#THE LOVE CONFESSION
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please Please PLEASE everyone go read Like Every Tree Stands on Its Own by @mightybog it is phenomenal and has deliciously altered my brain chemistry. AND there's a sequel in the works which is sure to be just as marvelous and heartwrenching and beautiful as the first.
Seriously, I have been rotating this story for days, even made some picrews about it (courtesy of ElenaA's Kiss Crew, beloved).
Anyway, please go read and kudos and comment and show her some love because she deserves it.
#bbc merlin#merthur#merlin#arthur#like every tree stands on its own#fic rec#arthur pendragon#there are so many moments im still not and never will be over#merlin and gwendydd discussing arthur's death#the love confession#the brilliant weaving in of quest for camelot story beats particularly the ones associated with if i didnt have you#arthur talking to hunith near the end#the end itself#OHHHHHH THE END#and just merlin and arthur and the way they orbit each other and draw each other in#such a perfect balance of angst and joy#the hurt/comfort is exactly the dosage i require#as is the silly fun and love#also the way that so many legends and myths and pieces of arthuriana are woven together into something so tight knit - perfection#feeds my inner arthurian maniac in the best way#dont think i told you that yet mightybog dear but you should know#been obsessed with the arthurian legend for longer than i can remember and this filled every nook and cranny of my arthurian soul
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"of course I love you. otherwise I wouldâve killed you by now:3"
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Someone should make a counter for how many times Ricky and Gina kissed this season.
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I love⌠I love this so much!
Love how Blackbeard turns slightly towards Stede, heâs meltingâŚhe does want to hear what Stede has to say. He NEEDS it.
Mary and Anne are the ultimate Mary Sues too, reading the leads the riot act, and putting them in their place.
Our Flag Means Death (2022 - ) I 2x04-Fun and Games
#ofmd#Not my edit#gentlebeard#the love confession#i love everything about you#Mary Sue#taika waititi#rhys darby
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november 5th you will always be famous
#spn#misha collins#supernatural#destiel#deancas#jensen ackles#castiel#spnfamily#spn 15x18#confession of love#november 5th#november 5 2020
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Remember that this is not the proof that they love each other
That was a last-ditch attempt from Crowley to get Aziraphale to stay
This is the proof that they love each other
Their love wasn't just made real because they kissed
It always existed
#i will argue this point til my dying breath#they always loved each other#if you think the kiss was the only proof#then i adviae you to reexamine the relationship#the kiss wasn't romantic anyway#it was desperate and painful#it was a last ditch effort from crowley because he loves aziraphale so much#but it was not the confession#he'd already confessed his feelings#the kiss was never necessary to do that#good omens#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#crowley#aziraphale#good omens spoilers#go2 spoilers
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It's just guys night talk! Don't worry about it!
(Read Tiger Tiger and shake this man awake so he can finish that thought!)
#tiger tiger#remy bonnaire#jamis arlesi#Comics I meant to post a week ago but I have been...extraordinarily sleepy.#Remy is the ultimate yearner and he is about to explode...these last few updates have had the Tigers discord in a vice grip.#We all knew he was going to say something that would devestate Remy.#But this??? This near confession? âI wish you would look at me like that?â#If I was Remy...well yeah I probably would also just lay in bed. Awake. Pondering and internally exploding.#But ough...the agony...his heart had settled on loving this man from afar and now...now he wonders. If it doesn't have to be so.#The boys are fighting (internally and with themselves).#If you haven't red Tigers yet but are reading this: What else must I do to convince you? Draw more men's tits?#God! If I must [I shake my head at an empty audience] I can't believe I'm being forced to do this!
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#titan#titan submersible#oceangate#titanic#the titanic#''catastrophic implosion'' is how they're describing it#they have no idea if they can recover anything because of how deep it was#they also don't know yet when it imploded#I will say. the way they're wording this#it probably imploded before people started looking#they keep saying their listening devices would have heard an implosion#but that it did definitely implode#destiel meme#I love you meme#destiel confession meme#what is this meme actually called#I realize I have no idea
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reached tag limit OF COURSE so I'm continuing here
the entire love-making scene THE PRAISE THE VULNERABILITY THE EMOTION âšď¸âšď¸âšď¸ the way he cried happy tears and didn't try to hide them, the way they melted into one another I AM NOT OKAY "you're still my favorite reflection" made me cry,,, they are each other's mirrors and they are so fond of one another I WANNA SCREAMMMMMMM
also "you could give him everything and not lose a single drop of yourself" IS SO HEART WRENCHING,,,,,,, he'll always give back too and she's not losing a drop of herself because he isn't selfish, because they both come from a place of love and pure love can only nurture you not drain you,,, i love how she believes this now, how there are still parts they need to heal, both of them, but atleast they are together and they see the strength that they can give to one another
ALSO BUTTERFLY BANDAGE??????? KSKDNDJDNXNXJXJXJXJX when i read it my breath hitched i was wondering why u chose that title all along, but oh my god I've never seen it that way AND YOU'RE SO RIGHT
also wait i just remembered the whole "you're the moon" comparaison and look at yourself when the reflection isn't broken MADE ME CRY IT'S SO RAW AND BEAUTIFUL AND LOVING :(((
you made twin flames feel much more personal and intimate than soulmates, something about someone seeing and knowing the ugliest parts of you AND STAYING??? and loving you through them???? it's so intensely sweet and it fits Chan so well
i can't believe this series is over it's been a true joy to read everything you wrote,, i usually don't get invested in series BUT the way you wrote it had me HOOKED from the first part,, every metaphor you use, every comparaison, every little detail you add and put sm care into, i just know this took you sm time and effort and i hope YOU'RE PROUD OF IT!!!! i already said this, but you really built characters that feel human above all, that are just like us in the sense where they have flaws, and they've been through things and those traumas reflect on their reactions, BUT THEY'RE STILL TRYING and that's what matters!!!! every thing that the characters did whether it's Chan and mc or binnie and minho and iseul, everything was in accord to the personality you presented and it felt like you're writing about real humans you saw exist!!!
thank you for writing this truly it feels so bittersweet for it to end LIKE WDYM NO MORE BB UPDATES đđ but I can't wait to read more from you!!! i think this story healed me as well, i could relate in some parts to both Chan and the mc and this gave me hope that a love this pure does exist. thank you thank you have the happiest life <333
ĘĂŻÉ butterfly bandage - 05
note: this is the final part of a series (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4)
content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of twin flames, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, themes of death/grief, more crying (sorry), nsfw scenes
18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, soft smut, mirror sex, lots and lots of praise, body worship, biting, marking, possessiveness, teasing, channie is very embarrassed, handjob, begging, just a little bit of crying, edging, reader and chan are kinda obsessively in love, unprotected sex, riding, cockwarming
word count: 17.3k
A call of your name from across the lab caught your attention, just as you were preparing to collect your materials and head out for the day. Fumbling with your bag, you zipped it up as quickly as you could and headed towards your lab instructor, already bracing yourself for a conversation that, based on your track record with her, was very likely to be disheartening.
She lowered the stack of papers sheâd been holding as you approached her, revealing her smileâa rare sight for anyone who worked under her.
âYes?â
âCongratulations,â she announced. âYour paperâs approved.â
Your eyes widened as she handed the stack to you, over twenty pages of blood, sweat, and tears. They felt heavy in your hands, heavy with the weight of everything that had been sacrificed for their completion. Just a few days ago, the news wouldâve had you over the moon. It was all youâd been wanting to hear, all youâd been dreaming of since youâd first begun your studies. Now, it was nothing more than a shallow comfort, a single drop of sunlight that was immediately obscured by the shadows all around it.
âGreat,â you said at last, flashing a strained smile. âThank you, Professor.â
She gave you a pat on the back, and you tried to find solace in the proud shine in her eyes. âYou did well,â she praised. âIâm sure youâll excel in your next rotation, too.â
âMy nextâŚrotation?â
Your instructor glanced down at her clipboard, adjusting her glasses with a hum. âSince your research has been approved, thereâs no need for you to remain at your current station. Youâve spent quite a bit of time with those binary pairs,â she added. âYouâll be doing interferometric imaging for the next few weeks. Weâre a few people short.â
Something twisted inside you. âReally?â
She looked up from her notes, quirking an eyebrow. âIs there a problem?â
âIâŚâ you trailed off. There was nothing you could tell her that would be meaningful enough for her to let you stayânothing that wouldnât get you laughed at or even potentially dismissed from the lab for the rest of the semester. How on earth were you meant to explain that a pair of spectroscopic stars had come to mean so much to you? How on earth were you meant to explain what they signified in your mind?
âNo, nothing,â you said weakly. âIâll transfer my things tomorrow. Thank you.â
Your instructor nodded, and that was that. In the blink of an eye, youâd lost the final piece of what youâd had left of Chan.
You adjusted the strap of your bag, bowing quickly to her and turning to leave. Your pace quickened as you exited the lab, a wave of inexplicable emotions rising within you. It ushered you to head home as soon as possible, like it was a race against time, like you had to reach shelter before it crashed into the shore and drowned you in front of everyone.
A cold gust of air billowed past you as you pushed open the doors to the physics building. You squinted against it, burying your hands in your pockets. The sky was still covered with that same, gray sheetâmuch darker than it had been earlier in the week. The closer you studied it, the more it looked like the clouds might break at any given moment. All the more reason to rush home; you hadnât brought an umbrella.
Your phone vibrated against your hand, and you fished it out of your pocket without thinking. Anything to distract you from this.Â
bin đ (2:27 p.m.) hey
bin đ (2:28 p.m.) is everything okay?
Just as you were about to close the notification, another came.
bin đ (2:30 p.m.) did something happen with chan?
You stopped in your tracks.Â
Did he really not know? Had Chan still not said anything to him? Was he keeping it all to himself? Suffering in silence, even now?
You didnât have to question it for long. Of course he was.Â
Against your better judgment, you typed out a reply, fingers stiff from the cold andâfor some reasonâthumb burning.
you (2:33 p.m.) iâm fine bin donât worry about me
you (2:34 p.m.) please just be there for chan
bin đ (2:36 p.m.) where have u been??? i was worried
Guilt, guilt, guilt.Â
He wouldnât be worried anymore when he found out the truth.
bin đ (2:38 p.m) pls talk to me
You wanted to talk to him. You so badly wanted to talk to himânot even about everything that had transpired over the past four days, just in general. You wanted to tease him, to laugh with him, to share a meal with him, to chatter about the most trivial, most mundane of topics with him because you could, because you enjoyed each otherâs company and nothing else.
You missed your friend. But he was Chanâs friend first and foremost; Chanâs little brother. Losing Chan meant losing Changbin. The moment heâd find out what youâd done, how youâd hurt the person he admired most in this world, he would look at you with that same, dark glare that had unsettled you so much on the day youâd first met. Only this time, it wouldnât be misleading, masking the kindness underneath. It would be real, intentional. He would mean every bit of it.
Minhoâs glares were one thing. The thought of Changbin looking at you the same way was more than you could take. There was no place for you in his life anymore.
A droplet landed on your screen, splattering water across it and blurring the words of his message. You looked up at the sky. The clouds had broken.
You were going to cry.
It was for the best, probably. A pot could only withstand so much before it boiled over.
You pulled the hood of your jacket over your head just as the rain began to fall more steadily, sinking to the ground and settling on the curb of the sidewalk. You gave up on outrunning the wave. For once, uncaring of the people around you. For once, allowing yourself to be an inconvenience.Â
Vaguely, you felt another buzz in your pocket; repeating, persistent. Changbin must have been calling you. Pressure rose in your chest. A strange sound built in your throat, an unpleasant, unfamiliar sensation pricked at your eyes. But before droplets of your own could well up in their corners, before you could release, the feeling of rain pattering relentlessly against your clothes came to a sudden halt, like something had passed over you, shielding you from it.
You didnât bother to look up, praying that whoever it was whose presence you felt hovering above you, theyâd take the hint and leave you alone. Just a moment to wallow in your misery. Just a moment to feel without worrying about anyone or anything else. Even now, that was too much to ask for, it seemed.
Through the roaring downpour, you barely caught itâsoft, airy.
âItâs raining.â
Your blood ran cold, chilling you more than any of the water seeping through your clothing, right down to your bones.
Of course. You almost laughed out loud. Of fucking course.
This had to be some kind of joke, the universeâs cruel finale to everything it had put you through over the past three years.
âGo away.â
âArenât you gonna congratulate me for learning how to use an umbrella?â
You peered up through the mess of hair and fabric blocking your vision, fixing him with a look fiercer than any of the insults heâd ever hurled your way.
âGo away.â
His stare didnât waver, face unchanging as always. It mustâve been so easy, to be so unaffected. It mustâve been so easy, to care so little. He blinked down at you, andâdespite the static swarming your mindâthrough it all, you couldnât help but notice that there was nothing harsh about the look he was giving you. Not quite warm, not quite cold. It was far from the self-satisfied expression of someone who knew he had been right all along. Of someone who knew that he had won.Â
âCome with me.â
You watched him blankly, too appalled to speak.Â
When you didnât budge, he tilted his wrist, leaning his umbrella forward so that it covered you completely and exposed part of himself to the rain.
âIâll get sick if you donât.â
âYeah? Brew yourself some yuja tea.â
His lip twitched into the beginnings of a smirk. Not smug, not condescending. Just faintly amused.
âThat was pretty funny.â He tilted the umbrella further. The rain began to land on his hair, darkening it, weighing it down. âBut Iâm really starting to get cold, now.â
âI donât care.â
He clicked his tongue. Still, he made no move to leave, not even to pull his umbrella back over himself. You mightâve been swayed by whatever approach he was taking if you werenât too preoccupied with figuring out just how the hell you could get rid of this guy.
âBy the way,â he added casually. âChangbin gave me something. I think it belongs to you?â
You cursed yourself for perking up so quickly, so obviously. It was only for a split second, but he caught onâof course he didâeyes glinting like a cat that had spotted its target in all your loose threads.
âWhat do you want?â
âLetâs talk,â he said. âCome with me, and the pencilâs all yours.â
You gave in. For whatever reason, Lee Minho had suddenly decided that you were now worth his time.
He didnât offer his hand to help you come to full standing, but he kept the umbrella steadily above you as you rose from the curb, allowing himself to get drenched in the process. It almost made you grimace more than his usual behavior, solely because it felt so wrong. And, maybe, because you felt like you didnât deserve it. Not even from someone like him.
As he led you down the sidewalk towards wherever he planned to take you, you inched away from him, back into the rain. He made no effort to move closer again, but you did notice his eyes flicker your way once or twice.
You shuffled awkwardly behind him, focus kept firmly on the pavement, feet kicking up water with every step you took. It wasnât until the warm, addictive scent of freshly-ground coffee flooded your senses that you lifted your head with a start, just in time to see Minho wiping the bottom of his shoes on the campus library mat. He shook out his umbrella and stepped inside, seemingly debating for a moment whether or not he should hold the door open for you.
An ache gripped your heart, somehow, stronger than anything youâd felt over the past four days. It ached and throbbed and pulsed when you processed where you were headed. The table right across from the entrance, at the very back of the library.
You half-expected to find him thereâshrouded in black, hunched over his laptop, one set of fingers playing with his lips, the other set tapping along to the melody of his music. But his seat was empty. He wasn't there anymore.
You tried to control the sheer enormity of your anguish as you approached its source. Youâd already humiliated yourself enough in front of the last person youâd ever have wanted to witness it. Even if he didnât seem nearly as delighted with your downfall as youâd imagined, the fact that heâd caught you more vulnerable than anyone else had before, more than Chan ever had, made your skin positively crawl.
Minho sat down with a heavy sigh, ruffling his hair in a half-hearted attempt to dry it out. He slipped off his drenched jacket, giving it a disgusted look before dropping it on the table.
âWant some coffee?â
âNo.â
âItâll warm you up.â
You narrowed your eyes. If youâd had any semblance of rationality left in your system, you wouldâve told yourself that it was just an offhand comment, that he couldnât possibly have known just how devoid of warmth you truly were. But you were far past that point. Everything he said was a trap and everything he did was a taunt.
When he saw that you had no plans to respond, he shrugged. âSuit yourself.â
âWhereâs my pencil?â
âOh,â he sniffed. âI lied about that.â
You bristled. âWhat?â
âI donât have it,â he clarified. âI lied so youâd come with me. Get it?â
You reached for your bag, preparing to leave.
âYou can take it from Changbin yourself,â he continued. âOnce this is all fixed.â
For once, the absolute certainty with which he spoke, like anything that came out of his mouth was a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled, wasnât used to stir doubt within you. You froze in place. Whether it was a flash of hope, or a stubborn indignation that kept you rooted to your chair, you werenât quite sure.
âOnce this is fixed?â you echoed, rife with hostility. âThis is exactly what you wanted, isnât it? Chan hates me just as much as you do, now. You win.â
âI donât hate you.â
You scoffed, expecting the lieâbecause it had to be a lie, a jeer, a vicious way to kick you while you were downâto be followed by that same scornful sneer that had become all too familiar for your liking.Â
But it never came.
Your disbelief was only met with a sincere, unbreaking expression. No games, no underlying meaning. A complete contrast to everything you associated with Lee Minho.
âAre you serious?â
âYou donât believe me?â he feigned hurt, which you had half a mind to be infuriated about considering the many, many worse things heâd assumed about you. âI mean it. I donât hate you.â
You blinked.
âI probably couldâve,â he added unhelpfully. âIf what I'd thought about you turned out to be true. But really, I just didnât trust you.â
You grunted to at least acknowledge his confession, unsure of how else you should react. If that was how he treated the people he didnât trust, youâd love to know what his hatred looked like.Â
Youâd long told yourself not to take it personally, but for some reason, there was an undeniable sting there. Maybe it was because Minho was eerily perceptive, so much that this whole ordeal had planted the idea in your head that he had to be correct. Or maybe, it was because youâd always felt like there was a bit of truth to his impression of you, even before youâd met him, even before his opinion of you had sunk straight into the gutter. Having someone else say it out loud had just forced you to come to terms with it.
That constant voice in the back of your head, etching guilt into your mind. Telling you that you liked hurting the people who depended on you, that you liked to build them a safe haven and then crush it before their very eyes. Exactly what he had claimed youâd done to him.
Exactly what youâd done to Chan.
âAm I making things worse?â Minho tilted his head.Â
âNo,â you answered, and it was mostly honest. âGo on.â
He said nothing, eyeing you for a moment longer. It put you on high alert. Similarly to Chan, you couldnât shake the feeling that he was delving straight into your centerâbut unlike Chan, there was no comfort of being able to stare right back into his.Â
âYou probably know this by now, but Chan is an easy target for a lot of people,â he began. Slow, deliberate, no playful lilt to it. âHe can usually tell when heâs being mistreated, but even so, he puts up with it. He thinks he can make it all better.â
You shifted uncomfortably in your spot, concentrating on the rain droplets that hadnât yet dried from your hair. âYeah, I know.âÂ
I know better than you. The petty side of you wanted to tack on. But you decided against it, instead choosing to foster whatever kind of tentative truce was coming to fruition here.
Minho paused again. âRight.â
âSo, what, you thought I was one of those people?â
âMm.â Blunt as ever. âLike I said, I've seen the type before. And if Chan wasnât going to do anything about it, then I was.â
Heâd changed his wording, you noticed. It had been your type before, uttered with all the contempt and venom in the world. You wanted to find consolation in that subtle difference, but it didnât stop the memory from rousing your defiance all over again.
âYou think he canât make decisions for himself?â
It was a riskâhypocritical, too, when you knew firsthand what kind of decisions Chan made for himself, when you knew firsthand the powerlessness of trying to get him to stopâbut you said it anyway. Minho hummed, leaning back in his chair, as if the challenge in your words hadnât affected him in the slightest.
âOf course he can,â he replied evenly. âDoesnât make them right. When you see your friend make the same decision over and over and get hurt every single time, wouldnât it be cruel to just sit by and watch?â
He looked off to the side, and if you hadnât known any better, you mightâve thought that he wasâGod forbidâtrying to prevent you from possibly catching on to an emotion of his.
âThatâs what real insanity isâisnât that how the saying goes? Repeating the same thing and expecting different results.â
You knew, deep down, that his explanation made sense, and somehow, that only stung more. You felt wronged, like the collateral damage for all the people who had harmed Chan in the past. The fact that Minho had treated you so coldly out of the goodness of his heart wasnât much of a reprieve. In a childish sense, it made things even worse, because now, your own negative feelings towards him felt unjustified.
That didnât even begin to cover the fact that he had been right.Â
Every part of you wanted to object to him lumping you in with all the others as the same decision, but in the end, you were just another name on the endless list of people who had hurt Chan.
When he saw how long youâd gone silent for, Minho spoke up again, looking unsure of himself for what may very well have been the first time in his life.Â
âIâmâŚâ he huffed. âLook, I was wrong.â
As always, what he said was the polar opposite of what youâd been thinking. It was almost comical, how the wavelengths the two of you operated on were so determined to be different in every conceivable way.Â
His ears, you noticed, had dusted red at the tipsâthe exact same way Chanâs would flare up when he was flustered. You hated how it weakened your resolve, how his mere association with Chan had you more than willing to accept his olive branch, however awkwardly shaped it was.
âChanâs done a lot for meâfor everyone. I just wanted to protect him.â
That was the point of convergence, the one, precious point where your waves intersected. The desire to keep Chan safe. You understood it better than anything else, and so, for that fleeting moment, you understood Minho. Still, your prideâsomething youâd repressed far too many times in your attempts to reconcile with him beforeâwasnât quite ready to back down.
âBut you barely even knew me,â you protested. âWhat did I do to make you decide that you hated me all of a sudden?â
âDidnât hate you,â he corrected.
You pressed your lips together into an annoyed line. âWhat made you think I wanted toâŚto hurt him?â
Minho looked contemplative, and you found yourself worrying that he may simply decide not to tell you. You wouldnât put it past him. It would be painfully on-brand, actually, at least with the version of him that youâd come to know.Â
âChan came home crying.â
Your throat went dry.
âWhat?â you rasped. âWhen?â
âBack in July. The morning I got back from summer break.â
The morning after youâd first slept together. All at once, everything snapped into placeâpieces of the puzzle that you hadnât been able to connect, pieces that you hadnât even known were missing in the first place.
âSo, he comes home from your place, crying, with those marks all over his neck,â he explained. âIt wasnât the first time something like that happened. I put two and two together.â
You felt sick enough that you actually feared you might throw up, right there, on the library floor.
âI thought he mustâve landed himself in a bad spot again. With someone who only wanted to use him.â
âWhy?â You gripped your soaked bag to your chest, with so much force that residual water began to dribble out of it. âWhy was he crying?â
How did I hurt him? You wanted to add. Why didnât he tell me? Why didnât I notice?Â
How could you have ever let this happen?
Minho hesitated, and you squeezed your eyes shut, not entirely certain that you even wanted to hear the answer.
âHe was happy.â
Confusion. And then, relief. And then, confusion again. The turmoil must have been written all over your face, because Minho ever so graciously decided to elaborate.
âI didnât find that part out until yesterday, though. Not much of a happy crier, myself.â
A fresh surge of anger overtook everything else you were struggling to comprehend. Thoughts of what couldâve been, of how it all might have turned out if it werenât for the man in front of you. The man who had given you all the tools in chiseling your self-doubt to perfection, who had passed you the hammer to destroy what you loved most.
You wanted it to be his fault. It would be so easy to pin the blame all on him. But nothing was ever that easy. Nothing was ever that simple. Even without the right tools, you wouldâve found a way to destroy it regardless. It was what you were best at.
âYou didnât bother to ask him!?â you snapped.
âOh. You think Iâm stupid.â A glimpse of his former sharpness. You had to stop yourself from saying yes, just to spite him. âOf course, I asked. More than once. But his answer was the same as alwaysâhe smiled and told me not to worry. Heâd say it with a gun to his head.â
You frowned. It was too much to process at once, too much for your already worn-down brain to compute. All you could really make sense of was a gut feeling, an instinct, telling you that youâd made a horrible, horrible mistake.
âI talked to Chan yesterday,â he mellowed again, back to his usual, airy tenor. âHe told me everything. He doesnât seem to fully understand it, but I do.â
Minho locked eyes with you, deep, intense. No longer the look of someone that had decided you were guilty, but a look that warned you that he would know if you were lying to him.
âYou care about him, donât you?â
It sounded more like a statement than a question, but you nodded, anyway. Such a simple thing to admit to. How could such a simple thing have ever led to all of this?Â
âYeah,â you mumbled. âThatâs why I did it. I was afraid Iâd end upâŚâ
You took in a shaky breath.
âI just didnât want to hurt him.â
âAh, seriously.â He pinched the bridge of his nose, and he laughed. Incredulous, dry, ending with an exhale. âYou broke up with him because you didnât want to hurt him? Do you realize how insane that sounds?â
Your face heated up. âYouâre the one who thought I would in the first place!â
âBut I was wrong.â
You were taken aback by how plainly he admitted to it, how that indestructible, stubborn pride of his was extinguished the instant heâd learned it had harmed someone he cared about. Even more troubling than that, was the fact that you could tell he was apologetic, even without him saying it outright. All of this, as annoyingly as he was going about it, was his apology to you. Changbinâs wordsâfond and reassuring and, now, truer than everâreverberated in your mind. Soft at heart.
âPeople are supposed to help each other. You know that, right?â
You snorted at the absurdity of the question.Â
âObviously.â
âSo why are you so weird about it?â
âItâs different with Chan,â you insisted. âYou said it yourself. He does so muchâeveryone takes so much from him. I didnât want to do the same.â
âBut thatâs still not fair, is it?â he countered. âYouâd just be giving everything instead. Chan doesnât want that, either.â
You opened your mouth to argue, only for the words to die in your throat. There was no way to justify it without sounding ridiculousâmaybe, because it was a bit ridiculous. But Chan was the exception, he would always be the exception. You would give everything to him because you knew he would never take it for granted. You would give everything to him because heâd already given everyone so much.
Because heâd given you so much.Â
Ah.
âGod, you two are soââ Minho cradled head dramatically, sensing that youâd finally worked it out in your mind. âYouâve already got the hardest part figured out. Just learn to take once in a while. Youâre not gonna die.â
âBut he wonât change unless I do,â you muttered. âI know he wonât.â
He gave you a look of pure exasperation, as if the answer couldnât have been more obvious.
âSo, change.â
ăâăË ĘĂŻÉ ËăâăâăË ĘĂŻÉ ËăâăâăË ĘĂŻÉ Ëăâă
The feeling of your heart threatening to burst out of your chest, courtesy of Bang Christopher Chan, was one youâd become well-acquainted with over the past seven months. But of all the times youâd experienced it, itâd never been quite like this. This was something else entirely.
A day to mull everything over after your conversation with Minho, a restless night spent trying and failing to map out how you could possibly approach the situation, and over an hour of pacing restlessly around your apartmentâall useless in ebbing the adrenaline that coursed through your veins. Before the clock had even struck 10:00 a.m., youâd not only felt like you had run a marathon, but that you could run another for good measure.Â
Youâd spoken to Changbin first. He at least deserved to know what was going on. He deserved an apology, even if the very real possibility that he would never speak to you again afterwards made your stomach churn. On a more selfish noteâyou figured today was as good as any to start with thatâyouâd also just really, really missed him.Â
As it turned out, heâd more or less come to grasp the situation, even when being protected from all angles. Between what little Minho had let slip, Chanâs avoidant behavior (to the surprise of no one, heâd hardly let Changbin know a thing) and your vaguely ominous texts, heâd gathered up enough bits and pieces for his genius intuition to fill in the gaps. The sound of his voice once youâd revealed what had happened in full; compassionate, calmânot an ounce of the disdain youâd resigned yourself to be met with so viciouslyâhad almost been enough to make you choke up.
âYou shouldâve told me,â heâd chided. âWhy do you love doing that to yourself? What, you think Iâm not strong enough to lean on?â
Youâd let out a long exhale, heavy with all the apprehension you released with it; relieved, embarrassed, resigned. âItâs not that, Bin,â youâd mumbled. âI didnât want to trouble you. Not when Chan and Minho both mean so much to you.â
âAnd you think you donât? Câmon, youâre supposed to be the smart one here.â
Naturally, it only added to your guilt, that youâd created such an uncharacteristically cruel image of him in your head. This was Seo Changbin, after all. A great talker, but an even better listener, and as much as he liked to tease Chan for his age, he had a level of emotional intelligence far beyond his years. A wisdom that you would probably do well to learn from whenever it bothered to make an appearance.Â
At the same time, however, this was Seo Changbin, the one man show, Leo incarnate. Once the relief of hearing back from you had eased his conscience (as much as it could, knowing how horribly tangled up everything had become), the theatrics had ensued.
âDating my best friend is one thing, but breaking his heart is off limits!â heâd complained. It was mostly light. No real anger behind it, just plenty of highly-warranted frustration. âNot only thatâbreaking your own heart too! What am I supposed to do with two brokenhearted best friends? Hang out with Minho!?â
After a slew of loud, nagging, reprimands, and a very serious threat that Cinnamoroll would be held hostage until further notice, Changbin had let you go. For the first time in five days, youâd laughed. Youâd never felt more grateful, or more stupid, in your life. He made it all sound so simple. Lee Minho, quite possibly the most convoluted piece of work youâd ever encountered in this world, had made it all sound so simple.Â
You could only hope that you hadnât crushed it into something infinitely more complicated, something beyond repair.
The trembling of your fingers, coupled with that strange sensation in your thumb that had yet to go away, made it difficult for you to type properly. Still, you persisted, throwing caution to the wind. Caution had ruled over you for far too long, anyway.
you (10:03 a.m.) hi
you (10:04 a.m.) i understand if you want some space right now but if you can, iâd like to talk
You prepared to lock your phone, not expecting a reply for some timeâif any at all. Even under normal circumstances, he didnât always get back to you right away. But, well, maybe the fact that the circumstances were anything but normal shouldâve been enough for you to know better, because you didnât even get the chance to swipe out of your messaging app before you noticed three little dots below your chat bubble.
Appearing. Disappearing. Appearing. Disappearing. Just a sign of life from him, and your palms had grown clammy. With fear, anticipation, dread. The dread of being met with anything but love, anything but warmth.
Then, at last, a single word.
channie đş (10:08 a.m.) about?
you (10:08 a.m.) everything us
This time, it took him longer to respond. Ignoring every instinct that screamed otherwise, you typed up another text. There was no use hiding. There was never any use hiding with him.
you (10:12 a.m.) i donât think i can do this
Almost immediately.
channie đş (10:12 a.m.) me neither
Your heart leapt. You didnât want it to give you hope. He had every right, every reason in the world, to not give you the time of day. He could get his closure and leave you, just as youâd left him.
channie đş (10:13 a.m.) i can be over in 10?
A million thoughts sparked to life at once. The question of why he was already so close by. The urge to insist that you go meet him instead. The sudden realization that you were in no way prepared to see him so soon.
But all of it, overwhelming as it was, didnât hold a candle to your strongest desireâa desire that could never be subdued by anything else. To put Chan first.
you (10:14 a.m.) okay, sure see you soon
Get here safe, Channie. You added in your head.
ăâăË ĘĂŻÉ ËăâăâăË ĘĂŻÉ ËăâăâăË ĘĂŻÉ Ëăâă
Chan looked tired when you opened the door. Eyes dull, drooping, littered with traces of pink and lined with dark circles. A few stray curls peeked out from beneath his beanie. You prayed that the black hoodie he was wearing wasnât the same one heâd had on five days ago. He looked so tired. Tired and cold.
His gaze met yours. Just for a heartbeat, then it fell to the ground. You wanted to think it was because he felt self-conscious, you wanted to think it was that shynessâthat hopelessly endearing shyness that got the best of him no matter how many times he looked at you. You didnât want to believe that he simply couldnât stomach the sight of you anymore.
âAre you okay?â
Chan tensed. Then, he caught you eyeing the bandaid on his thumb. He brushed his finger over it absentmindedly. Heâd thought the pain had faded until now.
âYeah. Just cut my finger.â
Your expression changed.
âOn accident.â
âOh,â you murmured. âDoes it hurt?â
âA bit.â
You reached up to tug at your ear. He swiped his thumb over his nose.
âIââ you swallowed. The moment heâd stepped through the door, everything youâd so carefully planned to say, every point youâd spent hours trying to piece together into something comprehensible, was immediately tossed out the window. You had to navigate this in real time. There was no map for itâthe path to something better. The only place youâd ever journeyed was your own destruction.Â
âIâm so sorry,â you blurted out. âI think I messed up.â
He lifted his head. For once, unreadable.
âWhat do you mean?â
He knew what you meant, you were sure of it. But he wanted you to say itâneeded you to say it. He needed you to dare to open yourself up to him, just as he had to you.
You understood now. That was the most important thing you couldâve ever given him, yet the one thing youâd refused to give.
âIâm not used to this,â you confessed. âI donât know how to get used to it. YouâreâŚyouâre so good, Chan. To everyone. To me.â
Already, cracks were beginning to form in your composure. You had to keep it together, just enough to fix this. Just enough to hold the mirror up to him before it shattered.Â
âWhen someone that good comes into your life, you wanna do everything you can to keep them, yâknow? I wanted to do everything for you.â
Chanâs breath caught in his throat, audibly, and you knew a protest was building on his tongue. So, you barreled through. Â
âItâs exactly because youâre so good that I got so scared. Because you wouldnât just let me do it all for you like everyone else does.â
There was a pause, long and heavy enough for you to debate if you should just keep going, to air it all out and pray that at least some of it would come out sensical. But before you could, he spoke up, attentive as ever in what he chose to focus on. He narrowed it down like second nature, sought out the most essential part. The root of it all.
âYou were scared?â
You winced. âIâŚyeah.â
âIâm sorry.â
Whatever remained of your heart from the past few days was effectively smashed into pieces. An apology from the last person on earth you needed to hear it from. An apology from someone who was owed so many apologies. From you, from himself, and from countless others who would never have to say it.
âWhy are you sorry?âÂ
âI drove you to this, didn't I?â he whispered. âI thought about it the past few daysâtalked with Minho about it. I put you in a position you didnât want. Itâs my fault.â
âOh, Channie,â it slipped out so naturally, with such ease, you didnât even have the chance to second-guess yourself. âYour only fault is the way you treat yourself.â
Chan didnât appear convinced. He shuffled his feet from side to side, hands heavy in the pocket of his hoodie. Restless, ashamed. Still not looking you in the eye. You werenât grateful for it anymore; you missed his gaze. Dark and reflective, kind and curious. Seeing right through you, even with all its flickering around.Â
âMaybe I needed to be put in that position,â you continued. âI was just too much of a coward to take it. B-because you were right. I try to be everything for people, then I end up being nothing. I was so afraid I was going to do that to youâor even worse. I was afraid I was going to be the one taking everything from you.â
âWhy would you ever think that?â he sounded so helpless, like you were communicating in two completely foreign tongues. No room for speaking in riddles. âI saw every little way you cared for me. Always. Did you think I didnât?â
Challenging him meant challenging yourself. Youâd taken the plunge acutely aware of that fact, this time. Still, the panic rose in your chest all over again, the itch in your feet goaded you to turn and run.
âI know you did. And thatâs more than enough for me.â You forced yourself to take a step forward instead, desperate to get through to him, desperate to reach him. âBut when you do these things for me at your own expenseâŚwhen you donât tell me about it, donât you see how that could scare me? As someone who cares about you?â
In all the time youâd known Chan, youâd never once have guessed that he could be so difficult. But if that unshakeable stubbornness would emerge over anything, of course it would be this. He would never make things difficult for anyone but himself. You still remembered how plainly heâd said it, how bleak and merciless and cold it had been: âIt doesnât matter.â
You could tell he sensed how on-edge you were, how laughably out of your element something like this was for you. But you were pushing yourselfâfor him. So, like a true reflection, he matched you.
âI guess I was scared, too,â he admitted quietly. âItâs been the only thing I know how to do for so long. I thoughtâŚI-I thought youâd leave if I did anything else. Because why else would you stay, yâknow?â
Youâd known it. Even before heâd bared himself to you, even before youâd had the knowledge to connect all the dots, youâd felt it, deep within you. But that didnât make hearing him say it out loud any less devastating.
âI donât love you because of what you can do for me, Chan.â
His eyes shot up at last. Wide, intense, searching. Realigning with you. A break in the fog that had been clouding your view of each other for the past five days.
It may have been unfairâcruel, evenâto say now. But you needed him to hear it, even if this was the end of the road for you and him. You needed to at least plant the seed in his mind with the hopes that one day, with enough care, it might sprout into something beautiful.
âYouâre worth so much as you are,â you tried to get a handle on the shake creeping into it. âYou do so much for me just by being yourself.â
Chan blinked. Pupils darting between you and the floor, hands slipping from his pockets, face muscles twisting in an internal conflict. You could see him physically exerting all his willpower to not reject the ideaâto dare to accept a love so unconditional, solely so that you might accept it in return.
âIf I told you the same thing,â he began slowly. âWould you believe me?â
You sucked in a deep breath. âI can learn to believe it.â
His fingers flexed. You realized for the first time how close the distance between you and him had becomeâdrifting towards each other involuntarily. That inevitable, magnetic pull, more powerful than any of the forces youâd studied in four years.
âOkay.â He was reaching out for you. âThen, how about we learn together, yeah?â
Your heart jumped against your ribcage. Over his words. Over the sight of his pinky, held out in earnest despite you giving it such little reason to ever do so again, waiting patiently to curl against yours.Â
Youâd believe in anything that connected you to him.
âTogether.â
Just as quickly as things had fallen apart, the foundation was laid out for them to be put back together. A steady foundation, built to last. Your belief that day had turned out to be true, after all. Everything always worked out when you talked to Chan. When you leaned into him. When you didnât run.
Heat rippled through you the instant your fingers entwined, fiercer, more all-consuming than even the first time youâd ever touched. Still, neither of you pulled away. For the first time in five days, you were warm again.
The new, unspoken promise igniting to life between you reminded you of another; one that youâd let sit on your ledger for far too long. One youâd made so carelessly to the boy who deserved all the care in the world. The boy who treated you with all the care in the world.
âIâm going to be more selfish from now on.â You tightened your hold on his pinky, creating a fresh buzz of heat. âBecause I want you to be, too.â
You thought you were hallucinating it for a second, the beginnings of a grin on Chanâs face. Soft cheeks rising, not enough to draw out his dimples or eclipse his eyes, but enough to make you certain of your decision. The key youâd tossed out a year and a half ago was in that smile.
âGuess Iâve got no choice but to mirror you.â
âThatâs right,â any firmness it mightâve had was lost to a smile of your own. Exhausted, but tragically enamored with the boy in front of you. âSince you wanna be my other half so bad, and all.â
He giggled. Short, sweet, playing the strings of your heart like a harp. Or, rather, its melody was the sound of your heart.
âIâm gonna tell you some things,â you warned. âAnd theyâre not going to be nice. Or good. Is that okay?â
âAnything.â He unhooked his pinky from yours, only to wiggle his sleeve back and weave all of your fingers together instead. Five fingers, one for each of the days youâd spent apart. Your palm pressed against his, pumping faintly with your quickening pulse. âTell me anything.â
You inhaled. Better to start with something smaller, first. A test run in this whole emotional openness thing.
âAbout MinhoâŚâ
âHe gave you plenty of trouble, didnât he?â
You puffed out a soft laugh. âWell, I gave him some back.â
âI scolded him,â Chan mumbled. âA lot. Bin did, too.â
You tried not to feel too satisfied about it. The idea of Chan, so doting, so unabashed in his adoration for the younger boy, rebuking him, addressing him with anything but overflowing fondness. You would take it as a small, private victoryâone that Minho didnât need to know about now that youâd both chosen to bury the hatchet.
âButâŚI hope you wonât think badly of him. He means well, really. Heâsââ
âSoft at heart, right?â you finished for him. âItâs okay, we talked it out in the end. I think."
âYeah,â he sighed. âYeah, he told me.â
You couldâve laughed. Lee Minho. You never thought youâd see the day where the mention of him wouldnât be promptly followed by a wave of absolute revulsion. You wondered if he was the reason Chan had even agreed to see you today. You wondered if he was the reason Chan had only been ten minutes away from your apartment before youâd even sent him a message.
âI just wish youâd told me.â
I wish youâd told me. They were words youâd said to him so many times, words youâd wanted to say on even more occasions. But it was in your hands, now. You were in each otherâs hands, now. You didnât have to wish anymore.
âI know.â You gave his palm a squeeze. âBut you can see why I didnât, right?â
He nodded, sheepish, well aware that it was a pointed question.
âA lot of the things Minho did were to protect you,â you murmured. âBut, a lot of the things he said were things someone else once said to me. I guess it made them easier to believe.â
Chanâs thumb glided delicately across the back of your hand. You knew he could predict where this was going.
âWhen you told me about what happened two years ago, I think I related to you a lot. I think it was one of those shared experiences you talked about.â
Each sentence felt like it was being dragged out of you, uprooted. But it was necessary. Clearing the weeds out to make room for something less parasiticâmaybe, even flowers. âMy last relationship was with someone who took a lot out of me, too. He needed someone to depend on. IâŚI wanted to be that for him.â
âI know you did.â Gentle, sad. A tenderness for you and, hopefully, himself. It gave you the strength to keep going.
âHe needed so many things, felt so many things. All his emotions became mine until I didnât have any for myself,â you were losing control of your voice again. âI didnât understand how you could ever blame yourself for what that girl did to you. But, really, Iâve always blamed myself, too. Because I let him rely on me. I promised to be everything for him, then I left.â
âBut he never let you rely on him, did he?â Chan didnât miss a beat, like he already knew the answer. âHe wanted you to carry it all yourself.â
You averted your stare. âM-maybe. And maybe I wanted that, too. Some people just need more support than others, yâknow? I thought I could handle it.â
You always thought you could handle it, even when every past experience proved otherwise. That was yet another thing Minho had been right about. Youâd driven yourself mad repeating the same cycle over and over again, deluding yourself into thinking it could ever turn out any different.
âNobody needs no support at all,â he pointed out. âNot even someone as strong as you.â
Strong. Hearing the word come out of his mouthâhis perfect mouth, in that light, melodic voiceâpricked at your eyes. It was a term youâd never once thought to describe yourself with. It was the exact opposite of everything youâd come to believe about yourself. You wanted to reject it, to crush the idea before letting it get to your head. But how could you, when it came from the strongest person you knew? How could you do anything but cling to it, cherish it?
âI donât know if Iâm strong,â you muttered, blinking away what was sure to come eventually. âItâs just that every time Iâve tried to lean on someone, they let me fall. So itâs better to stand on my own.â
âYeah. I understand."
You knew that much was true. You knew, painfully well, how much he understood. And you knew he still thought you were strong.
âIâŚâ Everything had been put into placeâor, rather, everything had been properly displacedâfor the dam to break loose. Tentatively, lovingly, he was helping you pull out each log. It filled you with fear, down to every last fiber of your being, but you knew that you could break in front of him. He wouldnât crumble with you. He wouldnât shatter over the mere prospect of you expressing an emotion of your own. Heâd let you release, and when it was all over, heâd help you pick up the pieces. Just as you had with him.
âI lost my friend last year.â
âLostâŚ?â
âI mean, she passed awayâlast summer. She was in an accident back home.â
Such a common way to die for someone who was anything but. Such a special person to become part of such an ordinary statistic. Chanâs face morphed into something heartbreaking, a look that told you he felt everything you were feeling in that moment. The gears were turning in his head, you could see it unfolding through your blurred vision. That was why you hadnât wanted to return home over the summer. That was why youâd come back to him so soon.
âIâm so sorry.â
You knew he wasnât only giving his condolences, he was apologizing for ever cornering you to reveal it. For forcing you to unveil the wound that had been festering for so long. Bleeding with no signs of stopping, neglected with no signs of healing.
âItâs okay, Iââ A lump rose in your throat. âI need to talk about it, I think. Never really did.â
His hand tugged at yours, just barely, uncertain. Always hesitant to pull you as close as he really wanted. You leaned forward all at once, falling into him. And he caught you.
âNever?âÂ
âI tried once.â You rested your head against him, and his arms locked securely around you straight away. No room for you to fear, even for a second, that he might let you fall. âI tried to tell him. He always said he felt bad that he wasnât there for me like I was for him. B-butâŚâ The wave was rising again. âHe just left.â
You couldnât see Chanâs expression, you werenât sure if you wanted to. You didnât want to know what anger might look like on such an angelic face. But you could feel it, his jaw clenching, his muscles tensing. You figured he must look something like you had that night in October, struggling to maintain the delicacy in your movements as he revealed things that had filled you with a protective fire.
âHe left?â Chan repeated, strained. âHe left you like that?â
âYeah. I-I guess it made him feel worse to be there.â
His hand began to run slowly up and down your back; drawing out your pain and soothing it simultaneously. When he spoke again, his tone was softer. Heâd put his anger to the side, just as you had that night. âIt must have been lonely for you.âÂ
Lonely. Something else youâd never once considered. Something else that became so obvious only once heâd said it. Youâd always been surrounded by people, but they were all flocking to a version of you that didnât exist. A version youâd let them believe was real, because that was so much easier. Maybe the version of you, in your truest form, had been lonely.
âA little.â You buried your nose into his hoodie. No scent of sweet citrus today, no vanilla cherry blossom. Just him. âI think sheâs the only one I couldâve talked to about it. SheâŚshe was a lot like you, in some ways.â
Something seemed to dawn on Chan, because he gripped you a little tighter, pulled you impossibly closer. The realization that the universe had taken away the only person youâd ever come to rely on. Of course you would be terrified to ever let anyone take that role again.
âShe sounds exactly the kind of friend you deserve,â his voice rumbled softly where you rested against his chest. âYou can tell me about her. About it all. Iâm here to listen.â
âI want to,â you took in a sharp inhale. âBut I think Iâm going to cry.â
âYou can do that, too.âÂ
The wave engulfed you in full. For the first time since the day youâd lost her, you allowed yourself to cry over her.
Given how long youâd been holding it in, it didnât come out nearly as explosive as youâd expected. The tears slipped from your eyes and down your cheeks without a sound, but they came and came and came. Each hot stream was immediately followed by a fresh one, a buildup of all the sorrow youâd kept sealed inside you for the past year and a half, and all the years before that. You didnât sob or wail or scream out, but with how tightly Chan was holding you, you were certain he felt every tremor, every subdued hiccup, every droplet soaking through his clothes.
âItâll be okay, one day,â he promised. âYouâll remember all the happy times with her. Thatâs something you can never lose.â
You hoped it was true. You hoped that one day, you could step off the train in your hometown, take in the pine-tinged summer air, pick a chrysanthemum from that flower stall, and remember her with that warm, glowing ball of light you used to carry in your chest.
Chan didnât stop rubbing your back the entire time you cried. He didnât stop enveloping you in his warmth. He didnât stop humming sweetly in your ear.Â
He didnât leave.
The tears eventually stopped flowing, not because it didnât hurt anymoreâyou just didnât think your body could keep up. No amount of tears could ever live up to your grief for her. But your breathing slowed, your shaking steadied, and, as much as your head positively throbbed, a sense of tranquility came with it, one you couldnât remember the last time youâd felt.
âThank you, Channie,â you mumbled. âThank you for being here.â
âThank you for trusting me.â
After everything youâd put him through the past five days, after heâd listened to you so intently and patiently as you poured your heart out, after heâd comforted you when he was still in such a fragile state himself, he was thanking you. It was hopeless. You would fall in love with him over and over again, every moment you spent with him.Â
âHave youâŚâ he hesitated. âHave you ever thought about talking to someone? About everything?â
âNo,â you choked out a sad laugh. âNot really.â
Chan hummed again, quiet. He rested his hand on the back of your head, as if to pull you so far into him that youâd meld fully together.
âYou shouldnât torture yourself anymore,â he murmured.
âNeither should you.â
So immediate, so resolute, it made him stiffen against you.
âMy stuff doesnât compare to any of this.â
âThatâs not true. Youâve only told me the half of it, havenât you?â You curled your fingers a bit tighter around his hoodie. âYou've been through so much to become this strong, havenât you?â
The peaceful drag of his hand finally stopped. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. He'd been holding it together up until now, for you, even if your every tremble and sniffle made his chest ache like your pain was his own.
âMaybe,â he rasped.Â
âSo, letâs work towards something better. Together.â
âTogether,â he agreed.
You raised your head at last, squeezing your eyes shut so that any remaining trace of tears trickled free. Chan reached up to swipe the droplets away with his thumb, soaking his bandaid. Still, neither of you let go. There were so many things to let go of, but not each other.
âI finished Placebo,â he said softly. âDo you want to hear it?â
The final promise that had yet to be fulfilled.
âYeah,â you smiled. Weak, a piteous sight, probably, but genuine. âIt makes me happy.â
You were lulled back to that day in April, seated next to Chan in the warm, coffee-infused atmosphere of the library, trying not to fall head over heels in love with him right then and there while he played the instrumental for you with a giddiness so uncontainable that he had to bite down on his fist. As you heard Placeboâs lyrics for the first timeâlyrics that had gone through countless rearrangements, rewrites, and delaysâyou decided it mustâve been fate that it had been brought to completion now, of all times. You felt Chan in every line, every vitalizing beat, every nostalgic melody of the synth. You understood it better now than you ever would have back then.
But just as youâd predicted on that warm day in April, it became your new favorite.
ăâăË ĘĂŻÉ ËăâăâăË ĘĂŻÉ ËăâăâăË ĘĂŻÉ Ëăâă
The sun had been shining for two days straight. Bright, unobstructed by a single cloud, bathing everything in gold. It filtered through the blinds of your window, casting a delicate pattern of light on Chanâs face and creating quite possibly the most breathtaking view youâd ever seen. And you were warm. Warm against each other.
His curls were free, messy, tousled as you combed through them. You relished in every ringlet dancing between your fingers, in each content sound he let slip when your nails grazed his scalp. You brushed his bangs back, revealing his face to you in fullâdroopy eyes, big, adorable nose, soft cheeks, faintly freckled skin, every feature illuminated with nowhere to hideâthen allowed them to fall into his eyes once more. The dark locks moved as one, a fluffy unit. He wasnât taking care of them properly. You wanted to wash them again, give them the treatment they deserved.
Chan watched you the entire time you played with his hair, curious, mesmerized. Every flop of his curls against his forehead made him giggle, and so, you did it again and again. You couldnât help it. After five days without him, without that sweet, harmonious sound, you could listen to him laugh for hours on end and still yearn for more.
But his lips were getting poutier with every card of your fingers, his thighs were shifting beneath you more and more. Impatient, even if he didnât say it out loud. He didnât have to say a thing for you to hear him willing you to do it, begging you to do it. So, you leaned in and kissed him.
He sighed into it, just like he always did. But it was higher in pitch this time, involuntary, a neediness he typically tried to suppress until later down the line when it grew into something unbearable. He was already so vocal, so responsive, but today, he needed you more than ever. Every gap, every crevice between your bodies, he needed filled with you.
His lips consumed your senses, plush and plump and warm. They moved against yours seamlessly, encasing you in his softness, matching your rhythm, every part and pucker. So attentive, even through his haze of longing. It was familiar, the most natural thing in the world, yet still something youâd never get used toâsomething you never wanted to get used to. How his lips chased yours so insatiably, how they warmed you to your very core.
You were both breathless when you broke apart. That was nothing new either, you would kiss each other until your lungs cried out and then some. With the way Chan hardly pulled back, mouth ghosting just a centimeter away as you panted lightly in unison, you mightâve thought he needed to kiss you more than he needed oxygen. You took his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling delicately just to get a taste of him while the two of you caught your breath.
âMissed you,â he whimpered. âGod, I missed you.â
Your chest ached.Â
âI know, baby.âÂ
Giving his bottom lip a light tug, you released it. You could tell his head was starting to go fuzzy, it was far more important for you to speak clearly. You rested your hand on his curls again, trying to keep yourself composed for his sakeâeven if your body was screaming for you to take him back and take him back now. âI know. I missed you, too.â
âDonât leave me, please?â For once, a selfish request.Â
He pecked the corner of your mouth as he said it, then your jaw, growing less controlled the further down he moved. He was getting lost in you, he wanted to lose himself in you and never find his way out again.
âNever,â you assured him.Â
âPromise?âÂ
He nuzzled his nose into your neck, lips pressing urgent kisses to every spot of flesh they touched. Gentle and intense, hot and wet. They cooled your skin and set it ablaze, all at once.Â
Youâd gone five days without each other beforeâeven longer, on particularly hectic weeksâbut it had never been anything like this. After the emptiness that came in your time apart, the holes that had been left behind where youâd ripped yourself away from him, you wanted every kiss absorbed into your skin, filling them up one by one. You found yourself wondering, for what was neither the first nor the last time, how youâd ever managed to trick yourself into thinking you could be without him. You couldnât even take him in moderation.
âI promise,â you murmured. âI'm not going anywhere, I promise.â
Chan whined, opening his mouth against the edge of your collarbone, sucking, tongue flickering lightly against it. You allowed him to, petting his head, humming sweetly to him as he covered every inch he roamed with that irresistible heat.
His restlessness beneath you grew more obviousâsquirming. He ran his hands up and down your sides, feeling and grabbing and holding onto you like you might disappear if he didnât. His usual hesitance to touch was nowhere to be found today, far overpowered by his hunger for you. You adjusted your position in his lap, and the beginnings of his desire brushed against your thigh, adorably transparent as always. It made your own self-control slip just a bit. Suddenly, his clothes were forming far too thick of a barrier between you and him for your liking.
You pulled gently at his hair, catching his attention enough for him to lift his head from your neck. His lips were already swelling, deepening from that pretty pink shade into something even more addictive. His eyes were dark, dilated, and so hopeful, like he didnât already know where this was going. Like he had no idea that you craved him every bit as much as he craved you.
âItâs getting warm, huh, Channie?â
âMhm.â He rested his cheek against your palm. âYouâre so warm.â
âLetâs get you out of this, then.â You reached down to dip your fingers under the hem of his sweater. Reluctant to let go for even a moment, Chan kept his hands close to you, wiggling around as best as he could to help you slip the garment off. He blinked his eyes open once youâd pulled it over his head, catching a glimpse of his reflection in your dresser mirror, directly across from where the two of you sat tangled up in each other. It made his stomach drop a bit. Hair unkempt, eyes sunken, face puffy from what was a concerning lack of rest over the past week, even by his standards.
His gaze averted, flickering right back to you the instant he took in his appearance. Brief as the action was, it wasnât lost on you, twisting your emotions and resurfacing an idea in your mindâone that had been brewing ever since the day of the showcase, where Chan had avoided looking into the bathroom mirror like his life depended on it.
You cupped his cheeks, pushing them together just enough for his lips to pucker.
âYouâre glowing, Channie,â you marveled. âYouâre so beautiful.â
He furrowed his brows. âIâm not.â
You pressed your thumbs into his skin, chiding. âThe lightâs hitting your face so perfectly. You look like an angel.âÂ
Chanâs breath quickened, another deflection building in his throat. You slid your hands down from his face, allowing the golden rays of the sun to fully illuminate him, just as they illuminated the moon.Â
âIâŚâ he chuckled. âTh-thank you, but Iâm a mess.â
You frowned, placing your hands over his. Panic struck when you urged him to unlatch his fingers from your hips, you could tell by the way he gripped you just a bit tighter. It was another pang to your chest. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, that reflex had been ingrained. But you werenât going to leave him, not even for a second. You kept your hands firmly rested on his shoulders as you hoisted yourself off his lap and settled down right behind him on the mattress. Comforting him with your touch, reminding him that you were there.
You peered into the mirror from over Chanâs shoulder, met with the gorgeous sight of his bare upper half and, unsurprisingly, his head ducked in embarrassment. A mop of dark curls shielding him from himself.Â
âYou should try looking at yourself through my eyes,â you suggested. âYou might like what you see.â
He glanced up to meet your stare in the mirror, stubbornly set on ignoring his own figure. You dragged your hands along his tense shoulders, feeling up the warm expanse of skin, the curves of his musclesâtaut, yet tender.
âRather look at you,â he said softly.
Affection swelled inside you, but you were determined to maintain your resolve, even when faced with an opponent as formidable as Chanâs oblivious charm.Â
âWhy?â You faked a pout. âYouâve already got such a pretty view right here.â
You lowered yourself to brush your lips against his neck, almost completely out of sight. He all but jolted as you pressed an open-mouthed kiss right below his jawline, just as reactive as your first night together. Just as honest and open and just as painfully cute. Your hand slipped over his shoulder to take hold of his chin, tilting it up, exposing his throat fully to you and encouraging him to look at himself.
âYouâre a gorgeous boy, Channie.â Your words melted right into his ear. âEveryone can see it.â
You pressed another kiss to the juncture of his shoulder and neckâhis weak spot. With how sensitive he was, every part of his body may as well have been his weak spot, but the sound he let out as you grazed your teeth over it was like no other. Sweet and pleading in the back of his throat. It spiked in volume when you closed your mouth over the patch of skin, unconcerned this time over whether or not the mark would show. He wanted it to. And, selfishly, so did you.
âI-I donât see it,â he stuttered at last. âI canât.â
Your tsk of disapproval was met with another shaky sigh as you ran your tongue over the fresh lovebite. It soothed his burning skin, fogged up any remaining space in his head. You took a moment to admire the blooming red ring before gliding your lips over to a new spot to sully. He was yours, even untouched, but you wanted to leave traces of yourself everywhere, to make him a part of you in every sense.
âLook at yourself, baby,â you ordered gently.
His Adam's apple bobbed under your mouth, swallowing down his misgivings and finding the courage to comply. Before he even locked eyes with himself in the mirror, his ears were already flushing at their tips.
âThere we go. Good boy.â
The praise eased his mind a bit, but you could still feel his heartbeat racing under your kisses, pulsing beneath your traveling fingers. All simply because of the sight of himselfâa sight you wanted engraved permanently into your memories, just as badly as he wanted it removed from his.Â
âLook at all these muscles. So big and strong.â You flattened your palms against his broad shoulders, trailing slowly, appreciatively, down to his biceps. Arms you used to dream about having bulge beneath your hands. Arms you had at your mercy, even in all their strength. Because it was a strength used solely to protect others, never to harm.
You wrapped your fingers around the defined muscles, too large to even close your grip entirely around. They flexed under your touchâa detail you found adorable, strangely enough.
âD-do youâŚâ Chan licked his lips. âDâyou like them?â
You smiled against his skin. Such an endearingly Chan question. Setting himself up for a response that he wouldnât be able to handle; a response that was sure to set his face on fire and put a stammer in his speech.
âI might like them too much,â you admitted. âSo pretty to look at. So irresistible to touch. So cute when I hold them down,â you mumbled the compliments between each kiss you peppered along his arm veins, protruding from his nervous hold on the sheets. âSo strong, but so weak for me.â
Chanâs reaction didnât disappoint, cheeks heating up instantly to match the burn of his ears, dimples making a timid appearance. Anything he attempted to say was lost in the shy, breathless laugh he sputtered out. You knew right about now that he was wishing he had some kind of cap, beanieâanything to pull over his face and hide away. To hear your doting words without having to face himself. Maybe then, heâd believe them.
âYou work so hard, donât you, Channie?â you cooed. âSuch a strong, beautiful body for a strong, beautiful boy.â
âA-ahâŚplease.â Chan fought back the impulse to cross his arms over his torso, solely because he didnât want to lose the feeling of your mouth ravishing them. Instead, he squeezed his eyes closed, too flustered to bear. Your hands found his chest without warning, cupping his pecs and making him squeak. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, a split second too late in trying to mask the pitiful noise.
âYou have no idea what you do to me.â You dug your nails delicately into his chest, just enough to make him shudder. âI canât believe youâre mine.â
To that, he didnât object. âYours, âm all yours.â It was eager, immediate, accompanied by a tilt of his head. Urging you to make it known, to leave marks of yourself all over his neck until it belonged just as much to you as it did him.Â
âAll mine.â You rolled his nipples delicately between your fingers, earning a broken whimper that made heat pool in your stomach. âMy pretty boy.â
Chan jerked forward, every intoxicating word of praise, every drop of your attention making his arousal skyrocket. With his eyes still shut tight, all his other senses were on high alert. The serene sound of your voice reverberated all around him, the deliberate care of your touch sent tremors up his spine. You roamed further down his body, fingertips dancing over his lean abdomen, tracing the outlines of his muscles. His stomach clenched as you did; exhilarated, rising and falling with each rapid breath. He felt so vulnerableâall his pleasure, all his comfort, all his worth in the palm of your hand. More exposed than ever, yet somehow, safer than ever. He could stay blind through it all and trust you to guide him to the other side.
âOpen your eyes for me, baby.â
He pressed his lips together, protest cut short when you inched dangerously close to where he needed you most.
âThere,â he gasped out. âThere, please.â
Mischievously, you pinched the skin right above his waistband, satisfaction rushing through you when he throbbed in the confines of his sweatpants. âWhere?â you questioned, deceptively innocent. âYou have to look and see.â
You drifted further down, skimming the softness of his hips and stroking his tensed thigh. âHere?â
âNo,â he huffed, face scrunching in frustration. âPlease, âs too embarrassing.â
Your hum was full of sympathy, but your hand said otherwise, moving along his inner thigh and giving it a light squeeze. âHow about here?â
You knew what was coming by now. So, you snaked your legs around his waist from behind, prying his thighs apart before they could clamp together reflexively. The added contact only made Chanâs composure weaken further, a low groan spilling out of him. Practically every part of your body was pressed against hisâhead tucked into his neck, chest rubbing against his back, hands grasping him wherever they slid, thighs resting on hisâbut it wasnât enough. He needed more before he crumbled completely against you. Or, rather, he needed more to crumble completely against you.
His eyes snapped open at last, hazy, disoriented. He blinked a few times to readjust his vision, taking in the view before him. His puffed, rosy cheeks, his neck, painted with deep, crimson marks, his arms and torso, lined with the faint drag of your nails. Every part of himself that he chose to focus on was evidence of you on his body.
âBeautiful,â you said firmly.
âAhâŚth-thank you.â
His reflection peered back at him, nowhere to hide. But with it, he found his other reflection, one he could admire so wholeheartedly, one he could never run out of things to love about. When at your side, maybe he didnât look so bad.
Your lips were by his ear again, he felt your breath fanning softly next to it, saw your mouth opening unexpectedly close to his piercingâso close that he thought you may take it between your teeth again. He wasnât sure heâd be able to contain himself if you did.
âWhere do you want me to touch you, Channie?â you whispered.
His stare dropped to your hand, more than ready for any excuse to redirect his attention from himself. You rubbed gentle circles into his thighs, traveling upwards at an agonizingly slow place. Chan sucked in through his teeth, a fresh wave of embarrassment passing over him when his dick twitched again, as if it was crying out the answer for him.
âMy babyâs so shy,â you remarked playfully. âBut your body isn't.â
He squirmed between your legs with a sound of pure helplessness, too worked up to handle your teasing properlyânot that he ever really handled it well, in the first place.Â
âP-please, need you so bad.â
You softened. âIâm here.â
His eyes followed your movements in a glimmer of hope, fixated on your hand like a puppy would with its favorite treat. When you came to brush over his bulge at last, his hips shot forward, pressing into your palm in a way that made your stomach flutter, and his twist with pleasure. He didnât even have the chance to feel humiliated about it, not when you finally curled your fingers around him like heâd been longing for so intently, so fiercely that even thinking straight had become a challenge for him.
âIs this it?â you asked sweetly.
âMmph, yes. There, please.â
You gave him a squeeze, feeling up the shape of his length through his sweatpants. So hard without a single touch to it, more than ready for youâdesperate for you. It made the ache between your own legs take over in full. Restraint slipping, you dipped your fingers below his waistband to tug his sweatpants off. Chan reacted immediately, scrambling to raise himself from the mattress just enough for you to slide them down along with his underwear. You couldnât even find the patience in you to remove the garments entirely, instead letting them rest halfway down his legs.
Chanâs gaze flickered back to you in the mirror, just in time to catch the way your eyes gleamed at the sight of his bare body. Length glistening with precum, pressed and dripping against his stomach. Milky thighs, dotted with delicate moles you could kiss endlessly. But you wanted to leave a different kind of mark on them, today. You ran your hands along his fleshâgentle, pacifyingâthen dragged your nails back up all at once, raking his skin and leaving a trail of pale lines that quickly deepened in shade. Chan inhaled sharply, throwing his head back against your shoulder, muscles constricting under your fingers.
âPretty little thing,â you crooned. âYouâre unreal.â
There was no time for him to recoverânot from the delicious sting on his thighs, not from your doting wordsâbefore you took his cock into your hold at last. It sent a ripple of heat all throughout his body, almost enough to make him unravel right then and there.
You gave him a few careful pumps, delighted by the sheer amount of wetness that had dribbled from his tip, allowing you to move with ease. Using your free hand, you nudged his head from your shoulder to direct him back to the mirror. Despite knowing full well that the visual heâd be met with would turn his brain to mush, he obeyed. He would do anything you so much as suggested in that moment.
âYouâre just like that moon you love so much,â you murmured. âYou know that, Channie?â
It pierced through the lust occupying his thoughts, pulling him out from his haze just enough to string together a feeble response. âWhatâah. What dâyou mean?â
He tried not to let the sight of your fingers, sticky with his arousal, gliding up and down his most intimate spot, twisting and teasing in all the right ways like you knew his body better than he did, distract him from what you said next. If there was anything to focus on, it was you.Â
âThe moon can only see itself reflected in the water.â You swirled your thumb along his slit, using your other hand to run the pads of your fingers tenderly along his cheek. The combination was enough to make him dizzy. So much love, so much pleasure. He didnât know how to handle it. He would never know how to handle it. âIt doesnât see its own beauty or light. Just the way it gets distorted by the ripples all around it.â
Before he could even fully process the comparison, Chanâs eyes began to water. This time, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was happiness imbued in those tears. A happiness the both of you still needed adjusting to.
âSo, look at yourself clearly, now,â you encouraged, pressing a kiss to his temple. âLook at your reflection when it isnât broken.â
It may have been too much for him at once; such adoration amidst everything else he was experiencing. The stimulation to every last one of his nerve endings, the bliss consuming his body and mind, robbing him of any coherent thought. But you needed to say it just as much as he needed to hear it. You wanted all the pleasure, all the love he felt in that moment to be associated with himself.
âO-oh, wow,â he choked out. âIâŚI donâtâŚâ
I donât deserve this. You could hear it on the tip of his tongue, clear as day. But he was too awestruck to protest, too awestruck to even speak. You felt a tinge of protectivenessâhe was so far gone.
âD-dunno what to s-say,â he stammered. You knew it was taking every ounce of his strength not to bury his face into the crook of your neck, to let himself go completely and forget about anything that wasnât you.
âItâs okay, Channie. You donât have to say anything. Just look.â
You studied him in the mirror, nearly melting when you noticed him blinking the few, fragile droplets from his eyesâlistening diligently to you, clearing his vision from any water that might distort it. He drank in his reflection in full, stiff, uneasy, but relaxing slightly between your legs when you pressed another kiss to his cheek.
âSo pretty, every inch of you.â Your hand resumed its stroking, sliding down to the base of his length, cupping him gently. âEven prettier when youâre filling me up.â
âOh my gosh,â he gasped, jerking in your grip. Even with the mirror there to guide him, he struggled to coordinate his hand movements, pawing aimlessly behind him to find some part of you to grab onto, some part of you to anchor himself with. âPlease, please. Wanna feel you.â
âI know, baby boy,â you shushed him. âYouâre dripping so much. Poor thing.â
You dragged your index finger along the underside of his cock one last time before pulling away with a light flick. Chan barely stopped himself from surging forward, chasing your hand like an instinct. That, coupled with the mewl he let out when he registered the sudden loss of your body heat around him, tugged at your heart just as much as it spiked your adrenaline. You made quick work of removing your clothes, well aware of his eyes, wide as moons, watching you undress through the mirror, waiting for you to return to him. Restless, yearning, but obedient above all else.
He reached for you the instant you settled back in his lap, hovering over your waist for just a second before ultimately latching on, skin on skin, a whole new layer of heat. You took his length back into your grasp, turning your body so that you were both facing your dresser mirror. You could hear Chanâs breathing pick up behind you, feel his chest expanding against your back.
âSee that, Channie?â You dragged the head of his dick along your folds, coating it with your own wetness. âJust looking at you gets me like this.â
If all youâd said wasnât enough, maybe the physical proof of his effects on you would help do the trick. A sweet, desperate vocalization, so rife with need that you could practically taste it, was all he could manage. It morphed into a moan as you sank down on him all at onceâloud, absolutely shameless. You would never think it came from the boy who couldnât even catch a glimpse of himself without being reduced to a flustered wreck. Just as your heat engulfed him, his engulfed you. It came more intensely than ever before, more staggering than even your first time together, bolting through your veins and making you suppress a gasp. You clenched around his cock, relishing in the feeling of him pressed so snugly inside you, as close as physically possible. So comforting in its familiarity, so exhilarating in its return. It was something you could only describe as relief, relief in the warmth, the fullness, the completion you brought to each other.
Chanâs head fell forward with a whimper, chin resting against your shoulder, clinging to you so tightly that it was difficult to move. You werenât even sure if he was aware of it, a subconscious desire to stay buried inside you, not wanting to lose the security of your walls wrapped around him for even a second.Â
âMissed you so much,â he slurred into your skin. âW-wanna stay like this forever.â
You reached back to cradle his head, running your fingers through his hair. âI missed you too, angel. Missed the way you fill me up so perfectly.â
You lifted yourself until just the head of his cock was left pulsing inside you. When you noticed Chanâs blissed out expression in the mirrorâeyes fluttered shut, lips swollen against your shoulder, eyebrows knitted togetherâa golden opportunity presented itself. It took him a second or two to realize that you werenât sliding back down, another soft plea rumbling in his throat, vibrating into your skin. You gave his scalp an affectionate scratch, prompting him to look. This time, he listened without question, driven solely by the need to feel your wet heat around him again.
âGood boy.â You took him back inside immediately, not keen on being apart for much longer, either. He gritted his teeth as you did, trying his best to keep his gaze leveled with his reflection for you, for your satisfaction, for your approval. But nothing couldâve prepared him for what came out of your mouth next.Â
âSee how perfect you look when youâre inside me, Channie? See all the pretty faces you make? My pretty baby, feeling so good. Making me feel so good.â
At that, the precious little that had remained of Chanâs composure fizzled out completely. His hands flew up to cover his face, hot with shame, burning with arousal. The filthy sight of him pushing in and out of you, the wet sounds filling his ears, the teasing lilt of your voice. It was all too much. He shoved his nose into his palms, letting out a cute, mortified wail that echoed throughout the bedroom, mixing with your breathless giggles.Â
Even as you continued riding him, he stayed hidden behind the safety net of his fingers, shyness turned back up to full blast with no signs of disappearing. It only added to the pressure building up inside your abdomen to see him so overwhelmed, each muffled grunt and soft whimper of his spurring you on. Your words from earlier rang truer than everâhe was so weak for you.
You allowed him to stay that way for the sake of his sanity, petting his head with a gentleness that contrasted the steady pace of your bouncing. It wasnât until you felt his cock begin to jerk inside you that he pulled his hands away from his face with a choked noise, reaching out for you once more.
âCanât take itâmmphââm getting close! âM s-sorry!â
His fingers dug deep into your flesh, igniting heat at every point of contact. You basked in the feeling for as long as you could, then halted your movements altogether, pulling off of him in one fell swoop. The loss made both of your bodies cry out in protest. Chan hiccuped pathetically, mouth falling open, confused blinks reflecting in the mirror when your softness, your warmth, escaped him without warning.
He trembled underneath you, tugging at your waist as he tried to get a handle on his voice. With care, you turned in his lap to come face to face with him again, moving slowly enough as not to break his hold on you, not even for a moment.
âDid IâŚâ he panted. âDid I do something wrong?â
You brushed your thumb over his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had begun to accumulate. âNo, baby. Youâre doing so well for me,â you assured him. âBut you wanna finish together, donât you?â
It was almost funny, in a sense, how the way Chanâs face lit upâhow his features flooded with pure delightâmade your heart flutter more than anything else. More than any irresistible sound he let out, more than any way he let you use his body to your heartâs content. You were just as captivated, just as endeared, just as hopelessly taken with him as that night in May, walking home alongside him under the moonlight and knowing your fate was sealed.
âY-yeah, together. Together, please.â He leaned forward, nose finding your neck, taking in your scent. âCan we stay like this? Wanna see you.â
Your hand found his length again, wrapping just tight enough around it to make him jolt. âHmâŚyou can see me in the mirror though, canât you?â
âPlease,â he repeated, pouty lips brushing against your skin. âOnly wanna see you. Need you.â
You relented. Regardless of how badly you wanted to get the message across to him, regardless of how addictive you found the sight of him on display in ways youâd never seen before, you knew heâd just about reached his limit. And, well, maybe you needed him too. Needed to watch him fall apart right before your very eyes, needed to have every bit of your skin pressed against his, needed to kiss him when it all became too much for his foggy mind.
âYouâre so cute. Iâve got you, baby.â You tilted his chin up with your free hand, half-lidded doe eyes finding yours. Knowing him, the eye contact wouldnât last long before he was ducking away again. So, you took advantage of it, realigning him with you and watching his features flood with pleasure as you sank down on him once more. He had to stop himself from bucking up into you, body stiffening with effort, a breathy, grateful moan, nothing short of angelic, slipping past his lips.
âYouâve gotta hold on for a bit, alright?â You gave his shoulders a squeeze. âLet me know when youâre close. Can you do that for me, Channie?â
His arms wrapped around you in full, no longer content with just his hands on your waist. âMhm.â He barely mustered up a nod, pulling himself closer to you in a way that burrowed his cock impossibly deeper inside. âPromise. W-wanna make you feel good, too. Wanna be a good boy for you.â
âMy good boy,â you cooed. âSee how well you fit inside me? See how good you make me feel?â You clenched around him as you dragged yourself up his length, snapping back down with a delicious speed. âYou were made for me.â
âM-made for you,â he agreed, head falling forward to nestle into your chest. âAhâfuck! Youâre so warm. Feels s-so good.â
You dug your nails into his muscles, using your grip on him for leverage as you began working your way up to a pace even more vigorous than before. Immediately, the new angle took a toll on Chan. It allowed the head of his length to rub directly against your sweet spot with each rock of your hips, making the both of you shudder. You could feel his mouth fall open against you to let out an especially sharp cry, nibbling mindlessly at your flesh, matching your rhythm.
âYouâre mine, t-too, right? Gonna stay with me?â he babbled into your skin. âPlease, tell me youâll stay. Iâll be good for you. P-please.â
The coil in your chest twisted just as tight as the one in your abdomen. You knew his thoughts were muddled, ridding him of any filter and making him ramble in the heat of the moment. But you also knew it stemmed from a very real fear, one that you would never feed into again.
âYouâre already so good for me, Channie. Youâre perfect. My perfect boy,â you spoke as steadily as your erratic movements and shaky breath would allow, ensuring that each reassurance found him. âIâm not going anywhere, okay? Iâm here âcause I love you.â
Chan whined, ringing out loud and clear even through the softness of your chest. âLove you. I love you so much.â He nuzzled further into you, strengthening his hold around you, hands pawing at your sides. The words seemed to have opened the floodgates within him, like heâd been waiting to hear themâthe catalyst for him to lose himself in you completely. âLove you, love you, love you. âM almost th-there.â
This time, there was a short delay before you could bring yourself to stop. You didnât want to let go of him again, no amount of time would be tolerable enough. So, you stayed perfectly still, indulging selfishly in the feeling of him inside you without snapping the final thread just yet. Chan lifted his head, disoriented, biting down on his bottom lip to fight back a pathetic groan as his climax was denied once more. You could feel his thighs quivering under yours, his arms flexing around you, his cock twitching wildly against your walls. Every bit of his energy was being expended to hold himself together, to endure it however many times you saw fit.
âYouâre doing so well, baby boy. Lasting so long for me.â You twirled a lock of his damp curls around your finger, hoping to keep him grounded enough to hang on just a bit more.Â
âY-yeah? âM doing okay?â He brushed his nose against yours, a silent plea that you understood all too well by now. âMaking you feel good?â
âSo good, Channie. Iâm getting close, too.â You closed the gap between you and him before his wordless request became another whine, taking his swollen lips between yours. They were hot, pillowy, unbelievably wet. You tried your best not to flutter around him, but it was impossible not to when he was humming so eagerly into your mouth, kissing without an ounce of self-control left in his system. His movements were sloppy, uncoordinated, but each messy slide of his lips sent another jolt through your senses. The hug heâd enveloped you in loosened at last, hands wandering obsessively over your body until he found your chest. He paused for a moment, mumbling out something that made drool drip from the corner of his mouth.
âMmph, c-can I? Wanna touch, please.â
Even now, he was clinging to the last few shreds of his rationality for you, thinking of you above all else when the promise of his climax was dangling right in front of his face. It took the arousal coursing through your veins to a whole new degree, so intensely that you had to stop yourself from sinking your teeth into his lips out of raw affection.Â
âGo ahead, baby,â you murmured.
Chan cupped the soft flesh in an instant, sighing like he was slipping into a dream. His kisses became near-frantic, so drunk on you that he had trouble staying confined to just your lips, landing on the corner of your mouth, all over your cheeks, pecking and sucking any spot he could. Despite that, his hands were gentle, kneading at your flesh in a delicate back and forth pattern that calmed him and kindled a fresh warmth in your body. He was doing so well for you, trying his absolute best for you. You wanted to give him everything. You wanted to take his heart that he offered up to you so willingly, and give him yours in return.
âReady to keep going, Channie? Can you take it?â
âY-yeah. Yes, please,â he breathed. âGonna do it for you. Iâll do anything.â
âMy sweet boy.â You cupped his cheeks, steadying his clumsy kisses, but holding him just close enough to keep him content. He hissed softly as you began moving again, rolling your hips down so that his length grinded against your walls, stimulating every nerve-ending inside you. The heat building between your bodies became much harder to ignore, filling the air around you and seeping into your skin. It was heavy, thick, but it made you feel lighter than ever. Your high was drawing near, and, judging by the way Chanâs hips stuttered with less and less restraint, you knew he wouldnât be able to hold back for much longer either.
The pads of his fingers dug into your breasts just as he let out a warning moan. âOh God, âm sorry. Please, donât wanna finish without you. Soânghâclose.â
You grinded down against him, spine tingling when Chan yelped in response, so sharp it almost sounded like he was in pain. âMm, just a little more, baby boy. You can do that for me, canât you?â
âI-IâŚoh, please,â he swallowed hard, eyebrows scrunching together as you dragged yourself all the way up his length, mind-numbingly slow. âYeah, I can do it. Iâll be g-good.â
Your hands traveled up to his hair, tangling in his curls and pulling at them just hard enough to make goosebumps rise at his nape. âChannie listens so well,â you purred. âYou were made to please, hm? Good boy, good boy.â
If your honeyed praises werenât enough to push him alarmingly close to the edge, the way you squeezed around him as you sank back down, wrapping him in your heat all the way to his base surely was. Chan surged forward with a sob, head falling into your shoulder, fingers grasping at you helplessly.
âYour good boy,â he whimpered. âPlease, please, âm not gonna l-last.â
You cradled the back of his head. âItâs too much, huh angel?â you pouted. âYou can let it all out, now.â
âTogether?â You could hear the strain in his voice, mere seconds away from losing it completely. âTogetherâahâright?â
âTogether.â
At that, you gave one last sloppy glide along his length, snapping the tension in both of you at once. Chan cried out, teeth grazing against your shoulder, hips surging up to push as far into you as your bodies would allow. A delicious heat seared through your senses, only amplified by the flood of his release coating your insides, stronger than ever from how long heâd been holding back. You tried to keep your own sounds under control, far more entranced by the ones slipping from his trembling lips. Mewls of your name, slurring out how much he loved you, chanting his gratitude like a mantra as you guided him through your shared high.
Minutes or hours couldâve passed and you wouldnât have known the differenceâyou wouldnât have minded either way. Eventually, the shivers in Chanâs body faded out, his panting evened into softer, more peaceful breaths. When he finally found it in him to pull his head from the comfort of your neck, droplets had begun to form in his eyes again. Not enough to spill down his cheeks quite yet, just enough to glaze his pupils over with happy tears, just enough to make them shine.
Your fingers danced absentmindedly in his hair, serving as a different pleasure from the kind that had just rocked your bodies. âYou did so well for me, Channie. Iâm proud of you.â
He blinked up at you. Slow, lazy, a dreamy smile tugging at his lips. âYouâre sâ beautiful.â
âSweet baby,â you murmured. âI hope you think the same when you see yourself.â
Anything he planned to say trailed off when you reached down for his hand, bringing it up to your lips. He was still buried deep inside you, hypersensitive to every little movement, every little touch, but he did his best not to squirm as you pressed kisses to his fingertips, paying extra attention to the fading cut on his thumb. The pain was long gone, now. Still, it made a few glistening tears trickle out delicately. You kissed them away, too.
âYouâre still my favorite reflection.â
Shy, barely audible, but spoken with all the sincerity in the world. Butterflies erupted in your stomach. It was a start, at least. Maybe the parts of yourselves that you loved in each other, you could eventually come to love in yourselves.
âCan weâ?â
âStay like this?â you finished for him, a smile creeping up on your lips. âYeah, we can.â
He bumped his forehead against yours, letting out an exhausted giggle, eyes crinkling and dimples flashing. He was glazed with sweat, skin sticky, damp curls pressed to his forehead, but he shone with every ray of light that slipped through your blinds.
The urge to check on him, to fuss over him, to care for him, still nagged at your mind. That was something that would never change. You wanted to clean him up, wash away the soreness and soothe the marks all over his body. But he didnât need any of that right now. He just needed you. That was it. From day one, it had been as simple as that. You didnât need to do anything. You didnât need to prove anything. You just needed each other. Maybe, you could stay wrapped up in the mess youâd left on each otherâs bodies for a whileâbask in it, even.Â
Chanâs innocent nuzzles inevitably led to another kiss. Soft, but just as hungry for you, just as desperate to stay immersed in this moment. You shifted slightly on his lap, making your heart jump and making him jolt against you. The poorly concealed sound that built up in his throat mightâve made you giggle if you didnât need him just as much. No more limits. No more restraint. You didnât have to worry about taking him in moderation.
You wanted each other endlessly. You fell into each other again and again.
ăâăË ĘĂŻÉ ËăâăâăË ĘĂŻÉ ËăâăâăË ĘĂŻÉ Ëăâă
A sudden buzz against your nightstand cut through the tranquil rhythm of breath that filled your bedroom, pulling you from the haze of sleep that had been pricking at your mindâs edges. It was a brief, low vibration, but still loud enough for you to worry that it may wake the boy in your arms. For once, you allowed yourself to be unavailable, not daring to disturb his peace for even a moment to roll over and read the notification. You already had a good idea of who it might be, anyway: Changbin, triple checking what time youâd all be meeting up for jjajangmyeon on Friday. The thought alone made fondness bubble up inside you, lips curling into a private smile. After four years of tardiness, absences, and missed deadlines, this was the one thing he was determined to be on time for.
Graduation was two days away. You and Changbinâs class ceremony would take place in the early morning, while Chanâs was scheduled for later that same night. Timed seamlessly with the rise of the sun and the moon. The finish line that youâd been terrified of for so long was a mere few steps away, but when viewed up close, it wasnât quite so daunting anymore. Even if the path you walked next was still unfamiliar, uncarved by anyone before you to clear the way, you knew who youâd be walking it with, and you knew where it would lead you. Youâd walk side by side with Chan, towards something better.
His family had flown in from Australia earlier in the week to visit, to attend his ceremonyâto celebrate him. An occasion that was just as precious to them even with the bitter memories that surrounded it, even in its delay, even if Chan had spent the past two years convincing himself otherwise. Heâd been a nervous wreck before leaving to meet with them when they first arrived, you could see it in every awkward shift of his feet, every subconscious rub of his neck, every unnecessary adjustment of his clothes. However much youâd tried to comfort him beforehand, however many grateful smiles heâd given you, youâd known that there was no real way to ease his apprehension. He hadnât seen them in person for over a year, and, even prior to that, itâd been two years since heâd had an interaction with them that wasnât engulfed in shame.
But when heâd returned, he had a smile that almost reached his eyes; hopeful. It hadnât been perfect, everything wasnât okay yet, but the seed had at least been planted for it to blossom one day. Heâd missed them so much. It made your heart sing and ache at the same time. You only wished that heâd believed he deserved to see them before nowâto stand in front of them as the son and brother that they loved, not as the collection of faults and disappointments he saw himself as.Â
Though, you supposed you werenât exactly one to talk. Your family would be coming into the city on the day of your ceremony as well, a very blatant reminder that you had yet to visit your hometown again like youâd promised them over the summer.
You werenât quite ready to return yet. But just like Chan, you would be, one day. And you would try again. Of all the things youâd come to learn in your time with him, the value of upholding a promise was undoubtedly the most important one. You werenât going to run. You would try as many times as it took until your home felt like home again, until you remembered all the good times, until the memories laced in every crack and crevice didnât add to the sting in your skin, but eased it.Â
You eyed Chanâs form through the darkness, nestled against you with his head buried in the softness of your chestâsound asleep, for once.Â
Your arm was still draped over his waist, lingering at the small of his back where youâd been rubbing as he drifted off. In turn, his muscular arm was wrapped securely around you. Holding each other, protecting each other. An endless cycle of drawing strength from one another without growing any weaker in the process. You could give him everything, and not lose a single drop of yourself.
For the first time, you could hold someone in your arms without that underlying sense of dread spreading its roots in your mind. For the first time, your heart was still. A calm and clear surface of a lake, one that you hoped could reflect Chanâs light in its truest, most unbroken form.
You were no longer held together by a butterfly bandage, an ill-fitted adhesive, forcibly closing your wounds without giving them the chance to heal properly. At last, you were stitched up. Stitched up by the very same thread of fate that had brought you and Chan together.Â
You didnât have to ask to know that he felt the same. You could feel his emotions like they were your own, after all.
#OK STARTING NOW#no stop :(((( she thinks changbin will hate her this hurts#friendship breakups hurt a lot#the olive brach description is so clever HOW DO U THINK OF THIS MY GOD i aspire to write as well as you#the common ground being caring for Chan :(( that's so cute#EXACTLY minho just wanted to help but the way he went about it was so wrong#he isn't the reason behind the breakup but he might have been the drop that overflowed the cup#STOP CHAN CRYING BECAUSE HE WAS HAPPY I WANNA CRY MY BABY MY BABY#SKJDJDJDBDBDB SOFT AT HEART my minho he had good intentions and the fact he admits it#i love how u included this bit because it reminds us of how important it is to admit it when u are in the wrong#Omfg YOU DID NOT#THE WEIRD SENSATION IN HER THUMB BECAUSE HE CUT HIS THUMB I WILL CRY THEY ARE SOULMATES#THE LITTLE DETAIL U ARE INSANE FOR THIS I LOVE YOU#THE LOVE CONFESSION#them matching each other znd opening up my godddd#the hand flexing IS SO DKDNDNDBJBDJDDBJD#âguess I've got no choice but to mirror youâ MY GODDD STOP THIS MY HEART HURTS#âfive fingers five for each one you've spent apartâ HOW DO U FIND BEAUTY IN SUCH MUNDANE THINGS SUCH AS THE NUMBER OF OUR FINGERS#i love this sm#also I'm scared of what my girl will say#me qnd chan are going to beat up her ex idc#her opening up makes me wanna cry#she's so strong BOTH OF THEM MY BABIES#HE DIDN'T LEAVE đđđđđđđ#such beautiful writing btw please write a book PLEASEEEE#âyou've been through so much to become this strongâ OKAY I FEEL ATTACKED#but oh my god what a beautifully heart wrenching sentence#no one wants to become strong until they are forced to by the hands of the people they once loved#them being warm again :(((( the little details and juxtapositions you write are just amazing#it makes the story feel much more real and human
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#intimate#couple#intimacy#touch#romantic#love#kiss#kissing#romance#desire#miss you so much#i miss it#intense#sweet confessions#sweet talks#sweetheart#sweetness#romancelike#romantic couple#tenderness#cuteness#adorable#eroticlover#you and i#yessss#you and me#me and you#couple goals#kiss kiss#kissing him
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baldur's gate 3 is just. break the abuse and trauma cycle. being forced to believe a certain way is wrong. there is more outside of the small window that i perceived the world to be. i will create my own identity. maybe the people i thought loved me did not, in fact, have my best interests at heart. i need to find the clown's body parts so the drag queen can resurrect him. my destiny is not written in stone.
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This is part of a series, read these first! (pt 1) (pt 2) (pt 3) (pt 4)(pt 5) (pt 6)
HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES part 7 - man of action
this is part of the Watson's sketchbook series!
(slight nsfw under the cut)
#flubbed posting this earlier and got it out of order#just like holmes flubbed his love confession#so if you replied to the prev post I did not see it!#watsons sketchbook#sherlock holmes#john watson#acd holmes#my art
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#original post#im sorry#but not so sorry that i'm not going to try to blaze this#castiel loves the colour of the shoelaces#<- block that tag if you never want to see this again#supernatural#destiel#destiel confession#destiel confession meme#color of the sky#colour of the sky#do you love the color of the sky#shoelaces#i like your shoelaces#tumblr shoelaces#november 5th#it's the anniversary and also an election year again. i had to.#ive had this idea too long to let it go#image description in alt#remember to vote today folks
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You remember Jane Austen? Yeah. I'm not gonna forget her in a hurry, am I? The brains behind the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. Brandy smuggler. Master spy. What a piece of work. She wrote books. Novels. Jane? Austen? Yes! Whoa, bit of a dark horse. Novels, eh? Yes. They were very good. Good Omens (2019-) || Pride and Prejudice (2005)
#good omens#goodomensedit#ineffable husbands#pride and prejudice#good omens 2#good omens season 2#gomens#good omens spoilers#michael sheen#david tennant#aziracrow#aziraphale x crowley#aziraphale#crowley#my gifs#i hope you guys see my vision akjxj#i just couldn't get it out of my head#also i love how it took this concepted and subverted it and used it#there's crowley putting his pride aside in the final confession#but aziraphale is still prejudiced towards the hell and demons#convinced that heaven are good guys#also side note but finding a good quality pride and prejudice online was a piece of work#pls don't let it flop#edit: this post is officially neil gaiman like approved#i can't believe i got to write this
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Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)
#tiger tiger#jamis arlesi#remy bonnaire#Arno#through a series of unfortunate events I will be posting this after the update will be out so my timing will be more so:#âAlternate take on how that scene played outâ Rather than my funnier âMy prediction for how it will go downâ#I truly think Remy would rather admit to crimes he didn't commit than confess he has a thing for men.#It would be funny! It would be so funny if this is how Jamis found out. Alas...Not yet...Not yet...#I do love the idea that Jamis completely overlooked the all the elder god horror to get right down to the question of 'HOW DO YOU KNOW HIM'#Remy knows him. Knows him carnally. Wouldn't you like to also know your captain better? In spirit and body and mind?#Jealousy looks good on Jamis. Now he just has to do something about it.#Poor Remy though...He love Jamis so much he'd do anything to prevent losing him.#Which entails never giving Jamis a chance of rejecting or accepting his feelings!#Meanwhile...Jamis is a bisexual disaster man who is at his *limit*.#(For the MDZS fans looking at this Tigers comic who still have no context:#This is like Lan Xichen finding out Jin Guangyao hooked up with Nie Mingjue after LXC spent all that time thinking JGY was straight.#Better yet. This is like WWX just starting to realize his crush on LWJ and then finding out he and JC hooked up in the time skip.#'Nice to know you're into men but why did I have to find out like this' moment.)#((Yes I am trying to bridge the gap between the fandoms I am in. Yes I am still on my propaganda train. Choo Choo!!!))
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does anyone realize how crazy it is to have the actor of a mostly headcanoned queer ship say the fans were never crazy and they were right all along after 10+ years of everyone just absolutely going nuts over the said queerbaited ship
#supernatural#dean winchester#spn#destiel#castiel#deancas#misha collins#im 20 i have been Experiencing supernatural and johnlock since i was 12 and merthur since wayy before that i have fought Wars#this is crazy#i love u hannibal i love u 911 (if u make eddie gay)#for the love of god by 'mostly headcanoned' i dont mean that it was never intentional#i am aware that they put the subtext in on purpose#they knew what they were doing#but my focus here is on the actor actually saying it because like#if its not mostly headcanoned then y was the entire cast denying it for years AND YEARS#like do yall not remember what jared and jenesn used to say#there have been many many many instances where the cast has made us feel crazy/stupid for saying anything abt destiel#im just saying TO ME its crazy that actors and creators talk so openly about these things now !!! again i was raised on merlin and sherlock#ok also im confused on the queerbaiting part#everyones saying its queer coding and not queer baiting but cant they be true at the same time ?#im not being dumb on purpose i swear im just confused#like yes dean is very much bi coded and their relationship is queer coded but if the creators deny everything#and we only get a last minute confession after 11 years#that doesnt count as queer baiting ?#someone smart explain this to me đ
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