#I need to write a fic about them actually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannamoon143 · 6 hours ago

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You drew stars around my scars ✮⋆˙

Life is hard. Some people don't know how to cope with that. Some people just try to feel mentally better by causing physical pain instead. How ironical, isn't it? Oh but bless you, that lee felix is in your life. Because this man never misses a thing.⋆｡°✩

Genre:Angst,Hurt/comfort

Warnings:Sh,a bit childhood trauma, Depression, Crying, mentions of food,mentions of bad eating habits

Lee felix x fem.Reader

Words: 3,9k

a/n: hey everyone<33 To write this fic brought me some comfort too, and it's healing me a bit more everytime i can use my own experiences,emotions and thoughts to write something that comforts others too, and relate to y/n a lot. And i know i'm not the only one, so i hope this can bring everyone that reads it a bit comfort. And pls always remember what of a beautiful person you are. Hurting yourself is never ever the only solution. If you need someone to talk, reach out to someone, anyone, also me if you don't have anyone. I'd rather have literally any person cry for hours in my arms, or vent to me in my dm's than have them hurt their own bodies, that always supports them. Everything felix says in that fic is true, and they r my own thoughts about this. I love you all, take care of yourselves.<3

Depression takes a lot from you. It takes your motivation, productivity, the will to socialize, and your happiness. It’s unfair isn’t it? Little, happy children become tired, broken adults.

People always think depression is something where you sit in your bed the whole day and cry. Well that is half true. Yes, there are days like that, but that’s far not everything. The worst are those dull days, when you feel entirely numb, but your life has to go on anyways. No joy in your heart, and no tears in your eyes. Just a big nothing in your mind.

After a while you figure it out though. It’s always those numb episodes, until every emotion you thought didn’t exist the days before, crashes down on you. And it’s overwhelming. Every.single.time.

But what if you’d find something that could ‚help‘ you? Something that brought you pain and relief at the same time? That made you feel alive, in the numb episodes and distracted you from the pain in the days where you broke down? The price was just your beautiful skin, and blood...

A problem was though, once you’d start, it would be very hard to stop again. But why should you anyways? Why should you stop when it was the only thing seemingly bringing you comfort for some short time?

It started off by you, picking at your skin absimendtly whenever you felt anxious, or when you just didn’t pay attention. It felt relieving. It was the burning pain when you scatched on your skin so hard it was slightly bloody, making you feel like your feelings actually mattered. And then that one night. That night everything crashed down on you. Your friends wanted nothing to do with you anymore, the few you had before, cut contact. You couldn’t even be mad at them. Who wouldn’t be annoyed by someone who constantly cancelled plans, and gave off a „depressing, annoying attitude“? Well these were their words. Oh but you saw it coming. All the overthinking in the middle of the night, those worst case scenarios, they had come true.

And your family? You never had a healthy relationship with them. So now, that you were grown up, the contact was almost entirely dead. And yeah, there was your boyfriend felix, but you’d never burden him with your problems. He already had enough on his mind with the world tour and all the new released albums, of the band he was in.

And that was it. No one there that you could reach out to, no one to comfort you, when your heart and mind were breaking into millions of glass splitters. Every person reaches their breaking point someday. And that day was yours. You remembered the night clearly. You were sitting on the bathroom floor, crying out all the emotion you had been holding in for too long. You had no friends anymore. No family. And pretty sure soon no boyfriend too. Nothing to hold onto.

Then you reached out to a drawer. You didn’t really register what you were doing as you took it out. A simple, silver blade. A little cut on your wrist. A line of crimson red blood on your skin.

At first you were terrified. What had you done? Why weren’t you affected by the stinging pain on your wrist, and the blood building in the small cut? Why did it in fact feel good? And then you decided to try it again, just to answer those questions right?

That’s where it started.

You knew you had depression. But going to a therapist? You were scared, probably too lazy, and you could never tell all your problems to a complete stranger. And most of all you didn’t want felix to worry either. He was the only one left, and soon he would surely leave too. He was the sweetest, sunny person on this earth, he deserved someone that matched his energy, and wasn’t so… hard to love.

Every single task felt like a hard, impossible chore. Getting out of your bed felt like doing the unbelievable. Doing the most simple things like showering, or brushing your teeth seemed so far away, that you could only master them on your best days. Some days, you went to work, did everything you had to, with a straight, stoic face. That was until you came home, laid into your bed, and silent tears would build wet spots on your pillow.

But somedays, even crying seemed too overwhelming. All you could do was lay in your dark room, staring at the wall. It was just the darkness and you, and somewhere in your mind, a voice whispering that it would help to cut...

And then there were these rare days, on which you felt almost too overwhelmed. It were those days you came home, and added another scar to the gallery of them on your arms. You questioned your life on these days. Because truly, you didn’t see a reason why you should be here right now. No, you weren’t proud of it. But who was there to stop you? Why should you quit if it was the only thing keeping you sane right now? When it was only the stinging pain who could make you slip out of the monotone haze in your mind, for at least a little bit time.

But it would be stupid to assume felix didn’t notice something was off. Lee felix was a pure person. Someone who could make even the rainiest days shine bright. And he cared about the people he loved more than anything else.

When you started cancelling plans it was already alarming for him. You were someone who never cancelled plans with him. You were usually a happy person, someone who made jokes that were actually funny. Someone who made him laugh with your little quirks, that he noticed over time. Someone who comforted him when he felt bad. And most of all you were the most excited person when you two would meet up. You never missed to tell him how much you loved him, that he was your happy person, and your comfort person.

That was before

Before suddenly everything stopped. He rarely got to see your beautiful face now anymore. You took a long time to respond to his texts, and when you did, they were short, and dry. This didn’t feel like you. Felix knew you. And that wasn’t you. This wasn’t the happy girl he met. And he surely wasn’t planning on letting things go like this forever. Something wasn’t right. And no matter what you said or did, to try and get away from him, and shut everything out, he would stay by your side. He would find out what was wrong and do everything possible in this world to make you feel like yourself again.

It was another day today. Another number on the calendar. You stopped looking at it. It didn’t matter anyways. Those were just numbers on paper, and they would never change anything. So you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling even heavier than usual. Like a zombie you just quickly got dressed, not even registering what you were wearing, and drank a mug of coffee. It would make you feel a bit more awake for at least a few hours. Eating breakfast had become impossible in the last few weeks. You were barely eating anything the whole day, to be honest. Sometimes, you just couldn’t stand up and make yourself something. But most times, you just didn’t feel hungry.

You went your usual way to work. At the bus, you took a short glance at your phone. You used to be on your phone a lot for the silliest things, but now you hated it. You hated the brightness, and that everytime you looked at it you had to interact with others. And the worst was, it remdinded you of what you had lost. The spark you had in your eyes on photos from a long time ago.

Something popped up on the screen

A message from felix. Of course. He messaged you every single day. You couldn’t ignore him, no matter how shitty felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore him. So you opened it.

Hey sunshine<3How are you today? I thought of maybe grabbing some takeout and watching a movie together tonight, since i have off early! I’ll even let you pick one of those cheesy romcoms you love so much. Love u^^

You sighed. He was still so sweet, so caring, when he should be really annoyed, right? His girlfriend was a walking zombie, why didn’t he already break up with you?

Hey lix, sorry no time today.

Then you quickly put your phone away. You couldn’t stand thinking of his lips turning into that sad pout, when he’d read your answer. But you couldn’t meet him. You didn’t care how stubborn that was, but you wouldn’t let him see you like this. He would see right through you, and get you to tell him what was wrong.

You stopped making excuses someday. Who even cared? Sooner or later he’d leave, just like your friends. No lame excuses would matter then. Someone like you was unlovable. And that would never change.

As felix read your response he sighed.

That was enough. He wouldn’t let your relationship carry on like that. He wouldn’t let you carry on like that. Something was clearly wrong and he wouldn’t stand so far away and watch you slowly shut down from the entire world. Not anymore. Tonight he would come to your apartment, if you wanted to or not.

You didn’t remember what you did throughout the day. When you tried to recall it, there were only hazy memories, covered in a grey, thick fog. You didn’t even remember how you came home. Everything just happened. Now, you were walking through your apartment door, kicking off your shoes and coat. With a deep sigh, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. You shut the door, immediately sinking down on the floor. You were exhausted. More than that. The past days, or maybe even weeks you had held everything in more than usual. You felt like passing out right then and there, on the cold bathroom tiles. But there was something else. You knew that feeling. When you would have spent too many days in numbness, then at one point, every emotion, everything you thought wasn’t there before, creeps up in your throat from the depths of your soul. You feel the grieve, the sadness, the anger, the guilt, every single emotion crashing down on you at once. And then you can’t stop it anymore.

Tears started to well up in your eyes, and you pulled your knees up for a bit comfort.

These were the moment you hated the most, besides the numbness. Being numb is uneblievably tiring, but when all the feelings, everything comes up at once, that is even worse. You never knew how to deal with your emotions well. When you were a kid you never got the chance to express emotions. Crying was not allowed. If you did, you’d hear „ Stop it, or i’ll give you a reason to cry.“ If you screamed or hit out of anger you’d get punished in some way. Only a polite smile was, what was allowed to show on the outside, what to show to other people. That was probably part of the reason why you’d grown into a person who had these unhealthy, shitty habits, instead of expressing and coping with their emotions well.

You knew you should just let it pass. Endure these feelings. Maybe text someone to try and distract yourself. But somehow, you always went back to drowning out emotions with physical pain. You took the sharp blade from the bathroom drawer, your hands going unbelievable shaky like they always did when you took it out. You only started to cry more. You hated that you did it. You hated that you were a person that couldn’t handle their own feelings like a responsible adult, and had to shut them out with self harming instead. And still you did it again and again. You hated the way your arm looked when you put your sleeve up now. White lines from old cvts. Slightly reddish ones from some that happened some time ago. And those brightred ones. Reminders of not too long ago. They made you so angry. Reminding you of who you were. Of what you were.

So you decided to look away. You just put the blade to your wrist, looking at the blank bathroom wall. It was already so familiar, you knew where it would hurt the most without even looking.

Felix was searching around his apartment for that gray hoodie you wanted to have everytime you saw him wearing it. Maybe it would cheer you a bit up. As he finally found it, he grabbed the brownies he had made for you earlier, and his keys, heading out his apartment, to head to yours instead.

He started his car. It was a short drive so there was not much time for thinking. But there were some thoughts in the back of his head. Wasn’t he overstepping? You clearly didn’t want to see him, maybe you were also just annoyed?

But felix shook those voices off. He knew you. He had known you for years, and this wasn’t you. He had to do this.

And then he was already at your apartment. Slowly he got out of the car, taking the things, and started to walk up the stairs.

Soon he was in front of your door. Should he knock? He knew where your spare key was but he didn’t want to be respectless. So he softly knocked on the door.

„Y/n? It’s me, felix. I know you didn’t want to meet, but… i was worried. Can we talk please, my love?“

He waited for a minute. But there was no answer. Maybe you really weren’t at home? He decided to just try it. To his surprises the door was unlocked. That meant you were home, but also why would you let your door stay unlocked? He sighed, and locked it from the inside. He quietly took off his shoes, and put them on the side. Yours were scattered messily on the floor, and your coat too. Usually you hated when something in your apartment wasn’t organized. Maybe you were in a hurry before. He went into the kitchen, wich was dark, putting the brownies on the counter. „Y/n?“ he softly called out again. Still no answer.

But there, suddenly he heard something. A quiet, mumbling or...crying? His brows furrowed and he tried to follow the sound. There. In the bathroom. It seemed like you didn’t hear him calling you. At first he considered just going back to your kitchen and waiting there for you to come out, but when he heard another deep sob from you, he knew what to do. Whatever was going on right now, he wanted to be by your side. So he took a deep breath and opened the door.

„Y/N, what is g-“ His eyes widened in shock, and your head perked up immediately at the door clicking open, your gaze changing from surprise, to confusion, to somewhat realization and guilt. The sight in front of him horrified him. His beautiful, lovely girlfriend sat on the bathroom floor, her face red and puffy from crying, and a sharp blade in her hand. And your arm… How couldn’t he notice? He just stood there, in the door, staring at you.

You couldn’t read his face. Was he mad…? Of course he’d be mad. You quickly reacted as you got to your senses again. You jumped up, letting the blade fall, and a drop of blood dropping down on your white bathroom tiles.

„Felix…. I can explain, i h-haven’t, it’s not what it looks like o-okay? I’m okay, p-please i know you’re mad but-“

You got cut off. You couldnt’t even say anything more, because suddenly you were wrapped up tightly in your boyfriend’s comforting, warm embrace. You forgot how good a hug from him felt… And when you got a little glance at his face that was it. No anger, no twisted kind of any emotion against you. There was pure sympathy and love. When you also saw a tear rolling down his face, you couldn’t take it anymore. You buried your face in his neck, and let go. You sobbed uncontrollably, your arms and legs trembling so much, to the point your knees gave in, and felix slowly sank to the ground with you. Why did the cvts on your arms suddenly really hurt for the first time? He had you pulled on his lap, rocking you back and forth, stroking your hair gently. „Shhh, it’ll be alright. I’m here now, you are not alone.“

Good thirty minutes later, your sobbing had stopped, and only warm paths of tears remained on your cheeks. Felix lifted your head from his neck a bit, so he could look into your eyes. Though you had just cried your heart out, it was still the most mesmerizing pair of eyes he had seen in his life. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

„Let me treat those, okay?“ He simply said, glancing at your cuts.

He was gentle. He desinfected every single cut, apologizing every time you hissed at the sharp pain. Then he put some healing ointment on your fresh ones, and some at your older ones too. Then, with gentle, calm hands he bandaged your arms. He ended his treament with featherlight kisses on them. Then he got up, helping you up too. He had his hands on your side, his eyes on your face.

„Love…I won’t ever judge you, or get mad at you for anything, i hope you know that okay? I know that this is probably your way to cope with things, and i know that you know it’s not healthy. But it’s okay. Please just promise me, you will come to me instead of doing that, from now on hm? Everytime you want to do it you call me, text me, whatever. I’d rather have you crying in my arms for hours, venting to me for hours, you screaming at me, or do whatever you need to, than have you hurt and bleeding entirely alone on the floor. I’ll come over, and do whatever i need to, to cheer you up alright? And don’t shut me out from your life. I want to be a part again. I miss the way you’d text me when you see something that makes you smile. Or when you send me pics of the cute cats you saw on the sidewalk. Or when you just simply tell me about your day. And most important of all, i’ll stay by your side okay? No matter what. I will do everything to help you recover, and build up your life in a way that makes you happy okay? Let me help you sunshine. You don’t need to do it all alone.No matter how hard it in the past was, I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving soon.“

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time you smiled at him. „Okay lixie. Okay. I’ll try.“

Then he softly smiled at you, and guided you to your livingroom, where he made you sit on the couch. He rushed off to the kitchen, and was soon back again with a plate of brownies and his gray hoodie. „It seems like you didn’t eat much lately, you’ve been getting a bit too skinny, love. But don’t worry, now i’m here to feed you with everything you want to eat. You don’t need to move a single finger.“ He mumbled, as he first handed you the hoodie, wich you put on immediately and snuggled into it. It had always been your comfort hoodie, since it was big, fluffy, and always smelled like him a lot. Then he put down the plate in front of you. Felix’ brownies had always been one of your favorite things. They were delicious like no one else’s.Everytime you asked him what he was throwing in there, he always told you that it was his love and care wich he made them with. You believed him, this man made everything better with his sunny personality.

You simply smiled at him, and took one of the brownies, taking a big bite

„That’s my girl.“ He chuckled, ruffling your hair. As you were munching, and he was watching you with a fond smile, he suddenly asked „Do you have a marker somewhere here?“ You looked up, raising a brow. „Yeah, in the drawer over there i guess, why?“ He just stood up, and opened said drawer, taking the marker. He was back by your side in an instant. „Please give me one arm love“ He said, politely like always. You were still pretty confused but how could you say no to that? So you slowly laid your bandaged arm in his hands. He kissed it once and then softly started to draw on it. „What are you doing?“ you asked, mouth full of brownie.

„Those my love, are battle scars. It isn’t beautiful how you got them, but they are a part of you now, and they make you the person you are. They deserve to be called beautiful now too, like every single body part of yours. I love every part of you. And when they are healed, I’ll kiss each and everyone of them, but for now, they deserve to be treated with care. They will only heal properly, if you let them. If you’d always be angry when you’d look at them, they would never really heal. You would never really heal. You need to forgive yourself, and someday you will be able to move on. They show how far you’ve come, that it was very hard, but you never gave up. Battle scars, my love.“

You looked into his eyes. He said all that so sincere, you believed every word. And then as he was done you saw what he did. A lot of little stars, and a pretty moon in the middle were drawn on the bandages. And next to the moon he wrote a little note

„Because i want you to never forget who you are. You are Y/n L/n, a fighter, and the most beautiful woman i know.“

„How did i deserve you lee felix?“ You murmured in awe.

„You deserve the world, and more my love.“

And that really was a turning point. Thanks to felix, your days weren’t dull anymore. He was always there with you, laughing and talking a lot, but he also respected when you wanted some alone time. And when you came to him somedays, crying and telling him that you wanted to do it again, he took you in his arms, wrapped you both into a blanket and rocked you back and forth, until no tears were left anymore, and the world seemed a bit brighter again. Then he mumbled soothing reassurances into your hair, kissing you on the forehead.

And like this, you were willing to try. You were willing to try and recover, and create a life that you loved living, with him in it.

a/n: now a note to: @athenawindwolf because I didn't have the courage to say it that night ( we ignore that i'm writing this while you are texting me,still in that night), i'll be your chan friend, and in the context of this fanfic your felix friend, whenever you need me. I hope yk, I never judge anyone, and i've been through a lot too so rlly i would never ever judge or tell anyone if you tell me smth. We said we r the big sisters of our friends now, so that means we r sisters right? Come to me whenever you need to talk. Now this was for u, and I also have to say i'm thankful someone is sharing one of my interests now<3 Ily di angelo.@athenawindwolf (and i hope i didn't make you cry with this fic)

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neoneun-au · 13 hours ago

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what the fuck

i was going to read one of the other (more recent) fics youve posted but when i went to your masterlist i remembered that i had never actually read this one. whether timing or whatever, i know i had started it a few times but i was just so distracted that i never got very far, though i knew one day would be the right time to sink into it. guess that was today

literally from the first paragraph i felt so so immersed in it. the setting, the narrative, the tone--everything was painted with such a fine, delicate brush. it just completely enveloped me and i was so so hooked immediately

i already knew youre a good writer. obviously. that was never in question. but there was something so transcendant about this one in particular. the allusions to fruit and food metaphors throughout, never too much but just enough to really pad the writing with such beauty and dynamism. it was just such a treat. such a complete joy to read.

it was so potent too, emotionally. i could feel it in the pit of my stomach the entire time. heart on edge, just waiting for a pin to drop. for the tension to let off. it walked such a fine balance of introspection and external forces and the whole time i just felt like i was on the edge of a cliff, wind whipping past, staring out over the horizon and just waiting for...something. waiting to jump, to fall, to be pushed, to see a ship come over a crest of a wave. it was just so deliciously paced and poignantly felt. im at a loss for words (obviously not literally since i keep typing but you know lol)

i was so immersed i didnt get much of a chance to clip out specific passages but there were a few that really stood out while reading enough to pull me out of my trance

this passage is everything. its the perfect example of how expertly crafted this entire thing was written as well. the choice of words, the sentence structure. it all comes together so well to convey the depth hiding in this humble farmer!au. it made me want to cry. very intensely. because havent we all felt this at some point. this yearning. this deep maw of need. greed for more.

then this line made me want to kill myself ! (in a good metaphorical way lol) these two back to back just. my god.

the readers imposter syndrome and their self sabotaging that always always ripples out to affect the lives of those that simply love them. so felt. so seen. so beautifully portrayed by you, dear writer.

"without your fingerprints all over him"

wow.

your writing is so lush. its so evocative. i have a hard time grasping for words that might convey how i felt about this and i continually come up short but im just in awe of how beautiful this story is. and to think i got to read it for free on tumblr dot com and it was written by such a dear, lovely, otherwise incredibly busy person lol

ill close my thoughts here by saying that ive read a lot of books in the last little while. a few classics. some that really resonated while i was reading them but that sort of drifted off as time went on and i wasnt present in their narratives anymore. i loved them. but i love this more. i can feel this slotting into my brain and lingering there at the edges. it makes me want to write.

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

#fic recs #madsfic #fic recs feels too paltry for this i want to sing its praises from the mountaintops

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cherie-doll · 2 days ago

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Could we please have a part 2 on the vampire cod men + victorian era + vampires.

Maybe with reader moving to the countryside abd being the towns new school teacher instead?

yep! link to first part is here for anyone who hasn't read it

i rlly wanna write a whole fic off of this plot i've built up bc i have SO MUCH LORE but idk how it'll fare

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Them As Vampires #2

๋࣭♱ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

The ripples of hysteria that had been caused by what the people believed were vampires preying on vulnerable people could barely be felt in the countryside, he had resided here for some time, surely there was no need for caution here

He was respected among neighbors, honored for his service in the past and now lived rather peacefully under protection of the wealth he had acquired in his youth

You had become an interesting individual who had dismantled his idyllic life, you were youthful, so full of vigor and life being around the children and instructing them

He sensed maturity and sagacity from you, and you revived what he thought had been dormant for a long time; lust and violent devotion, the need to possess and protect you

And passing through the final threshold you'll see he is actually the gentlest, using his many years of wisdom to guide you, convincing you to settle with him and despite the tumult you've found yourself in by being the muse of multiple vampires, he'll provide all the support and help you need to pursue your passion of teaching

Now, when accepting a vampire's offer, you must be very careful, for you may end up indebted with them and their requests may seem unreasonable, but he is not cruel, he only requires you to lend him your love for one lifetime, to save him from his many long years of solitude, that's all he asks of you

Ghost

Here was the worst of the unsalvageable, the damned, the condemned and the poor, forgotten souls of the departed beings trapped on earth, he was barely a person; a remnant and a corpse

He despises himself due to the curse he was to live with for eternity lest something put him out of his misery, the cycle of turning others into that he was; a monster, a corpse, a despicable creature

Yet the first moment he saw you, he knew he needed you, that overpowering sense of going after what called for him, he wanted you to understand his pain, of being different from everyone else because of an ugly past

It's not like you to be frightened but the scare he gave you on the first encounter was one that could have had you turning away from him had you not seen him in a moment of weakness, him doubled over, pain overtaking him, in his wild and crazed state you saw how forlorn his eyes were, half-starved was he and all you could do was observe his erratic breathing

you want to know his thoughts, you don't want him to hide any longer and to live as he's never lived before

He too, is drawn in by your soft nature, in this isolated pocket of earth, hidden from the bustling of crowds in town, you have all the time in the world to heal him, all you did was show sympathy and he took and he learned to not seize it as if you were to never offer it again but ask for it in return

Soap

He considers his bloodline irrelevant to his value, disregarding the riches his family has wanted to hand down for him to manage but he knows that as the eldest and with an eternity ahead of him, he'll be held down by earthly possessions from doing what he truly desires

He'll be more than pleased to donate some of that money to you without his family's knowledge so you can use it to give the poor children an opportunity to study without their having to pay, he knows a good natured person when he sees one, you're more good than all those bloody guilty and deceitful men who can walk by a starving child and only tip their hat in greeting

Just as he spends a great amount of time studying plants he finds himself wanting to learn more about you, observing every detail and habit of yours as if another species to learn about, he wishes he could take you home like he has done with many of his plants and keep you under his watchful eyes constantly

Stepping into his rather large estate can prove difficult due to the overgrown plants stretching and overtaking the place, they have crawled up the walls and creep into cracks which can easily get you lost if you were to enter alone

He'll give over any amount of money if you agree to have dinner with him as he gets rather lonely in his grand place he's inherited, he was to get a wife along with the passing down of the estate but he declined saying he already had his eye set on someone

Gaz

He's the most passion driven soul you've come across, his entire being emits warmth and sincerity, never would you have guessed he was half cold had he not told you so

His douceur nature is what attracts you to him, more tightly bound is this simple gesture than honeyed words of seduction which are commonly used by vampires for their victims, but his human half does not allow him to be completely consumed by carnal desire

Despite his better judgement he spends many evenings with you past what is proper of "good company" only, knowing sooner or later you'll grow curious at the mask he wears to hide what truly pains his soul, you seem to so easily read his emotions from his work as an artist

It captivates you how beautifully he can compose a dulcet song or write the pains of his melancholy on bloodstained paper, you want to mend the anguished heart within him before his sanity deteriorates and the madness awakes and takes away the human in him struggling to live with this feeling of alienation from being different from both halves

The only solace he knew before you was getting lost in the hills of this quiet countryside scenery and taking in all of what is good for the tortured senses, standing in silence to marvel at the moving clouds and sky, but now he is glad to find someone who is not only passionate about learning but also teaches the young children

Roach

How cruel had fate been to thrust him into this unchangeable course for the remainder of his days, it is terrible knowing there is something sinister living inside of you just waiting to claw out and shed your old skin, when he just wishes to live his idyllic life which is why he's even moved out to the countryside in the first place, town is no place for him, especially not a vampire

He wishes for a somewhat normal life, he sees you can your ability to be loving without being afraid of of the repercussions, he seeks the very things that may destroy him in the end if he does not learn to proceed with discretion

He is a fledgling; his lack of expertise and experience prevent him from going on with his life normally, finding it extremely hard to find the rhythm of this merry go round without the help of the sire who turned him this beast of blood

The fear upsets his heart as he ruminates on it but with time and your showing him how to prevent it from getting to him release his mind from the prison he's set for himself, he devotes his care to helping as best as he can to others

He finds a lively imagination that he can use to his benefit and it is this animated spirit that demonstrates how much he wants to live despite the cold in his body

Alejandro

He's felt a growing need to seek sanctuary in things that other vampires are unlikely to show an interest in, while others may seek riches and wealth he seeks power through ways people may be less heedful of

Just like him, humans will seek the approval of something, someone greater than their kind, and no matter how many times he is thrown away into the abyss to be forgotten he will dig through and find a way to live and make something out of himself

He just wants to avoid being forgotten about, and he is especially interested in how you are able to so easily make a place for yourself in this little countryside small town without making so much of a commotion, you quietly slipped and fell into a constant pace without clawing at anyone or having to bare your teeth

But for him to know this he must first step down from the podium he's positioned himself upon and learn to live in control of his sinful nature, the recollection of his nature and controlling it is still something he must come to terms with, especially if he's outside of the strict environment he's hidden away in for years

In time he learns to treasure those moments that will wither away with the people if he does not let them sink into his mind as he cradles your reassuring hand in his palm, enveloping your hand to remember the everlasting feeling of what amity must feel like

Rudy

He'll gently hold and savor every moment with you in his hands because chances like these only come once in an eternity, with a life like yours which is so fleeting you must allow him to admire and keep this to himself, it is not jealousy if he worries about you

Your unchanging smile that beams a little brighter for him than the others is more than enough to prove to him that there is light in the world he has seen so enclosed in darkness and seclusion, that there is no reason to hide away like all his other companions do

It is like a new world unfolding in his mind as he gets to know you, how marvelous it feels when you allow him to gaze into your eyes full of liveliness unlike the dimmed eyes he's been accustomed to seeing, you are alleviating to him like the cool shade on an overbearing summer's day

To him, it is such a beautiful thing to witness life from a human's perspective, because life for them is so fleeting and fast anything that happens is worth waiting for, unlike the same routine based lifestyle he's had to put up with for he doesn't even know how long, he only wishes to know simplicity

He is glad to finally have found someone as deserving of love to value nurturing he had kept within him for years

Phillip Graves

Will you choose the man everyone advises you not to go with? Even the undead seem to avoid him and he has few who outright declare to know him, obviously against your better judgement you will because you know no better, he has that tantalizing manner of luring you in

In a moment where you are alone, he finds you, soon as your eyes meet there already is a whole evening's worth of conversing said between the both of you and it's as if he is able to easily control your inquisitiveness to lead you astray from everyone who wishes to protect you and walk right into his arms

"It's all lies, darling" he whispers into your ear when you express worry of what others may think, truly you mustn't believe them, they just don't like outsiders, and he's been one in every place he's been to, seemingly hated or disliked by everyone except you, you make him feel welcome in your home, or so he says

There is now a tether between you and him, a bond unable to be broken so you may never want to be apart from him, why when he has everything you need in this life and the next?

Makarov

It seems death itself follows you no matter where you go, once someone in the family has been in close contact with a vampire, it is hard for the vampire to leave the members of the family alone, for it hopes to find another impressionable heart to overpower and you have been the one with the susceptible heart

He asks you to ignore all the ignorant fools, they're far too brash to bask in your kindness that you give too easily, he is by far the one you are scolded at for even thinking of going near, there have been many rumors of what he does to those who are too naive, those poor victims who have been discarded, their veins sucked dry

He could easily make you surrender completely to him, but you have placed yourself under his care so benevolently that he has felt no need to forcefully subject you to him, with your gentle caress you have made him tremble and quiver out of what can be the closest thing to love as a vampire can experience

And it is with this fragility that you have found in his heart, that you now are in control of him, what happens next is determined whether you will let it taint you by reciprocating the manner in which he has approached you or will you show it purely

Keegan

He has no interest in what humans have got to offer, he finds their existence pitiful if all their efforts are in vain for they do not live very long, he holds a certain hatred for those who are greedy and succumb to every want of theirs

Yet, you arrive without any evil in your heart and you present yourself without filter to hide your intentions, he is curious of this when most of what he's known is greed from others, he keeps mostly to himself and is rarely involved in the affair of others

Still, curiosity is a vampire's greatest weakness, he stalks you nightly to know your persona, he is there to see your disposition in helping others, your kind heart when helping the children, you've displayed more fondness than a mother

In the light of the moon he becomes aware of his senses, the turmoil soon to brew under the stars that will watch as he divulges under susurrus that catch softly in the wind and drift into your room at night through the window; the whispers of confession that you don't quite catch while awake but rather find a way to manifest in your dreams, not sure if they are a nightmare or of a terrifying reality

His deep eyes that catch the light from the candles illuminating the room as he silently observes you

König

Despite the relationship between their countries, there still seems to be some sort of tension between König and the other vampires, the alliance they once had had begun weakening and he is distrusted, just when he is ready to completely untangle himself from this mess you drew him in

Gathering all the violent tension within him and burning it away, letting his rage dwindle and water it down to nothing in the pure night where no one can observe and reprove of him

You soak him in unfathomable amounts of amour and he does not find it within him to bite back, his breath catches in his throat at this feeling he cannot name, he can barely imitate you as a meager way of loving back

You sacrifice all the love you can give for him and he marvels at how you are able with so little you have received in life to give it up to an immortal being who's lived for so long yet received so little

He holds your hand to his face, closing his eyes to remember these moments of a mortal and to not let them be erased by the wind which can so easily take

Horangi

Your curiosity shall surely be the end of you, you spoke to a gentleman at a function for one night and now he's always lurking around you whether you like it or not, you don't even know of it

A vampire's adoration can go to great lengths when they find a human they are infatuated with, other than this he has no reasonable motives, he wishes you would accept his advances, only a vampire can love you forever, he has no difficulty entertaining you with promises exchanged at midnight

This nocturnal romance which tarnishes you, whether it destroys you for nothing or everything you are worth, leaving a deep scar within your heart which you can trace with your fingertips as your ache for him to return

You venture the uneven terrain where angels fear to tread, along the long desolate hallways of an uninhabited home where no other dares to enter, you maintain there waiting and trusting that he'll return every so often to adore you like always, you may go mad but it is something you look forward in the cycle of everyday life

Nikto

In order to escape deep solitude that has turned into loneliness he takes to watching over you like a butterfly on your shoulder when he cannot be there during the day, he seeks the pulsating of your heart, the tremors that run through your bodies when together

You don't draw back in fear like the others do, and this was the first time he was truly loved, in all your fantasy, you always knew he wasn't a monster, he could love, he could be tender and gentle, there was no need for desire or selfishness to consume him entirely, there was a time for him to live the life he deserved, the one you showed him

Still, there is a darkness he cannot fight that comes when listening to your tranquil breaths, the temptation he feels growing and gnawing within him to drink and confine you to the grasps of everlasting immortality, because it truly is terrible to love something that death can take away from him

He can already see the image forming in his mind; the fog that comes from the shaky breaths escaping your lips, the rise and fall of your chest stained with droplets of blood, letting you go cold for a moment before you join him in eternalness

He can only contemplate this as he watches the sun rise over the hillsides through the curtains that shield him from the rays of light

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hearts4werka · 2 days ago

Text

TW for this whole post, there’s mentions of a lot of stuff so like be aware of what you’re getting into guys

Okay so I didn’t expect to be making this post but this is just completely disgusting and I cannot leave this just without adding a say into this, the whole situation happening rn and going around with @sturniololuv08 is just genuinely making me sick to my stomach, I met Bri when I was in the group chat on discord with her but previously we were following each other on here, she hasn’t private messaging me like it was with Kay and gray (check out their posts) but a lot of the times I would be on voice chat with bri in them and some of the stuff I would hear in them, there were other people but they would leave quickly cuz they said it made them uncomfortable, I didn’t wanna be rude so I was the one that stayed the longest in them and I heard almost everything the others said she was saying. The one thing that freaked me out when she said was about the poll for her next fic, the axe option that was winning currently she said that sadistic!matt would take the axe and cut off the girls toe and make him suck the blood out of it, the cnc fic was just sickening, personally I haven’t read it cuz it feels triggering for me, I’m so sorry for anyone who has read it and was either triggered or traumatized from some of the asks my friends have sent to the group chat of anons in their inbox talking about it, and I also want to talk about the relationship between bri and grace who is freshly 18, all of us are concerned for the most part for grace cuz having such a big age gap and being freshly over the age of 18 is also kind of weird to engage in it, I don’t know grace’s side of the story so I’m not going to assume anything but this relationship doesn’t seem like a good relationship at all, especially with a person like bri. The stuff she was saying in the chat as well as the voice chat were just very uncomfortable to everyone involved, including myself, every time she would write something or send anything about her fics she would constantly ping either me or everyone and was you could say pressuring us into reading it even though if someone wasn’t exactly comfortable with reading it, she would as well not add much tw with snippets she would send to the chat, gabby who is the owner of the group pointed that out multiple times and told her to put it as a spoiler or put it in tw - main but her excuse was just that everyone should know that her stuff is triggering content. The whole situation is very uncomfortable and overwhelming but I’m making this cuz bri hasn’t taken full accountability for her actions as well as she keeps making excuses for them, if you’re reading this then I advice stop texting minors to say the least and don’t do shit like this anymore nor write ‘different’ type of fics cuz we are perfectly fine with the ‘basic repeative fics’ on here, for your age i thought you would take a more mature approach to this and actually take accountability and properly apologize for this cuz talking to people way younger than you in this way is not okay, I fear you need mental help and a therapist first and foremost, maybe I’ll make another post about this maybe not but for now this is my response to this. Peace out.

Please block/report her accounts

@/letstrip1975 & @/sturniololuv08

— @mattslilies @m4ggvt @y3sterdaysproblem —

#✰ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 ✰#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fandom #sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets #matthew bernard sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #nicolas antonio sturniolo

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floofanflurr · 2 days ago

Note

With you having done a few underfell fics, I was wondering if you had any headcannons for underfell gaster specifically?

Since in your finding home series hes a big softy and I want to know if you see that extending to the fell universe

EHEHEH!!! Thank you for asking!!!! :D I freaking love asks.... So for your question! I tend to change up my headcanons depending on what story I'm writing, so I'll just answer this for How To: Gaster specifically, I suppose?

Underfell Gaster Headcanons:

He's not actually related to Sans or Papyrus at all.

He's a dickwad, and harsh, and spits insults and threats at anything that moves...

He also tosses bread and scraps to the skeleton orphans when he passes them on the streets simply because he doesn't need the trash anymore, okay?!

...He remembers a time when the world wasn't so cruel. When he would have taken in those skeleton children in a soulbeat.

He upends his garbage can over Sans's and Papyrus's head sometimes. (It's nobody's business if that trash can has some gold and a few papers advertising under the table jobs that need someone scrappy to work for them, and very little actual trash.)

(It's also nobody's business if he threatens said places that if a small skeleton shows up, they will hire him.)

As soon as Sans looks old enough to ditch his stripes, Gaster yoinks him off the streets and glares at him as he sets him in the lab. "WELL? GET TO WORK! I DON'T KEEP TRASH EMPLOYED."

(Sans is not, in fact, old enough to remove his stripes, but no one else needs to know that.)(Gaster knows.)(The entire lab knows.)

(None of them say anything.)

Those that work at the labs are off limits to other monsters. Everyone knows Gaster will be pissed if something happens to one of his employees or their families, because he despises inefficiency. And Gaster is not a monster to get on the bad side of.

No one mentions anything about the small area in Gaster's office that's set up with a few desks and education materials that are much too entry level for anyone that should be working at the lab—elementary school level, really.

No one mentions Papyrus showing up when Sans works.

Gaster will spit insults at Sans and Papyrus, but he also makes sure that if Sans is coming in in threadbare clothing, or the boys are looking a bit dim from lack of food, that Sans gets a raise. They live much better than orphans should, really. (It's still not enough. But it's as much as anyone can have in this fucked up reality)

Gaster is harsh to his employees, but he does still praise them in a standoffish way when they preform well. Positive reinforcement is scientifically proven to be important, after all. He's not particularly kind about his praise, and much of it is backhanded, but he still gives it.

He refuses to admit how much he loves that Sans pokes fun at him and teases him. And his heart certainly does not melt when Sans drags Papyrus in on their lunch break if Gaster hasn't stopped to eat yet. He's quite annoyed by how Sans won't leave until Gaster eats too, in fact. (He's not)

When Papyrus is a bit too bright and optimistic, a large part of Gaster wants to scream and clock him on the skull and hide him away because he's going to get himself killed.

He can't. Every time he'll meet Sans's sockets—too young, too tired, too jaded, and yet still not scolding his brother—and clam up. If anyone else in the lab tries to harass Papyrus or Sans, Gaster will simply yell and threaten them about something unrelated until they shut up.

(The lab is a haven of safety. The employees love Gaster for it. They also have a soft spot for the boys. In a way, they're a community, committing the treason of caring for these children instead of killing them.)

(They're harsh and sometimes cruel, but Gaster does not tolerate dust being spilled in his lab for any reason. Arguments must be taken outside. And really... none of them care to take those arguments outside.)

Gaster is thrilled by how intelligent both the boys are, and he can't really hide it. The children are brilliant, and Sans has moved onto graduate level texts while he's still young enough to be in stripes, technically. Papyrus isn't far behind.

Gaster is the only one Sans trusts to babysit Papyrus.

Gaster loves babysitting Papyrus. (even if none of them call it that)

Gaster starts to melt behind closed doors when it's simply him and the boys. His insults falter. His digs lack the barbs they once had. The praise softens and becomes more commonplace.

(Gaster is one of the reasons Papyrus learns kindness.)

Gaster starts to clean out his apartment and reevaluate if he has the space for three. He knows its dangerous—that being claimed by him would put a target on the children's heads... but he can protect them, can't he?

Perhaps. Just maybe. There's a possibility. That Gaster is planning on asking Sans and Papyrus if they want a place to stay—with him.

...But you know how the story goes from here, I imagine. Just when he's trying to gather himself to ask, he falls into the CORE.

And he shatters.

Sorry boys, better luck in another universe.

(...He's still watching over them.)

#asks #SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE HOLY CRAP THATS A LOT OF WORDS #THATS PROBABLY WAY MORE THAN YOU WANTED OOPS #(also i am working on ur other ask too! But i need to go through my bookmarks lol... and maybe read a few more fics too.)#(So that might take a bit)#How To:#Underfell #underfell gaster #underfell sans #underfell papyrus

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aventurineswife · 1 day ago

Note

I have a challenge for you :3

Write the most angsty thing possible for your current fav character!

I'm talking about hurt and NO COMFORT AT ALL. Could be unrequited feelings, MCD, whatever makes you cry the most!

Have fun :)

A Lost Bet

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Unrequited Love, Emotional Manipulation, Power Dynamics, Toxic Relationships, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt, Ambiguous Ending, Aventurine-centric.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, Themes of manipulation, Heartbreak, Unreciprocated feelings, Self-worth issues, Subtle references to past trauma, Heavy focus on emotional pain.

A/N: I probably could've come up with something else, but I remembered that I make you guys suffer nonetheless. My first-ever Aventurine fic was already traumatizing enough that someone actually wanted a second part (not angst ver of it ahaha) of it 🧍‍♀️. Welp, enjoy! 🫶💖

The air was thick with tension, the scent of luxury mingling with the bitter taste of regret. The grand hall of the IPC's high-rise echoed with the hushed whispers of the elite, but to you, the room might as well have been empty. The only thing that mattered was the cold weight of your heart, the hollow pit that seemed to grow larger with each passing moment.

Aventurine stood at the center, a commanding figure draped in his trademark elegance, his eyes flicking between his rivals with calculated precision. His smile, that all-too-perfect mask, never wavered. But you saw it—his hand, hidden behind his back, the subtle tremor that betrayed the façade.

"Another gamble," you thought bitterly. The same game, over and over again.

You watched him, and the truth settled in like a stone in your chest. He wasn’t playing with them. He was playing with you.

You had always admired his brilliance, his charm, his strategic genius. At first, it had been exciting—this dazzling, dangerous man who made life feel like a thrilling chessboard, where every move was calculated and every word was laced with meaning. But now... now, you couldn’t ignore the gnawing ache of your own helplessness. The way he looked at you, like you were one of his many pieces on the board—expendable, replaceable.

You thought you were special. You wanted to believe it, with all your heart. But that was before you understood his game, before you saw the way he treated his allies, his enemies, and you.

"Do you want to know how I can predict every move, every outcome, even before it happens?" Aventurine’s voice cut through the haze of your thoughts, and you were momentarily brought back to reality. He had approached you, his smile like a blade, his words deliberate, venomously sweet.

You looked up at him, trying to mask the pain with a smile that never quite reached your eyes. "Tell me," you replied, your voice distant, hollow.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "It’s simple. I don’t need to predict them. I make them happen. I control the game, every time."

Your breath hitched, and something inside you snapped. He controls everything. The thoughts, the words, the actions—all of it was part of a bigger plan. A plan where you were nothing but a mere spectator. Maybe a pawn, at best.

He stepped back, his gaze scanning the room, as if he had already moved on. "I'll let you in on a little secret," he continued, his voice smooth like silk. "The greatest risk is never losing. It’s letting someone else think they matter."

And then it hit you. That was the cruelest thing about him—he never truly let anyone matter. Not you. Not anyone.

You had never mattered to him, had you? Not in the way you had hoped. Not in the way you had wanted.

"You're not the first to think that," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. It took everything in you not to break. "But I suppose that’s part of your charm, isn't it?"

Aventurine’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. He never let his emotions show for long, but you saw it—something fleeting. Something that looked like... regret? No. It couldn’t be. Not from him. You’d never meant that much.

His hand slid away from his back, and for the briefest moment, you saw the glittering ring on his finger, the one that symbolized his control, his power. That was all he cared about, wasn’t it? Power. The gamble. The game. Not you. Never you.

You clenched your fists, the burning realization cutting deep. You had played his game long enough, believed in a love that was never there. And now? Now the cost was your soul.

Aventurine’s voice snapped you from your thoughts. "It’s a shame," he said, his tone shifting, colder now. "I really did think you might be the one to understand. But it seems you’re just like the rest."

The words stung, but you didn’t let him see it. Instead, you nodded, your heart already breaking into pieces. "Goodbye, Aventurine."

And just like that, the final gambit had been played. The stakes had been too high, and you were the one who had lost. He had already moved on.

As you turned away, you heard him speak one last time, his voice detached, as if addressing a passing thought.

“Don’t gamble with things you can’t afford to lose.”

Your steps echoed through the empty hallway, each one heavier than the last. You had been a fool, thinking he could ever love you. In his world, love was just another risk.

And in the end, you were nothing more than a lost bet.

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dinogoofymutated · 16 hours ago

Note

Okay, since requests are open, I wanted to ask for something, especially after seeing that you are comfortable with most male characters.

I present:

Scott Summers x fem!reader who's just a little too rebelious and annoying for his taste but he still can't help but love her? Like, enemies to lovers kind of style?

If you want to do a oneshot or headcanons is up to you, I'm just starving for Scott content.

Don't know, if you wanna do is, especially since he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought "hey, give it a try, maybe she wants to try someting different" so here I go

Anyway, love your work, you#re amazing <3

Cyclops/GN!Reader I've had this prompt saved in my drafts for SO LONG. Basically since the moment it came in!! I was so happy you sent this in bc i had been thinking about writing for Scott, but then I couldn't think of a good enough way to carry this out so I waited on it for a good bit until I had it down to a science!! Hope you enjoy!! Man, I started writing this and then realised I had to make a banner for him too 😭 I did this to myself tho Most of the characters I write for are written as combinations from different x-men media, but I'm still figuring out how I want to characterise Scott since he's a new character for me. Just wanted to put this out there in case I change how I write for him in future fics. (also, let me know how you feel about him in this one! Tell me if yall think I should tweak his attitude a bit :) ) Edit from the future: I started this draft so long ago and damn did it turn out long. TWs: Idk at the moment, will add if I think of any! Reader has a specific power that is kinda vague at first. I've written them out at the very bottom BUT if u read u will spoil the surprise of the fic so fair warning

Scott does not like you. At least, not anymore.

You've known each other for a long time, both coming to Xavier's school within weeks of each other. You used to be friends- or at least friendly. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves and your powers, a gap began to form, and then continued to grow once both of you became members of the x-men.

It's not like he didn't notice your tendency for rebellious behavior before, but on the field? the two of you clashed more than ever. He's doing his best out here, and the last thing he needs as a leader is both you and Logan going out of your way to put yourselves in dangerous situations because you think you know better.

And the moment you get back to the mansion? You clash all over again- and over the dumbest things. You practically avoid him all of the time, refuse to spar with him unless you're forced, will scoot away from him if he has to sit next to you on game nights. It's like the very thought of brushing against him is enough to get under your skin.

The moment the blackbird lands, you should have known what to expect. But you're in such a good mood, with the mission having gone well despite all odds. Sure, you didn't exactly follow Cyclops' foolproof plan, but when did you ever?

Scott is standing at the end of the ramp when the doors open, watching with a rather sour look on his face as you laugh with Jubilee, the others trailing shortly behind. He crosses his arms, and you barely stop short of him, acting like you had never seen him in the first place as you sigh, nodding at the others to go ahead before finally turning to him and crossing your own arms.

"Go ahead. Say your piece." You say. It only stokes the irritation in him, and he scowls.

"You can't go one, single mission and actually listen to what I say, can you?" He snaps. You roll your eyes, knowing that if he had it his way, you'd never have gone on the mission at all. Still, you stand defiantly, unwilling to back down.

"Look, you weren't even there, you can't expect me to-"

"It would be different if I was there, but I wasn't." Scott interrupts you, and the aggravation it lights in you is practically all-consuming. You can't hold back your scowl. "You were the only senior member of the team on that plane, do you understand how detrimental it could have been if you had gotten hurt, or worse?!" Oh, what a load of horseshit. It's alway the boy scout schtick with him- I'm the leader, do what I say, If I was there none of this would have happened- what an asshole! Hell, in the second half you might have actually thought he was concerned for you and the team, but you knew better.

"Don't act like you actually give a damn, Summers." You snap. "Everyone is fine, no one got hurt, I don't see your problem." You're done with this. You're tired, sweaty, exhausted, and the last thing you want to be doing right now is talking with him. You knock shoulders with him as you brush past, but he reaches out and grabs you by the arm. You feel a mix of strong emotions- anger, concern, frustration- and thoughts swim in your head, before snatching your arm away from him like you'd been burned. He pauses for a second as you whip around and look at him, a rage in your eyes. He still looks at you with that stupid, stubborn look on his face.

"I get that you think I'm just some stuck-up asshole, but there's a reason I get angry when you do something reckless." His voice has lost the smallest a bit of fire. You scoff at him immediately, before turning away to storm out.

"Eat shit."

So no. things weren't exactly cool between you two.

It's not like you weren't friends at some point though, back when you were kids. You didn't know what happened to cause this rift, but he only really thought of you as some reckless idiot as of late, and you didn't care to learn anything else about what was going on in his brain.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean you could avoid him forever. Not when the both of you are on a team.

You only realise how much pain you're in when the blackbird's autopilot clicks on. Your suit was scuffed and worn in some areas, starting to burn at the edges of your sleeves as the protective coating started to wear away. You noticed it in the midst of battle, trying to focus on manipulating debri to a colder temperature rather than a hot one, but sometimes you can't afford to be picky in fights. Your suit may have been temperature resistant, but you were temperature invulnerable. Besides, heat did the most damage anyway.

You frown a bit at the sight of your burnt sleeves. Normally, you'd be worried that Hank would be mad at having to make a new suit again, but if anything you were sure he'd be grateful for the challenge of improving it. Scott was really the only one who would scold you for it, always coming back to the same arguments of being too reckless, ect, ect... and speaking of Scott, he was being awfully quiet right now.

The cockpit is empty exempt for the two of you, being the only two assigned to the mission. Scott is sat in the pilot's chair, and you can't really see much of him besides the top of his head. He's silent, and it makes you worried.

When you stand and walk. over to him, his face looks pained. You're sure his eyes are closed under his signature visor, his head leaning back limply in the chair, hair tussled. You furrow your eyebrows. You knew he'd be tired, but he's not usually this burned out.

"Scott? You alright?" You ask. he only hums in response. It's then when you realise what's wrong.

"Migraine?" You ask, and he hums in the affirmative. You wince at the thought. You knew he got migraines often, especially when using his mutation more than usual, and having migraines yourself, you knew he was hurting. You take a look at where the emergency aid box usually is, knowing it had painkillers, but the space is empty, and you sigh to yourself when you remember you used it on a local- Scott agreeing with you for once when you wanted to leave it with them for any more emergencies. You look back at Scott, and think for a moment more.

Scott jumps when you place a cold hand on his forehead, having settled your weight on the back of the chair behind him. It sparks a feeling of surprise.

"What are you doing?" Scott asks, and instead of his usual accusatory tone, he just sounds tired.

"Don't be a baby." You respond, chilling both hands and combing through his hair gently. Scott is confused as all hell. Why were you doing this? You go out of your way to avoid him at any cost, and then... this? What even was this?

But... he'd be lying if it didn't feel nice. Scott begins to relax underneath you as you continue to comb through his scalp, pressing gentle touches to his forehead as you do so. It's... it feels good.

"My mom used to do this when I was little." You say softly, after a long moment of silence. "Whenever I had a migraine, she'd run her hands under cold water for a long time, lay my head in her lap, and run her hands through my hair. The cold usually helped." Scott's shoulder's are sagging now, and he sighs every once in a while. Although he doesn't say anything, you don't need to ask. There's a question beginning to brim, but you answer it before he can even speak- saving him the effort of talking in the midst of his pain.

"...And it just felt nice to feel her play with my hair, I guess. 'figured it might help you, too."

You try not to dwell on whatever thoughts begin to swirl after that.

It's hard to tell when things shift after that. Even harder for Scott to understand why.

Eventually you go from avoiding him at any given chance, stiff and petty with your actions, to casual. Not quite friendly, but almost.

"And... Right hand red!" Jubilee calls from the couch, having entirely too much fun for someone who isn't even playing this game. Everyone who's already lost has dispersed, either playing a different game or having good conversation. The game of twister had started with four? Maybe five of you? But at the moment, it was just down to you and Scott. -The two of you being way too competitive to let the other win. At the moment, both of you were in a bit of a strange position, with Scott managing to crawl over you at some point. Aside from that, the game had been going on for uncomfortably long- long enough for the pizza to get here.

The doorbell rings and it's pretty instantaneous when people start to flock to the kitchen for the feast, Jubilee included. There's a flicker of panic in both of you as she quickly leaves.

"Hey!-"

"Jubilee! Wait!"

"You'll be fine, you big babies!" She calls out, giggling in her pursuit of the cheesy goodness. That just leaves you and Scott on the matt, pressed together in some places and a but uncomfortable, but awkwardly? Still competeting.

"God, that pizza smells good." Scott groans from above you, the smell of food becoming more and more tempting. You think about it, for a half a second maybe, but that competitive little devil on your shoulder gets to you before your stomach can.

"You know what? why don't you go ahead and grab a piece!" You say, causing Scott to cock an eyebrow at you.

"What, and let you win? Not a chance." He huffs. You shrug best you can, it was worth a shot! Neither of you were going to budge any time soon, determined not to let the other win. But the longer you stayed pressed together...

It's not like you hadn't noticed how handsome Scott was. Hell, who wouldn't? Even Logan isn't immune to his good looks, but obviously you weren't going to be... wierd, about it. You're just playing a game, right? But the sight of him above you, slightly flushed, shifting every once in a while while keeping his balance? It was... tempting.

It doesn't take long for other thoughts to begin swimming around, worming their way into your mind. The two of you in various states of undress... gasping, gripping onto one another... marks on his neck, your lips swollen and stained by the lipstick your wearing tonight.

Each and every thought leaves you more flustered than before, slipping on the plastic mat and accidentally knocking into one of Scott's weight bearing arms and sending the two of you colliding into the floor. You hear Scott let out a noise of pain and you're not down there for long before you shove him off of you, face burning as you grumble about his win. You stalk off without much fanfare, leaving Scott a bit befuddled.

"What was that all about?"

But regardless of how aggravated you made eachother sometimes, everyone has their breaking point...

You're surprised when Scott kisses you in the hall some weeks later, less than a second after a heated spat started to take a bit of a turn, but to be honest? You were into it.

His lips are soft, if a little chapped, heated kisses full of force and urgency before they soften just a little. You kiss him back in a similar manner his hands falling to your waist as you grab him by the collar and pull him even closer. You're quick to start moving the two of you backwards fumbling for a closet door you could have sworn was right... there.

As soon as the door swings open, you pull him inside, pushing him against the wall once it closes again and cupping the back of his neck as you pull him into another kiss. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth shoots through you as you do, and you almost giggle as his thoughts start to flood with more and more tempting situations for the two of you to be in.

After each and every dirty thought he has, you start to wonder if he even remembered your touch telepathy after having known you for so long- but hell, even if he didn't, you weren't complaining.

If u made it this far, I wanna give u details about the Reader's powers some more!! Specifically, the powers are temperature manipulation/temperature invulnerability/touch telepathy! They get a bit complicated bc reader can't light shit on fire or make ice out of the air, but they can melt shit and freeze existing water though! As long as reader touches it in some way! Due to this they're invulnerable to heat/cold for obvious reasons. Touch telepathy was added bc i love mutations with unnecessary layers (Emma frost) and... u really think I was gonna let scott get away without banging another telepath? wrONG

#goofyspeaks #x men #x men comics #x men 97 #x men headcannons #x men 97 x reader #x men x reader #scott summers x reader #scott summers #cyclops x reader #x men cyclops #cyclops #x men headcanons

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theonefairygodmother · 17 hours ago

Text

Kinda agree with both, but more often than not, I see people using wrong characters tags and characterizing a character with the actors' personality not because of lack of writing ability but instead to boost the popularity of their own work or just because they dont really want to learn about the character. Tbh I think creating fanfiction comes from two fronts: loving/hating the original work and having fun. If either are poorly balanced that's okay, but we need to keep some organization around here.

If your character doesn't have the same personality as the original guess what: you can use ooc!nameofthecharacter which is basically a tag fans came up with to alert other fans about their decision to not stick to the original character's personality. Same as the fight between x reader and x oc. If your "reader" has a name different than Y/n guess what! That's an OC! Which there's absolute no problem, people can do whatever they want in fanfic just admit you're doing it. It's simple. Don't use tags that don't belong there, don't use the wrong rating just to get more people to read your fic, bla bla bla. In doubt, ask other writers on Twitter, Tumblr, wherever you want.

Talking about getting people to read your fic: I mean, I've seen authors rewriting their own work with different characters. Not once, not twice but three times and by two different authors. I'm not talking about repeating a trope, I'm talking about authors who wrote a very good story for Fandom A that got them many likes and notes to the point that a year later they decided to use the same prompt, the same character dynamics, the same dialogue, the same personality of the main characters but just changed their names for characters from Fandom B. Basically they copied paste to have something to add to this new fandom instead of creating something for the new fandom. Are they allowed to do that? Of course, they can do whatever they want but is really fucked up.

It seems like fanfiction became this thing you should consume and produce, and if you dont have enough notes on it, you're doing it wrong. I've seen people make trailers and dialogue videos to capture the attention of reader on tiktok and tumblr. The worst thing is that they come up with parts just like marketing teams do. Which means that these parts of the fic most often than not are not even in the text of the fic. The authors come up with phrases and dialogues that wont ever feature in their own work. This is very different from actually working on your fic and being excited about something you wrote and wishing to share with other fans, which is the most sensible way. Because why would you use wrong tags, why would make "promotional work", why would face your fanfiction as if you are an influencer???? Fanfiction is not about this. You shouldn't be writing to become the most famous author of AO3. No one who is the most famous author of the Fandom A or B has ever started writing because of this. Nobody fucking cares, this is not a fucking a business.

So, even if it's not a business and maybe we shouldn't be so rigid about what people want to do with characters and how they want to portray them, maybe we should care at least a little bit. Just enough to avoid letting people transform fanfiction into a business. Just enough to avoid letting people use the platforms as they're not intended. Just enough to keep this thing organized and not a mess just because some people want the attention TikTok environment has convinced them they should have.

I think we have been normalizing too much. It's easy to accept anything when you have a small fandom because we're fearful of not having enough content to consume, but I think the problem is that this problem of characterization is happening too often. Out of all Lilia's x reader fanfics maybe 2 or 3 are in character. And if the authors are doing it because they can't write Lilia than that's okay. But we can still be fucking pissed about it, choose not to read it and try to bring awareness to this problem.

Guys, I love you all to bits–and I'm obsessed with Patti just as the rest of you. But, my brothers in christ, I bEG of you to stop mischaracterizing her roles as patti clones. it's frankly a little insulting to patti's insane acting range! I really don't think Patti and Lilia Calderu, per se, act or talk or think alike at all, for example. And while she does bring a very particular, italian, patti-edge to everyone she plays, she still plays them entirely different to each other. Lilia may have Patti mannerisms, a Patti essence of sorts, but she's very different to our girl. Same applies to Joanne, to Avis Amberg, to Nellie Lovett, to Reno Sweeney, to Joan Ramsey, to Evita Perón, (fucking Evita Perón-) to Kitty Duval, to Libby Thatcher, to Fantine, Norma Desmond, Mama Rose, Helena Rubenstein, Maria Callas?? Joan Clayton, Dr Seward?? 😭🙏 Her acting isn't even the same in two performances of the same character, I think it's a little underwhelming to portray all her characters as entirely Patti just because of her icon status and the fact we all want to sleep with heR-

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okaysonny · 19 hours ago

Note

Hello love the way how you write fics it just scratches my brain so good, can i request jake x reader where reader finds out about all the bad things he did (him joining illegal gambling stuff and Scamming people 💀) ANGST if you could thank you so much

shackles ╏ jake kim

𓇼 summary: jake reminisces his relationship. #sadtimes

𓇼 details: angst, f! reader, a lot of build up.

𓇼 wc: 2k

𓇼 A/N: anon YOUR REQUEST scratched my brain so good...i love dissecting this man!

with you, he didn't feel restricted to just being jake kim, no. 1 or jake kim, son of gapryong kim. he felt like he could just be himself, with no labels. you made him the happiest man on the planet, and for some reason, you were happy with him too.

and the profoundness of it all is that meeting you happened by complete chance.

his card had declined at a vending machine.

jake looked left and right, hoping no one saw, until he heard laughter coming from behind him.

"times are tough, huh? let me get that for you" you said, giving him a small smile.

he blinked in surprise. "oh...thanks, but you don't have to"

"too late!" you beamed, stepping beside him to face the vending machine. "i made up my mind! what did you want?"

jake didn't like you. he just liked the fanta you bought him. that's what he told himself anyway.

but friendly conversation turned into an exchange of numbers, and an exchange of numbers turned into hanging out. hang out's turned into something more romantic, until you suddenly asked: "can i be your girlfriend?"

jake really should've declined. he'd have to come clean and admit he's essentially a gangster. he wouldn't have time to spend time with you.

...and you deserve so much better. he shouldn't let the bleakness, the danger of his role dull your light.

jake had all the time in the world to start a relationship with someone. it's not like it had to be with you.

still, he found himself not wanting to say no. he didn't know how much he wanted to hear those words until you asked. so...jake wasn't really thinking straight when he shakily whispered: "i'd really like that"

jake remembers when he told you what he actually does. he remembers how you laughed in his face, how you stopped when you saw he wasn't laughing with you.

"you're the leader of a gang?" you squeaked after a few minutes of explanations. "oh my god...does that mean you've killed people?"

"what?! no!" he waved his hands frantically. "we're just trying to protect the street from other gangs. big deal is more of like...a crew"

he sighed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "look, i understand if you want to end things...it's not the most honourable occupation"

you eyed him suspiciously. "so you don't do like...illegal stuff?"

he gulped slightly. "no"

...well not anymore. so it's not a complete lie.

you narrowed your eyes, not looking convinced. "...so big deal is 100% clean?"

...jake really should've just told the truth, but the lie escaped before he had time to think. "yep. i swear"

you looked at him for a few moments before holding out your pinkie finger. "promise?"

jake linked his pinkie with yours, crossing his fingers behind his back. "i promise"

𖠋♡𖠋

jake remembers how you gave him his first kiss. how you smiled against his lips, even as his hands slightly trembled. it felt like fireworks. everything else melted away — his humour, his walls — just the flutter of something new. something he never thought he needed until now.

he still remembers the first time he brought you to the street, how everyone at big deal greeted you with 90 degree bows, how you waved your hands and told them it wasn't necessary.

or jerry's instant barrage of questions and how you sat through every one, how he gave jake his nod of approval afterwards.

or how the girls handed you a bag, giving you winks as jake stared in confusion. he remembers how beautiful you looked in the dress they gifted you, how you left him speechless.

or how he held you a bit longer than usual the night before rescuing sinu.

𖠋♡𖠋

"sinu! you won't believe it! boss jake got himself a girl!"

"what?!" sinu shrieked in excitement. "jake, you little rascal! i'm gone for a few years and you find yourself a lover?" sinu aggressively rubbed elbows with his.

jake smiled sheepishly, his cheeks flushed pink in a rare sight. "you'll really like her"

sinu smiled gently. "i already do. it's hard to find understanding people like that"

jerry doesn’t miss how jake's smile turned plastered as he nodded.

𖠋♡𖠋

"boss?"

"yeah jerry?"

jerry set his spoon down, thinking of the best way to phrase this. "...you know i'll support whatever you choose, but i think she deserves to know everything"

"...i know" he said quietly.

and jake was going to tell you. eventually.

𖠋♡𖠋

it happened a few days after sinu's return. jake remembers how you asked to meet with him, how your gaze was fixed on the sea even as he came to stand beside you.

"hey...are you okay?" he asked, immediately sensing something off.

"did you run an illegal gambling ring?"

and that's when it hit him — like a punch to the gut he wasn’t ready for. jake felt like he couldn't breathe. he stood frozen beside you, heart hammering in his ears.

you weren’t screaming, you weren’t crying, you were just…asking.

"...where did you hear that?" he said, his voice wobbling slightly.

you exhaled shakily. "this short guy with glasses came to visit me yesterday. he said you ran a gambling ring and went to prison for it"

eugene? revenge for breaking the alliance? eugene really went out of his way to do that? but in hindsight, it was the perfect way to crush him before crushing big deal.

jake remembers how dull your eyes were that day. there were no tears, no emotions, no sniffling. until he realised you did all your crying the night before.

you continued, your voice cracking. "and i said...i said he was a liar, that you'd never do that, but then he showed me pictures of you in prison"

"he said that you took advantage of innocent people...the elderly, teenagers, people trying to send their kids to college"

the memories he wanted to block came back to him all at once.

— Give me back my money, you fuckers! That money was for my daughter's university tuition! I swear to god, I'll blow this whole place up. I mean it!

— Go ahead. Do it. You don't even have the balls. So why did you bother bringing that heavy gas tank? Get him out of here.

"...he said that you profited off of prison fights, that people placed bets and you collected the money for yourself"

jake remembers how pathetic he felt just standing there and listening. there was nothing he could say.

"you promised...and we've been together for months" you said, choking on your words. "i don't care that you lied to me, but you swore that big deal was different. why did you do it?"

"...i had no choice" he whispered. "i tried everything. i needed the money to get sinu back...i had no other options"

you turned to look at him. despite the resignation in your voice, your eyes were starting to water. "that's...not the only thing he said. he said that big deal were okay to let innocent people be taken as hostages...that you just stood there and let it happen"

his blood ran cold. the summit meeting.

"at least tell me the hostage thing isn't true" you croaked. "teenage girls, a middle aged woman...even a baby...tell me he's wrong about that"

jake still couldn't bring himself to look at you. "no, it's true...it's all true"

in spite of your resolve, he heard sniffling. "why?"

"i know it's despicable. it's terrible, but...i had to protect my people. i'd...i'd do it to protect you" he mumbled.

"...protect me from what?"

...workers? rival gangs? enemies of his father? but if he hadn't brought you into his life, you'd never have to worry about that.

in that moment, jake realised he only needed to protect you from himself.

the silence lingered as you sniffled some more. jake glanced at you, the tears now streaming down your face. he reached a hand out, but quickly brought it back to his side, knowing better.

realising you weren't getting an answer, you continued. "...whatever. i don't even care anymore" you muttered.

"i understand why you did those things, but...i can't pretend to be okay with it. i would never want you to protect me if this is what it takes"

he nodded slowly, knowing what was going to happen.

"so i think it's best if we end this" you said shakily.

jake finally turned to look at you, flashing that plastered smile he hates having to use. "i understand...i'm sorry for wasting your time"

you looked at jake for a while, probably expecting more of a fight from him. but the truth is, he couldn't say all the things he wanted.

i'm so sorry. i'm so ashamed of everything. i'll be better for you. i'll never do those things again. i need you. please don't leave.

it wouldn't be true. if he had to do those things again, he would. in a weird way, jake is thankful that eugene pulled the trigger, because he's not sure he wanted to escape the lie of being a good person.

finally, you nod. "...i'm sorry i was dumb enough to believe you"

and as you began walking away, jake finally let out the tears he was holding.

just as he got sinu back, he's loosing something else. but this time, he knows you're not returning.

𖠋♡𖠋

jake should've told you from the beginning. but either way, he always knew it would turn out like this. he was being selfish, living in a fantasy where he could have you and big deal. or maybe he believed the sweetness of your relationship could erase his actions somehow, that he was never jake kim, head of the numbers racket.

he still remembers lineman asking where you went, how jake's sad smile told him everything, how he never brought the topic back up again.

jake never stops thinking about you. you're like a thorn on his side he never wants to take out. he wonders if you've ever thought of him since then, he hopes you have at least once.

sometimes he wonders what it would be like to show up at your door with flowers, saying those three words he was thinking about professing. i love you. i would do anything for you. please give me a second chance. you're everything to me.

but he can't. he can't have both.

jake still looks at your pictures together when he's alone. he still reads through your old messages. he can never bring himself to delete the remnants of you.

jake still wonders what it would be like to experience you completely. how every touch, every unveiling would be so new to him. his cheeks would've been dusted pink, clumsy in his attempts to make you feel cherished. he imagines kissing every inch of you, each kiss feeling like the discovery of something precious. he would've wondered how he got so lucky to see you like this — so beautiful, so entirely his.

jake still remembers your laugh, the one that made his chest ache in a good way, how it felt like he was the only person who could make you laugh like that. he still remembers the way your hand would hover over his, waiting for him to hold it first, and how when he did, you’d give him that little smile, like the world was okay just because you two were together.

jake just remembers everything about you.

"uh...jake?"

he snaps back to the present, glancing at daniel who's sitting on a bench near him.

"are you okay?" daniel asks in confusion. "you've been staring at that vending machine for a while...you must be pretty indecisive. in that case, i recommend the diet coke"

...

times are tough, huh? let me get that for you.

he laughs softly, shaking his head. "sorry. i was just lost in my thoughts"

today, jake thinks he misses you a bit more.

divider: @cafekitsune

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism comic #lookism fanfiction #lookism fanfic #lookism fic #lookism x reader #lookism x you #lookism imagines #lookism angst #jake kim #jake kim lookism #lookism jake kim #jake kim x reader #kim gimyung #lookism kim gimyung #kim gimyung x reader

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livesworthlivingau · 2 days ago

Text

Memory of Lost Letters

Spoilers for ISAT and Two Hats below! CW: Panic Attacks, Suicidal/Death Ideation, Unhealthy Obsession, Grief/Loss

Yet another memories chapter! Heavily inspired by this fic I read recently and I realized it would be prime angst to make an LWL version of the idea, 30 years of 'lost letters' to Loop.

("… Hello?… Are you there Loop?… Does this still work?")

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("Thank you again, Loop... I don't know if you can hear me, but I think I can still feel you somehow... I can't wait to see you again, whenever you're ready!")

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("Loop... I understand if you need some time, you can take all the time you need, I'll be there for you whenever you want it... but please say something, anything... I just want to know you're okay...")

...

(Sigh)

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("We're gonna be leaving Dormont soon, last chance to come accept everyone's thanks in person, if you want... We're heading to Bambouche so uhh... hopefully we'll see you there if not.")

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("... It still doesn't feel real... leaving Dormont, being out of the loops... I can only imagine how it might feel for you... I miss you Loop...")

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("PLEASE JUST ANSWER ME!! I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!!")

|"Sif, please hold on a second-!"|

("NO! YOU DON'T GET IT!! NO ONE GETS IT!! ONLY THEY DO!!! WHY WON'T THEY ANSWER ME?!?! I KNOW THEY'RE THERE!! WHY-")

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("I can't do this… I can't do this anymore Loop… I don't deserve them, I don't deserve any of this… You do. You should be here, not me… Please come home. Please take it all back… Please…" Stifled sobbing)

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(Deep breath "... I'm sorry Loop, it's been... a lot to deal with... I think I'm doing a bit better now... We met Nille finally, she's really nice, tough too, I think you'd like her." Chuckles "... If you don't want me to call you anymore, all you gotta do is say so, I'd understand, I promise...")

...

(Sigh "Thanks again for everything...")

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("Happy birthday Loop!... At least I think it's our birthday, can't know for sure, can we?... I hope it's a good one for you!")

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("Everyone helped me find a therapist, a really nice one too... Would you mind if I... told them... about you? 'Us'? They said it's all confidential, they wouldn't tell anyone else if I don't want them too... It would help me explain everything a bit more to them... I promise I won't tell anyone else, not without you...")

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("I TOLD THEM! I TOLD THEM AND I'M SORRY!!")

...

("... Is it bad that I kinda wanted you to scream at me for that?... at least I'd hear your voice again... They actually recommended that I write letters to you, as a little therapy exercise... I told them I was kinda already doing that, heh... They also said I should start being more true to my feelings and tell people what they mean to me so... I love you Loop... I really hope you're okay.")

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("They're throwing some big gala for the saviors back in Dormont soon. It's gonna be really weird going back there, but I think it might be good for us... You're invited too of course, we wouldn't have saved everyone without you after all! So we'll be back in Dormont in... 33 days, if you're still there or wanna meet up... I love you Loop.")

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("... I'm at the favor tree... I told myself no more wishes... I told myself it's a bad idea and would only bring more pain... b-but..." Heavy sobbing "I-I found a leaf... a-and it looks like you Loop... I just want to see you again... please stop me Loop... please... I-I...")

|"Siiiiiiiif? Siiiiiif, where'd you go?"|

("No... Not now... I need you! YOU PROMISED LOOP! YOU SUPER DUPER PROMISED!!! WHERE ARE YOU?!?!")

|"SIFFRIN?!"|

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("... Why didn't you do it Loop?... Why didn't you kill me?... You should have, you know... You deserve it all, not me... I... I love you Loop...")

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("...")

(Soft snoring)

("Mnffff..." Yaaawwwwn-)

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("Sorry... about the other night... I thought I was doing better but... My therapist warned me it's common to have a relapse now and then, especially so close to the source of trauma... I ruined everyone else's night, I'm sorry I had to ruin yours too... Thank you again Loop, I love you...")

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("Heh... I'm so pathetic Loop... I can't even see a shooting star now without crying... Thought you'd get a chuckle out of that at least... I love you Loop.")

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("Happy birthday Loop! Hehe~! Odile-" Hiccup "Odile bought some reaaally nice Ka Buan liquor, and IIIII'm drunk~!" Hiccup "Heh... Remember how you said you didn't know what you looked like? Well just between you and me... You were reaaaal pretty as a star~." Hiccup "Is it weird that I kinda wanted to kiss you~? Hah! I wonder if it'd tingle... Do you even have a mouth? Heh... I loooove you Loooooop~.")

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("... Stars I really hope you can't actually hear these...")

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(Sigh "Still thinking about you... I love you, Loop.")

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("Happy birthday Loop! So much has been changing around here, I don't know if you really wanna hear about it all, but life's been good! Still think about you a lot though... I'm in Jouvente now if you ever wanna stop by! Just look for the 'Savior's Style' shop and you'll find us! I love you, Loop!")

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("LOOP!?... Loop?... I thought I heard you, are you there?... Was it just a dream?...")

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("Happy birthday Loop. Sorry I haven't been calling more, but I'm sure you're sick of hearing from me anyways. Everyone says hi by the way! I haven't told them your secret, don't worry, but they got curious why I kept sneaking off for a little bit every year, so I told the truth, just a little ritual of mine to stay connected with you in some way... I love you, Loop!")

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("Okay, now!")

{|<=-"HEY LOOP!"-=>|}

("Hehe, everyone wanted to say hi themselves this year! Nille too! I love you, Loop! And happy birthday!")

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("Mmmm.. Happy birthday Loop... Long busy day, so had to sneak it in before bed..." Yaaaaawn "Good night, Loop. I love you...")

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("Happy birthday Loop! You know you're still more than welcome to come visit anytime, right? Just wanted to make sure you knew. I love you!")

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("Happy birthday Loop! I love you!")

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("Happy birthday Loop... I miss you... Love you...")

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("I love you Loop, hope you're having a good birthday.")

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("I hope you're not sick of this yet because you bet I'm gonna do it every year, only way to stop me is to come and make me~! So happy birthday Loop! I love you!")

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("I love you, Loop. Happy Birthday.")

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("Happy birthday Loop... I hope you're doing well, really. I love you, so much Loop.")

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("Happy Birthday Loop... I love you...")

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("... I miss you so blinding much Loop..." Shaky breaths "B-But I think I need to let you go... for both our sakes... I really hope you found the peace you were looking for... I love you, Loop... Happy Birthday...")

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...

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[...]

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...

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("Loop... It's Odile... She..." Choking up "She's not doing well... I-I don't think she has long left... I-I just thought you should know... I love you, Loop...")

#lwlau #lwl memories #lives worth living au #isat au #isat spoilers #isat #isat fanfic #two hat spoilers #in stars and time fanfic

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spencersbabymama · 3 days ago

Text

Numbers l Chapter Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Disabled OC

Content Warning: Disability, negative self talk, blushing Spencer, talk of bizarre piercing fetish

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Brooke is thrust into work and it's not exactly what she expects.

Taglist: @just-call-me-by-yn @esote-rika

A/n: Thank you all for reading so far! Working on this fic has really made me fall in love with writing again 🩷🩷🩷 Also again, credit to @just-call-me-by-yn for always making my banners! I love you!

Story:

Luckily, Hotch had apparently worked closely with Penelope to explain the adaptive tech I use to run a pc efficiently. So now I was helping her rummage through my backpack. I have to admit watching her pull out various tangled plugs was an entertaining sight. At first I wanted to apologize for not having my equipment more organized, but Penelope was so proud of herself every time she untangled a new wire. It was like a game to her.

While that fiasco was going on, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Spencer dragging his finger down each page of the case file then turning each page about every 15 seconds. His eyes tracked each word at lightning speed. Honestly it looked like when a kid pretends to read to get it over with. I know I should probably just leave him be, but my curiosity outweighed manners. My eyebrows furrow in his direction “Are you really reading that fast?”

His head snapped up to look at me “Hm?” He looked confused at first but after a second he let out a small laugh under his breath like he was a little embarrassed and nodded softly “Yeah…”

My mouth opened to ask obvious follow up questions, like most notably, how on earth is that even humanly possible? But I was quickly cut off.

Spencer cleared his throat before continuing “Actually our conscious minds can process 16 bits of information per second, while our unconscious mind can process 11 million. So to answer your question, yes I really can read this fast.”

There goes my stunned face again and I blinked at the guy for a moment. I wasn’t sure if I should be disturbed, or wildly impressed by this guy’s smarts, I was mostly in awe. He was like a human computer. I like computers, so we’ll probably get along.

My face softened and I giggled softly “Cool.”

That same pink tint creeped across Spencer’s cheeks as he smiled, then went back to reading the case file.

Did this guy ever get complimented? This was the second time he blushed in my direction and I wasn’t sure what I was doing to cause it. Honestly it was kind of… cute in a boyish kind of way.

“Ah ha!” Penelope cheered, making me turn around to see her proudly displaying all my equipment set up.

I smiled and guided my wheelchair up to the desk, making sure everything I would need is plugged in. Although there was probably no need to doubt Penelope, her portion of the desk had three separate monitors she had to run, a few plugs were most likely nothing to her.

Penelope hung my backpack on the back of my wheelchair before taking her seat next to me “Should we take this for a spin?” She grinned.

I smiled back, unable to hide my eagerness to get started. Penelope handed me the small mouse that fits in my hand along with the touchpad keyboard and I signed into my system for the first time.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Snapshots of different message exchanges appear on my screen. It took a little bit of time, but after about an hour, Penelope, Spencer, and I managed to find one common person all the missing women have had contact with. Their username was Hotrod94, if that doesn’t scream man who thinks he’s a gift from God I don’t know what does. The back and forth text exchanges stopped completely within 3 days so the timeline fit. Now us 3 were looking through each conversation for any info we could find that could tell us anything about where these women could be, or who took them.

Each message seemed normal, too normal. It was almost haunting how the person on the other side of the screen could sound so charming. No matter how smart or vigilant these women were, they didn’t have a chance.

“These poor girls had no idea what they were walking into…” Penelope sighed under her breath. I could hear the empathy and hopelessness she was feeling for these women on the screen.

I couldn’t help but feel it myself. It was one thing to talk about it, but looking into the eyes of each woman now, only made the urgency to find them stronger. During training they tell you don’t get emotionally involved, don’t let yourself go there. It will cloud your judgment. Sure, most of that is true, but now that I was here, empathy is what was pushing me.

Spencer stuck his head between us to get a better look at the screens. His eyes squinted like he was trying to focus on something. You didn’t have to look at him hard to see the hamsters running on a wheel in his head. With that brain of his, those hamsters were probably running a marathon at lightning speed. The poor creatures probably don’t know what rest even is.

His face was only a few inches from mine but for some unexplainable reason, he felt closer. It was like my personal bubble doubled in size to fit him inside. My gaze kept flickering in his direction before I realize what I’m doing and my attention goes back to the screen in front of me. That cycle went on about 3 times before Spencer finally spoke.

He used his pen he had been fidgeting with and pointed to one of the sentences sent by the unsub. “He never uses I in a sentence, it’s almost like he's trying to distance himself from each woman.”

Penelope scoffed, “Well if I had a soul and I was manipulating these women anyway, I’d do the same.”

I try not to laugh, but a small snicker slipped through anyways. It was going to be fun sitting next to this sass every day.

I look back at the screen like before, but this time something sticks out. My eyes narrow as I tap a few keys to zoom in on each woman's ear. It can’t be, it’s probably a reach. “Is it just me, or do all these women have double piercings on their ears? That’s probably a coincidence, right?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. I didn’t want my voice to show I wasn’t confident in my findings.

Spencer looks over at my screen before shaking his head “No… that actually makes sense…” His voice trails off like he was still thinking. Then he stood up straight to continue “Actually that could be huge for the profile. There’s a fetish called Piquerism. Essentially it’s when someone feels aroused by piercing another. Most commonly by stabbing or slashing, but it can occur when the person has a simple ear piercing.”

“Ew.” Penelope shudders.

I was still reeling from the way Spencer spit out that information like it was common knowledge. He almost seemed proud of himself for having that in his back pocket.

He clearly didn’t pick up on the creeped out looks on Penelope and I’s face because he continued like nothing happened “Penelope, can you let the team know?”

She shuddered one more time before nodding.

I was too much in my head to pay attention to her calling the team. This was my new reality. Dealing with potential creeps like this was now my usual. I knew it was going to be hard sitting in front of these screens every day and looking at the horrors that dance across them, but now that I was here, I was afraid nightmares were going to find me in my sleep every night. How did these people do it? Maybe I don’t have the stomach for this.

I glanced over at the numerous toys on Penelope’s side of the desk and the dark cloud that was forming over my head started to break up to let light in. The bright colors drowning out the darkness.

“That was- um… A good catch Beven.” Spencer stuttered quietly enough that the call didn’t pick up his voice.

I look up to see him smiling softly. Even though those words seemed shaky, they gave me a surge of confidence. Hearing I did something good from someone as smart as him made me want to give myself a pat on the back. My lips curl into a smile.

I already considered Penelope a friend, but it seemed like I can add Dr. Spencer Reid to that list. Leading up to today I was so nervous how the team would perceive me, wheelchair and all. I was lucky for most of my life I was surrounded by people who didn’t see me as different. My parents, my family, and my friends never made me feel like I was less than. The professional scene always seemed a little daunting though. I knew what it looked like to any bystander, she can barely lift her arms, how is she supposed to be anything else than the greeter at Walmart? I get it, honestly I would probably say the same thing if I was them. Regardless, I knew I had more in me, and I was grateful everyone here saw what I could do, not what I can’t.

“Bevan, can you come with a list of tattoo parlors that also provide piercings in the general area of the abductions?” Hotch’s voice catches my attention through the call system “We’re gonna split up and find out who frequents the most.”

I quickly nodded, giving a “Yes sir.” Before he assigns Penelope a cross checking assignment.

My fingers tap away, narrowing down a list of parlors that aren’t close to the abduction sights. After a minute, I relay the list to Hotch, followed by him thanking me.

Penelope hangs up before giving me a high 5 “Good work Newbie. Someday you might be as fast as yours truly.” She jokes while resting her chin on her hands.

I snicker and shake my head “I appreciate that, but I watch you type and I don’t think I could ever get there.”

“Hm…” Penelope smirks before turning back to her computer screens “You're smart too, Newbie. I am the best.”

Now Spencer and I laugh.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #fangirl #mgg #mathew gray gubler #spencer #reid #fanfiction #fiction #criminal minds fanfic #fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x disabled oc #spencer reid x oc #dr spencer reid #bau team

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blkkizzat · 1 day ago

Text

I've been holding this in for a while but the latest "lets flood the x reader tags with posts complaining about what writers write" has pmo to my limit. allow me this please and i will put the rest under the cut...

for the love of god please stop calling people on tumblr, especially smut writers/enjoyers, 'porn addicts' because you sound like an uneducated, highly sheltered, dumbfuck.

i'm sorry but you sound slow and like you have zero life experience. and it seriously makes me question if you are a minor hiding behind an 18/19 age tag. (because it is always y'all especially saying this).

do y'all know what addicts are? have you ever had an addict of anything in your life? do you know what that entails?

What IS a porn addiction.

being an addict means your entire life is centered around your addiction.

it means your work, school, home and general relationships with everyone in your life is being negatively affected by this addiction

It means if you are driving/taking public transport, you watching porn.

out with friends or dinner with family? you're sneaking away to consume porn or reading smut.

At work/school, you watch or read in the background (think of all the stories of kanye west in adidas boardroom meetings literally having porn playing in the background while they discuss shoes... insanity and i can only imagine the amount of paperwork HR had to do to ensure no one would gets sued).

Overall, you are constantly consumed by the urges to consume smut/porn and its the main priority in your life. THAT is addiction.

What is NOT a porn addiction:

It's not after a long stressful day of work, school, and just surviving in this fucked up world (especially if you support yourself 100% and pay bills) wanting to decompress and escape by writing, consuming or enjoying smut/hentai/porn about fictional characters.

hell it ain't even a porn addiction if to fall asleep or decompress you need to self-soothe rub one out to it at night to relax to smut or hentai or porn links.

It's more of a reflection of a fucked up world who majority of people are so stressed because they can barely afford a living or have no access to mental health services, let alone medicines, or maybe they have all that but they also are just trying to exist in a country that either wants to take all their rights away or see them d3@d. it could be literally anything that causes them stress and they just want some relief and endorphins. that is not an addiction. sure its not the solution to their issues, but its helping them get by and they are perfectly functional without consuming porn.

now COULD there be some people on this app who do have porn addictions? Sure, but those aren't the people you know about who are taking the time to write fics, or engage with others or be apart of the community. they are likely just blank accounts liking/reblogging so they can just binge all day.

and low key the once or twice i did see someone say "they had a porn addiction" they literally just sounded like the actual root of the issue was depression and using smut/porn as an avoidance to dealing with issues. BUT it didn't quite qualify as an addiction because they were easily able to disengage cold turkey and not have it negatively effect them when they did decide it was getting to be unhealthy. thats also not an addiction, maybe heading towards it but not there yet. addiction means dependency you dont have a dependency if you are able to give it up easily.

wanna hear about someone who actually had a porn addiction i've personally seen? so storytime...

i've worked in media most of my career. at one point i worked for the mouse's sports company (think about it lol should be obvious). for orientation i was flown out to big HQ. everyone is given a tour of the facilities where they film everything at. also we saw behind the scenes. you know in tv/movies you see those dark rooms where producers/editors sit during a live broadcast? those rooms. so at this company they allow people to see into those rooms without disturbing them (as they could be live on air) as there is a dark one way type of mirror so you can see in, but they cannot see out/see hallway light that would be distracting.

one of the jobs in the production rooms at this sports company is a sports analyst. now this aint no easy job to get, it is probably one of the hardest jobs in the entire company to get, harder than executive interviews, as they open applications once a year and there is probably 6K+ applicants for that ONE position. your job is to feed the sportscasters sports facts live as they are on air. 95% of what you give them has to be off the top of your head, so you literally just have to know hundreds of random sports facts and just be able to give that to them at a moments notice. its a very respected job in the company cause these guys know their shit and study sports facts for years to get this position.

so wouldn't you know one of them had a porn addiction.

on my tour, literal first day at the job, and we were walking by one of production rooms. there sitting at the back row, so the row we can see the easiest that is in front of the windowed mirror. he is literally sitting there with three monitors: whats happening live on air, random files/notes, and then hardcore porn of this woman getting fucked from all angles by like different men. He wasn't even jerking. He wasn't even looking at it. He was just doing his job like having that porn up was the most normal thing in the world, like it was a fuckin podcast lmfao. LOL our tour guide was so scandalized, she immediately rushed us away from there and phone in on her walkie talkie. (it was a kiiii though me and this other guy were trying not to laugh but i was literally in tears trying to hold it in. i think other people thought i was crying cause i was upset but it was just too funny but i had to play it off cause people got yelled at for laughing).

but the sad part is i heard later that the guy didnt even realize he had it up. that watching porn was just so normalized to him and something hed do all the time he didnt even think that he had pulled it up at work. Now he fucked up his dream job and is unemployeed with a super niche skill having to provide for his family and i think he had like 3 kids too. He'd studied 5 years straight to get that job and he blew it. THATS what addiction looks like. That's how it can utterly destroy your life. Even an addiction that is not drugs can physically destroy you can still tear apart your life.

I don't think anyone who calls people reading smut on tumblr 'porn' addicts understands that. nor do you have the proof to know what people do outside of this app to know how it is or isnt consuming their life.

this was long and alot but i needed to get his off my chest cause some of y'all really be pmo by how ridiculous you sound throwing around the term 'porn addiction' please grow tf up, quickly.

imma start blocking y'all saying it too cause regardless of your age im going to assume you are a minor cause theres no way an actual adult with any kind of education or life experience is saying this shit.

cut it tf out.

xoxo, Kali.

p.s. this also includes haters of twt porn links saying people who like/enjoy them have addiction. im callin' your dumbasses out too.

#•𐦍 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉тαℓк #ranty rants #writing community #fan fic writers #anime writers #fan fic community #yeah im poppin off here #but it needs to be said.#smut writing #writers on tumblr #also notice how i didnt clog the x reader tags to make this post

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 days ago

Text

Relapse

hello! hope you're doing ok I have a request that's dealing with some sensitive topics, please don't feel pressured to write this! Warning for self harm I've been in a not the best mental space recently and was wondering if you could write smth where one of the sides has a sh relapse for an extended period of time and is hiding it, then gets discovered (and probably has a panic attack about it). my preference is Logan but I'd be happy with any of them!! – anon

Could you write a Roman angst + hurt/comfort sickfic. You can pick whatever sickness you want to give Roman. He tries to hide his illness from the others but they find out and help nurse him back to health. – monkeythefander

just saying.... if you wanted to write some not-romantic-not-platonic-what-are-you-a-cop? analogical h/c....... especially if they both- oh wait. I was trying to keep this vague but actually I just remembered from one of the earlier episodes Virgil said "I'm a problem identifier, not a problem solver" and Logan made a face like he wanted to disagree. maybe Logan is struggling and Virgil helps him and then later Virgil says something to that effect and Logan starts pointing out all the ways that isn't true? – anon

I was thinking about Logan angst and how maybe some of it isn’t about him thinking that he’s emotionless, but he’s just really reserved, and then the others make assumptions about what emotions he Must Be Feeling. And when he tries to explain himself, they don’t listen because they think he’s just denying that he has emotions, not that he’s denying having the specific emotions that they assume he has. – anon

Hi, I absolutely love your Sanders sides fics and I was wondering if you would write roman angst where the other sides realize that he is nearly always performing when he’s around them (kinda like your fic productivity). Like they thought Roman was kinda irresponsible/ careless and then they find out that when he’s not around them he’s working himself to the bone to prepare for the 0.5% and when he is with them he’s still not relaxing - even when they’re just like having dinner or something - because that’s when he has to perform. No pressure to write anything if you’re not up for it; you write Roman angst like no one else – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-harm

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3529

Relapse: deteriorate after a period of improvement. Relapse: return to a less active or worse state. *** There are good times, there are bad times.

Virgil gets summoned when the other Sides are afraid. Somehow, Logan had forgotten this crucial thing.

Stupid, stupid—

"Hey, no, none of that, bud," comes Virgil's voice, low and soothing as he crouches next to Logan on the cold bathroom floor, covered in water and blood and sodden toilet paper and— "Hey. Stay with me, Logan."

Logan blinks. He looks up. Virgil's face is blurred. He blinks again. Something warm touches his face, brushing tenderly along his cheek—hand, his brain supplies, that's Virgil's hand on his face. He blinks again. "V-Virgil?"

"Hey, there he is. You with me?"

"I think so."

"Okay, that's good. That's really good, Logan, okay? I want you to try and stay with me while we get you all cleaned up. Can we do that?"

Cleaned up. Right. That's why he'd come into the bathroom. That's the rule. He only ever does it in the bathroom because that's where it's the easiest to clean.

Oh, God—

"Logan." Virgil's voice is a little firmer now. "Stay with me, remember?"

"I'm here." He shakes his head slightly. "I'm here."

"Okay. I'm gonna stand up to get you some water. I'm not gonna leave, I'm gonna use the cup you keep in your medicine cabinet for this reason, okay?" Logan nods. "Okay. While I do that, I need you to count backwards from twenty. Ready?"

"Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…" As he counts, Virgil stands up. He hears the click of the cabinet opening and the sink running. "Five, four, three, two, one."

"Good job, bud. Here, drink that, okay? Try and drink all of it if you can."

"It's so much."

"One sip at a time, yeah?" There's a hand on his shoulder and another on the hand holding the cup. "C'mon, just try and get some of it down. For me?"

He can try. For Virgil, he can try. He lifts the cup with Virgil's help. The cool water soothes his throat—he was crying, he was hyperventilating, the rush and sting of it dulled everything to a background roar, why can't he just live there instead—and he swallows once, twice, three times. Soon he lifts the cup back to his lips and discovers it's empty.

"Good job, Logan, you did great. Do you want some more?"

He shakes his head. Virgil nods and takes the cup gently from his hands, settling it on top of the counter and taking Logan's hand in his. He rubs his thumb over Logan's trembling knuckles and gives his fingers a squeeze.

"I need to clean you up, buddy. Do you want to stay in here while I do that?"

"Bathrooms are easy to clean," he mumbles by rote, and Virgil only hesitates for a moment before there's another squeeze.

"Yeah, I know, but you're not a bathroom. You're Logan. And if Logan needs to be all comfy on his bed while I clean up, then that's what we'll do."

Bed…his bed sounds very nice right about now. His body tingles with the macabre satisfaction of being exhausted and lying down would help, wouldn't it? He tries to stand but a fresh sting of pain ripples up his legs and he collapses back to the wet tile.

"Hey, let me help you, c'mere, come put your arms around me…" Virgil hefts him off the floor like he weighs nothing, carrying him through to his bedroom and settling him on the edge of the bed. "There. I'm gonna go get the stuff from the bathroom, okay? You'll see me the whole time, you'll watch me go over there and you'll watch me come back."

"You won't leave?"

Virgil's gaze softens ever so slightly. "I'm not gonna leave, L. Do you want to count again? Would that help?"

"Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…"

By the time he gets to one, Virgil's got the first-aid kit laid out on the bed next to him, a towel folded up next to it, and another cup of water on his nightstand. He lets Logan wind nervous fingers into his hoodie, holding him close. He reaches up and lightly ruffles Logan's damp hair, smiling in the way where the corners of his eyes crinkle up.

"Hey, bud. You got me, see? I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna start cleaning up now, yeah? You wanna close your eyes for me?"

Logan's grip tightens. Virgil covers his hand with his.

"You got me, see? I'm right here. You can close your eyes, L, it's okay."

"If I close my e-eyes I'll just feel it. I can't—" his breath hitches— "I can't just feel it."

"Okay. Do you…do you want to see what I'm doing?" Logan shakes his head. "Okay. Do you want to talk while I'm doing this?"

"What would I talk about?"

"Well, I do wanna know what happened, but—but," he says softly when Logan barely stifles a whimper, "that doesn't have to be right now. Why don't you talk to me about something that isn't work related? Have you been watching something interesting?"

"There's—" he swallows— "there's this video game that Roman and I have been talking about."

"Oh, yeah? What's it called?"

"Superliminal."

"That sounds cool as hell. What's it about?"

"The premise is that you're going to this hospital for something called 'dream therapy,' meant to help you relieve—relieve stress," he mumbles, breath hitching again when Virgil tears open an antiseptic wipe, "and the game is you going through the stages of the therapy."

"Huh. That's a cool idea for a video game. What, uh, what's the story like when you're actually playing it?"

"The core mechanic is—" he hisses at the sting and Virgil blows a stream of cold air over it— "that you can change the world around you by picking up objects and that will alter their relative size based on your perception of them."

"Whoa. How the hell did they program that?"

"I have no—no idea."

"What sort of objects?"

Logan continues to describe it as Virgil works patiently to clean him up, pausing every once in a while to murmur words of comfort and encouragement when Logan's voice gets a bit too strained or his hand suddenly tenses. He keeps asking questions, prompting Logan to continue talking, until he finishes describing one of the more frustrating puzzles and realizes that Virgil's hands are on his shoulders, not his legs.

"You…you're done?"

"Yeah, bud, I'm all done. You did great. Here, drink some more water."

He accepts the cup and manages to lift it himself this time, Virgil's thumbs stroking gently over the seams of his shirt. The cool air of his room hits his still-damp skin and he shivers. "Are…are we to talk about what happened now?"

"I think that's a good idea, don't you?" He shrinks in on himself and Virgil's quick to lean forward, cupping the back of his head and carding a hand through his hair. "I'm not mad, L. I'm not gonna get mad. You don't have to be scared with me, I swear."

"You promise?"

He wants to flinch at how much a child he sounds, but Virgil just smiles. "I promise."

He closes his eyes, turning his face into the crook of Virgil's neck. Virgil's fingers keep working patiently against his scalp. He takes one deep breath, two, three.

"I was…talking with Patton."

"Okay."

"We were—I was—" he swallows— "I was trying to explain how I'm not—I don't—I don't feel things as strongly as he and Roman do all the time but that it's not the same thing as not feeling at all because it isn't, just because I don't yell or shout or proclaim my emotions for everyone to see doesn't make them less important or less valid just for—"

"Shh, easy." Virgil's hand rubs firmly up and down his back. "Hey, bud, you're okay."

He swallows. His chest starts to get tight again. "He wasn't listening to me."

"Can you say more?"

"He—he kept on trying to say that I did have feelings, even if they weren't the same as what I thought they should look like, but I do know what my feelings look like, I know better than him what they look like because they're my feelings, and I—" he chokes on a sob and Virgil shushes him again, whispering you're doing great— "I just got so mad."

Virgil rubs his back again, pulling away to push the cup of water into his hands again. "You got mad?"

He nods. "I…I yelled at him about how he didn't know what was best for me and he didn't—couldn't know what I was feeling because he's Thomas's emotions, not mine, and I didn't—I didn't mean to get so mad but it wasn't—I couldn't just explain it to him calmly because he wasn't listening but then he tried to tell me I was—I was—"

"Hey. Hey." Virgil takes his face in his hands, giving him the gentlest of shakes. "Look at me, L. Just look at me."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Shh, shh, don't be sorry, you're not doing anything wrong. It's okay, you're okay, you're alright. It's just me, we're in your room, you're safe. Just take a second, calm down…shh, shh, that's it…that's it, L, you're doing great."

Logan takes a deep, shuddering breath. The lump in his throat grows. He truly didn't mean to shout at Patton. He didn't deserve it. He just got so frustrated and Patton wasn't listening and it—he—

"Is that why you came up here?" Virgil's question is gentle but stings no less. "Because you felt bad about it?"

"I don't like being angry," he croaks. "I don't like the person I become when I'm that angry."

"Oh, L…"

"I don't know how to be angry without being punished for it," he whispers, "and Patton—Patton just—he just—I—he couldn't—I can't—"

"What did he do? Or say?"

He sniffles. "He said that if I really did know about my feelings, then I wouldn't…then when I felt them, I wouldn't—I would know how to handle them."

Virgil's quiet for a long moment. Then he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like kick your ass that Logan's fairly certain is directed at Patton, not him, before he's being bundled up in another strong hug. "I'm really sorry, L, that was shitty of Patton to say."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Hey, uh-uh. We're not gonna do that now. We're gonna make sure you have enough water to drink, that you eat something, and that you rest, okay? Everything else can wait."

Logan nods. He takes another breath and holds onto Virgil. "What is it you say?"

"About what?"

"About later you?"

"Oh, right: that's a problem for Future Virgil. These are problems for Future Us to deal with, yeah? Trust me, I'm an expert problem identifier."

Virgil's shampoo smells like pine. Logan tucks his chin over his shoulder and hums. "You're wrong about just being that, by the way."

"Huh?"

"You always say that you don't solve problems, you just find them. But that's not true. You help. All the time."

"Aw, thanks, L. You're sweet."

"Does that count as an emotion?"

"'Sweet?' I dunno, let's ask Princey when we're up to it. For now, why don't you poof yourself into something more comfy and we'll watch an episode of that dumb game show you like making fun of."

"The one where the points system makes no sense?"

"Yep. That one. And, hey, Logan?" Virgil chucks him lightly under the chin with a smile. "I'm really proud of you."

"But I…relapsed."

"Yeah, but then you did all of this. You let me take care of you, we talked about it, we made sure you're okay for right now, and that shit's harder than people give it credit for. So yeah, bud, I'm super proud of you."

The smallest smile makes it to Logan's face.

***

The first thing Roman realizes when he wakes up is that he's somewhere soft and warm. Which is strange, because last time he checked, the bathroom floor where he thought he'd passed out is neither of those things.

Then he realizes there's a gloved hand adjusting the blankets tucked up under his chin and oh.

"Hi, sweetie," Janus says softly, patting his cheek, "good to have you back."

"How long…?"

"A few hours, at least. You were pretty exhausted." He raises his eyebrows. "Would you like to explain yourself, or should I?"

There's just enough gentle affection in his voice to keep the sting from overwhelming him, but he can't help but flinch away from it. Janus coos, leaning down to brush a kiss over his forehead, a cold un-gloved hand tucking itself against the side of his neck.

"You've been sick, sweetie, for days, and you've hidden it from all of us."

"Didn't—didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to hide it, or didn't mean for it to get this bad?" Roman shuffles guiltily. Janus hums. "I found you on the floor of the bathroom, covered in sweat. I managed to get you into bed but you need to eat and drink something."

"Not hungry."

"You don't have much of a choice right now, Roman, you need something in you. Don't you dare," he threatens with a tap to Roman's nose when he opens his mouth, "I'll get Remus to help me bully you into taking care of yourself, don't think I won't."

"…okay."

"There we go. Come sit up, you've got more pillows than Sleeping Beauty's palace. Would you prefer juice or Gatorade?"

"…can I have blue?"

"Yes, you can have blue. Sit up, now…"

Roman carefully gets himself sitting upright, blankets still swaddling his lower half as Janus reaches for a small bottle on his nightstand. He manages about half of it before he gives it back. When Janus moves toward him with a snack, though, he closes his mouth and stubbornly turns away.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I have to get back to work."

"You don't have to do anything other than rest and get better."

"But we have movie night."

"Exactly. We don't have anything else to do other than relax, so you should try and rest up now so that if you feel up to it—if," he repeats sternly when Roman shrugs, "you feel up to it, you can join us."

"But that's not how it works."

"That's not how what works?"

"I don't get to relax during movie nights."

Janus pauses. There's a soft clunk as he sets the bowl back on the nightstand and then the cool hand is cupping Roman's cheek, thumb brushing over his flushed skin. He closes his eyes at the relief of it.

"What do you mean," comes Janus's soft voice, "that you don't get to relax during movie nights?"

"I don't get to."

"Say more, sweetie."

"That's not—that's not the point. That's not why we have them."

"That's precisely why we have them, Roman, so we can all de-stress and relax together."

"No, we have them so Thomas can relax."

"We—we're saying the same thing, Roman—"

"No, we aren't." Roman pulls away from the touch, burying his face in his hands and scrubbing harshly. Janus tuts, catching them and pulling them to his lips, kissing his knuckles. "Don't—what're you doing?"

Janus's eyebrows quirk. "Why am I treating you gently? Is that what you're asking?"

"…you're mad at me, so—"

"I'm not mad at you, sweetie." When Roman frowns, something flickers over his expression and settles on something way too close to devastation for Roman to be comfortable still holding eye contact, so he looks away as Janus lets out a quiet noise. "Oh, Roman…"

"What?"

"Can you look at me?" Roman drags his eyes back up and Janus squeezes his hands. "Why do you think I'm angry with you?"

"…you had to take care of me? I'm disagreeing with you? I'm not—you didn't—I haven't—"

"That's my fault," Janus interrupts with a sigh, "let me rephrase: I'm not angry with you, Roman. I'm not angry that I 'had' to take care of you, I'm upset because you needed taking care of and you didn't feel like you could let us know. I'm not angry that you're disagreeing with me, I'm concerned because you're telling me that something I thought was relaxing for you isn't actually relaxing at all. I'm not mad, you're not in trouble, I'm not going to—to punish you, I want to help."

Roman stares at him. That's more words than he's ever heard Janus say to him about feelings ever, and too many of them sound too perfect to be coming out of Janus's mouth at him. And as if he can hear those thoughts, Janus takes his un-gloved hand and brushes Roman's hair back from his damp forehead. An embarrassing noise leaves his mouth and he goes to pull away but then the other hand is cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer.

"Can you tell me why movie nights aren't relaxing for you?"

His jaw wobbles. "I have to—they're for Thomas."

"What does that mean? I'm not trying to make fun of you," he says quickly when Roman's mouth screws up, "I'm just trying to understand."

"It's for Thomas. That means I have to—I'm there for Thomas. I have to be watching the movie for Thomas. I'm not—that's not relaxing, nothing I do for Thomas is relaxing, it's work."

"But Thomas doesn't always come to our movie nights."

"So?"

Janus frowns. "So why would the ones where he's not there also be for him?"

"What does Thomas do to relax?"

"Let's see, he…well, he watches movies, he reads things, he watches shows, plays games with his friends…"

"He engages with stories."

Janus lets out a quiet oh. Roman closes his eyes. The pounding in his head is back.

"So it's…work. It's part of the 0.5%, or whatever it was."

"You know that Logan doesn't believe that anymore, don't you?" Roman's quiet for a little too long before Janus kisses his forehead again. "We'll talk to him when you feel better, okay?"

"Wait, 'we?'"

"You didn't think I'd leave you on your own to deal with things, did you?" At Roman's hopeful expression, he chuckles. "You're enough of a disaster already."

"Hey!" He smacks weakly at Janus's chest. "I'm sick, you have to be nice to me."

"And considering that's the first time you've admitted that you're sick, I'd say that proves my point."

"No fair."

"I know, I'm so mean to you," he murmurs, unable to keep all of the remorse from his voice as he kisses him again. "Shh, it's alright, sweetie, everything's going to be okay. Now go to sleep, you need it."

"Will you—can you stay?"

"Of course I can, sweetie. Rest, now. We can sort everything else out when you wake up."

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