#There are other tags I would be more worried about if I were you

[writingforstraykids]

Step by Step

Pairing: Minho x 9th member gn!Reader

Word Count: 2181

Summary: Minho's whole purpose is based on his dancing ability. When an injury slows him down he draws back from everyone until Chan sends you his way to get him back.

Warnings/Tags: 9th member fic, angst, fluff, self doubt

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho was born to dance.

From the moment he first stepped into a studio, it became his second home, the rhythm of music entwined with the rhythm of his heartbeat. Every movement was precise, every routine a masterpiece, crafted with the kind of dedication that only came from true love for the art. And for as long as you had known him, that fire had burned unshakable.

Until the accident.

It happened in an instant, a moment so brief yet devastatingly permanent. One mistimed landing, one sharp cry of pain, and suddenly, the invincible Lee Minho was reduced to someone broken. The doctors assured him he would recover, but the damage had already been done-not just to his body, but to something far more fragile: his confidence.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and though his body healed, his soul remained fractured. He refused to return to the studio, refused to do so much as talk about dancing, leaving Hyunjin and Felix to figure out your newest moves by themselves. He stayed away from the studio, not really seeing the use in recording new songs when he wouldn't be able to perform them on stage - which drove first Changbin and then Jisung crazy, whilst Chan worried too much for his own good. And what was even worse - he pushed everyone away. Even you. You, his fellow dancer who had always admired him the most.

But you weren’t about to let him go so easily. Not when your maknae had asked you to check on Min, not when Chan had told you, you were their last hope.

-

Knocking on Minho’s door has become part of your routine. Every day you found yourself in front of that wooden door, knocking firmly against it.

It always ended the same way. A muffled "go away," sometimes accompanied by the sound of his cats padding across the room, as if they alone were allowed to witness his pain. But today, you didn’t walk away. You could tell the others were beyond worried and you've had enough.

“I know you’re in there,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the frame. “You can’t ignore me forever, you know.”

Silence.

You exhaled sharply. "Lee Minho, I swear—"

The door finally cracked open. Just a sliver, enough for his sharp brown eyes to glare at you. His hair was a little messy, and there was an exhaustion about him that had nothing to do with sleep.“What do you want?” he muttered.

You ignored the irritation in his voice. “To see you. To talk to you.”

His grip on the door tightened. “There’s nothing to talk about. You've seen me now.”

“Minho, you—”

“I said there’s nothing to talk about.” His voice was hard now, like stone, cold and unyielding. “Just leave me alone.”

He started closing the door, but you pushed against it before he could. “No.”

That made him pause. “No?”

“No,” you repeated stubbornly. “I’m not going to leave you alone just because you decided to shut yourself off from the world.”

His jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Your voice softened, the anger ebbing away into something closer to sadness. “Minho, I know you. You’re not okay. And pretending you don’t care doesn’t make it any less true.”

His gaze flickered. For the briefest moment, something in his expression cracked - but just as quickly, he rebuilt his walls. “I don’t need your pity,” he muttered.

“I’m not here because I pity you,” you shot back. “I’m here because I care.” The words hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken for far too long.

Minho looked away first. “I don’t need anyone.”

You sighed. “You can keep saying that, but it won’t make it true.”

Silence stretched again. He was staring at the floor now, his fingers curling into fists. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “I can’t dance anymore.”

Your heart clenched at the defeat in his voice and you shook your head. “Yes, you can.”

“No,” he said, sharper this time. “I can’t. I’ve tried, and it’s not the same. My body - it doesn’t move the way it used to. I’m slower, weaker. I mess up things that were second nature before. It’s gone.”

Your chest tightened. You had seen him try - alone in the practice room when he thought no one was watching. The frustration, the way he’d stumble and curse under his breath, the way he’d leave without looking back. You took a step closer. “Minho-”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He turned away, gripping the door as if he wanted to slam it shut again.

But you weren’t done. “Minho.” Something in your voice must have made him pause. “You don’t have to be perfect right now,” you said softly. “You just have to try.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, “You’re exhausting.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, knowing you won. “I know.” And this time, when he closed the door, it wasn’t all the way.

-

The next day, you found Minho sitting in the practice room. Not dancing. Just sitting - back against the mirrors, legs stretched out, watching his reflection like he didn’t recognize the person staring back.

You sat down next to him without a word. For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy. Finally, you broke it.

“You know,” you said, hugging your knees, “when I first joined the group, I thought you hated me.”

Minho blinked, caught off guard. “…What?”

You smiled faintly. “You were so intimidating. Always so serious, so good at everything. I was scared to mess up in front of you.”

Minho scoffed. “You? Scared? Yeah, right.”

“I mean it,” you admitted. “But then I realized something - you weren’t actually scary. You were just focused. Because you cared that much.”

He exhaled, looking away. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes, it does.” You turned to him fully. “Minho, dancing is you. It’s in your blood, in your bones. An injury doesn’t change that.”

His jaw clenched and he shook his head firmly. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it,” you pleaded with him. “Make me understand what's keeping you from your passion.”

His hands curled into fists. “What if I’m never as good as before?” The raw honesty in his voice nearly broke you.

“What if you’re better?” you countered and Minho froze. You reached out, your fingers brushing his lightly. “You’re not starting over, Minho. You’re growing. And yeah, it’s going to be hard, and it’s going to hurt. But you’re still you.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you. And then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. It wasn’t a promise but it was a start.

-

The next time you found Minho in the studio, he was standing. Not dancing. Not stretching. Just standing like a soldier preparing for battle, shoulders stiff, fists clenched.

You watched from the doorway, waiting. If you pushed too hard, he’d shut down again.

Slowly, he raised a foot, testing his balance. Then he tried a step - hesitant, uncertain. Another. And another. But the moment he attempted a turn, his body faltered. He caught himself before he could fall, but you saw it. The frustration. The fear.

Before he could storm out, you stepped forward. “It’s okay.”

Minho flinched, shoulders tensing. “Go away.”

“No, Min,” you told him firmly and gently cupped his face.

Minho's eyes grew wide as he swallowed softly, the warmth of your hands oddly calming. He exhaled sharply. “Why do you keep-”

“Because you’re worth it,” you said firmly, thumbs drawing a small pattern against his skin. “Because I know you. And because I refuse to watch you give up on yourself.”

He stared at you, something in his gaze unreadable. Then, finally - finally- he lowered his gaze to the floor and whispered, “I don’t know how to do this.”

Your chest tightened. “You don’t have to do it alone, Min. We can work on this together.”

For a moment, he hesitated. And then, without another word, he let you wrap him into a firm hug, enjoying your soothing presence for a moment.

-

The days passed in a rhythm of their own. Some were good. On those days, Minho moved with a shadow of his old self, the precision of his steps slowly returning. You saw glimpses of the dancer he had once been - the fire, the grace, the intensity.

But some days were bad.

On those days, he couldn’t even make it through a routine without stopping, his frustration boiling over. He lashed out - not at you, but at himself. And then one day, everything snapped.

It was late, the studio dimly lit. You had been practicing together for hours, working through a routine, when Minho’s footwork slipped on a turn. It wasn’t a bad fall, but it was enough. Enough for his patience to shatter.

“Damn it!” The sound of his voice - raw, broken - echoed through the room. Before you could react, he slammed his fist against the mirror. Not hard enough to break it, but enough to send a painful thud through the air. “I can’t do this,” he growled out, voice shaking. “It’s not working. I’m-” His breath hitched. “I’m not me anymore, I'm fucking broken.”

Your heart clenched as you hesitantly took a step forward. “Minho-”

But he wasn’t listening. He pressed a hand to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving with the weight of something far deeper than just dance. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear - “I don’t deserve this.”

Your breath caught. “Deserve what?” you whispered.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Anything. The group. The stage. You. I was already expendable before,” he said, voice hollow. “Now? I don’t even belong here.”

Something in you snapped, eyes burning fiercely. “Don’t you dare say that.” Minho looked up, startled. “You think you don’t belong?” you demanded. “You think we wouldn’t be less without you? Minho, you’re the main dancer of this team. You always have been. You're our friend..And nothing can change that.” His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak. You swallowed hard. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you. And that’s enough.”

Minho exhaled, something crumbling in his expression. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted, so quiet it was almost a plea.

You reached for his hand. “Then let me believe for you until you can.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. But then - slowly - his fingers curled around yours. And for the first time, he truly didn’t push you away.

-

Things changed after that night. Minho still struggled, but he let you see it now. He let himself lean on you, even if only a little. And somewhere along the way, between long hours in the studio and late-night conversations, you realized.

The pain he carried wasn’t just from the injury. It was older. Deeper.

One evening, as you sat side by side in the practice room, Minho finally spoke the words you never expected. “I was ten the first time someone told me I wasn’t good enough.” You turned to him, heart pounding. “My teacher,” he continued, voice eerily calm. “She said I had talent but not drive. That I’d never make it unless I proved I deserve it.” He let out a breath. “She wasn’t wrong.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Minho, you can't be serious.”

“I’ve spent my whole life proving I belong here,” he murmured. “And now? Now, I don’t even know who I am without dance.”

Your chest ached. “You’re our Minnie,” you whispered. “That’s enough.”

He looked at you then - really looked at you. And for the first time, you saw something fragile beneath the confidence he always wore like armor. Something scared. Something hopeful. And that was when you knew he was healing. Maybe not all at once. Maybe not even soon.

But he would.

-

The day of the showcase arrived faster than either of you expected. Minho hadn’t performed in months. This wasn’t an official stage - just a small even for fans. But it was the first step. And he was terrified.

You found him backstage, pacing. “You okay?” you asked gently.

He exhaled sharply, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at you. “No.”

You smiled fondly and nodded gently. “Good. That means it matters.”

He scoffed. “You and your stupid optimism.”

You took his hands, feeling the soft tremor in them and squeezed them. “Minho, you can do this.” He hesitated. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you reminded him. “Just dance. I'll be right there with you.”

Minho swallowed harshly. Then, slowly, he nodded. When you two stepped onto the stage, the music began.

And when he moved - hesitant at first, then stronger - something changed. The fire returned. Not the same as before, but something new.

And as you caught the beaming faces of the others at the side of your stage, you realized that Minho was back on track.

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[gingerteafairy]

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

Somethings drag on for too long.

tags n warnings: carmy berzatto x reader, language, longtime friends, suggestive, slow burn past. word count: 2.4k masterlist

Everyone knew Carmy was a little bossy. Well, it was part of his job. Maybe he didn’t like giving orders, especially when they often ended with someone yelling or feeling desperate. However, your relationship with him seemed too close to be labeled as authoritarian abuse, free therapy sessions, or toxic interactions. Damn, you had known him for so long. You’d gone through so many seasons together—trends, wines, changes. Everything seemed to evolve except for the complex dynamic between you and Carmen Berzatto.

“That’s wrong.” Carmy’s voice cut through the kitchen noise, as if he could telepathically sense you skimping on a few sealing seconds out of sheer laziness.

“I know,” you replied without looking, reigniting the flame and moving forward. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be good enough.

"God, Carm,” Marcus grumbled, drying his hands to return to his station beside the chef. "Chill."

“She knows how I am,” was all Carmy needed to say, putting a quiet end to the conversation. Each of you returned to your tasks. "She has known me for a long time. Knows how i work."

“Hands!” you called, plating the dish in the designated container. Everything was just as perfect as Carmy had wanted.

“Chef, can you grab my knife from the other station, please?” Carmy asked, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m only doing this because I love you,” you teased.

You smiled as light as a feather, heading to the sink to wash your hands before fetching what he needed. The air in the kitchen thickened—though perhaps it was floating rather than heavy—because everyone could see the shared sweetness in the smiles you and Carm exchanged over that dish he was finishing with Marcus.

Handing him the knife, your fingers lingered on his for just a second longer than necessary. You could feel the sugary tension in the air, and an involuntary smile tugged at your lips as you returned to your station. Maybe you had known Carm for too long to change anything now.

Carmen found himself watching your back, like he was trying to figure out what expression you were wearing without having to ask. He knew you were focused. The little curve of your lips when things didn’t turn out how you wanted. The way your brows knit together before you relaxed, remembering how frowning could cause wrinkles. He even pictured you mentally griping about your oily skin and how no cream ever seemed to help. The worst part? He was dead-on. And like you, he felt like he’d known you too long to want anything to change.

You could feel his eyes on you. Your cheeks warmed—not from the kitchen’s heat, but from the sparks in Carmy’s blue eyes. You knew his tells: how he scratched his nose when he was nervous, or how Marcus teased him for staring at you too long for just a boss.

Everybody knew. You both knew.

This unspoken game always made time fly. Maybe just the idea of being close to Carmy was more addicting than the idea of actually being with him. Fear of rejection? Probably. Mostly from him.

As the shift wound down, he quietly set a small slice of pie on your workstation and slipped off to check something in the fridge. His shoulder brushed yours as he passed—so subtle, but deliberate.

You found yourself smiling as you packed up and finally rewarded your taste buds with another one of his masterpieces. You’d wanted to go to Copenhagen with him. Not just for the work. You wanted to share those nights on that tiny boat. To bump into him while moving around, bicker over who got the bathroom first, and watch each other over morning coffee.

You took your time with every bite, savoring each piece like it was gold. In the fridge, Carmen lingered. He tried cooling his body, his mind—maybe his whole life. He worried the pie had come out too dense. He didn’t realize he’d been gone too long until the silence got heavy, and he timidly twisted the lock.

You were still there, pie half-finished.

Damn. Too dense. His chest tightened at your slow chewing, not realizing it was for the opposite reason—it was light as air, like the curls brushing his forehead. You just wanted to savor every second.

“Hey, you wanna head out?” His voice was soft as he scratched the back of his head. He often drove you home after work, but tonight it felt… different.

“Sure.” You took another bite, speeding up to finish. Not a crumb left behind.

“Where to?” He cleared his throat and rubbed his nose. Definitely nervous. That was rare for Carmy. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him this jittery around you.

“I’ll go wherever you go.” You pulled off your apron, stepping toward the lockers.

“Cool. Follow me.”

“I will.”

It felt like a familiar song—something you’d heard a hundred times but never got sick of. Carmy followed you, your lockers side by side. You bent to grab your bag, and his stubborn gaze followed before he quickly looked away as you stood. You both exchanged smiles before heading to his car.

He’d driven you countless times, yet it always felt new to him. You climbed in, and he started the engine. The destination felt as unclear as it did certain—a pull leading you both somewhere.

“There,” you pointed toward a park. He nodded.

It wasn’t too dangerous—people still strolled here at this hour. You gave a small, awkward smile, realizing couples often came here to kiss or lean on each other under the trees. But this was Carmy. What could you do?

He parked and turned off the engine. Neither of you moved. Realizing it, he switched on the heater and reluctantly turned to you. You’d already been looking at him for a while.

“How you doin’?” His voice broke the quiet. You paused, then turned toward him.

“Good. I think.” You didn’t want to overthink it. Life wasn’t bad—just… monotonous. “What about you?”

“Good.” He shifted in his seat, hands gripping the wheel. Then he exhaled. “Actually, no. I’m good, but I’m nervous. I’m always so fucking… wired.”

“Same.” You sighed heavily. “You still in therapy?”

“Yeah… Actually, AA. I told you.”

“That’s right. Sorry, I forgot.” You unbuckled to sit more comfortably. He did the same, resting his hands in his lap. You pulled out your phone. “How are you today?”

The app showed a smiley face that changed with his input. Carmy chuckled, sliding the bar to neutral. Neither positive nor negative. But when he looked at you again, he changed it to a smile. "Good day."

“Where’d you get that?”

“Found it when I was feelin’ pretty low and wanted to track it,” you explained, tucking your phone away. “You’d be surprised how many neutral faces are logged in there.”

“I wouldn’t be any different.” He let out a soft laugh. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with my future. Makes me anxious.”

“Same.” You laughed, though it felt more bittersweet.

Carmy’s phone buzzed. He checked it, shaking his head with a smile.

“What’s up?” You leaned in. He lowered his phone.

“Richie. Sending pictures of half-naked dudes and saying happy birthday. And it’s not even my birthday.”

“That’s your idea of ‘heavy’?” You teased as he put his phone away.

“Yeah… guess it’s not heavy.” His smile lingered as he ran a hand over his face, trying to smother the laugh bubbling up.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What do you think about dating?” Your heart wavered, but your voice stayed steady. Carmy clicked his tongue, seeming to chew over the question.

He scratched his head, sighing before answering. “I never got far enough to have an opinion. You know that.”

“I know.” You responded, feeling a little more awkward this time. “Have you had your first kiss?”

“Yeah. Actually… I had my first kiss when I was, like, 3.” He laughed, the ridiculous memory shaking through his body. “I was trying to copy… I dunno… something I saw on a soap opera.”

“What were we thinking, huh?” You chuckled with him, the mood lightening, opening up a little more. “I’ve had a few. But I dunno. It’s like, when things start heating up, I kinda lose interest. Like, ‘well, I’m here now.’”

“Yeah… exactly. There are highs—everything’s great for a minute, then…” He traced a sudden dip with his hand, shaking his head. “It just disappears. And I’m stuck there, same as before.”

“Feels like the idea of being close is way more interesting than actual closeness.” You said thoughtfully, and he stopped, snapping his fingers.

“That’s it.” He licked his lips, glancing around before settling his gaze back on you. “We’re cut from the same cloth.”

“Yeah…” You exhaled, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence. “Wanna kiss?”

“Sure.” He laughed, the sound growing louder as you puckered your lips dramatically. “What’s that?”

“A kiss.” You laughed, blowing him an air kiss that he caught and pressed to his chest. Then his hand moved up, pressing to his lips. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Kiss.” He whispered, resting his hands back on his lap. His lips insisted on curving into a smile. You turned your head to hide yours, just like he did.

For a brief moment, you wanted the playful game to continue—wanted something different. But who knows? Maybe that moment had come and gone. Maybe it had stretched too long.

The silence stayed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something unspoken hung in the air—heavy with expectation. Carmy let out a long breath, rubbing his hands on his thighs like he was trying to work out some kind of nervous energy.

“You think we’ve been putting something off?” he asked, his gaze fixed straight ahead, like he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

Your heart jumped at the question. Of course, you’d thought about it before, but hearing it from him made it feel real.

“Maybe,” you answered, softer than you intended. “But if we are… what do you wanna do about it?”

Carmy finally turned his head toward you. His blue eyes locked on yours—intense, but laced with uncertainty. “I’m not good at this. Like, saying what I want. What I feel. It’s just easier when I’m working.”

“What if it doesn’t have to be perfect? What if it just… happens?” you suggested, hoping to ease the weight pressing on his chest.

A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips—one of those rare, genuine smiles. “You always make things sound simpler.”

“Maybe because sometimes they are. We just make ‘em complicated.”

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment. The warmth of the car heater wrapped around you both, making the space feel even more intimate. Carmy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel before he let out another deep breath.

“Wanna take a walk?” he asked, his eyes flickering away for a second before landing back on you.

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile, sensing the shift in the air.

You stepped out of the car together, walking along the park path. Distant sounds of footsteps and laughter filled the night air, mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves. Conversation came easier—work stories, childhood memories, even a few half-formed plans for the future.

After a while, Carmy came to a stop. He turned to face you, hesitation mingling with a newfound determination in his expression.

“Can I try somethin’?” he asked, voice low and careful.

“Yeah. You can.”

He stepped in closer, the distance between you shrinking until the air felt charged, heavy with unsaid words and possibilities. The sounds of the park faded into the background—the faint rustle of leaves and distant footsteps no longer mattered. The only thing you were aware of was him.

Carmy hesitated, his gaze searching yours as if silently asking for permission. There was a vulnerability in his eyes—an openness he rarely let anyone see. His hand twitched slightly at his side, as if he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure he should. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned in.

Time seemed to slow down. His breath mingled with yours, warm against the cool night air. He moved with that same mixture of care and uncertainty that was so distinctly him—measured, cautious, but also raw with emotion.

When his lips finally brushed yours, it was gentle—like he was afraid to break something fragile. Yet there was a quiet intensity beneath it, a weight carried by all the moments you’d both left unspoken. The kiss lingered, neither of you willing to let it end too soon, hands taking a slow path to each other's side, gripping gently on your waist.

When he pulled back, his eyes stayed locked on yours, his breathing slightly uneven. He didn’t move far—just enough to study your face. He was searching for something—for regret, hesitation, or anything that might tell him he’d misread the moment.

But there was nothing like that. Instead, your gaze held his, steady and sure. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips—a silent reassurance that you were exactly where you wanted to be. And slowly, the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

“Was that… okay?” he asked, his nervous smile giving him away.

“It was more than okay.” You reached out, your fingers lightly grazing the back of his hand. “It was… how do you say? Ottimo?”

“Yeah, ottimo.” He chuckled, roaming your face, his eyes resting on your lips.

“Ottimo.” you echoed, trying to suppress a terrible fake italian accent coming through. “Did I do great?”

“Attagirl. Molto bene."

“Yeah… whatever this is.” you laughed, licking your own lips, umid on his taste. For the first time, it felt like all the waiting—all the second-guessing—had finally led you both to the right place.

He took a deep breath, like a weight he’d carried for years—maybe even decades—was finally lifted off his shoulders. He clicked his tongue, glancing around to check for any strangers or suspicious movement nearby. But there was nothing—just the warmth radiating from both your bodies.

“I feel like a hypocrite now,” you teased, his hand resting firmly on your hip, giving a gentle squeeze as you chuckled.

“How come?”

“Intimacy doesn’t seem so bad anymore,” you admitted, letting yourself get carried by the lightness of your laugh.

“Doesn’t seem bad at all.” His smile softened, shy as ever but now intertwined with something deeper. Everything you hadn’t said to each other—but that the whole world seemed to know—hung between you. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he finally spoke again. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

“Okay.”

The way he said it wasn’t just casual. It was a quiet promise—a subtle acknowledgment that something had shifted. And as you both started walking back to the car, it was clear: things wouldn’t be the same after tonight.

[dumpywrites]

Star Crossed - Kim Taehyung / V

Prompt: Costume party comes into disaster when you mistaken your crush as your friend.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, just feel-good sweet soft fluff, university au, strangers to lovers (?), drable-ish

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

a/n: I'm not a huge fate believer, never am. But I've always have a soft spot for accidental meetings type of stories :')

You never really get the rich people life. They just be throwing parties left and right, without having to think about the expenses, the mess, or even worry about invitation number. Even if you had the money to spend, party was and never will be the first choice in your mind to do so. 

But you were in university, life was supposed to be like this, right? It was supposed to be filled with stupid young people activities. And by that theory, you should not be regretting your decision on joining your friend to this random rich girl’s party. Right?

You were sure the month was February, and Halloween wasn’t supposed to come early like this. The new head of student council was obsessed with costume dressing, said she loved the oddly sexy vibe it brought. Plus, it did give her and everyone else some good excuse to dress slutty. 

While you could understand Lisa throwing this huge party to celebrate her new position, you had no idea why she would invite your friend. Apparently, they accidentally bumped into each other during lunch break and he helped her picking up her stuff. The invitation came very easily right after. You guessed being friendly with everyone was a must-do thing if you wanted to maintain your popular status.

“Your costume is very creative…” You said in a sarcastic tone, eyeing your friend up and down. 

“Hey, this was a last minute decision, alright?! I don’t have time to actually make one and this was rather cheap.” Hanbin said. 

You took a double take on your friend squid game guard costume. “This just screams lack of creativity and personality no matter how hard you try to defend it.” 

“Dude, I was struggling with my assignments!!!” He rolled his eyes as he protested. 

“You should’ve just bought a floral shorts and pink t-shirt and just be my Patrick.” You told him. 

You were in fact in a Spongebob inspired costume, with your shirt and tie, and you even got a his hat in a form of hair clip that you found online. You were pretty proud of the look you created.

“Whatever dude, let’s just go.” 

Your friend turned off the car engine and exited the vehicle, you followed. After pressing the doorbell a few times, the door opened revealing the owner of the house herself greeting you both. She was wearing a fully blinged bodysuit, and with tiny wings on her back, it seemed like she was aiming for a Victoria’s Secret inspired look. 

“Hanbin! You made it!” She squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh, you brought a friend? Hello! I’m Lisa.” She happily extended hand to you just after she closed the door. 

You mentioned your name and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you and congrats.” 

She smiled sweetly and thanked you. “I have to go back to the others, but you guys have fun! Go around and help yourselves!” And with that she waved and left. 

“Great, now what?” You looked at your friend. 

“We socialize! Maybe this way I can get more member for the dance club.” He smirked, fixing the mask that hung on his head. 

“Whatever.” You dismissed, shooing him. “Just go, I’ll be just right here, playing tetris on my phone.” 

“You’re not coming with me to mingle around? Who knows, maybe that Taehyung guy is here.” Hanbin wiggled his eyebrows. 

Your eyes widened as you gasped. “God, you’re right! He must be popular there’s no way he isn’t invited!!! Come on… now I regret on being Spongebob.” 

Taehyung was this stranger you met at the library once upon a time. His pen rolled away when he accidentally dropped it and it landed right next to your feet, just where you were sitting. He didn’t need to know that you were basically watching him from a few tables away just because of how beautiful he looked, just sitting there reading prettily. 

All you had was his name right after the awkward handshake when you gave him the pen. You were too stunned to even say your name back, which you still regretted until this very day. He did smile on his way back to his table, and even waved his hand at you before leaving, but that was all. At times like this you wished you had better self esteem.

“And you think you’ll actually have a chance with him if you’re not in this Spongebob attire?” He teased. 

“You did not just say that.” You hit your friend’s side. 

The two-story villa was enormous. You did not know what was in the punch they gave you but after a short social charge toilet break, you totally lost your friend in the crowd. How you managed to lost someone with a full pink costume was beyond you, but in your defense the light was pretty dim. 

You had been looking for almost half an hour, before you finally spotted the bright colored suit. But now questions arose. 

Why was Hanbin covering his face with the mask? You thought he was coming to socialize. Who was this guy sitting next to him, with an arm covered in full tattooed sleeve, wearing a police costume? Nonetheless you needed to go to him since you still had no luck in finding anyone to at least be your company. At times like this you wished more of your friends were the party type.

When you approached him, you saw whatever conversation they were having halted. The tattooed man looked at you with confusion in his eyes. 

“Can we go back home now? If you’re still not done socializing I can go back myself.” 

“Whoa, who are you?!” The policemen asked with wide eyes. 

You quickly gave him your name and shook his hand with a blank face, leaving the guy in awe. You turned to your friend again, who was weirdly quiet. “So?”

Your friend shrugged, there was an unfamiliar chuckle coming out from him but you figured the loud music and the fact that his mask was on were playing a part. He nodded and stood up, waved his hand at the other guy before you followed him out of the front door. He stopped right in front of the gates, standing awkwardly. 

“Are you drunk? I can drive if you can’t.”

“I never actually got your name before, but now that I have, it’s nice to meet you, I guess.” 

Now who in the fresh hell was this. That wasn’t how Hanbin sounded like. You had known the man for two years enough for you to instantly know that this was in fact not your friend who was behind the costume. 

You took a few steps back, afraid. “You’re not Hanbin…”

He took his mask off, proceeding to take your breath away along with it. Oh, this was definitely not your friend. 

“Remember me? From library?” 

You could not believe your eyes. It was none other than Taehyung himself smiling brightly at you. Did they switch costume? What on earth was going on??? Your little brain could only do so much. 

“H-How?! Oh my goodness I’m so sorry! I thought you were my friend!” You panicked. 

“It’s fine.” He chuckled. “It was getting stuffy in there anyways. You’re down for some ice cream?”

“Huh? You sure? I need to tell my friend about this…”

“I came across your friend, we had a good laugh about our poor costume choices for a solid minute before he told me he needed to get out from it cause he couldn’t stand the heat anymore, which honestly, I get it now.” He laughed. 

“He took the suit off, that makes a lot of sense now.” You sighed. 

“His mask is circle, mine’s square.” He pointed at the mask over his head and took it off to show you. “See?”

“Of course.” As if anyone would remember that detail. 

“I can replace your friend for the night?” He gave you a questioning look. 

Honestly, you would be utterly stupid to refuse this golden offer. 

“If you’re not too ashamed to walk around in public with Spongebob that is.”

“Eh, it’s cute.” 

Yeah, there was definitely something in that punch. “Thank you?” You said as you walked next to him, hoping your blush wasn’t visible. “Where are we heading?”

“Seven-eleven. Let’s just hope they won’t kick us out for looking like this.” He laughed. “So what were you reading?”

“Huh?”

“That day, at the library.” 

“Uh, don’t laugh at me.” You nervously looked away. “Diary of a Wimpy Kid.”

“Oh wow.” He laughed instantly. 

“I told you not to laugh!” You sulked. 

“No, that’s like perfect, I couldn’t imagine a better answer.” He continued to laugh. “At least that’s a cool answer, I was just there to study for my exam.” 

“I regret telling you what book I was reading.”

“Okay, I’ll stop laughing.” He chuckled. “I’m still bummed you didn’t say your name when I told you mine that day.”

You for sure couldn’t tell him you were too mesmerized seeing him up close to say anything. “I was zoning out.”

He breathed out in relief. “I swear I thought you didn’t like me or something.” He smiled. “What were you doing at Lisa’s party anyway?”

“Hanbin was the one who got the invitation, I was just dragged along.” You shrugged. “You?”

“We just know each other I guess. She’s quite the social butterfly. I wasn’t doing anything anyways and Jungkook actually was the one who wanted to wear this costume, but boy ordered the wrong size and it was too small for him. Hence, this.” He pointed at himself. 

“What was your original costume then?” 

“Nick Wilde from Zootopia.” 

This time it was your turn to burst out laughing.  

He looked at you with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Don’t tell me you’re a furry.” 

“Hey, it’s just a very simple costume. All I need was some fake fox ears, plain green shirt and a tie, done!” He reasoned. 

“Whatever you say, furry.” You teased. 

“Oh my god, you’re never gonna let this go now, huh?” He complained, but couldn’t help a smile. 

Finally you arrived at a near seven-eleven. The cashier was indeed giving both of you weird looks, considering the place was empty and your costumes, especially Taehyung’s bright pink one, were quite hard to miss. Nonetheless, you got yourself a cup of slurpee and Taehyung got himself a cone of packaged ice cream. 

The whole time you were enjoying your drink, Taehyung was singing along to the random songs they played. You had to cover his mouth a few times, afraid you were actually gonna get kicked out for real just because he was singing his heart out to a Katy Perry song. You never pictured him to be this goofy weirdo judging by his model-esque appearance, but it sure was a wonderful surprise.

After finishing the snacks, both of you decided to continue the night stroll. He held out his hand to help you stand up from the bench, knowing well you could stand up by yourself easily, but again, who were you to miss such opportunity. 

“So,” he said, glancing at you with a teasing smile, “If you hadn’t mistaken me for your friend tonight, would you have talked to me?”

You hesitated, kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk. “Honestly? Probably not.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

You sighed, debating whether to tell the truth. But something about him made it easy, like he wouldn’t judge you no matter what you said. “Because I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. And when you don’t think you’ll see someone again, it’s easier to keep them as a… I don’t know, a daydream.”

He looked at you in amuse. “A daydream?”

“I had this whole version of you in my head. A mystery guy from the library.” You playfully explained with your hands.

“Am I better or worse than the version in your head?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think. “Hmm… jury’s still out.”

Taehyung put a hand over his chest dramatically. “I’m personally offended.”

You giggled, nudging him playfully. “I was so sure you were this person who just wouldn’t talk to someone like me, given the chance.” You shrugged. “I’m glad I was wrong about it.” You smiled. 

“You shouldn’t think of yourself so lowly like that. What makes you think I wouldn’t talk to you? Who even am I?!” He folded his arms. 

“That’s why you’re better than the version in my head.” You giggled. “What about me? What’s the verdict?”

“Oh, I hate it.” He nodded with big boxy grin on his face. 

“Excuse me?!” You gasped. 

“If I know this is how fun you are to be with I would’ve fought for your name that day.” 

This man really had you in his fingertips. “You can’t be serious.” You rolled your eyes, groaning but stomach filled with butterflies. 

Somehow, your random wandering led you to a small playground nestled between apartment buildings. It was empty, the swings swaying slightly in the breeze. Without thinking, you walked over and sat down on one, pushing off lightly with your feet. Taehyung sat on the swing next to you, mirroring your movements.

“When was the last time you were on a swing?” you asked, gripping the metal chains.

“Hmm… Probably when I was, like, eight? I used to think if I swung high enough, I’d be able to fly.”

You laughed. “Me too.”

Taehyung turned his head toward you, his expression softer now. “Why’d you stop?”

You hesitated, looking down at your feet as they brushed against the gravel. “I guess… I grew up. Started worrying about things that seven-year-old me never did.”

Taehyung was quiet for a moment. Then, suddenly, he jumped off his swing, landing with a small thud. He turned to face you with an excited glint in his eyes. “Okay, new challenge.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

He grinned. “Swing as high as you can. No thinking. Just feel it.”

You scoffed. “What are we, kids?”

“Yep.” he said simply, grabbing the chains of your swing and pulling it back slightly before stepping away. “Now go.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, pushing off with your feet. At first, you were hesitant, but then the familiar rush of the wind against your skin took over. You pumped your legs harder, swinging higher and higher until the ground blurred beneath you.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt free.

Taehyung laughed beside you, his own swing matching yours. “See? Told you.”

You couldn’t stop smiling. “Okay, okay, you win. You’re still a weirdo for it though.”

“Damn right, I am.” He proudly said. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while, swinging under the dim glow of the streetlights, talking about everything and nothing. It was easy. Natural. Like you had known him forever.

Eventually, you both slowed to a stop, breathing heavily from laughing too much. Taehyung leaned back against the jungle gym, tilting his head up to look at the sky. You joined him, the night stretching endlessly above you.

“It’s weird.” you murmured after a while.

“What is?”

“How we were literally just strangers like a few hours ago.” You giggled. “And trust me I’m not this person with high social capabilities to just do… this.”

Taehyung turned his head to look at you, his expression unreadable. “It is kinda crazy, huh?”

You nodded, playing with the hem of your sleeve. “I was convinced I’d never see you again.”

“Me too.” he admitted. “And then, suddenly you were in front of me, asking me to go home with you. Never thought you were that kind of person but, we listen we don’t judge?” He laughed. 

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Please don’t remind me.”

He chuckled, gently prying your hands away. Your breath hitched as his fingers lingered on yours for a second too long.

You swallowed. “Taehyung…”

“Yeah?”

You hesitated, searching his face. “This… whatever this is—”

He cut you off gently. “—is something I want to figure out.”

Your heart stopped.

He smiled, a little softer this time. “You feel the same way?”

You exhaled shakily, the tension melting away. “Totally.”

Taehyung grinned, standing up and stretching. “Then let’s do it again!”

You blinked a few times. “Do what?”

“Hang out! No parties, no mistaken identities. Just us.”

You giggled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Sounds great.”

He held out his hand, just like he had at the convenience store. Without hesitation this time, you took it.

As you walked together under the glow of the city lights, you couldn’t help but think. Maybe, just maybe, some things were meant to happen after all. 

You might need to thank your friend later for his costume choice though. 

Thank you for reading! ★

[aventurineswife]

Wanted to start this off by saying girl I love your writing so much like it’s so good!!!!

I have an idea that I think you’ll like, so since it’s Valentine’s Day soon I was wondering if you could write something where in past visits to different planets, Sunday meets reader and they start dating, but he can’t stay on the planet so he has to leave with the astral express, but the good news is that Sunday got readers number so they talk with each other on the phone, sooo it’s Valentine’s Day and both reader and Sunday are both sad they can’t spend it together so for the whole day they send it on call with each other :)

Sorry for the bad grammar English isn’t my first language I’m sorry if it’s a stupid idea😭

“Your Voice is My Favorite Constellation”

Summary: On Valentine’s Day, Sunday spends the evening on a phone call with you, who lives on a distant planet he can no longer stay on. Despite his growing feelings for you, the distance between you both is a constant ache. As you talk about everything and nothing, both of you struggle with the sadness of being apart, finding solace in your shared moments. The night becomes an intimate exchange of words, offering comfort in your connection despite the galaxies separating you.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Slow Burn, Long-Distance Relationship, Valentine's Day, Fluff, Soft Angst, Phone Conversations, Healing and Comfort, Heartfelt Moments.

Warnings: Mild angst, Distance-related sadness, Emotional vulnerability, Slight introspection on loneliness.

A/N: AHHHHH TYYY SO MUCH!! I'M SO GLADD TO HEAR THAT YOU LIKE MY WRITING! 🥹💖 Also, don't worry about your English, it was honestly perfect and better than mine tbh 🤭🙏. @sundaysconsort, inspired by our chats hehe 🫣🤭💙✨

The Astral Express was quiet tonight, save for the soft hum of the stars beyond the windows. Sunday sat near the observation deck, eyes fixed on the vast expanse of space. His hair shimmered under the dim glow of the cabin lights, and his wings behind his ears fluttered slightly—subtle evidence of his restlessness.

He exhaled, glancing down at his phone. The time difference between the Express and your planet was a minor inconvenience, but it didn’t matter. He knew you were waiting.

A small smile ghosted his lips as he pressed the call button.

It barely rang once before your voice came through.

"Sunday!"

A warmth bloomed in his chest at the sound of your voice, bright and familiar despite the miles—no, the galaxies—between you.

"Good evening," he murmured, his voice carrying its usual airy cadence. "Or morning, depending on where you are."

"It's evening," you replied, a soft chuckle lacing your words. "And a lonely one at that."

Sunday leaned back against the seat, his halo tilting ever so slightly behind his head. "Ah," he mused. "So, we are both victims of distance tonight."

You sighed. "Yeah… I really wish you were here."

Sunday closed his eyes, letting the weight of your words settle over him. He wished the same, more than he cared to admit. His life had always been one of movement—never still, never lingering. And yet, every time the Express left your planet, he found himself looking back.

"I would have taken you somewhere quiet," he murmured. "Somewhere the city lights don’t reach. You like the stars, don’t you?"

"I do," you said softly. "Though, they’re not as pretty without you here."

His breath hitched. A quiet laugh escaped him, tinged with something bittersweet. "You say things that could ruin me, you know."

"Good," you teased. "Maybe then you'd find a way to stay."

Silence stretched between you, not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken longing. Sunday’s fingers toyed with the golden ornaments on his coat, his mind tangled in what-ifs.

"I despise this day," he admitted after a moment. "Valentine’s. It highlights absence in ways other days do not."

"Mm. But at least we have this, right?"

Sunday hummed in agreement. "That we do."

And so, the two of you spent the evening—no, the entire night—on the phone. You talked about everything and nothing, about the places he'd seen, the people he'd met, the silly little things that made up your day.

"Did you eat today?" you asked at one point, your voice laced with playful suspicion.

Sunday smirked. "Are you concerned for my well-being, dear one?"

"Always."

Something inside him softened. "Then I shall be sure to take better care of myself. For your sake."

Hours passed like minutes. At some point, you yawned, and Sunday knew you were fighting to stay awake.

"You should sleep," he whispered.

"Not yet," you mumbled. "Just… stay a little longer."

He closed his eyes, letting your breathing lull him into something dangerously close to peace.

"As long as you need," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere."

For now, the stars could wait.

[snailpebbles]

matters of the heart

chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader

summary: a three of hearts game revolving around secrets. not ideal for a secret relationship.

wc: 2k ish

tags: angst/fluff, some hurt some comfort, established relationship (yall are married), secret relationship, sorry i'm a sap and haven't written in ages :/

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Nobody knew you two were dating. It was better this way in both of your opinions! The Borderland is dangerous to all and doesn’t discriminate on who lives and who dies, a lesson you learned quickly. 

Chishiya is a private man, in and out of the Borderlands; as his wife, you know this. What is not widely known, ie. by nobody at all, is your relationship. Somehow the general consensus is that you despise one another all because your husband is a bit more teasing to you than anyone else. Neither of you try to refute these claims for many reasons: there can be no one using the other against you, Kuina, and the monstrosity that is the military (Niragi). To many this level of privacy and secrecy would strain the relationship, but not you. It took literally five years for you to even mention Chishiya to your family. 

They were not pleased, to say the least.

Leading into your current predicament, let us set the scene. Your visas are about to run out, so you both go out on the next run and by happenstance end up on the same team. With the way Chishiyas shoulders relax slightly, you know that being able to protect you is a relief to him. There have been far too many close calls and unknowns. Climbing into the car with the honestly obnoxious bunch, you both make the realization that oh! Tatta is here too! The pinkie that crept toward yours stays in place once remembering that the aforementioned boy has the observation skills of a dead duck.

The game, a level three hearts, is the one type Chishiya never wants to be playing with you at his side. Fuck. The concept is relatively simple and, if played correctly, could result in no death! Great, right? The objective is to tell who's a liar and who isn’t. Each player tells a secret or memory and the others cast their vote on whether it’s a truth or a lie. The option with the most votes is chosen. What’s the problem then? There is one player chosen secretly as a trickster whose goal is to get a unanimous incorrect vote - a truth is voted as a lie or vice versa. If this is managed, all the other players die. If it isn’t then the trickster will die instead.

The three of you walk into the old classroom and sit down at the desks arranged in a circle, all facing one another. Tatta is a nervous wreck but you quietly talk to him about random things, an effective distraction. If a small smile graces Chishiya’s face…well that’s no one's business. The other five players worry you - cocky young boys with quick tempers and two nervous wrecks. Lovely. The rules are explained and your heart rate ticks up, silently matching Chishiyas even as his body language says otherwise. 

“Player three, start!” The young boy with no eyebrows steps up to the podium and a timer of two minutes counts down. You pay attention to his tapping fingers, breathing, and where his eyes go. Being with Chishiya for as long as you have has certainly taught you some things. 

“Uhm..one time I uh, kissed a fish.” The snort that comes from Tatta almost gets you, but you cool your face. Hands tap a button and the counts tally in - unanimous truths. The alarm bells go off and your palms grow sweaty even though you’re confident that this weirdo did kiss a fish. His burning ears made it obvious. Your husband's dark eyes glance at you, the deep color so familiar that it’s calming. The slight nod of his head soothes any worry you had. The screen lights up green - all clear! The boy sits back down and another with a…tasteful mullet, takes his place. 

“I’m allergic to oranges.” He deadpans, fingers still and skin unchanging. Shit. The blond beside you watches his peripheral, decides he doesn’t like seeing the nervousness on your face, - at least not in this context - and tilts his tablet screen just enough for you to see ‘lie’ highlighted. The trust you have is unmatched so you don’t hesitate to choose. Tatta taps your shoulder and based on his sweaty brow, needs help. You share your choice much to the chagrin of the group across you. 

“You can’t do that!” Fish-kisser complains to which you recite the rules. Never once is it mentioned you can’t share answers so he pipes down real quick. Reality is brought back to you when the screen lights up red - fail. The rules never stated what happens when the player tricks the majority of you. The thought is sobering and you nervously look at Chishiya, only to see his eyes already on you. A tick mark appears in the corner of the screen and text flashes stating, “if the guessers fail three times, one randomized player will be disqualified!” The cheerful voice does not match the deadly rules, nor does it pair with the fear that flashes within Chishiya’s eyes. Already he was planning ways to get the both of you out of this unscathed, but now he has to factor in other peoples idiocy and randomization? A pinky finds yours and you hold on tight.

The next person steps up to the podium and is caught in a lie, ‘clear’ soothing the staccato of your heart. This trend follows for the next two boys and you expect the same for Chishiya, your curiosity that initially drew him to you in the first place making a show towards what he might say. His relaxed form stands at the podium, both mysterious and gloating with how his eyes ghost over each player.

“My hair is dyed.” Ah. He’s playing it safe. The more obvious the answer, the faster he can get you to safety and back in his arms - fail!

What?

The three boys across from you are laughing, laughing, as if they haven’t royally fucked up. Before you can stop yourself, you’re speaking up.

“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” While your voice may sound level, internally you’re having to restrain yourself from throttling someone. A white coat fills your peripherals and for a moment you’re tossed back to the days of visiting Chishiya on his lunch break, soft touches and pastries eaten in amicable silence in the garden. Truth comes back to you when his pinkie relinks with yours and Tatta begins to panic beside you, the two tally marks seeming to take up the entire screen.

“We wanna get outta here faster, so we might as well just get disqualified.” Mullet shrugs. The fact that they’re new is even more infuriating. Your eyes squeeze shut so you don’t snap at them, but Tatta has you covered.

“No you- you don’t want to be disqualified. Just play the game.” His voice is higher than normal, giving away his stress. Your tablet flashes at you, reminding you that it’s your turn now. The walk to the podium is heavy on your shoulders but your eyes meet Chishiyas and stay there, imagination offering escape in the memory of lazy mornings in filtered sunlight. The three boys totally ignore Tatta in the time it takes you to reach the podium.

“I’m married.” Tatta chokes on his spit and Chishiya looks the smallest bit surprised at your secret as if he isn’t the one you’ve devoted your being to. To emphasize the truth to this, you take the simplistic ring - a metal band with a beautiful pearl in the center - out of your pocket and slide it on your left ring finger. There was the slightest tan line that is now covered and the ring fits perfectly, the nights Chishiya spent secretly measuring your sleeping figures hand definitely having paid off. The proud smile on your face doesn’t hurt either as you can never seem to hide the joy of being connected to another person. It’s something Chishiya deeply admires and will whisper to you when he thinks you’re fast asleep in his arms. All in all, the truth option is the only one.

Therefore, when the screen flashes red and a tally is added beside the ‘fail’ text, your surprise is palpable. Tatta only manages a squeak of fear and the two random people look physically ill, Chishiya’s face a blank slate and the group of three laughing annoyingly at everyones reactions. The results make no sense until one of the ill people starts rapidly apologizing, having believed you to be the trickster and convincing their partner of the same. The three boys find it hilarious.

You don’t even notice your trembling until Chishiya is sitting you back down in your seat and his hand is gently rubbing your back, murmured instructions to follow his breathing being subconsciously followed. The apologies fall deaf on your ears. A faint hum fills them instead and now the urge to speak to Chishiya, your one love, is overwhelming. 

“I love you.” The truth is whispered only to the man across from you and the reciprocation meets your ears just as fast, but lacks the resignation in your tone. The gears in Chishiya’s mind are turning rapidly as the buzzing hum grows louder and the chance of your death seems larger than it mathematically is. The three boys laugh and Tatta panics and the ill people vomit, at least until Mullet has a smoking hole between his eyes.

Tatta gets up to the podium and says some obvious lie,  ‘clear’ flashing across the screen and the card collected.

You’ve calmed down at this point but your pinkie holding has escalated to holding his hand, your free hand even wrapping around his bicep. Chishiya only holds on tight so his heart will calm back down and he can regain control. He tells himself over and over that you’re okay, but the level of stress is the exact same as when he got the call of you in a car crash. Tatta has the tact of wonder-bread and the timing of gold. 

“Are you two married…?” He asks on the ride back, filling the stark silence now that one new guy is gone and his two friends will return to Beach much less eager to play. Both of you nod at the same time, fingers staying laced together even as you walk into Beach and past Kuina. She does a quadruple take and almost tackles Tatta, knowing that getting information from either of you would be like pulling teeth. As you pad up the steps to your room, neither of you miss the muffled screech of “Married?!” and the following thump of someone fainting. 

You shower together and fall asleep together, wrapped up in the other with hands pressed on pulse points and lips imprinting promises into the skin.

Sunlight streams in through the curtains and your eyes blink blearily, meeting Chishiyas focused ones where you lay curled up side by side. He looks borderline angelic, easily worth the devotion, in the morning light. Your eyes trail over the familiar lips of his face and curves of his torso, stopping where your arm is curled around that unfairly slim waist. You know you have bedhead and probably look as tired as you feel, but with the way his eyes stare so reverently, you could be convinced that you’re an angel worthy of devotion too. 

If a chair is kept under the door handle and a married pair stays in their room all day, that’s no one's business but your own. If vows are renewed after facing death, those promises will stay yours. If Kuina and Tatta spend that day gossiping with just about everyone…well that is everyone's business. Ann can only listen in mild amusement because she’s known - it was obvious when the only time she’s seen Chishiya truly smile was at you.

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a/n: hi I'm alive and while I'm not really in the aib fandom anymore, I saw a picture of chishiya and immediately went back to being down bad! so! here you go!

[kwillow]

Not to yoink last Anon’s ask gushing about your stylization and each individual dynamics at play within depiction of their lineage but they’re 100% so right, god, it’s faBulously well done and you are BALLER at it LMAOO

Your tag joke about Theo failing to live up to the lineage ™️ made me wanna ask.

Outside of her motherly adoration (and the rose-tinted codependency glasses) while alive what actually were Jocosa’s thoughts on Theo’s contributions and long term lineage goals for him, say, in comparison to what her mother or father’s were for her?

Any previously living relatives distant or otherwise Theo might have somewhat cognizant memory of cohorting with at any point like the grandparents?

tickled by the thought Jocosa might’ve been at some point obliged by tradition/social responsibilities to have hosted a sort of public home mansion soiree dedicated to a teen Theo’s ‘coming of age’ presentation and having to somewhat laboriously nudge the stubborn teen into at least pretending he has the capacity to stand being in same room as his father or god forbid some other ceremonial father-son type ritual borne of patriarchal society.

ie: Well wishes handshake, Father-Son group attendance game hunting, Father publicly gifting the ‘new’ man a required acknowledgment item as show of mutual respect, etc…

Legacy and Expectations

In theory, what was expected of Jocosa and Theo by their parents was much the same. Be raised with lessons in history, etiquette and magic to maintain the family land and position, enter an arranged marriage, produce heirs to the lineage, etcetera. The difference is in how well that was accomplished.

Jocosa was raised with no illusions that she was anything other than a load-bearing branch on the family tree, primped and educated and trained to make her equipped to beget more branches and maintain the estate until the next generation would take over. She was married off almost as soon as she came of age and set to work on producing heirs. Obeisance was the primary trait expected of her and she learned very quickly to be silent, do as commanded and bide her time until she was the one who wore the crown.

Ideally, Jocosa wanted her son to follow in her footsteps. Uphold the family legacy, have children with a woman of her choosing, act in accord with tradition and continue to elevate the family name to its rightful position of dignity and power. Her love for him told her that he could do anything he set his brilliant mind to, and that is what she would insist to him. But she always knew he had issues.

Despite her genuine affection for him and respect for his intelligence, Jocosa understood that Theo was not the ideal heir. Beyond his physical problems, he was fast-tempered, terrible at diplomacy, ill-equipped to handle courtship, prone to fits of nerves and paranoia, and needed to be watched like a hawk around sharp objects. But perhaps with more of her guidance, more time, he'd be ready. Of course, she didn't get more time. Her health declined dramatically and Theo directed all of his attention towards helping her and trying to get her well again.

Some part of her saw how he took charge of her care, taking on the responsibility as readily as a knight at arms and thought here's the man I always knew you were. But she still had doubts, and a persistent fear that she was leaving him too soon, worried about what he'd do without her. She just had to hope he'd manage without her.

Well. That didn't work out as she hoped.

Theo's Immediate Family

His maternal grandparents were alive and living in the manor when he was a small child. They both passed away when he was still quite young, so his memories of them are vague. He has the (accurate) impression that they were not fond of him.

Theo's paternal grandparents, aunts and uncles are still around, but he never met them and wouldn't recognize them if he did (only hearing their last name would make him realize they were related).

"Coming-of-Age"

As for a coming-of-age presentation, even if his parents had planned on such a thing, being ejected from his school following The Incident put the kibosh on any public appearances for long while. After he was expelled from education, he spent the rest of his teenage years hiding in his room, unable to bear the humiliation of his failure and stress of social interaction. Jocosa didn't press him to leave the house out of concern for his wellbeing and a desire to let the scandal blow over before he showed his face in polite society again, while Leonard was content to just to try and forget about him for a while (if he had it his way, he would have sent Theo to an institution for some kind of treatment or just to be rid of him for a while, but the lady of the house refused that).

He only started leaving the house again in his twenties, to accompany his mother and father on their trips to the city and social events in an attempt to learn how to manage their business and affairs on his own once that became his responsibility (so much for that). So he did not have a grand "coming out," he just gradually started to become more and more of an unwelcome presence in the social scenes his parents were involved in as an adult. And then he disappeared from society again in his mid-twenties. Nobody missed him.

[amethystina]

i understand this question may end up leading you to reveal something you're not ready to reveal yet, but can we expect the kidnapping arc soon? Considering according to the timeline there's little over a week left of yohan and Elijah's stay. This is also assuming gaon is the one being kidnapped (?) Probably asking you to reveal too much but I'm genuinely very curious about the timeline and had to ask. No pressure to give me a response though😭

You guys really are excited about the kidnapping tag. And I admit that I'm beginning to fear that you all are going to hype it up way too much and then be disappointed when the moment finally arrives since it's not going to be all that spectacular. Like, calling it an "arc" might be giving it too much weight x'D

But, to answer your question: No, it's not going to happen anytime soon. There's a long way to go, in fact, with a lot of plot points that need to happen first.

As for the timeline, you have to remember that you got the estimate "a little over a week left" from Ga On, not Yo Han. And Ga On has no idea how long Yo Han and Elijah are actually planning to stay — he's just making assumptions based on his own thoughts and fears. Yo Han said one to two months and Ga On is the one who suddenly decided that, most likely, Yo Han will want to leave as soon as that first month is up.

But he's got no actual proof to support that theory (other than the fact that he broke Yo Han's heart) and also completely ignores the influence Elijah might have over the decision. As in, if Elijah wants to spend more time with Ga On, will Yo Han truly force her to return to Switzerland just because he's heartbroken? Or will he stay for her sake?

Basically, maybe don't trust the depressed and unreliable narrator too much when it comes to this specific subject x'D

And yes, Ga On is the one who's going to be kidnapped. I've already answered that in another ask because I don't think that's a secret, given the source material and type of fanfic this is. Kidnapping is sort of a requirement, I'd say xD Besides, Yo Han is presumed dead so who would even come up with the idea of kidnapping him? And I'm too protective over Elijah to have her be kidnapped. So Ga On it is!

But please don't hype it up too much. I really don't think it will be as cool as some of you seem to hope that it will be >_>

[shalom-iamcominghome]

If you don’t know the just ignore this but I don’t know who else to ask cause I’m new to the jumblr side of tumblr. Is it safe as a trans guy to go to Israel? I’m gonna be going in few months; I’m not on t but I would say I’m pretty masculine passing but not always. I obviously wanna pray with the men at ha kotel, wear my kippah, ect but I’m very nervous. If you don’t know can anyone who sees this who’s lives in Israel or has been leave a comment on this post

You're absolutely correct in that I personally have no clue, especially because I also haven't been to Israel yet, but also because I'm stealth in real life.

I hope someone can answer your question in a more satisfactory way, because I'd honestly say that my biggest recommendation regardless of where you go in the world is being vigilant and not traveling alone if you can help it. I totally empathize with your concerns, and that's also something I grapple with. At the very least, I want to offer you even a tiny sense of comfort, but I am sorry I don't have an answer for you 🫂

[voidcat]

leaning in for a peck on the lips and telling your windbreaker darling they're so sweet they give you toothaches... only to be hit by a real toothache hours later

[qiu-yan]

EDIT: just realized that i should clarify something. what i meant by "feel bad for nie huaisang :(" was that jiang cheng felt bad for nie huaisang after nie mingjue died, because having to assume the burden of sect leadership while still grieving was something jiang cheng understood as well.

that poll option does NOT mean "jiang cheng thinks nie mingjue is abusing nie huaisang" or whatever. i should have made that clearer and i'm only realizing now my phrasing was in fact Dogshitte. i'm sorry.

[moe-broey]

Adventures in The World of Steel Drywall.

[irrealisms]

every time I see a “it’s actually totally fine and nbd to have sex you don’t enjoy and are uncomfortable with because your partner wants it and you want them to be happy, as long as you’re giving uncoerced consent!” post I lose a month off my lifespan

[melancholic-pigeon]

Okay this is the *actual* last comment, for real, but I just found out Spider is now smearing me as a convert and accusing me of being involved with drama I was not involved with because he mistakenly attributed my apologies for his public temper tantrum as being about something unrelated.

THIS IS A FALSE ACCUSATION and I do not appreciate having yet another bit of fake malicious intent falsely ascribed to my actions and* attributing a completely unrelated attack to me.

Also, it's very sad and disappointing whenever a Jew gets mad at a convert because something else is going on in the Jew's life and the convert happens to be in the splash zone and the Jew falls over backwards to smear the convert and invalidate her faith.

Just....the childish aggression is making me so, so sad and disappointed, from someone I used to think very highly of, who is now lying about me and publicly smearing me with false accusations based on a conflict he started because he misinterpreted something I said and I went out of my way to give him the benefit of the doubt when trying to clear up the mistake HE MADE that led him to decide bullying and attacking me for three fucking days was appropriate and okay and that I'm the bad guy for saying it's wildly unprofessional to behave like this in public to a former customer face.

Sorry, but facts, reality, linear time and the truth of what I actually said and did are on my side here, and I will not stand for being smeared and attacked and shat all over because I had the gall to try to kindly resolve his uncalled for, unjustified temper tantrum.

I am also not sorry that I left a side note in the tags that it was also unacceptable for HIM to drag his daughter into a stupid internet slapfight based on his own reading comprehension failure. Because it was and is unacceptable, and she needs to hear that message from someone.

End of story. Keep digging that hole as long as you like, Spider. It's not helping your case and is continuing to make you look progressively worse and more unreasonable, and the only person you have to blame is yourself.

*revised for clarity

[autopsytableromance]

Wishing one million thousand deaths on ppl who make constant and casual “life is a simulation” jokes

[duckapus]

Equestrian Forms for "A Snake in Horseland"

Since the Arle Arc's nearing its climax I figure I should have these ready. Just focusing in species/Pony Tribe for now, I can figure out cutie marks and shit later.

The Crew (plus Antivirus, Mira and Amy because of course they'd come for this)

Mario and Luigi: Earth Ponies

3 and 4: Unicorns

Meggy: Hippogriff (doesn't have the ability to shift to seapony form)

Bob: Changeling (doesn't quite get the hang of transforming at first)

Boopkins: Dragon (barely looks any different tbh)

Saiko: Unicorn (specifically she has similar proportions to pre-curse Mistmane, including the long curved horn, but more muscular)

Tari: Pegasus

Melony: Alicorn (if you think she wouldn't be one given her abilities you're lying to yourself)

Juliano: Earth Pony

Toad (of course he's here they're trying to save his current house guest): Equestria doesn't know what tf to do with a talking mushroom and leaves him the same

Domain and Forum: Earth Ponies (since they're based on Mario)

Emulator: Unicorn

Antivirus: Changes back to his normal form before anyone can see

Mira: Griffon

Amy: Earth Pony

The Kids Note: not all of them are here because they were kind of on a time crunch for following Ozzy

Lil Coding: You'd think he wouldn't change since there's cat people in FiM (at least if you've seen the movie and comics) but they have specific proportions so there is still a change

Lily: Siren (so, Seapony but she also has a genstone lodged in the base of her neck)

Haltmann Triplets: Earth Ponies (since Elanore is mostly Mario's clone and if it weren't for their hairstyles and outfits Hex and Vee would be Elanore recolors)

Barney: Equestria has even less idea what to do with a robot than a mushroom so there's no change

Fever Quartet Like Sig would leave one of his bug-finding buddies hanging

Amitie: Pegasus

Raffina: Earth Pony

Klug: Unicorn

Sig: Pegasus, but his demon arm manifests as a red bat-like wing

The Anchors (and necessary tagalongs)

Link: Earth Pony

Doc: Domestic rodents already exist in Equestria

Frida: Deer

Timmy: Unicorn

Cosmo and Wanda: Already natural shapeshifters. They initially end up as Breezies but retain all their usual abilities so it's mostly just yet another disguise rather than replacing their usual default forms

Rodney: Earth Pony in base form, Alicorn in Champion form

Mina: Pegasus

Harmony: Her status as Spirit of Heart trumps Equestria's Mirror Magic. No change.

Syndicate Scouting Team

Mr. Crocker: Earth Pony

Vlad/Plasmius: Unicorn/Ghost Unicorn with fake-but-functional bat wings replacing his cape so he looks like a vampiric Alicorn

Vaati: Initially a Breezie Because Picori, quickly changes into a Unicorn

Lokoko: The biggest most ethereal damn deer you ever did see

Admin Gohma: Changeling Queen (has the proportions and more dragon-like eyes of Chrysalis but the bright colors and solid, less zombie-like build of the reformed changelings)

And then I've already said that Ozymandias ends up as a Dragon and Kirin and Garyboy ends up as a Pegasus in my post where I came up with them ending up in Equestria.

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan