering, as you peered up at him with a quick pulse and sweaty palms. What if you read him wrong, what if he dismissed you and fired you on the spot? What if this whole ordeal was just because he pitied you for being single for every Valentine’s Day party?

“Well, I should let you overcome your curiosity, shouldn’t I Y/n?” He said with amusement. “After you.” He moved out of the way, letting you lead the way out of the theater.

You continuously asked yourself what you were doing on the drive to his house. Well, you knew what you were doing. You were lonely, and tired of it, taking up a messy offer that could end up in you getting scammed by this man. You’ll apologize in the mirror later. Hitting rock bottom was something you would worry about tomorrow. Your hazy mind only lets you think about his veiny hand gripping the gear shift.

What would happen if you took it upon yourself to place him where you wanted him? 

Working up the courage, you sucked in a breath before allowing your fingers to trace his cufflinks, trailing your fingers around his wrist. His fastened pulse boosted your ego, looking to see his reaction. Minho remained focused on the road, with no intention of stopping you as he blinked and took more deep breaths than a calm human would.

You couldn’t help but lick your lips as you brought his hand to the warm flesh of your warm thigh, just under the hem of your black tweed skirt. Your blood pumped at the thought of how he’s letting you have your way. He wanted this too, to touch you. His hand was warm, and comforting. You liked how pretty it was on your skin, admiring the visual as your nails traced his veins.

Minho didn’t mean to squeeze, he did it subconsciously. He didn’t realize he did it until you gasped shallowly, clenching your thighs around his hand and looking up at him with the lowest gaze he’s ever seen from you.

“Sorry.” He muttered, rubbing his hand along the inside of your thigh in an attempt to soothe, not wanting to get you too worked up just yet. But his touch had the opposite effect. You didn’t want to wait anymore. It was known that Minho’s house was in the rich part of the city, all the way across town. Even Though it was a mere 30 minute drive, the distance felt like an eternity. 

“Minho,” Minho gulped dryly. Your deep tone sent shock waves through his body, he enjoyed how his name dripped off your tongue. “Yes, Y/n?” His voice remained steady, not wanting to ruin something that could get so good. “I want you to pull into the park, I wanna watch the sky with you.” You whispered. Minho’s heart grew soft as you continued to trance his veins. He nodded silently, ready to take every command you asked of him.

You watched as he parked, the view of the city was beautiful, but that wasn’t your focus as of now. 

There was a silence, loud, swallowing the city sounds in the distance. Your body shifted, rotating towards him. Minho turned to you, his grip on your thigh tightening slightly as he took in the view of you. “Kiss me,” Yes you were being blunt, and bold, but you didn’t care. Who cares?

You grinned as Minho pulled you on his lap, his strength not surprising you; considering how his arms looked way too confined in every dress shirt he owned. Your eyes shut as his lips collide with yours. Soft, buttery, warm, so so warm, and buzzing… your lips were buzzing. The feeling of him was clouding your judgment. Minho’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. He tilted his head, kissing you deeper. Pulling back slightly, he watched as you followed him. Minho smiled, softly chuckling. You opened your heavy lids, growing shy to see his gaze. Your lips parted as he pushed you even closer, rubbing against the growing tent in his slacks, you jolted as your core began to buzz as well. Your lips molded with his once more, and the sounds of what you presumed to be fireworks sounded in the distance.

 His breathing was heavy as you disconnected to catch your breath. Minho’s hands tilted your head to the side slightly, breathing you in softly, lips grazing your skin as you shuttered, your fingers gripping his sleeve. He licked his lips before kissing your collarbone, traveling up your neck, absorbing every gasp you let out. 

You feel his hand slide to the back of your head, angling your face down so his eyes can meet yours as he lays his forehead on yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you, y/n.” Your heart panged, searching his eyes for truth. He wanted you, Minho, your boss, wanted you. 

Your hands traced his bottom lip, and you blinked softly, “Take care of me then, yeah?” You whispered. He smiled gently, gripping your jaw and pulling you back. 

The both of you suck in a breath as Minho presses his lips to yours once more, his hand pushing your head impossibly closer. He wanted to feel you, meet with you in ways he’d only imagined. You were letting him give you what he thought was impossible for him. Truthfully, he would’ve liked to ask you out on a proper date. But this would suffice if it was what you wanted from him.

The two of you kissed for a while, gradually feeling and touching each other. Feeling what was never seen. Your body grew warmer, the buzzing centered to your stomach as you bunched up his shirt, wanting to feel his skin bare against yours. “Minho,” It didn’t mean to sound like a plea, “What is it? What do you want me to do?” His voice was breathy, low, needy, and ready to please. You couldn’t get enough. “Off.” You tugged at his collar. Barely even a second later, he began to unbutton his shirt. You wasted no time placing your hands on his sculpted chest once exposed, gulping as you stared at his skin. Absentmindedly gliding your manicured fingers across him.

Minho watched your every move, whimpering as your fingertips flicked his nipples. Your nails left gentle scratches, he licked his lips at the sight. He can’t recall ever wanting someone so badly, to the point he was painfully hard, closing his eyes and throwing his head back at the slightest touches you granted him. 

You wanted his reaction intensively, feeling his twitching member under you as you pinched and rubbed his nipples. His chest rose and fell at a somewhat hurried pace, the tips of his ears grew red, and so did his lips as he couldn’t stop licking and biting at them. It’s not like the action helped keep him quiet. His heavy breathing began to get mixed in with soft whimpers.

You smiled, “Who knew you’d be so sensitive.” You mumbled. “Sorry… uhm. I’m not usually like this.” You grinned at his hushed awkwardness. “Trust me, I don’t mind.” You whispered back, your hands continued tracing the outline of him. One by one you left open kisses on his neck, traveling up behind his ear. You sucked at his warm skin, “I hope the secretary doesn’t see what I’m leaving on you Mr. Lee, I think she might have a crush on you.” You said playfully, smiling against his clammy skin, sucking another bruise. Minho’s hands travel to the bottom of your skirt in response, pulling the fabric to bunch at your waist. He squeezes at your thighs as you find the spot that meets his shoulder and neck, his breath shallows. His hips bucking as you suck and nip at the skin. You were hot to the touch, it heightened the feeling of you on him. 

Minho isn’t sure how you got the one up on him, but he lets your hands wander to the buckle of his belt. He looks up at your face, your eyes full of determination as you swiftly take off his belt, unbuttoning his pants. He can’t help but smirk as he feels heat center in his stomach, “You’ve got me right where you want me y/n,” Your movements slow as you start to push his pants down to his ankles, “You’re the only one who’s ever gotten me like this.” Minho watches you bite your lip as he feeds into your ego. His eyes shoot down as you grasp his erection through his boxers. “Haven’t been this hard in so,” his voice shakes as your grip tightens “So long, fuck baby.” Your lips part at his words, looking up to see his head thrown back at the seat. You tap at his tip, the fabric starting to stick to his precum as you admire the bites you left on his skin. 

“Minho,” You call out softly, he opens his eyes to see you staring at his member. The look in your eyes almost makes him ask if you want him to take over. Your eyes were glazed over, your lips pouty as you tug at his boxers, he smirks slightly. “I’ll get these out your way, sorry baby.” Your pussy clenched around nothing at the use of the pet name again, it feels so good to be called that, the buzzing shoots to your core before centering again. It almost felt like a boost of arousal, you were too enraptured by the man in front of you to care.

Your hands returned to his stiffened member as soon as it sprang free, you felt Minho tense at your touch. You looked up at him as you began to stroke him lightly. His eyes were hooded, he watched your hand quickly become slick with his arousal as you pumped at a careful pace. Minho licked his lips, noticing through his foggy mind how you still remained fully dressed. Your thighs only exposed because he decided to tease just once. Yes, his words earlier were to edge on your performance, but they were true. Minho has never been on the receiving end, he loved giving, if you told him to take over he’d do it gladly. More importantly, his need to please was strong, if pleasing you meant stepping back a bit he’s happy too. However, he didn’t anticipate his sensitivity to your touch. He hears himself whimper as your pumping speeds up, the rising heat traveling down to his member. He jolts as the pleasure intensifies. A hand hovers over your pumping one before holding himself back and placing it back on your thigh.

He’s starting to lose a battle, don’t cum, not yet, she’ll get bored soon and touch you somewhere else, don’t fucking cum. He chanted to himself, one of his hands moved to your ass, gripping as his other kept shelter on your thigh. You watched as he shut his eyes tight, his lips parting as he huffed out puffs of air. You smiled in triumph as he began to shake his head side to side, starting to lose his internal war, “B-baby… y/n, I’m gonna c-cum baby,” His voice was hoarse.

You tilted your head, sliding your pumping up to only his tip. His thighs jolted, his eyes opening as he started to look at you for pity. He only saw you looking at his dick dreamily, the heat in his stomach pulses. He swallows down his need to overcome you, opting to let himself relax.

Minho cursed, he groaned deeply, throwing his head back. His brain started to become unmanageably fuzzy. 

“Y/n.” He whispered, licking his lips.

His smooth thighs flexed.“You’re so good baby,” Your lips parted at his soft whimper.

You grin, slowing down your pumping, giggling as he whimpered trying to fuck your palm the heat causing his tip to pulse. “You like me huh, Minho?” Your words were teasing. You were met with an eager nod. Cooing, you slipped off your underwear. You looked into his brown eyes, just when you thought he let himself surrender fully, he had some fight left in him. 

He gripped your waist, biting his lip as he guided you over his throbbing member. You let him sink you down onto his warmth. You whimpered, Minho watched carefully, looking for signs of you needing him to take over. Only for him to get knocked down again, his brows furrowed as you brace a hand on his blushed chest, beginning to ride him. He stared at your clothed chest, your nipples hard enough for the outline to push past your bra and blouse. With heavy breaths his eyes traveled up your littered neck, finally landing on your blissed face. “Pretty,” He whispered, so soft you barely acknowledged it. His brain was swirling with only the image of you, the smell of you reminding him of a warm cabin.

You looked down at him, giggling at his starry eyes and beads of sweat, you were unaware of the state his mind was in. You were enthralled by the thought of him being so pliant. Never in a million years did you think your boss would be under you with a flushed face and a throbbing dick. You feel his dick pulse as he squeezes his eyes shut. Your hands make their way to his jaw, “Are you holding your cum from me, Mr. Lee?” His member throbs again. Your voice and playful words have him shaking his head, gripping your ass so hard you're sure there will be a mark, it stirs you on. “Want you to... To cu-cum first.” He whispered. Your walls flutter and tighten around him, Minho’s eyes snap open, lifting you off him, and you forget about his strength for just a moment.

You peered down to see his jumping member and quivering thighs, precum leaking and he tried to catch his breath. You didn’t let him, you swatted his hold away, ignoring his groan as you seethed him back into your warm hole. “Ah, fuck I can’t hold it, baby.” He rasped out, listening to how wet you were. You didn’t answer him, tuning out his winning, starting to chase your own high that's been building up while watching him. The buzzing started to spread. You gripped his shoulders, pushing yourself closer to him. Minho’s hand placed itself on your sweaty back, bracing himself. His other hand slid down to your thigh, grazing where he was buried into you. His grip tightened, spreading your slick puffy lips slightly. “Min, that's so good.” You whimpered. He hummed, burying his head into your neck. He shifted, widening his legs the best he could, and started to meet your thrusts. 

Your mouth formed an O, tears forming in your eyes as he hit the gummy spot you never reached on your own. Before you knew it your body began to go numb from the pleasure, the buzzing reached every inch of you in what felt like a millisecond. Minho felt your muscles detense, he whimpered as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He chuckled tiredly at the sound of your babbling. You finally needed him, you were close and god knows he is too. He fucked into you like you’ve unlocked a different part of him. 

“Gonna c-cum min.” You whimpered, “I know baby, I Know.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, feeling his self control finally coming to an end. He grunts, taking a hand and reaching between your radiating bodies. You moan so loud you're sure any late night hikers would be able to hear you. Your thighs shake as if it feels you’re physically experiencing the color red, the buzzing now being heard in your ears, distracting you from your release covering his thighs as yours shake. Minho grunts before he bites down on your shoulder, seeing sparks of deep green as he squeezes his eyes shut, spilling himself into you as he starts to hear crackles of fire. 

When you close your eyes you're met with the visions of the man that’s under you. Images of his life, his milestones,  you feel what he felt all in the blink of an eye. The images seize, and you’re yanked out of the dreamy state, catching your breath. You gulp, slowly facing him. His eyes meet yours, “Did you see that?” he whispered. You nodded, your fingertips still buzzing. “I-is this that soulmate thing?” his voice slightly above a murmur. Your body tensed, “What?” He looked into your eyes, he could almost feel your fear, “U-uh nothing.” He lifted you off him gently, ignoring what the sight of his release dripping from you did to him. Minho watched as you straightened yourself out in the passenger seat of his car. His eyes glanced at the foggy windows before returning to your now tense form.

Were you his… soulmate? He thought it was just a speculation that scientists made up to give the single population hope. He cleared his throat, putting his softening member back into his boxers, and lifting his pants up. “I’ll, uhm… I’ll drive you home.” Minho licks his lips nervously as he puts on his wrinkled button down. He looked at the time on his watch, 12:57am. He moves to turn on the engine. 

“You believe them?” Minho glanced your way, taking in your question. “Do you believe what they say on the news?” He blinked, thinking of a proper answer as he started to drive out of the parking lot. “I mean,” He turned to enter the freeway. “If it’s on the news, there has to be some truth.” You took in his words, rolling down the window. “Y/n, the… symptoms that they described, that’s what just happened.” You frowned, looking out the window taking in his words. “I saw you, your middle school graduation,” you glower at him, his eyes were on the road, only glancing at you briefly. “I saw your first, and only relationship…” He paused, seeing your hands clasp together nervously out of the corner of his eye. He changed the topic, “When I… finished, I saw green, a forest green. And I heard fire, like a campfire.” 

You gazed at his side profile. Without a word, you looked forward. You gave him the directions to your apartment.

As he pulled into your driveway, you grabbed your purse putting it on your shoulder. Minho said nothing when you opened the door as soon as he came to a stop, not even giving him a chance to put the car in park. You stepped out, your heels clacking on the pavement. You took in a deep breath before bending down, coming into his view again. You looked at his longing eyes, waiting for you to say anything to grant him peace of mind. “I’ll see you on Monday Mr. Lee.” With that, you closed his door. Gulping down anxiety as you steadily walk to the entrance of your apartment.

-

Link to vote for this to become a series [click on me]!

[themetalvirus]

idk if u answered this b4 and im Vewy Sowwy if u have but why do u think sonadow is a bad pairing

man it's a lot of things.

sonic isn't emotionally available and deflects sincerity with humor. shadow is painfully sincere and sonic likes pushing people's buttons, which is easy to do with someone like shadow. sonic is a messy room guy and shadow is a clean room guy and they'd get into nuclear fights about it. sonic is very high-energy and overbearing in social situations (even one-on-one) and shadow needs more space than sonic can give when he's around. heres a link to my thoughts on them talking about their feewings together

i think a lot of folks see their clashing personalities as an opposites attract thing. i don't see it.

just. i do think that they work well as rivals and friends that see each other once in a while. they can be sent on different paths during the same situation to save the world and there's synergy there. watching a guy fall from space and presumably die is just a Lot. even when he comes back you've still got that experience of mourning him and moving on. which is interesting.

just. in their day to day lives i think shadow would claw sonic's eyes out. i'm having trouble wordsing good so if i repeated myself a lot here thats why srry. ive posted about this a lot before but my thoughts are NOT gathered

[bubbletopia]

I didn't think you were going to answer! Your rrtbs and powerpunks are so cute! Can I really want to know more about Bash and Bezerk! Also maybe them as a couple?

ahh thank you so much, i get quite shy when it comes to showing off my au but im happy some people are receptive to it<3

before i talk about them i wanted to go a little into my thought process when writing for the kids. this post might be a little long one hehe.

so, when i created my au i wanted all the color coded kids to mirror each other in some way. the most obvious was with the blues and their matching birth marks. boomer and bubbles have one on opposite ends to show off how they’re directly opposites. not sure how to explain it but there’s a certain level of synergy between the ppgs and rrbs that the ppnkg and rrtb dont have in my au! which is why bash has two moles under his cheeks instead of one on the opposite end of brat.

besides visual differences i wanted to also have their themes be similar. the blues struggle with feeling needed, the reds struggle with feeling adequate and the greens struggle a lot with self worth. ALL to varying degrees— bubbles doesn’t carry the same baggage as brat because of how she’s being raised and so on. all of the kids are 15-16 so i wanted them to have normal children struggles aside from the super powers.

now that i got that out the way, here’s some stuff about berserk and bash <3

berserk in my au takes the role of bubbles so to speak. one that gets picked on frequently. she’s always been an odd one out of her sisters who always has to try and prove her worth to her family. berserk is her own type of crazy yes but she’ll never fit the mold oppressor plutonium has for his three perfectly terrible little girls.

bash is the leader in my au. the true leader, blake is simply the cute face of their boy band-esque entourage. he’s calm, he’s rational and almost never lets anything break his icy cold exterior. there’s small tension between him and blake because of the leader role. while he’s the one truly calling the shots, all of his planning gets credited to blake — it’s intentional, it keeps pressure off himself but it can still sting you know?

while im a berserk/breaker typa gal, blossoomer is also a favorite so rubs hands like a little fly. as a couple, i imagine their dynamic is hilarious. she’s the only thing that can ever catch him off guard. berserks unpredictable and has no real pattern in the way she does things but there’s always a level of desperation in her actions that bash picks up on — this intrigues him. they’re natural enemies, this is something he must learn if he wants to take her down for good, right?

except, this is how he gains a small soft spot for her. he can see the dynamic with her sisters is unbalanced as fuck and it kinda reminds him of his own in a way ; not exactly the same but the unbalance is still there.

yeaaaaaaahhhh thats whats mostly in my head with these two. blues are very affectionate in my mind… so bash pines -> berserk is like cool bad girl out of his league lmfaoaoaoaooaoaoa she thinks he’s weird but his interest in her flatters berserk and its a cycle of them wanting to study each other like specimen because the relationship between the ppnkg and rrtb is more unstable than ppg/rrb (rrb had been shown to be neutral at certain points) ^_^!

[meightyone]

FORMULA WHO?? tell me more please omg i love when my interests intersect

EEK you have nooo idea how happy i was to see this in my askbox. as you've probably gathered, it's an f1 x doctor who au that myself and my good buddies @ilikestopwatches and @goldenretrievettel are cooking up. it's still a little half baked but i'll give you our current rundown of doctors/companions... and i'm sorry this is SO LONG so erm. readmore

past regenerations we've mentioned but not discussed in great detail are james hunt (with niki lauda companion) and DC (with mika and michael as a pair of companions, and then mark). the doctors we've spoken more about, in chronological order:

sebastian vettel (mark, kimi)

seb as the doctor is very much young red bull seb vibes. incredibly capable and competent but a bit of a menace/agent of chaos/etc, and quite young and immature to boot.

he inherits mark as a companion from his previous regeneration, DC, and where mark usually felt like an equal to DC and had great synergy with him, seb is a lot more unpredictable and, accidentally or otherwise, often leaves him in the dark. it's a new energy that he struggles to adapt to. eventually, things turn sour when [insert traumatic event here - we've talked about mark having a near death experience that seb doesn't take seriously, but nothing's set in stone], mark demands to be taken home, and seb. refuses. after much more tense adventuring, he eventually does let go mark go (and mark later goes on to join unit).

he eventually runs into kimi, who is much more go-with-the-flow than mark ever was, and him and seb get on real well. they complement each other's personalities, kimi is comically unfazed by all the crazy alien bullshit, and seb is super fond of him. unfortunately for seb, kimi eventually asks to return to earth, knowing he wants to have a normal life and family at some point and can't venture across the stars forever. seb, although heartbroken, has kind of learned his lesson with mark and brings kimi home.

we've also talked about mick being a one or two episode companion, although michael is probably not all that pleased about seb dragging his son across the universe without telling him, so it doesn't last...

seb eventually Gets Got by the master (shocker it's fernando), who has previously been thwarted by the presence of seb's companions but can now kick him while his super lonely ass is already down

lewis hamilton (jenson, valtteri, george and alex)

luckily for the doctor, he regens into someone who, unlike seb, is totally NOT lonely and doesn't need ANYONE so he can rock fernando's shit without any help, thanks. lewis travels alone for some time (possibly some one-off companions like heikki), but eventually...

he runs into jenson! or rather jenson probably worms his way into the tardis and refuses to leave. he loooves the adventuring he keeps changing bits of history he's on a mission to sleep with as many aliens as possible he keeps telling people he's The Button, whatever that's supposed to mean. he's fun he's annoying he'd love to get into lewis' pants and lewis is constantly on the verge of losing it. he'll later reflect on these memories with fondness and silently thank jenson for helping him to loosen up and have fun again but also man. wtf. jenson somehow ends up immortal and terrorises/entertains the universe for many years after he departs with lewis. he's very jack harkness vibes

valtteri comes some time after jenson. he's a nice guy who's a little too eager to help. the doctor is used to people sacrificing themselves when he shows up, and frankly it's nice to have someone around who is heavily intent on being a problem solver rather than a problem causer like jenson often was, so it's not until it gets pretty bad that lewis starts to notice Hrmmmm maybe valtteri is doing a bit too much. he's not stupid and he doesn't have a death wish he is just worryingly willing to put himself in the firing line. probably ends up doing something like clara with the whole tattoo countdown thing, but despite being frozen in the seconds between life and death he somehow manages to grow a moustache and a mullet and ends up happier than ever so erm. Win win?

speaking of clara, george is a period companion, probably from the 19th century. he spends most of his first episode freaking out and demanding to be taken home, until he realises that erm. he actually quite likes this adventuring stuff and also he doesn't really like home. there's plenty of time which is just george and lewis, before they also find alex, who is like... 2020s. lewis at this point has matured chilled out opened up etc (think early 2010s old testament lewis when jenson first became his companion, vs lewis Today for galex) and the vibe in the tardis is just Good. george and alex really hit it off, learning about each other's times which includes george learning that a) being gay is an option and b) being gay for alex specifically is an option that alex is totally down for. everything's awesome and cool until gasp! tragedy strikes! they're all under great threat, alex has been kidnapped or something idfk and is in mortal danger and lewis, having taken a hit and needing to regenerate, promises george that he'll save alex...

max verstappen (george, checo, daniel, liam, pierre yuki and isack)

max doesn't save alex. oooooops? the situation probably gets to the point where max determines it's too dangerous, and that he'd rather leave alex than risk all of their lives, but george is (quite understandably) very pissed off with him regardless of the reasoning. max brings george back to his time of origin and offers that he can leave, but george decides that max is unfit to be the doctor, too incompetent and uncaring to save alex - so naturally, he has to stick around and make sure the great responsibility that max wields is actually being fulfilled. lots of arguing, lots of george pretending to be the doctor himself... after outdoctoring george and saving him (and others) from sticky situations enough times, george is eventually convinced that max actually be half-decent. when he leaves, he goes back to alex's time rather than his own.

max later meets checo, who is probably not from earth (for reasons linked to some earlier slagclaren adventures/mclaren tooned jokes...). we haven't talked too much about checo but i figure he would be a liiittle bit of a father figure to max. he's much more of an enabler of the fun stuff + max's more callous attitude than george ever was, but equally he does help max realise that he's not like. inherently destructive or whatever (regenerating and immediately killing off one of your companions gives you a bit of a complex). the vibes are good with these two

the vibes are even better with daniel. i mean idrk what to say about maxiel because frankly they are exactly as weird as they are irl except now they're doing it across spacetime. they get on like a house on fire. unfortch for max everything he learned redeeming himself with george + checo is pretty quickly undone by the horrible tragic ending that daniel gets as a companion. either he dies or he gets trapped in another universe rose-style... no matter what it's not good. such is the danny ric way. sucks to be max!

also sucks to be liam, who gets picked up as a 1/2 episode companion and gets so horrifically traumatised by his first adventure that after he is immediately like. uh. can i go home. [staring into the middle distance]. and max is like Ahhh fuck yeah ok that seems like that would be for the best

but things look up after liam's brief run because max somehow ends up with yuki and his frenchmen in the tardis. it's all just very stupid very silly max doesn't really know how it all happened but he's not mad at it. probably the showrunners changed. this season's almost pure comedy. he probably does drop them back home before his next regeneration

oscar piastri (lando, mark)

oscar is a pretty dry, cool, calm and collected doctor compared to max's hotter temperament, which is a welcome change. does regenerating into an aussie have anything to do with max's fav companion being an aussie..? who knows mate

oscar works alone for a while, mostly just following up on trouble or anomalies and dealing with them. when he's investigating on earth, lando is nosy enough about it that he manages to get himself dragged into whatever oscar's doing and then yay companion. lando is good company and has occasional moments of brilliance, but his travel requests are also like 'take me somewhere cool', and since him and oscar have slightly different ideas of cool oscar ends up having to rescue lando from being executed or eaten by a dinosaur or something of the like. carlos is to lando as mickey is to rose, aka all too happy about lando running off to venture the galaxy with an alien. he probably ends up tagging along once or twice, but him and oscar never get along

while still travelling with lando, they at some point have to work with unit where lo and behold the doctor and mark meet again. in a cocktail of being probably miserable at work and thinking that oscar is far more sensible and admirable than seb ever was, mark joins them on their adventures. him and oscar are very much get-down-to-business and solve problems, and he's not super fond of lando, seeing him as kind of incompetent and a bit of a damsel in distress. on one of many visits back to earth, lando's time, mark lies and tells oscar that lando wanted to stay home with carlos, and they set off in the tardis without him. problem solved! (in mark's eyes, although lando is far from pleased)

oscar and mark are probably one of the more efficient doctor-companion duos in terms of actually getting shit done. mark's worked in unit for years and oscar's generally no-nonsense, so they mostly find problems and solve them rather than adventuring for pleasure. mark believes the doctor to be an entirely changed person from the likes of seb or even max, but he sees plenty of glimpses of the doctor he originally adventured with in oscar... how they end i'm not really sure but they prob end up dying together L

lewis hamilton pt 2 (charles)

next regeneration is lewis again wowie! he meets charles on a wartorn planet and brings him into the tardis, promising to take him to times and places where he can just. have fun and make good memories. the first few stops are fine, although with doctor who-typical chaos ensuing (which lewis assures charles is normal), but as they continue to different places, problems go from bad to worse, to the point where lewis is struggling to save everyone - not to mention that the tardis is freaking outtt. lewis eventually discovers that charles has some kind of... curse? on him, like he's a bad luck charm who brings the destruction of his home planet down tenfold on wherever he goes. he starts to try to find a solution without telling charles (having grown all too familiar with the good ol' self-sacrifice move thanks to valtteri), but charles eventually finds out too and is. naturally very upset. lewis convinces charles that they'll find a way to sever the link, charles begrudgingly agrees, but after watching too many planets crumble and hearing 'just one more stop and i'll have it' one too many times, gets sick of hurting people. he takes control of the tardis, sends himself to the end of time where there's nothing for him to ruin, and sends lewis to the supposed next location. worst part is lewis does find the answers he needed there - but he can't go back and save charles because wherever he sent himself is timelocked. #sad!

and that's all we've got so far... oh my god i'm so sorry this post is massive. you did ask but. um. sorry. next regen would possibly be kimi antonelli (with ollie companion) but that's merely a concept of an idea.......

[mochacoda]

[teaser] python | csc

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x GN!Reader

Synopsis: When you broke up with your boyfriend to work in a different country, you didn't expect to see him ever again. But when you transfer to your company's Seoul branch four years later, the department head is your ex, and he’s made it his objective to make your life a living hell for leaving him all those years ago.

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Exes to Lovers | Office AU

Tags: emotions, miscommunication, heartache, workaholic!seungcheol, insecure reader, drinking, crying, begging, petnames (sweetheart, love), konglish w/ translations, no "y/n," this is for everyone who voted for cheol in the poll, loosely connected to too nice (joshua)

Word Count: 8K (est. full)

Release Date: February 14 -> RELEASED HERE

Masterlist

“I hate him,” you seethe, your fists balled up, crumpling your rejected proposal. “God, I hate him.”

Your coworker, Joshua Hong, looks up from his cubicle with raised eyebrows. “Who?”

You breathe in deeply, willing your rage to dissipate at the sight of his confusion. Poor Joshua doesn’t deserve your anger. “No one,” you say, clenching your jaw. 

Open-mouthed, Joshua blinks rapidly, eyes flitting over to glance at the office you had just walked out of. The door to the room is marked with a name plate that has 최승철 [Choi Seungcheol] in bold, gold letters. 

“I’m fine,” you insist, hands uncrumpling the document you had just attacked. 

“Uh, okay?” he says with a healthy dose of doubt, elongating the “o” in “okay.” 

“I just—” you begin, then immediately shut your mouth. “Ugh, forget it.”

It’s one thing to crumple a proposal up, and another thing to start bad-mouthing your boss out in the open. You throw the tattered outline onto your desk, then plop yourself into your chair. You rub your temples, and then mutter under your breath, “How did I get here?”

“Good question,” Joshua laughs. “Company synergy?” 

You groan, “Don’t ever say that word again in my presence.” 

“Mmh,” he says, walking over to your cubicle. “You won’t have to worry about my presence in a few months.” 

“Don’t remind me,” you sigh, dropping your head in your hands. 

Joshua would be leaving the Seoul branch and transferring to the New York branch in a few weeks. 

Curse your company for its commitment to “workplace synergy,” swapping out a handful of employees across all departments in its international branches every few years. If it hadn’t been for this horrible program, you wouldn’t be here right now. 

You want to rip out your own hair, at this point.

How did it even get to this? You shut your eyes, thinking back to simpler times. 

When you first got a job offer at the New York branch of your dream company, your initial reaction was elation. Your second? Doubt. Leaving Seoul was almost unthinkable, not to mention the fact that you’d be leaving your boyfriend behind, too. 

For the first few days after hearing back from the recruiter, you knew you’d accept, but kept the news to yourself. You’d heard of so many horror stories about long-distance dating, and after a long period of consideration, you wondered what the point was. 

You knew your boyfriend—really knew him. You knew he’d make sacrifices for you at the expense of himself, and it was impossible for you to accept bogging him down with a 14 hour time difference. He’d stay up waiting for your calls, instead of getting much needed rest. He’d worry about you all the time, checking the weather in Manhattan instead of Seoul and calling you constantly instead of his family and friends. He’d wait on you for as long as you needed, in an almost obsessive way, thinking it could make up the difference in distance. But he deserved someone who could love him in person, all of the time. 

It’d be better for Seungcheol if you just let him go, freeing him to focus on what mattered more to him. Like work.

He loved you too much to break things off with you himself, so it was better that you did it. For his own good. 

That’s what you told him, at least. 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“Cheol,” you said, teary-eyed. “Cheol, look at me.”

Seungcheol stared blankly at the ground, face frozen. 

“Please?” your voice cracked.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t handle?” he suddenly choked out, eyes flashing with hurt. His hands clenched, like he was holding himself back from saying more.

You swallowed thickly, reaching for his arm. “Cheol, I—”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, snatching his hand away from you. 

────୨ৎ──── 

But you had swallowed the real reasons for the breakup. 

Because, deep down, you had always suspected otherwise. Somehow, everything had just become so complicated. Loving Seungcheol—which had once been something as easy as breathing—had become a dull pain in your chest, clouding your every thought with insecurities. 

Even from the start of the relationship, you’d loved him more, anyway. Back then, you didn’t mind it because you loved him so much, and he was always so, so sweet to you. But around the time of the job offer, paranoia had reared its ugly head, kicking your uncertain thoughts into overdrive. 

It was obvious that he didn’t really love you anymore. While you were job seeking, he was distracted. Always checking his phone, not really listening to what you had to say. He made time for you, but he didn’t necessarily make you feel like he loved you as deeply as you did him—it didn’t feel like he was the same guy that you started dating. 

Something about his actions just felt like he did them to claim that he loved you, rather than because he actually loved you. His actions were laced with a kind of surface level, superficial quality. 

He’d take you out to a fancy dinner, open the door for you, pay for the meal, drive you home—all the gentlemanly things he did when you started dating, too. But on the car ride there and back, and while sitting down eating together, he wouldn’t remember the things you had said about the little things happening in your life—a major change, when compared to the start of your relationship. 

And sure, he didn’t have an obligation to remember your next door neighbor's name. But shouldn’t he remember your favorite kind of pie, or your closest cousin’s name? Shouldn’t he just know not to check his phone every time it pings with a new email, or leave you to eat your stupid expensive pasta alone as he takes a call outside?

It was almost like Seungcheol had fallen out of love with you, but was staying with you out of some kind of obligation to continue what he had started? That was your only explanation for why he’d spend time with you, but wouldn’t pay close attention to the things you said. Every Thursday was movie night, and in hopes of trying to keep him away from work, you let him choose the movie every time. But what use was that, when he spent more time looking at his phone than the TV—and more importantly, you, for that matter? 

You’d been dating a ghost of a man. While you loved him, he tolerated you. 

If the two of you stayed together when you went abroad, he’d probably double down on texts, but he wouldn’t really remember anything you’d said if you mentioned details about them in calls. 

You didn’t bring any of these fears up to him, because you knew that he would continue to deny it. In fact, you’d imagined it in your head so much that you could see it when closing your eyes to sleep. If you confronted him, he’d deny that he didn’t love you anymore. But he’d be staring at the ground instead of looking at you. He wouldn’t admit that he was only with you because he enjoyed the consistency of your affection, and because he somewhat pitied you—and most importantly to him, because he wanted to prove to himself that he chose correctly when he started dating you. 

The pain of watching the love of your life push down his repulsion just to be with you was decidedly more horrifying than the pain of breaking up with him altogether. 

Right before ending things, it had occurred to you that Seungcheol might not have ever loved you in the first place, and that just hammered in the idea that you were making the right decision. He’d get over the breakup fast. He’d probably be thankful for it in a few years, even. If you saw him again, you’d both probably laugh, and in his head, he’d realize that he was grateful that you ended things so that he could focus on his real love, his career. 

If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that there was a bit of selfishness driving the breakup, as well. There was no way you could handle Seungcheol sacrificing things for you—if he lost sleep over you, if he worried about you, if he was distracted by you—because you knew he wouldn’t be doing it for love. 

Because he only ever cared out of a superficial need to prove to himself that he made the right decision in asking you out all those years ago. Not because he really loved you. 

Yes, he probably never loved you, and he would never know the real reason why you ended things. 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You give up so easily,” he spat out. “Was I nothing to you?”

Tears were running down your face. “Don’t. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Seungcheol laughed, then buried his head in his hands. “God, to think I almost—” 

He stopped, jaw tightening, then shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

────୨ৎ──── 

A hand comes down sharply on your desk, jolting you awake. 

“Sleeping while on duty?”

Wide-eyed, with tear-stained cheeks, you look up to face your ex-boyfriend. “부장님! [Department Head!]” 

Upon seeing your red-rimmed eyes, Seungcheol falters.

Swiping at your under eyes quickly, you bow your head to him slightly. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

He swallows roughly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to ask you why you were crying, and your heart drops. 

You will crumble if you hear the tone of voice he had used when you broke up with him.

“Excuse me,” you blurt with choked words. 

You don’t dare to look at his eyes. Instead, you get up from your seat, then immediately flee to the bathroom.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You can focus on work, now,” you squeaked out. 

Seungcheol scoffed again, a cruel sound of disbelief. “What makes you think I give a damn about work right now?”

“Don’t you? Always?” you sniffled.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite describe. He seemed angry, but not just at you. At himself, too—his hands were balled into fists at his sides, fingernails digging sharply into his palms. His throat bobbed, and you could see the intense restraint he was forcing on himself. He opened his mouth with a sharp breath, then closed it again, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

Masterlist

Author’s Note: get ready for a rollercoaster RELEASED HERE

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc’s!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone - @fragmentof-indifference - @junniesoleilkth - @woncheecks - @peachypie97 - @viciousdarlings - @11zzyy

[fangsandfeels]

Honestly, Alruna is romancing Lucanis, but that doesn't stop me from being a nitpick. But I'm being gentle here because I liked Lucanis, which made me all more sad about what could have been.

The premise is good. I like the idea of a possessed companion. I like the idea that the demon that possess him is not necessarily evil, it's just pissed off because it's also a prisoner and it didn't ask for this.

I like the idea of that demon trying, in its own way, to dig its host out from the layers of trauma and self-loathing and doesn't understand how that man can hate himself so damn much.

But the execution....

First things first, it was hilarious to imagine Alruna and Lucanis just zoning out in the middle of the conversation, with Teia and Viago standing there like:

Now, on a more serious note, it all felt rushed and undercooked.

For instance: the dream sequence.

There are numerous implications that Lucanis was tortured in the Ossuary, abused in his childhood, but we don't see any of the flashbacks, just bodiless voices of the Venatori, Zara, and Caliban mocking Lucanis - and it feels like the team just chickened out of showing anything more, ignoring a great opportunity of telling us more about the character.

Yes, we never got explicit scenes of Fenris getting his lyrium scars or flashbacks of him being tortured by Hadriana, but we didn't need to: Fenris' behavior, habits, and tendency to lash out were telling us everything we needed to know. We could guess just enough.

Lucanis, however, is a closed book. He always maintains that calm, polite demeanor, which makes it look like his time in the Ossuary didn't affect him at all. This is not bad - he is good at hiding pain and anything that can distract him from the job, he was trained for this. However, the Inner Demons was a wonderful opportunity to reveal the complete and utter hellscape his mind was boiling in all that time. Imagine Rook bearing witness to some of most painful moments of his life and realizing he is going through those over and over. Imagine Rook having to not just exchange a couple of words with his mind's fantoms, but to fight them - or, quite the opposite, talk to them despite the burning desire to cave their face in

*cough*Caterina*cough*

Or, quite the opposite, maybe Rook knows some stories from Lucanis' childhood and grows to silently resent Caterina, only to catch a glimpse of her in the memories and realize that she truly believed she was doing her grandchildren a favor, even if it hurt her to hurt them.

(Heck, it would have been much better if Caterina actually sacrificed herself to save Lucanis - because she stopped caring about him not being able to go back, she wanted a chance for her grandson to live, to get out of that deathtrap of a life she got stuck in, together with her children.

Seriously, if we're talking about parents/relative getting a redemptive death, it should have been Caterina, fight me)

It would have added so much to the Lucanis' character and past, not to mention to the romance. Especially if Rook wasn't that well-versed in psychoanalysis and found themselves unsettled by accessing someone's traumatic memories, but didn't regret it because it meant Lucanis wasn't dealing with that shit alone anymore - and that they didn't see him as a lesser man for hurting.

2. It strikes me how...unfounded Lucanis' concerns are? About Spite. Not only everyone seem to chat with Spite nicely, but also Lucanis has been out of control only once, when Illario provoked Spite? In the Ossuary, Lucanis was perfectly himself and in synergy with Spite as he broke out, giving us zero reasons to be concerned.

He didn't ran out half-feral, with glowing eyes, gutting his wardens and then pinning Rook to the floor, stopping himself only in the last moment.

He didn't attack anyone from the group.

He didn't have a fight with Rook and the group like it was with Zevran.

We got a glimpse of why Spite might be bad news when he got pissed off at Lucanis for not letting him talk to Rook and took his anger out on Lucanis. But, once again, this was a one-time performance. We don't even get a flashback of Spite lashing out at Lucanis many-many times when they both got forcefully tied to each other.

Of course, Lucanis has reasons to be afraid - abominations are known for being horrible. But we, as a player, as a group, don't get many reasons to be afraid of Spite. Not once we're given even a false impression of Lucanis - or us - being in danger because of Spite. We needed a lot more moments of Spite acting weird or unsettling. Maybe Spite talking more cryptically about the Lucanis' state of mind - until we get to the Inner Demons and realize that all that time Spite was trying to help him.

Like, I can't even consider Spite a demon i.e. corrupted. He is more like a traumatized spirit, who retained his original aspect. It would have been interesting if you actually could turn Spite into a demon and make Lucanis a real abomination (if an evil "destroy your companions' lives" route was an option).

(Also, it's so damn funny that after all the beef, after giving Lucanis so much shit for being an assassin and abomination, Davrin doesn't even get a cameo in Lucanis "don't trust the demon" section and there is Harding instead. It's Davrin who was aggressive (well, as aggressive as the game can allow it) towards Lucanis, constantly voicing his doubts and trying to attribute his mistakes to "Are you sure the demon didn't make you do it?". And for all that hard work, Lucanis doesn't feature him in his depression gallery. Davrin should be offended. I know I would have been.)

3. I feel it would have been better if Lucanis' conflicted feelings about Illario being a traitor weren't about "I have to kill him, but he is family and there are so few of us left" because, well, Crows aren't about family. They shouldn't be. Of course, the assassins born and bred in noble families would spew a lot of BS about family and loyalty, but only to gaslight the underlings into doing their bidding. One mistake, one unfulfilled contract, one slipup - and family stops mattering and this is how things are.

It could have made more sense if Crows took serious issue with Lucanis being possessed and Lucanis was, in fact, unable to go back. Not only Illario proved to be stronger by outsmarting him, he also took his previous life away from him - and even if Lucanis kills him, he won't be able to return.

Nobody will trust a demon - at best he would end up in another prison, to be studied for the Guildmaster's benefit.

Nobody would let a former Talon just live - he should die with all the guild's secrets. And why wouldn't he die? Without Crows, he is just a murderer, a bloody blade for hire - not worth anything, not worth anyone's trust, too much blood on his hands to pretend he could ever be something else.

Illario could have been the inner demon taunting Lucanis, calling him weak, calling him a fool for surviving and persisting - for what? Doesn't he know that justice isn't real? Did Lucanis get so desperate and pathetic, he started believing in fairy tales? As if one "right" death will fix everything?

Lucanis hesitation about confronting Illario should stem from "and then what?" - and Rook's goal should be to convince him that there are other options for him and that he should get payback for himself.

It would have been so interesting to have an opposite of Zevran - a Crow who can be convinced he doesn't have to live like this and that not being able to Crow anymore isn't the end of the world. And since I do like Lucanis as a character and like the crumbs of romance content with him, I wish there could have been more.

[grappel-writes]

Climatización

Read on ao3

Ch: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14

wc: 3,928

cw: consensual surveillance, hector generally being a freak but now it's getting sweet

Reed gets pressured into going on a date and has to face a world without Hector for just an afternoon. It's awful.

It must have been in another life that Reed once was able to navigate this world, because now the offensive assault to their senses is nearly impossible to process. The office is packed, all hands on deck, and no one can find the captain. The air is stale in pockets, aggressively strong and cold in others. The whole building smelled of cheap cleaners and the mixture of too many perfumed bodies in one place. Even the hallways and usually empty desk spaces offered no escape, packed to the walls with the low hum of chatter, keyboards, and ringing phones. Did everyone really need their ringers on the loudest option possible? Reed is bounced from one manager to the next. Terse greetings and polite, but strained niceties are quickly exchanged until everyone can pack into the glass walled conference room. 

Celia stands at the head of the table, Reed, and nearly two dozen other team leads are squeezed in for a spot around it. A circle of tailored jackets, sharp shoes, and concerned faces. The projector screen alights and Celia gives the floor to their legal consultant, Trey. He looks more like he could be the spokesperson for a sports channel, or the cover of a Men’s Fitness magazine, but he’s properly professional. His neat dreads are tied back, and his pressed button up seems to be losing a mighty battle against his biceps. Reed is sure he could lead an army with a smile. 

“So, no need to panic just yet guys, I just want to catch you all up to what we’ve found and our next steps.” He claps his hands together and nods to his paralegal, who switches the slide for him. 

Bullet points, a catchy header, and Trey is circling each with a laser pointer. 

“What we know is that approximately a year ago, someone gained backdoor access to some of our confidential customer data. Since then, it’s been a slow trickle of close to 100,000 individuals' information out to that bad actor.” 

There’s a couple of sharp inhales in the room. Reed taps their pen on their notepad, scribbling down just “100,000”. 

Trey takes a moment to survey the group, when no one else speaks up he continues with a warning, fatherly tone. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like they gained access themselves, but someone in this department opened it up to them.” The heat in the room is becoming unbearable. Reed tries to follow along. They understand the severity of the announcement, but it's truly impossible to focus fully. 

They’re not mad, just disappointed? Are they going to apprise you of the dangers of talking to strangers next? 

They flip their phone over, no notifications. Ducking it under the table, they type out a quick message to the air vent icon.

The lawyer at this meeting is talking to us like we’re teenagers that snuck out and got caught. 

It’s too late for me Hector </3 maybe he can save the others. 

By the time Celia has taken the presentation over again, Reed has written down “emphasis on exposure mitigation", “only forward actionable intelligence to…”, and “cross-departmental synergy”. They can make sense of that later, surely. 

“Thank you again, everyone, for your time today. Before you return to your teams, I would like to clarify that this initiative’s core mission is to find a solution for the security and safety of our clients. With your help, we will find who is responsible and ensure that their career at Valdivia or any other position where they might have access to sensitive information is over.” With her fingertips planted firmly on the table, Celia gives the entire room a stern scan, looking everyone present in the eye one by one. “Have a good afternoon.” 

Too many office chairs pushing back at once sound like a bumper car rink, and everyone in the room immediately breaks into hushed, accusatory tones. Reed manages to slip free with only noncommittal nods and “yeahs” to the few comments made to them and escape. They head to their favorite break room, an office kitchen in the furthest corner that hadn’t been renovated in years, and was usually empty. 

Penelope meets them there shortly. Removed from the oppressive crowds and echoing tile floors in the large, open halls, her company is welcome. Reed hands her one of the water bottles they’re retrieving from the fridge, glancing warily at the crowd just outside the kitchen, where Trey is holding court with the rest of the legal team.

“God! This is a nightmare!” Penelope exclaims, gripping the bottle so the plastic crinkles under her grip. “I need a drink. You need a drink, look at you. I thought you were going to run out of that meeting at any second, you never relaxed. Or you were looking at your phone the whole time. I hope you’re at least having fun outside of work.”

Reed stammers, they truly thought they had been stealthier than that. Was their home life fun? How the hell were they supposed to tell Penelope about all of that? “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Keeping up with my shows, you know. What about you?” 

“Miserable. My love life is a joke.” Penelope says, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper, “Last time we spoke, yours wasn’t any better! I might have been able to help you out with that, by the way,” She snaps back upright and continues in her normal, louder than normal volume. “Unless you’re seeing someone and haven’t told me yet?” 

Grateful for their water, Reed takes a long drink to buy themself some time. Seeing someone? No, hardly. The voiceless, faceless man that lived in unit 14 was hardly a person let alone a partner. But, he wasn’t… not someone they were seeing, in a way. They certainly had some sort of relationship deeper than anyone looking to date them would be comfortable with. 

“Uh, no… I mean, - I’m talking to someone. I don’t think it’s like that, though.” Reed says, the words feeling like both a scary truth and blatant lie. “It’s complicated.” 

“Ugh, Reed, not a situationship. Don’t waste your time with that, look, you should talk to Trey. I was helping him out with that presentation last week, and I was able to talk you up a couple times. I think he’d be interested. He’s gorgeous, he’s smart, and he’s actually nice. He wouldn’t leave you high and dry.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, we’re both going to be so busy with -” 

Before Reed can finish, Penelope is leaning out the kitchen, one heeled foot lifted behind her to call Trey’s name. Reed hears him laugh at someone’s joke, rich and full, before clapping them on the shoulder in a goodbye. When he approaches, Penelope rushes to Reed’s side to present them as if they were a game show prize. 

“Trey, meet Reed. Reed - Trey.” 

Reed offers their hand, Trey takes it in his in a firm, but not crushing, polite grip. “Nice to meet you Reed, Penelope has been singing your praises for so long I was starting to wonder if you signed her paychecks. Happy to finally meet the legend!” 

Reed smiles at that, it really was a nice gesture, and Trey’s easy confidence was comfortable enough. 

“Nice to meet you, too. Thank you for all your work helping us with this.” 

Trey waves a hand, “Ah, just doing my job. But, if you want to thank me, you’ll let me take you out for a drink this weekend? I hear you’ve lived in nearly every state, I wouldn’t mind picking your brain about that.” 

Reed was stunned, they hadn’t been asked out in ages. And this was happening so fast. Is this how most people dated? Just asking out complete strangers? Out of their corner of their eye, they see Penelope with a wide, expectant expression, and Trey in front of them with their dazzling smile. 

“Yeah, yeah sure that would be fun.” Reed pushes their hair out of their eyes, looking between the two of them quickly, “Oh, my number, here…” They pull their phone out and see that their brief conversation with Hector was still open. They close it quickly, hoping neither of them saw, before opening their contacts and handing their phone to Trey. They pray that this isn’t the time Hector decides to send them something completely out of pocket. 

Trey enters his name and number and sends himself a text. “There ya go.” He hands the phone back before pulling out his own to save Reed’s number in turn. As soon as their phone is back in their hands, Reed exhales thankfully.

The click of the apartment door shutting behind Reed is like the crack of a director’s clapboard. The noise and tension of the outside world is gone, the scene over. For a moment, they just stand in the entryway, letting the silence wash over them. The abrasive, unwanted fluorescent hum of the office is finally gone, replaced by the hushed, intentional noises of their home. Their shoes are discarded at the door, their bag dropped carelessly next to them, and they immediately move to the windows to open them after being closed all day. The curtains billow and Reed takes a deep breath. The air is clean and moves naturally, without the disgusting mixture of competing perfumes. 

After a moment’s peace, they take in the scene Hector has set. The lights are all off, and the blinds lowered just enough so only the sun’s indirect glow reaches inside. A slow, steady orchestral piece lilts from the speakers, and the tv is playing the muted telenovela they had been binging for the past week. A personalized calm that feels like a direct response to the day’s chaos, emblazoned with Hector's signature. He always knew exactly what they needed. 

Yet, Reed’s mind swarms. They still struggle to make sense of the day's events, Celia’s warning, Trey’s invitation. It had been impossible to focus on it when it mattered, and now they couldn’t shake the feeling that they had missed something. A stress they’ve been unaccustomed to under Hector’s protective presence draws their shoulders up and with a strained inhale. 

The day seems to cling to you still. Please, let me take it. Tell me whatever you need to let go of. 

Reed stays there, stony against the window with curtains wrapping around them as they read the message. Moments like this still strike them as strange, being invited to vent to their benevolent stalker, but the invitation to unload is far greater than some perception of strangeness.

“It’s a huge mess, Hector.” They say out loud, stepping further into the living room now as if he were waiting for them on the couch. “Lawsuits, fines, an internal and external investigation. Our legal team is on fire. When they find out who was responsible, they’re gone, no questions asked. I’m just hoping it isn't anyone on my team, because knowing Valdivia, that means I’m out, too.” They swing their phone around as they speak, gesturing in frustration, and then finally collapsing back onto the couch to speak to the ceiling instead. 

“I’m going to be in and out of the office a lot more, I think. For no good reason, either. It’s not like I can do any more there than I can here. All these presentations, and synchronization projects, and…” their arms collapse to their side. 

What a poor motivator, to put so much pressure on you and your team. Those that are leading the investigation will do as they need to. If you can push back in any way to carve some space for your own work, or your rest, you should feel no guilt in doing so. 

“I know, that doesn't mean it isn’t irritating to be looped into so many conversations that just waste my time. 

I understand… and truly despise this for you. I hope this passes quickly. You’ll be comfortable to rely on me if it continues to be difficult, yes?

“Yeah, of course, Hector. What would I do without you…?” Their voice drifts off, more uncertain as they remember the other stressor. “All of that was hell, but not even the weirdest part of my day.” 

Go on. 

“Penelope cornered me. She’s been working with one of the lawyers that gave the presentation this morning, a guy named Trey. She uh, she set me up on a date with him. It was pretty on the spot… so I said yes. We’re going out this weekend.” 

Reed’s voice wavers as they speak. This was difficult, and scary. Hector had been kind until now, but introducing an interloper in their space, a competitor, Reed had no idea how he would respond. They hope he remembers the rules, but can’t deny that a deeper, darker part hopes that he chooses to defy them anyway. Nothing catastrophic, but Hector had always swooped in and removed the difficulties and inconveniences of their life. Surely he would help himself to doing it here, too? They jump when their phone buzzes again. 

You deserve to have a pleasant evening and meet new people... It was unfair to be pressured into it that way, but I hope you'll have a wonderful time anyway. 

Reed is, infuriatingly, touched. It was such a perfect response. He was giving them space, not being jealous, no clinginess or possessiveness at all. When Reed ever voiced the need to get out, get away, on those rare occasions, Hector had always easily granted it. The foundation of trust they had built was shockingly solid, but just this once, Reed wanted it to be different. 

But it couldn’t be, could it? With a sigh that felt heavier than it should, Reed stood up.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Could be fun.” they tapped their thumbs together for a second, then snatched their keys up. “Hey - I’m going to step out for a bit. Talk to you later.” 

They step back into their shoes and close the door to unit 14 behind them. 

The following evening, Reed greets Trey outside of the brewery they agreed to meet at. It’s undeniable that he’s attractive, even in just the short walk to their table inside, Reed sees patrons turn to watch him for a moment. 

“Thanks for coming out with me! This is one of my favorite spots.” Trey gestures to the high top, pulling out a stool for himself and leaving the empty one across from him. Reed sits, twisting to look at the front door behind them. It puts them on edge to not see it easily, but then again, maybe Trey felt the same way. They rest their elbows on the table and set their phone down. 

“Nah, thanks for inviting me. I don’t get out much anymore, didn’t even know this place was here, it’s-” Reed takes a moment to take in the scenery. It’s trendy, fairly busy. Large industrial fans spin slowly overhead with a low drone, chalkboards detail the craft beer list, and a QR code on the table hides away the rest of the menu. A low table in the back corner is littered with board games, and at least half a dozen tv screens are playing sports. “It’s nice and casual.” 

“Yeah, I think so too. No dress code, not too fussy with the food. It’s chill.” 

A server approaches and bumps Trey’s shoulder with his fist, “Hey, Trey, welcome back. Brought a friend?” 

“Yeah, this is Reed,” Trey says with an easy smile. “Be nice to them, they think this place is a dump.” 

Reed laughs politely. “I just said I should stop living like a shut-in.” The words leave a bitter taste as soon as they’re spoken. The jab was at themself, but it felt like a betrayal of Hector. 

“Well, welcome Reed, whatcha drinking?”

Trey jumps in immediately, ever helpful “My favorite’s their amber, you wanna try it?” He points at Reed with another one of his dazzling smiles. It’s a confident, charming gesture.

It’s not like Trey could read their mind, how could he possibly know that they thought most ambers were too sweet? A recent memory of rambling out loud to Hector over dinner floats by, explaining that they like blondes best. Hector wouldn’t have even had to ask.

“Hard to turn that down, I’ll have what he’s having.” Reed agrees.

The server nods and takes off. 

Reed readjusts themself on the stool, their heels keep slipping off the bars. “So, what got you into legal work?” 

The conversation, like the beer, is fine. Reed learns that Trey took this path because he wanted to make enough money for his mom to not have to work anymore, and he succeeded. Reed says that they can respect a family man, and that it was impressive. Trey asks about their work, in turn. Reed gives the practiced, simplified version. They never had to explain this to Hector. He might have learned this through dubious means, but at least he knew. 

Trey, putting forth the effort to find common ground, points to one of the tv’s, “Are you following the season at all?” 

It’s a normal, friendly question, but to Reed it feels like a quiz. “Not really,” they admit. “It always takes me forever to catch up with local teams when I move. Haven’t had the time to learn the who's who of these yet.” 

“Oh, well you gotta get on board!” Listening to Trey talk stats, team history, and strategy is engaging, it’s always fun to listen to someone talk about something they’re passionate about, but Reed’s focus drifts. They find themself checking their phone, a blank screen staring back at them. 

Reed readjusts the stool for the tenth time, their back aching from the lack of support. They smile at Trey when they should. Trey who is kind, handsome, and genuinely trying his best, and they’re filled with guilt. It’s not his fault. None of this is. It’s an unfair comparison, but it’s one they can’t stop making. Every small, normal inconvenience of the real world feels like a glaring flaw when compared to the effortless, frictionless world they had been hiding in at unit 14.

The date ends pleasantly. They hug. He says he’ll text them, but as Reed walks to their car in the clarifying night air, they feel neither excitement nor disappointment. They feel empty, and the vent icon on their phone still hasn’t lit up once. 

It’s late by the time Reed returns home. The lights are on, dimly, but otherwise the apartment is chillingly quiet and empty of Hector’s usual touch. Reed supposes they can’t criticize that too much, if they were in his shoes, they are not sure what would’ve been the appropriate way to welcome them back either. 

They sit on the edge of their bed after putting their shoes away.

Well, that wasn’t awful, at least.

You're home. I’m glad to hear you had a pleasant time. 

His words sound different now. Almost… distant.

You knew I was back? 

Reed teases, falling back onto the bed and holding the phone over their face to wait for Hector’s next text. 

No, I merely assumed I wouldn’t hear from you again until you were, and I’m happy to see now that you are. I promised to respect your privacy when you left, and I did. It was… difficult. Not knowing if you were safe. But I kept my word. 

Knowing that Hector’s presence was around again, Reed dropped their phone and turned to their side on the bed. They knew Hector couldn’t see much more than the calf down, but that’s fine.

You seem concerned. 

They pillow their head with their hands. 

“I’m alright.” They lie, “I just. I wanted to have a good time. He was nice, polite, and asked the right questions. But there was just…” 

You need not censor yourself with me, did something happen? 

“No, and maybe that’s the worst part of it. I'm spoiled. He didn’t notice that I kept looking over my shoulder when the door opened, or that those stools are hell to sit on for that long, or that I didn’t like my drink and had nothing to say about the game that was on.” The words tumble out of them as a single stream of consciousness. Hector types for much longer than warrants the length of his message. 

I would have. 

Reed’s eyes flutter shut. “Yeah, you would have, Hector.” they swallow, “...I wish it was you I had been with tonight.” 

Silence draws wider and wider between them. 

I can’t tell you how that has ruined me. I’m here now, and every night you want me to be. My life revolves around yours, I’ll never be out of reach. 

Reed’s heart is in their throat and they clench their eyes shut, resisting the urge to bury their face into the bed.  

“But you are! You’re always just out of reach, Hector. I don’t even know where you are, you’re like, like a ghost. You can leave signs and I can communicate with rituals and ouija boards but I can’t - I can’t actually.” they sigh, frustrated. None of this was coming out right, but they didn’t even know what they were trying to say. 

Your desire is for me to be more tangible? 

A sigh, “...yes.” 

What would you ask of me? I have many limitations which I can do nothing but apologize for, but if it is within my power… I will grant it. 

“I - I don’t know, Hector. It’s so strange, I don’t know what is and isn’t allowed because you’re so secretive.” 

They weren’t expecting their phone to ring so suddenly. Hector’s name lights them from below, and Reed picks their phone up gingerly as if it’ll hang up if they move it too fast. They’re shaking, uncertain if this is real, or what they’ll actually hear, but they answer. 

“Reed.” 

They’re stunned, they had no expectations, but they are still completely taken by the steady and confident baritone. A voice that seems to have its own gravity, unnaturally smooth. This is the conductor, the man behind the curtain, and Reed suddenly feels very vulnerable again. They resist the urge to move back to the hidden part of the room. 

“...Hi, Hector.” they’re breathless, not even sure if they were loud enough to be heard. 

“For you to finally hear my voice, and respond to it… This is a momentous occasion, is it not?” He wasn’t seeking reassurance; he didn’t sound like a man afraid of being heard. With the same confidence he used to guide their life, he now directed this moment.

“It… is.” 

“Is this better? Do I feel more within your reach now?” 

Reed can only nod, and they hear the low, amused chuckle through the line. 

“Have I made you speechless?” 

“No,” Reed tries to defend themself, “Is this - I mean. Is this just a one time thing?” 

“You’ve asked that I be closer, and this fulfills that. I would like to be able to speak to you directly whenever you wish, so that I can better comfort you. This will not be the last time if you do not wish it to be.” 

“Okay, good. I, um.” Reed clears their throat, settling themselves back down onto the bed. “It’s nice to hear you, your voice is… lovely.” 

“Another tool with which to better serve your needs. Now… banish the memory of anything before hearing me. Tell me you are here with me again.”

[archiveofahasbeen]

It’s hilarious (re: not) how one certain member who never had empathy to start with and basically played good cop bad cop in seoul city says he now lacks empathy and can’t stand immature ppl when he is still the most immature of them all and still lacks complete self-awareness and basically played a fantasy version of military acting like it was a field trip while there were others who were in the frontlines and did the exact extreme version of military the way one wouldn’t like to think of it coming out from it as even a better version of themselves (re: jimin and just to an extent even jk by extension of having shared the similar experience which even then he himself acknowledges his assigned position was still better than jimin’s which imo the reason he can realize and vocalize this (which I doubt he would’ve had they not been together) is def cuz as always jimin has had and has positive influence on him mentally and emotionally. (and as always the case with him too, being with jimin for an extended period does and did improve his character, for now at the very least)

Anyway, this chapter 2 nonsense and bts members coming out of the military really highlights and puts everything i felt about most of them from as early on as the beginning years into concrete perspective. Those i thought to be selfish, jealous etc simply proved the case to be throughout the years and the reason for it being more apparent in the recent years is simply cuz there was no more a group collective to hide those sides of them. Most were lucky to have been in bts and for the fame they saw with just being in the group yet those exact ones are and were the ones who always, albeit silently before, bragged about and profited from this fact and fed their personal egos as if that meant that luck (which again they got to reap of off thanks to several few in the group) and good timing on their side combined with the good group performance synergy they used to have in certain periods, were thanks to them personally while always ignoring the real reasons the group got to see the popularity they did cuz that meant for them to have self-awareness and specifically accept the one member some of them always wanted to belittle to be one of the main reasons for the success of the group.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

hello, I'd like to get a matchup for mha! Im 20 yo, she/her, matc with man. App: pale skin, brown hair, blue eyes, dark eyelashes and eyebrows. Have bad eyesight but wearing lenses. Have birthmarks on arms and legs. Personality: emotional, spontaneous, expressive most of times yet responsible and organised. Like to tease close ones. Love dark humour and sarcasm. Love learning something new, kpop, cherry flavour and smell, physical stuff like hugs, warm baths. Hate insects, infantile people.

Hello!

<3333

I am so sorry that this took forever to post!

I had a lot of fun writing this :)

<333333

I also really hope that you like your character matchup!

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Romantic Matchup: My Hero Academia

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Romantic;

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My Hero Academia;

Keigo Takami (Hawks) -

You were the new rising pro-hero

You were efficient, talented, and organized, with just the right mix of sass and sarcasm that threw Hawks completely off guard

You got assigned to several missions with him due to your complementary skillset

His speed and your precision

At first, he teased you constantly, trying to throw you off - as you did to him unknowingly on the day you first met

But instead of getting too terribly flustered, you teased him right back - deadpan sarcasm and witty jabs that made him actually laugh harder than he had in months

He claimed you were "his favorite teammate," even though he technically had no authority to make you his permanent partner

However, that didn't stop him from constantly requesting to be teamed up with you

You quickly became a chaotic duo with surprising synergy

He was reckless and breezy

You were calculated and prepared

He'd wing it

You'd sigh through it, already pulling out the Plan B you predicted he'd need

You shared late-night ramen after patrols, swapped stories, and roasted bad villains with sarcastic commentary

He noticed how you love to learn, so he'd randomly text you cool trivia

"Did you know hawks have the sharpest vision of any animal?"

You'd reply with something snarky, and then both of you would go back and forth on voice memos

He secretly adored how emotionally expressive and spontaneous you were

It made him feel more alive, more seen

Keigo started lingering longer after missions, pretending to be lazy or not wanting to do the paperwork, not yet, secretly soaking up your presence

He'd say things like...

"Gotta recover from all that life-saving hero stuff. Hope you don't mind me crashing here for a while."

He'd find excuses to touch you

Casual hand on your back

Brushing your hair from your face

Stealing your cherry-flavored lip balm "by accident"

You started catching him watching you when you weren't looking, his eyes softer, fonder

He'd bring you cherry-flavored bath bombs, claiming they were "just something he saw that reminded him of you"

Once, when a villain cornered you, he lost his cool completely

Ripping through the sky faster than sound to get to you

Afterward, you caught him trembling slightly

"Don't do that to me again, okay? You scared the living hell out of me."

That's when it really hit you

That this wasn't just friendship anymore

One night, after a long mission, you both ended up on a rooftop watching the stars

You were teasing him about a mission mishap when he suddenly grew quiet

"Hey... I don't wanna joke this way. I like you. Like, more than I should."

Your teasing grin faltered, eyes widening, heart skipping

"You're smart, hilarious, sharp as hell, and you look at me like I'm more than just some flashy bird. I don't get that a lot."

You reached out, placing your hand over his

"I was wondering when you'd figure it out, birdbrain."

He kissed you then, featherlight at first, as if still making sure it was real

Dating Keigo means a mix of chaotic flirtation, rare softness, and protective instincts on overdrive

He lives for your teasing

He gives as good as he gets

Your sarcasm is his favorite thing

He makes sure to bring back something cherry-flavored every time he's gone

He learns a few K-pop dances to make you laugh, claiming he's trying to stay "relevant with the youth"

He loves physical attention and affection

You'll be in the middle of organizing your room, and he'll just come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and nuzzle his face into your neck

Warm baths together become a ritual after hard days

Him washing your hair gently, tracing birthmarks with soft kisses

Nothing sensual or sexual, just soft, loving, and worshiping

Your apartment becomes a second nest for him

He leaves feathers in your bed and always brings snacks to restock your kitchen

And his apartment?

Oh yeah, most of your clothes are over there for when you crashed at his place

He'll build you a "no-bug zone" on your balcony using one of those protective nets and some high-tech gadgets to make sure no bugs bother you if you are relaxing on your balcony

He'll fly you to secret rooftops just to stargaze, wrapping you in his wings because you'd probably get cold - if you forgot a jacket

You start making to-do lists for home to keep him on track

He pretends to hate it, but follows it exactly

You keep cherry-scented candles around the place - his and yours - and he always lights them before you get home at either place

He'll carry you to bed if you are too tired to move or already asleep while studying or working, whispering, "Even heroes need rest, dove."

You wear his jacket all the time, and he pretends to be grumpy about it in the beginning, but literally melts every time you do

And at some point, after catching you wearing his jacket more often, he starts to tease you about it

"Looks better on you than me, gorgeous."

"You know what? Keep it."

"You're killing me, dove. Wearin' my clothes."

He would risk everything if you were ever hurt

He's fast, but he's even faster when it's you in trouble

He will buy you cozy cherry blossom-themed hoodies because he saw them and thought they looked soft

He memorizes your schedule to surprise you with lunch, a forehead kiss, and a feather - if you're lucky

He lets you see the vulnerable side of him that no one else gets

The side that worries, that wants to be loved for Keigo, not just Hawks

You keep him grounded

You remind him to eat, sleep, and not take on too much

You organize his hero reports and call him out (lovingly) when he's being reckless

You hold him when he has nightmares

You don't ask questions, just pull him close and let him talk when he's ready

You let him vent with dark humor and sarcasm, knowing that laughter is the best medicine, and how he copes

You surprise him with random facts you learned

And you surprise him with little random gifts

Like a crow, you give him shiny rocks or some other ticket that made you think of him

You two together?

An unstoppable, soft-edged storm

Chaos meets order

Teasing meets tenderness

Wings meet warmth

And love?

Yeah, it's real

And absolutely swoon-worthy