#and I would be stuck in bed for most of that time from migraines and debilitating joint pain

[bbcphile]

You eat gluten free dumplings??? Tell me your secrets I beg you!! (No fr I want to try them so bad but can't :/)

Feel Good Foods has a few flavors of gluten free potstickers that are pretty great (at least, great compared with either no dumplings or agonizing pain from dumplings with gluten): https://feel-good-foods.com/product/chicken-dumplings/

Other than that, there’s one local restaurant near me that does actual gluten free har gow (all the other local places add wheat flour 😭).

Tragically, the only all-gluten-free Chinese restaurant near me closed down this summer (and I only learned about them three days before they closed!). The former owner said she might be publishing a cookbook, so if she ever does, I will definitely send you a link to it!

[hyucksos]

after rain, comes sunshine — huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x f!reader genre: coffee shop au, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, romance, slow burn-ish wc: 6.7k synopsis: a thunderstorm leaves renjun stuck with his relentlessly cheerful, ever-optimistic coworker— you. you're the embodiment of everything he hates, but as the night stretches on, renjun starts to realise that the things that irritate him the most may not be all that unbearable after all. at least, not if it involves you.

There are three things in this world that Renjun hates.

Early mornings, small talk, and thunderstorms.

He must have done something super horrible in his past life, because it's barely even 3pm, and Renjun has had to go through all three of the aforementioned in that exact order.

He wasn't even supposed to come in to work today, but Donghyuck had called in sick (Renjun finds that hard to believe) and he was the only other person on the roster who knew how to make a Toasted Caramel Cloud Latte. Obviously, that wasn't a good enough reason for Renjun to willingly sacrifice his much-needed sleep, and it seemed that Donghyuck knew that too, because not only was he quick to promise Renjun to cover him for his next shift, the boy had also vowed to chip in to buy the new set of gouache paints he had been eyeing for so long.

That was what got Renjun out of bed, albeit begrudgingly.

The last thing he needed was an extra factor to contribute to his already-terrible mood, but that was what he got anyway when he stepped into the café, only to be met with you.

"Morning, Renjun!" You chirped from behind the counter as you dried down a mug, the café already prepped for opening— you liked to take your time when doing the opening duties, and you found that coming in earlier helped avoid any unnecessary rushing on your end.

Renjun didn't say anything, opting to shut his eyes as he tilted his head to the ceiling. You didn't miss the tick of his jaw as he trudged towards you wordlessly, letting his bag fall from his shoulder to the shelf beneath the cash register.

"You know how to make a cloud latte," he muttered under his breath as he put on his apron, securing it tightly with a double knot behind his back. "Why am I here?"

Despite his less-than-enthused response, you grinned. You've been working with Renjun long enough to know that he's a little bit of a grump, so you didn't take his moodiness to heart.

"Hyuck's your best friend. It would make sense for him to ask you instead of anyone else," you reasoned lightly. "Plus, having company isn't so bad, is it? You'll be out the door before you know it!"

"Citizens are advised to stay indoors..."

Renjun lets out a groan as he lets his head hit the cabinet behind him. It hurts, but not as much as the migraine that's already beginning to form in his temples. And as if to add insult to injury (no pun intended), the sky lets out yet another guttural rumble, reminding him once more of his ill-stricken fate.

"I don't think Seoul's had a downpour this bad in ages," you remark from somewhere at the dining area. Renjun couldn't tell where exactly you are; he had slid down to the floor when he decided to accept his fate fifteen minutes ago, and his only view since are the bottles of syrup and unopened bags of coffee beans under the espresso machines.

And as if to add even more insult to injury, the two of you are the only ones left in the shop. With it being a Tuesday afternoon, most of your regulars are either at work or school. Renjun has never liked working during the rush hour, but God does he wish for that to be the case now.

He looks up when he sees your head pop above the counter, raising a brow at the smile on your face. He knows how awfully cheery you are, but even in a time like this? You must be crazy, he thinks.

"Isn't this nice? I never knew this café could get any cozier."

"Nice?" Renjun scoffs as he finally gets to his feet. "What about this is nice? We're stuck in, I don't know, what might as well be a Cat 5 hurricane, and you think it's nice?"

You roll your eyes, seemingly unbothered by his sharp tone. "You're so dramatic! I've been in one, you know? While I was on vacation in the States. It was a Cat 2, I think, and I promise this doesn't even come close to that! I mean, as long as we're not asked to evacuate, we should be fine-"

Renjun lets out a loud tsk, cutting you off as he unties his apron rashly, the fabric crumpling in his hand.

Your eyes widen when you register his movements. "You're not actually planning on leaving, are you?"

Renjun scoffs dryly in response. "You think I have a death wish?"

"Honestly? I could never tell when it comes to you."

He glares at you.

You quickly round the counter, successfully trapping him before he could escape to the break room. "Look, I'm sure it won't be too bad! Let's just continue to wait for updates. Coffee?"

"I hate coffee," he deadpans.

"You literally work in a café!" You laugh airily, moving to the teabag jars beside the espresso machines. Despite the heater being on, the coolness from the outside is starting to seep in, and you're sure Renjun could feel it too.

He doesn't say anything but huff under his breath as he leans against the cabinets behind him, taking out his phone from his back pocket. You take it that he's done with the conversation.

For a while, it's silent, the only sound apart from the tinkling of your metal spoon the harsh crashing of raindrops against the window panes outside. You think it's calming, but Renjun seems to think otherwise when you see him flinch from your periphery at the sudden flash that illuminates the room, soon followed by a loud boom of thunder.

Instinctively, you turn to him, but Renjun keeps his eyes fixed to his phone, his lips downturned into his usual frown.

"Did you know that lightning is hotter than the surface of the sun?" You remark, crossing the distance towards him with the mug of tea in your hands. Renjun looks up from his phone at your question, his stare blank, but his right brow raises slightly when he realises what you're offering.

He doesn't make the move to accept the mug as he pockets his phone, opting to cross his arms instead. "What are you doing?"

You tilt your head. "Huh?"

He nods towards the steaming mug in your hands. "What are you trying to do?"

"You said you don't like coffee, so I made you tea instead! It's Lemon Balm, known to reduce anxiety. It could also improve one's mood-"

"Yeah, so long as I'm still trapped in here, that's not gonna happen," he mutters, turning to face the window outside.

The rain is still as relentless as ever, the skies dark and gloomy despite it being daytime. If it was any other day, Renjun would have already been out the door, making his way home. A regular eight-hour shift is already treacherous enough on it's own— an eight-hour shift with you, while it's raining, on top of that, has got to be one of the worst things that's ever happened to Renjun in a while, which says a lot considering he's literally living in the same timeline as Lee Donghyuck.

Renjun turns to steal a glance at you, no longer at his side as you busy yourself with doing the dishes. As if just now never happened, you're back to humming to yourself, the song only sounding vaguely familiar to his ears. The cup of tea you made him is left abandoned on the counter, and for a split second he feels guilty for having not accepting it earlier.

You see, it's not like Renjun hates you. He's just indifferent, and that makes a huge difference. He's someone who prefers to keep to himself, a concept that you can't seem to fathom for some reason, and he finds your overtly-positive attitude equal parts annoying and draining. Renjun doesn't hate you— he just hates everything you embody, and that's enough to make him stay away.

"Look what I found!"

The last time Renjun heard your voice has to be around a few hours ago, when he decided to move from the counter to one of the couches in the dining area. It wasn't the most ideal considering the floor-length windows still gave him the perfect view of rain that he hated so much, but his legs were beginning to hurt from standing for so long and he didn't really want to sit on the floor and deal with your small talk any longer.

You must have gotten the hint when you decided to leave him alone, retreating to the break room to do God-knows-what— based on the grin on your face now, Renjun has a feeling that he's going to find out very soon.

You bound towards him, settling next to him with something in your hands. Your eyes instantly land on the sketchbook on his lap, but before you could say anything, like utter out a compliment on his drawing, Renjun snatches the pad away from your sight.

"What?" He grunts, cheeks feeling slightly warm for some reason. He had abandoned his phone some time earlier, deciding to peruse his sketchbook to pass the time. It was a good thing he brought it out everywhere he went— as awful of a situation he's stuck in, at least he has something familiar to keep his sanity in check.

Your grin grows wider (Renjun wonders how that's even possible) before you set a box between the two of you.

"I was bored, right? So I figured I'd clean out the break room to pass the time, and I found this! Johnny must have left it here and forgot about it."

Renjun studies the blue box, the words HALLI GALLI staring back at him in bold, yellow font. Oh, hell no. You're the last person he wants to play a card game with— not just because you're you, but also the fact that he just doesn't fare well with games in general.

It's not like Renjun is bad at them— if anything, it's quite the opposite, but the last time he played Halli Galli, he had almost gotten into a fistfight with his friends (he had to receive a kiss penalty from Donghyuck even though he won because Mark kept making up rules as they went along). Needless to say, all their game nights now require the presence of a moderator (not like that has done much anyway considering Jaemin hates intervening in literally anything ever, so Renjun doesn't know why they still try).

"I'm not playing this with you."

"Aw, why not? It's fun! Even for serious people like you," you tease, but Renjun doesn't laugh. Ignoring him, you continue, "we could make the most of this quiet time together."

"Nothing about today has been quiet," Renjun mutters. He's pretty sure you heard him, but you simply brush it off as you open the box, letting the cards fall on the sofa while you place the bell in the middle.

Renjun huffs, knowing he isn't left with a choice. You're adamant, he realises, and even if he weren't to give in now, he knows he'd have to eventually, and he'd rather deal with this now than later on.

You start the game, putting down a card of two coconuts before you glance at Renjun, waiting for him to complete his turn. He does the same (albeit much less enthusiastic than you), his card flipping to the other side to reveal four strawberries.

The game continues on that way, with you practically at the edge of your seat as you anticipate every next move. You had just put down three bananas, and your eyes are fixed on Renjun's hands as he slowly flips his card to reveal... two bananas.

You yelp, palm quickly outstretching to hit the bell, and despite Renjun's obvious disinterest in the game (or so you thought), you're surprised to learn that he's just as quick, his hand clashing against yours as you fight to ring the bell at the same time.

"I definitely got that one!" You proclaim proudly, to which Renjun scoffs.

"No way, you're barely even on the bell!"

"Nuh-uh, look! Your hand is literally on top of mine!" You wriggle your fingers for good measure, causing Renjun to look down at your hand— both of your hands, which are still on the bell. You were right; while most of your palm is covering the bell, only the tips of his fingers are touching the metal surface, the rest of his skin resting idly on the back of your hand. He's never really noticed how tiny your hands are— it's not like he's that huge of a guy to begin with— and the thought somehow brings an unexplainable flush to his face.

He quickly removes his hand, carding through his deck for the sole purpose of having something to do before passing you a card. "You just got lucky," he mutters, clearing his throat.

You giggle. "No, I'm just that good," you sing, waving the card mockingly in front of his face before putting it together with your deck.

Renjun rolls his eyes. You remind him so much of Donghyuck; it's a wonder how he isn't your best friend.

"I used to play this game a lot when I was younger," you quip randomly in the midst of the next round. You do that a lot, Renjun realises, stating facts he didn't ask for when it gets too quiet. It used to leave him not knowing how to react, but if there's anything Renjun has learnt about you in this limited time you've spent together, is that you don't need a response from him to continue talking, so he doesn't say anything.

"I'm an only child, so visiting my grandparents in Jeju was the only time I'd get to hang out with my cousins. We'd do everything together— even stay up late and wake up early the next morning so no time would be wasted. It was a wonder how we never ran out of things to do," you chuckle to yourself, fiddling with the cards in your hand.

"One time, it started to rain super heavily— kind of like right now, actually— all while we were cycling outside. Instead of seeking shelter, we decided to play in the rain. We got home freezing our toes off and I fell sick the next morning, but it was so worth it. I wouldn't trade that moment for anything else," you trail off softly, and Renjun doesn't miss the twinge of longing in your voice. At this point, the game had been long abandoned, your attention now fixed on the rain outside and Renjun on you. You turn to him, the fond smile still playing on your lips, and that is what causes him to look away, only then realising that he had been staring.

"What about you?"

Renjun's brows knit in confusion. "Huh?"

"You don't seem to like the rain very much."

"Yes, because it inconveniences people. Kind of like the situation we're in right now, don't you think?" His tone comes off as a little snappy, but before Renjun could regret it, you're already beaming at him in response. He wonders if you're ever capable of any other emotion apart from happiness.

"Sure, but look at where it brought us! Two friends, bonding, towards becoming even better friends!"

Nevermind. He doesn't feel bad anymore, not when he remembers that this is who he's dealing with right now. Plus, the term friends is a little bit of a stretch, isn't it? He doesn't know anything about you apart from the fact that— well, you're an only child and that your grandparents live in Jeju. He doesn't even know your last name, and he'd like to think that that should be the minimum requirement before considering someone a friend.

He rolls his eyes as he lazily throws his last card, ready to wrap up the game, only to perk up when he sees his lone strawberry face-up with four of yours. Quickly, he reaches forward to ring the bell, grinning in triumph when he realises you hadn't gone head-to-head this time.

"A-ha! I win!" Renjun smirks proudly, too caught up in his victory to realise that he's smiling. It falters when he notices you staring at him— not in defeat, but something much... softer. It looks similar to when you were recounting your memories with your family in Jeju. It looks like Jaemin when he's scrolling through pictures of his three cats in his gallery. It looks like Mark... when he's on FaceTime with his girl whenever they do long-distance.

Suddenly, Renjun could no longer hear the rain thumping harshly against the window next to him. He could no longer see the lightning that comes in flashes, nor does he flinch at the thunder that follows. Only two words form in his head:

Oh, shit.

lee donghyuck [3:41pm] yowww 🔥🔥🔥 [3:53pm] r u alive? lol [4:02pm] wait no like actually r u???? [4:22pm] pls tell me ur sfae omg im gonna start sobbinf and cryin rn dont evne [4:46pm] HUANG RENJUN [5:12pm] NAWWW we really lost an angel today.... jun i hope ur looking up at us 🙏🙏🙏

huang renjun [5:24pm] UP???

lee donghyuck [5:24pm] oh hey lol [5:24pm] wyd

Renjun utters a curse under his breath as he switches to his phone app, bringing the device to his ear immediately after he dials Donghyuck's number. It rings twice before the boy picks up.

"Injun-ah!" Donghyuck's voice is hoarse— so he wasn't lying about being sick. That doesn't make Renjun any less annoyed, though. "I was so worried-"

"Cut the shit, Hyuck. Did you know?"

Donghyuck is silent before he replies, as though carefully choosing his next words. "... Know what?"

"That she likes me."

"That who likes- oh my God. Did she tell you already?" If it's even possible, Donghyuck's already-naturally nasally voice sounds even more annoying now that he's excited while sick.

"What?" Renjun hisses into his phone, glancing around the room to make sure he wasn't too loud. Granted, he's currently alone in the men's room and he's 90% sure you aren't outside eavesdropping, but he could never be too careful. "So it's true?"

"I mean, only because she was so fucking obvious," Donghyuck snickers before he breaks out into a fit of coughs. "I'm surprised it took you this long to notice."

Renjun groans. "How the hell was I supposed to know? She talks to everyone the same way!"

"Dude, have you seen the way she looks at you? It's like when Jaemin looks at Luke, Lucy, and Lu-"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it, alright?" Renjun grumbles. "Shit, what should I do now?"

"Um, nothing? It's not like you're even supposed to know that she likes you," Donghyuck quips plainly. "Dude, why are you even freaking out? Wait- do you like her back?"

"No!" Renjun exclaims, a little too quick for his own liking. Maybe it's because he could practically see the teasing smirk on his friend's lips, or maybe it's just the suggestion that sounds so fucking absurd he had to shut it down immediately. "It's just- look, I've been nothing short of mean to her this entire time so I kinda feel bad, alright? Why would she even like me like that? I mean- is she some sort of masochist, or something?"

Donghyuck guffaws, clearly not about to let his embarrassing stuttering slide. "Okay? And why are you so worried? Since, you know, you don't like her like that and all."

"You're hopeless," Renjun mutters, not bothering to bid Donghyuck goodbye before he hangs up. He should've known that the boy is the last ever person he should seek advice from; Jaemin would have made for a better candidate.

But calling Jaemin now would only be suspicious, and Renjun knows it would only be a matter of time before you would knock on his door to ask if he's doing alright— because that's just who you are as a person.

Huh, maybe he does know you better than he thought.

Renjun has long given up hope that he'd be going home tonight. The thunderstorm is still as relentless as ever, the skies growing even darker now that the sun has set. The café is bathed in a warm light, and under a different circumstance he would've found it cozy.

You're situated behind the counter now, probably having moved there when he was in the restroom. Instead of going back to the couch, Renjun finds himself heading towards you. He doesn't know why.

"Forecast says the rain won't stop until morning." You don't look at him as you say this, and Renjun quickly notices the two cups of instant noodles you're currently busying yourself with, the rising steam swirling lazily in the air. You only turn to him once you're done mixing the noodles, a sympathetic smile on your face. "Looks like we'd have to stay the night."

"You sound oddly sad for someone who claims to love the rain." Against his better judgement, the words slip out of his mouth. Renjun thinks it must have something to do with his conversation with Donghyuck earlier, because why does he feel like he's being weird all of a sudden?

You merely shrug, handing one of the cups to him. This time, he accepts it, and Renjun tries not to flinch at the feeling of your fingers brushing against his.

"Well, I still do! If I could, I'd run outside right now and play in the rain, but the news just issued a lightning alert and I'd rather not risk getting struck, you know. Besides, staying inside isn't all that bad," you quip lightheartedly, a small grin on your face as you bring your chopsticks to your lips, blowing on your noodles lightly.

Renjun doesn't say anything, his brows only furrowing at your response. How is it that you're still so cheery even after everything that's happened? It's as though you didn't just find out that you're literally stranded here with no way home until the next morning.

The room illuminates momentarily when thunder strikes, and this time, Renjun does flinch. If he wasn't already holding on to his cup of noodles so tightly, it would have already spilled all over him. Clearly, you notice, and you don't look away quickly enough to act like you didn't.

"You know, I've learnt recently that a lightning bolt is only as wide as your thumb, but it could stretch on for miles," you say as you swallow your food, showing a thumbs-up as you grin at him playfully. "It's kind of crazy, right? How something so small could be so powerful?"

Renjun clenches his jaw, shutting his eyes momentarily. "Alright," he mutters, placing his cup on the counter. "Why do you keep doing that?"

You raise your brows, lowering your hand. "Doing what?"

"That. Every time it gets loud and I- I startle, you tell me some random fact, as if it's going to magically drown out the thunder."

"Well, it works, doesn’t it? It’s my secret technique to distract you! And think about it this way: every time it thunders, I get to share a cool tidbit with you. Like how lightning can strike the same place twice!”

"Yeah, because that makes me feel so much better," Renjun mumbles, though he finds that the edge in his voice has softened.

"Oh, relax." You roll your eyes jokingly. "Lightning only often hits tall structures like trees or skyscrapers, so you’re safe here with me.”

He scoffs. "Tall? Is that a jab?"

You gape, and you fear that you've struck a nerve within him. "N-No! I mean, I'm just saying! You're probably just not tall enough to worry about it, unless you're like, I don't know, Yao Ming or something," you start to ramble. "Even then, did you know that the tallest man in the world is a whole foot taller than him? I guess he would have a higher chance of getting struck by lightning, then, wouldn't he? Or not, considering, well, you know, he's dead. I don't-"

You're cut off when you feel a palm cover your lips, and your eyes widen at the contact. Renjun stares at you, unimpressed.

"You," he starts. "Talk too much. You know that?"

With his hand still over your mouth, you're unable to reply— even if it wasn't, you doubt you could, anyway. His skin against yours brings a warmth to your neck and cheeks, and you could only hope he couldn't see how bright red you're sure you are.

You nod your head slowly.

Renjun scoffs, finally dropping his hand as he glances to the window behind you. If you weren't already staring at him so intently, you would've missed the slight upturn of his lips. "Wow. So not only am I terrified of the storm, I'm short, too?" He shakes his head, half-amused.

"Hey, you said it, not me!" You exclaim defensively, feeling much more relieved now that you've seen him smile. You wonder if he's aware of how pretty his smile is. "Though for the record, I think you're the perfect height!" You pause, "f-for dodging lightning, of course!"

Renjun didn't like how the first half of your sentence made his heart beat faster. If only he were any closer, he'd hear your heart beating just as fast, too.

"You kids hang on tight, alright? There are blankets in the break room if you need them— and keep me updated!"

You've been in contact with your boss since the lockdown announcement hours ago, and despite your last message telling him that you and Renjun are alright, it seems that it's just in Johnny's nature to be overly-concerned as his worried face now flashes on your screen.

"We're alright, Boss, we promise!" You say for the umpteenth time. "This shop's stable enough to withstand a strike or two I'm sure, so we'll see you tomorrow morning!"

"Don't joke about that," Renjun hisses, nudging your arm with his elbow. He turns to the screen again. "We'll be sure to give you hourly updates."

At this, Johnny seems a little more at ease. You bid your boss goodbye, and the café soon falls into a silence, with only the humming of the lights and distant rumbling in the skies to keep you company.

"So... should we get ready for bed?" You ask, slapping your thighs as you stand up from the couch. For some reason, it feels awkward. You've long grown accustomed to Renjun and his lack of words, but somewhere along the way today, it seems that the air between you two has shifted— for better or for worst, you couldn't really tell— and you're not sure if you could salvage it.

You've always liked Renjun— of course you have— but today, it feels more impossible to contain your feelings with nobody else around. You like to think that you were good at hiding it all this while (despite what Donghyuck says), but right now, you're not so sure if you could spend a second longer with Renjun without accidentally blowing your own cover.

"I'll go grab the blankets," he says quietly, snapping you out of your reverie before ushering away to the break room. You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding, turning around to face the couch. Surely, your feelings could wait, because right now, there's only one thing that matters more: your sleeping arrangement.

You bend down to grab the couch by the armrest, pulling it further towards the middle of the dining area. With it being originally situated right by the window, you figure it wouldn't make for such an ideal (or safe) makeshift bed.

"What are you doing?"

You huff, returning to your original height to see Renjun by the door of the break room, a bundle of plaid blankets in his hands. He has a brow raised— you notice he does that a lot when looking at you— and you laugh meekly.

"Just, you know. Wouldn't wanna get struck by lightning, or anything like that."

He rolls his eyes (again, something he does a lot when it comes to you) as he makes his way towards you, letting the blankets fall on the sofa. "You can take the couch. Probably should lay one of these out first, though. Not sure how many butts have been on there."

Usually, you would have laughed at his comment, but this time, you find yourself tilting your head in confusion instead. "Where are you gonna sleep?"

Renjun shrugs. "The chair works fine for me."

You frown. Taking one of the blankets, you spread it out before letting the fabric fall over the couch. "The chair? There's no way you'd be comfortable like that! Look, the couch is big enough for the both of us. We'd have to stay seated, of course, but that's better than sleeping in a chair, right? Or would you rather we take turns?"

Renjun scoffs. "What? We're not in an apocalypse. There's no need for night watch."

Still, you stall, and it causes him to sigh. Renjun steps towards you, gently planting his hands on your shoulders before guiding you down onto the sofa. "Gosh, you're stubborn. Just take the couch, alright? It's not like I'm planning on sleeping, anyway."

The last part of his sentence comes out in a low murmur, but you still catch it.

"What do you mean you're not planning on sleeping?" You echo, and based on the flash of panic that crosses his face, you're sure he hadn't mean to let that one slip.

"I mean, with the storm and all," Renjun explains stiffly, glancing away. "I'm just saying, there's no way I'd be able to sleep with all that noise."

You gape slightly before your lips transform into a grin. "Could I interest you in another fun fact, then?"

Renjun groans loudly, and you find yourself giggling at his response. And when you hear the low chuckle that escapes his lips, you find your heart swelling at the sound of his laugh.

"Seriously, let's just share, alright? Look, I'll even stay up with you! I won't talk if you don't want me to, though."

Renjun finally gives in, sitting at the other end of the couch. "When has that ever stopped you?"

Noting the lack of bite in his voice, you grin. "Touché."

Eventually, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, and for the first time in a while, you don't feel the need to make conversation. You've never been one to be able to stay quiet for very long; clearly, Renjun is someone who does, and today, you learn that it really isn't all that bad.

Renjun steals a glance towards you, but you have your eyes fixed on the rain outside, a small smile still tugged on your lips. It looks like you're watching a movie, the floor-length windows a giant movie screen, and the flashes of lightning the different scenes bouncing off your features. He must have missed the thunder that comes afterwards, only realising it when you turn to him with that stupid, pretty smile still on your lips.

"Uh," Renjun stutters, having been caught off-guard at the sudden eye contact. He quickly looks away. "You don't have to do this."

You tilt your head. "Do what?"

"Stay up with me. You should get some rest."

You laugh, and Renjun wonders if it's always sounded this beautiful. "Don't be silly! I don't mind. I know you're gonna chide me for saying this, but it's kinda nice. I can't remember the last time I stayed up to watch the rain," you pause before turning to him. "You're probably gonna hate me forever for making you endure both a thunderstorm and my chatter in one night," you say teasingly.

"That's not true," he says quietly, only belatedly hoping that you hadn't heard him. Clearing his throat, Renjun turns to his right where his messenger bag lies, taking out his sketchbook he had haphazardly stuffed inside earlier. He flips it open, feeling your curious eyes on him as he looks for the page he had been working on.

"The rain looks better on paper for me," he explains awkwardly. "You know, since we're on the topic of likes and dislikes."

Renjun feels you scoot towards him, and he hates that he could feel the warmth emitting from your side even despite the blanket that envelops your shoulders.

"That's so pretty," you say in awe as you study the drawing. Despite it being so simple, nothing but a rough sketch of a window pane covered with rain drops, you still find yourself marvelling at the intricacy of it all. You could barely even write a whole essay legibly, yet here Renjun is, crafting a whole masterpiece with nothing but a blue ballpoint pen. "I wish I had an ounce of your talent. You're amazing, Renjun."

Even though he's no stranger to getting compliments for his works, it somehow feels different coming from you. It's probably because of how intimate it is— you and him, cramped on a couch in a barely-lit café with your arm pressing into his side— that's all there is to it, right?

But as he turns to you, taking in the stars that seem to dance in your eyes and the pink hue that dusts your cheeks even in the dark, Renjun starts to wonder if maybe, it's more than that. If maybe, the way his heart is stuttering isn't because of the setting, but you— only you.

With the way Donghyuck's question from earlier still plays in the back of his head like a broken record, Renjun knows that it's the truth.

✦ ✦ ✦

With it being late into the night, the two of you lapse into silence, too tired to keep a conversation going, but still very much awake— as though under an unspoken agreement to not fall asleep.

The rain has reduced significantly and the thunder has lessened, nothing but an occasional low rumble in the distance, but every now and then you'd still feel Renjun tensing from next to you.

“You know, statistically, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than win the lottery,” you mumble sleepily, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Renjun lets out a soft chuckle. “Comforting,” he replies, though there’s no real edge to his voice. “So, basically, I’m doomed.”

“Not while I’m here,” you say through a yawn. “Consider me your good luck charm.”

Renjun shakes his head, but there’s a softness in his expression now, something warm and unspoken passing between you. The couch creaks slightly as you both shift to get more comfortable. Your cheek brushes slightly against his arm, but Renjun doesn't pull away. In your half-conscious state, you barely feel his arm circle behind you, pulling you closer towards him as he guides your head to rest on his shoulder.

"Then I guess I'd have to keep you around for every storm."

Click.

That's the sound you wake to, the sun that hits your eyelids being the second thing to rouse you from your slumber. You stir, your cheek brushing against something soft that only makes you want to sleep even more, but the sound of suspicious giggling causes you to open your eyes.

Your bleary vision lands on Donghyuck, who's currently standing before you with a cheshire-like grin, his phone in his hands.

"Don't you two look cozy?" He coos, tapping on his screen once more before his phone produces another click.

Finally registering what's happening, you jolt awake, only belatedly realising the oh-so-soft material to be Renjun's clothed chest. You must have fallen asleep on him sometime during the middle of the night, and you can't figure out what's more embarrassing: that, or the fact that Donghyuck has proof of said... intimacy.

"Lee Donghyuck! You better not post that!" You yelp, jumping off the couch to reach for his phone, only to fail as he waves his arm in the air, cackling manically.

Renjun finally stirs at the noise. “What’s going on?” he mumbles groggily, only to frown when he registers what you and Donghyuck are doing.

You whip to turn to Renjun, almost tripping in the process, throwing him an apologetic glance. “N-Nothing! Just- uh, a little misunderstanding!”

Donghyuck lowers his arm, tongue poking out of his lips as he types rapidly on his phone. “Oh, I’m definitely sharing this. Aw, you two are so adorable!”

Renjun groans. "Fuck off, Hyuck, seriously." He stands up, picking up his bag before stuffing all his belongings inside. "Ignore him. Let's go."

You giggle, your own embarrassment seeping away when you realise just how flustered he is. "Renjun, wait-"

"Nope, not waiting," he mutters, the tip of his ears noticeably pink as he slings his bag over his shoulder. "We're leaving before this asshole gets anymore material." He shoots Donghyuck a glare, who only waves a hand mindlessly.

"I may be an asshole, but at least I'm not delusional. Seriously, guys, it's painful watching you pretend like you're not into each other!" He cries dramatically, and Renjun's eyes widen before he forces another warning stare to his friend.

"Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Hyuck," he mutters, hoping his voice didn't waver too much, before quickly grabbing your arm and leading you to the door. "We're leaving."

"Have a good day, lovebirds!" Donghyuck sings, and Renjun flashes him a middle finger with his free hand without turning around.

You couldn't help but to laugh as you let him drag you out to the sidewalk, the cold outside air hitting your skin for the first time since yesterday. It's no longer raining, but the streets are still wet from the overnight storm, and it helps in cooling your own burning cheeks.

Renjun finally releases you when you're a little further away from the café, turning to face you with a sigh. "Sorry 'bout that," he mumbles, his cheek still painted red, and you wonder how it's possible for him to be this cute, grumpiness and all.

"It's okay." You bite your bottom lip to suppress a grin, and Renjun smiles at you weakly.

There's a moment of silence between you two before Renjun clears his throat awkwardly. "He's right, you know?"

"Hm? About what?" You ask, slightly taken aback by his sudden soft tone.

Renjun shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his voice quiet. “About… me being into you. Wait, that came out weird." He stumbles over his words, and you merely beam at him as you give him time to compose himself.

"It's just— I know I haven't been the nicest to you, and I know it may sound crazy, but I had this whole revelation yesterday that I do have feelings for you— and I promise this isn't just a fleeting thing because of the storm— I genuinely think you're really cool."

You don't say anything, only a soft smile playing on your lips, and that causes Renjun to panic.

"I mean, I know I've been a jerk to you, and I know this isn't an excuse, but I just didn't know how to-"

You cut him off by leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, effectively halting his words. His mouth hangs open slightly, eyes wide as he stares at you in disbelief, his face flushing.

When you pull back, you couldn't help but laugh softly at his stunned expression. “You're rambling,” you tease with a playful smile.

He coughs out a small laugh. "Yeah, sorry. Guess I was." The smile stays on his face this time as he meets your eyes. "So... does that mean you're not compelled to the idea of going on a date with me?"

"Nope. Not at all." You rock between your heels and toes, already feeling the excitement bubbling in your chest. You like to think that you're doing a much better job at keeping your composure, but you're sure anyone could see just how bright red you are. "I think I'd really like that, actually."

Renjun's eyebrows raise before his expression eases into one of relief, and for the first time, a large smile graces his lips. You think you might just have a new favourite thing now— one that easily tops the rain.

"Yeah? Good. Because I think I'd really like that, too."

[dovveri]

you can kiss a hundred boys in bars

synopsis: good luck, babe! - inspired fic (essentially sana left 6 years ago and you still can't stop thinking about her even though you're married to another man)

warnings: cheating, internalised homophobia, not chronological, implied sex, cursing

w/c: 6.4k

a/n: hi 😀 this one may not hit as many of the audiences but it was interesting to write. i zon't think i like it toooo much for how much time i spent on it (edit: the moots have made my day i do like this one a lot actually) but just one of those things i needed to get out before i was able to move on to the next thing :P weeeEEEEHHEEEE i love angst!!!!!!!

ok this one's going to be a bit different guys pls READ THIS or you'll be like what the fuck. purple text is the present. ty enjoy, that was it LOL.

▂▂⌇

you wake up with a migraine. it came not long after you married frank and it’s stayed ever since. you sit up on the bed, careful not to make too much movement or sound to wake your husband next to you. although that was pretty unlikely anyway considering how he slept.

you sigh lightly, holding your head in your hands trying to mitigate the damage.

your head starts drifting off, as it did on most nights these days. it seemed the only thing that ever worked to stop the pounding in your head was thinking about her.

▂▂⌇

funnily enough, sana was actually the reason you and frank had met.

it had happened when the both of you were at a bar after class celebrating the end of exams. sana being sana had made a whole group of friends 10 minutes upon entering the establishment. you were sitting back watching her challenge someone to down the most shots in one minute. you would have stopped her on another day but after the hell week she's been through with her finals, you figured she deserved it. and you'd be there to take her home afterwards anyway.

she's whooping and jumping around, turning back to you with a grin when she wins. the poor loser skulking away back to his friends.

frank goes up to her then. introducing himself with that kind voice of his, just making sure she had someone to go home with and look after her.

and sana adored the attention. she's flirting with that charm of hers that no one could resist. but strangely enough, frank resisted. he was a gentleman, not wanting to pursue anything while sana was intoxicated, instead, he asked who could look after her, and sana points to you.

▂▂⌇

you're not getting back to sleep. instead you silently step out of bed, grabbing your phone and the hidden pack of cigarettes you kept in the second drawer of your bedside cupboard.

you step outside onto the balcony, breathing in the cool night air, shivering a little as you wrap the blanket you left on the balcony chair around you.

you click the lighter on, the small flame illuminating the darkness of the night, the only other light source aside from the moon. you're thinking if sana's somewhere she can see the moon right now while you put the lighter to the end of your cigarette. is it night for her? was she asleep? did she ever think about you?

you bring the stick to your mouth, inhaling, feeling the roughness of the nicotine hit your lungs, and exhaling softly, watching the wisps of smoke dissolve into the night sky.

sana hated when you smoked. frank didn't like it too much either, but he was never able to stop you.

▂▂⌇

"do you have to do that here?" sana's frowning when you release a puff of smoke into the air.

"sorry. stressed." you mumble in response, cig still stuck between your lips.

"you know i can help with that. just not when you taste like an ashtray." sana's still staring at the cancer stick you're sucking on with contempt, she never hated anything but if you had to place your money on something it'd be your bad habit.

you're smiling sheepishly, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and smooshing the end until it's not burning anymore.

the frown on her face is gone immediately, she's charmed you listen to her so easily. and she sticks to her word, stepping closer and leaning in.

your lips meet lazily, she's got a hand on your cheek, the other at your waist. you're wrapping your arms around her hips, holding her against you as your lips slot against each other.

sana was an attractive woman. there was no doubt about that. the two of you had met during high school. she had caught you sneaking off for a smoke during P.E. and had somehow convinced you to go and get your nails done with her instead. ever since then you two had been inseperable.

it was after you broke up with your first boyfriend in college that you started sleeping together. you remember he had decided to call it off because he was going all mormon and was ashamed of having had sex already, calling you a 'sex-addicted whore who was sent by the devil to tempt him into the flames of hell'. sana despised that he made you feel unwanted, and even more that he blamed you for the break up. she needed you to know just how valued you were, just how wanted you were, and in her drunk dazed mind that meant worshipping you until you came crying under her. and in your drunk dazed, heartbroken, self-pitying mind, you let her.

when it happened again, and again, and again, and then not under any alcoholic influence, the both of you decided to continue seeking each other out for sexual relief whenever you were stressed, or in any sort of mood that called for sex. you stopped every time one of you started a new relationship, but you always found your way back into each other's arms eventually.

▂▂⌇

you curse lightly when you reach the end of your cigarette.

picking out another one, you’re repeating your actions, lighting it up, bringing it between your lips, inhaling, feeling it fill your lungs, and then pushing it back out.

there hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by where you hadn’t thought about sana. frank didn’t get it at first. he asked you why you couldn’t just call her, you two were the best of friends, surely it wouldn’t be that difficult to reconnect?

he didn’t know you slept with sana on the night of you and frank’s wedding. doesn’t know the countless times you’ve slept with her before that. doesn’t know sana woke up earlier than you the next day, disappearing into the early morning, no note, no text, nothing. you were too ashamed to try and contact her for weeks after that, it wasn’t until you came back from your honeymoon that you realised you were knocking on an empty door when you tried to find her at her apartment. it was cleaned out, no furniture, no remnants of her, nothing to prove she even existed. you had called her over and over, tears of desperation spilling over, holding back choked sobs that only grew stronger with each voicemail message.

it wasn't until sana's old landlord holding a 'for lease' sign in his hand comes and kicks you out that you finally realise you'd lost her.

after that, your relationship with frank started to deteriorate. what did you expect though? was it sana's fault? if sana hadn't left would you have lived happily ever after, the three of you together?

it took a long time to realise the answer to that was no. you spent years blaming sana for leaving, and when you finally came to the terms that you were the one who drove her away, it was too much to bear.

▂▂⌇

"y/n!"

you smile at the sound of sana calling you in the corridor, turning to meet her hug as she crashes into you.

she starts talking your ear off and you nod along enthusiastically, but suddenly she stops, looks down to your hand, intertwined with someone else's.

"oh. who's this y/n?"

you look over at your newest boyfriend in surprise, almost forgetting he was holding your hand and standing next to you. you tended to forget a lot of things when sana was around.

"oh this is danny. we met at that bar i told you about last week remember?"

"hmm..." she's looking up at him in scrutiny, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed. you can feel danny's palms start to sweat under her gaze.

"one week huh? not bad, let's see how long you last, if you go longer than a month then i'll introduce myself to you." sana says then.

"sana!" you're hitting her lightly, flabbergasted at her insinuation.

"what? your last one was like 3 days. you just keep breaking these guys' hearts y/n." she places a hand over her heart dramatically.

danny's tightening his grip around your hand, speaking up, "excuse me, i don’t appreciate you wishing doom on our relationship even before its started. and i wouldn’t want to be introduced to a slut who’s never had a real relationship before anyway.”

sana’s speechless for a second but her face morphs into a scowl quickly after, “okay danny,” spitting out his name, “first rule of being a decent boyfriend? don’t talk shit about your girlfriend’s best friends. let’s see you last another hour after that comment.” she turns to you, raising an eyebrow, “you gonna let him off with that y/n?”

you’re stuck, and danny’s looking at you expectantly.

“sana… that comment was a little uncalled for y’know… you did kinda start this…”

danny’s smirking, looking smugly back towards sana.

“what?! are you serious right now y/n? y’know what? i don’t care. your life and whatever. see you later.” she’s stomping off, your heart sinking as you watch her.

“c’mon babe, forget her. let’s go get sushi.” danny doesn’t wait for a response before he’s pulling you in the other direction.

▂▂⌇

when you wake up again the next day, frank’s gone.

you stumble to your feet, clumsily making your way to the bathroom.

it’s almost late afternoon already. you’re lucky you didn’t have work today.

sana always used to scold you if you woke up past noon. she said you'd waste the whole day sleeping when you could have been spending it with her.

these days the second option wasn't exactly viable.

you cringe a little when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. unkempt hair, dark circles under your eyes, visible signs of ageing. you'd bet sana still looked as radiant as she was all those years ago.

your phone starts buzzing when you turn on your electric toothbrush. it couldn't be anyone else other than frank. you didn't really talk to anyone else anyway. after sana left, you became a social recluse, and a lot of your friends were technically sana's friends so without that mutual connection anymore, you drifted from them very quickly.

“hello?”

“hey y/n, is my white button-up back from the dry cleaners yet? i need it tonight for this work event.”

“… no you didn’t tell me to pick anything up.”

“what? i left a note for you on the fridge did you not see it?”

“i just woke up frank.”

“it’s 2pm.”

“yeah.”

you can hear him sigh over the phone, “alright it’s fine i’ll pick it up after work.” he hangs up abruptly after he says that.

no goodbye, no i love you, he doesn’t call you by any pet names anymore either, just y/n. well it’s not like you did any of those things for him so you suppose it’s fair. he did do a lot of those things when you were dating and early in your marriage but eventually, when you stopped responding and got more and more tired of being with him, he stopped trying as well. you can’t even remember the last time you were intimate together.

frank had suggested the both of you try out marriage counselling but you were strongly against the idea. you didn’t feel particularly excited about disclosing everything that went on with sana with frank let alone with a complete stranger. you remember that week you fought about it and you ran away and didn’t come back until a month later. frank only tried to call you once during that time.

▂▂⌇

you were standing in front of an apartment door in japan.

you weren’t really thinking when you stood at the front desk of the airport, demanding a ticket for the next flight to osaka with only a small backpack and some essentials you were able to grab after your fight with frank.

it wasn’t until you were physically in the plane that you realised you didn’t actually know anyone but sana there. and you had made that unconscious decision because being with frank was simply too… nothing, and being with sana was… everything. it had been over 6 years since you had seen her last, when she left you that quiet night in may.

though it seems fate was on your side this time. sana’s cousin just happened to be working at the airport the night you arrived, when she recognised you, she was waving excitedly, ushering you over.

“y/n right? oh my goodness i haven’t seen you in so long! not since that time sana brought you here 7 years ago right?” her accent is a little thick but you’re grateful she can speak korean regardless, you could only understand very basic japanese picked up from sana.

you’re nervously rubbing the back of your neck, “ahaha yeah… do you actually happen to have sana’s address?”

she frowns a little, “she didn’t give it to you when she found out you were coming?”

it seems like sana hasn’t told many people about your relationship with her either.

“u-um ahaha no she must have forgotten. you know how she gets… too excited she forgets the important little details.”

the cousin laughs a little in response, agreeing and quickly typing in sana’s address on your phone. internally you’re thanking all the gods and deities you know of for this stroke of luck or you’d really be stranded in osaka with no knowledge of the language and nowhere to stay.

“i have to get back to work but say hi to sana for me! we haven’t seen her much since she came back a few years ago, she’s been really busy with work i think.”

you nod, heart pounding at the tidbits of information you’re getting about sana. anything to fill in the 6 year gap you’ve been apart.

you wave goodbye, thanking her again and then you’re hailing down a taxi and showing the driver the destination on your phone.

so now you’re standing in front of her apartment door, hands sweaty and nervous, just praying she wouldn’t kick you out or worse.

you’ve been standing here stupidly, deliberating when, how, if you should even knock. when there’s a slight commotion to your left, the sound of a bag of groceries dropping and a light gasp.

“y/n?”

it’s very cinematic when you turn, sana coming into view for the first time in so long is like finding water in a desert. you’re drinking her in hungrily, her darker hair, smile lines, perfect nose, she looks just as beautiful as you remember.

“sana…” you’re voice is hoarse with emotion.

she’s taking slow steps towards you after picking up her groceries. one… two…

“what are you doing here?”

“i-i- u-um i-“

“how did you get my address?”

“u-um i saw y-your cousin at the airport and she recognised me and i- i may have asked her for your address... i'm sorry! i would have called or like let you know but... y'know... i-i couldn't really do that..."

she considers you for a little bit, looking you up and down, her face stoic.

"...did you come here for something then?"

"i- um- well not really it was k-kinda an impulse decision. u-um frank and i fought and i just- i don't know i went to the airport and i found myself here i guess..."

you notice how her hand tightens at the mention of frank's name, the slight sound of the crinkling of her grocery bag.

"and what did you want me to do about that?" she's pushing past you now, taking out her keys and starting to unlock her door. you begin to panic, scrambling for words.

"i- sana please! i- i'm sorry! i'm sorry okay?"

the jingling of her keys stops, but she doesn't look back at you.

"what are you sorry for? i'm the one who left remember?" her voice is bitter and a little shaky, you realise she's not facing you because she's trying not to cry. you ache to hold her.

"i… i’m the reason you left though. right? it took me a long time to realise but i’m sorry i wasn’t able to be true to myself and i’m sorry you were a casualty to that. i missed you sana…." your voice is quiet, you feel your own tears welling up in your eyes.

“… what weren’t you true to yourself about?”

you take a big inhale, breath shaky when you let it back out. “that i love you.” your voice is tiny, you just confessed your love for the woman you’ve spent most of your life with, the woman that’s occupied your mind every second of every minute since she’s entered your life. the woman you were too scared to admit you loved, who waited for you to do exactly that only for you to enter a loveless marriage with someone else. you can only imagine the pain you’ve put her through. it would be nothing compared to the last 6 years without her. and the last 6 years without sana were undoubtedly the worst of your life.

sana’s sniffling now, unable to hold back her cries.

you inch forward and tentatively place a hand on her shoulder. when she doesn’t move it, you shift closer again to wrap your arms around her loosely.

suddenly sana’s turning and burrowing her face in your neck, you feel her wet tears stain your skin, but also your own start to run down your face. you're surrounded with sana sana sana, her smell, her sounds, the feel of her against you when you tighten your arms around her. you missed this so fucking much. you missed her. and for the first time in 6 years, you finally felt like you were home again.

▂▂⌇

after you've finished your morning routine, you lazily trudge into the kitchen, discarding the small note frank had told you about, and pouring yourself a bowl of cereal.

you sigh into the empty house. frank wanted kids of course, that's why you bought such a large house in the first place. he had dreamt of the whole white-picket fence family and you were excited to share that with him and sana. she had helped you design the place, decorate it when you first moved in, she was meant to move across the street and you were going to grow old together and watch as your kids played around and became the best of friends, just like the two of you were.

now though? you hated this house. it just felt so much more empty. you and frank had tried for kids, although that only really drove you further apart. sex just became more of a chore than something you enjoyed, and when people know you're trying to get pregnant? suddenly everyone has their 2 cents on what you should eat, what types of exercise you should do, the latest superfood that was meant to make you more fertile. everyone seemed to have more control over your own relationship, over your own body than you did.

eventually, the small amounts of love you and frank had for each other, fizzled out. and you decided you didn't want to raise a child in a loveless marriage, that wouldn't be fair to them. frank, even with his endless optimism and kind soul, agreed.

▂▂⌇

that night in japan, for the first time in six years since you saw sana, you were able to kiss her again, to feel her bare skin against yours, to taste her as she writhed and cried out your name above you.

you woke up before her the next day, sun sluggishly making its way past the horizon. you watched as her breaths came in and out, soft, her expression at peace, not clouded with anger or sadness at you. you traced the lines of her face, recollecting every single hair, every mole, every perfection and imperfection on her, so she'd always be with you in your memory.

she stirred after a while, blinking softly and you wait for her to come to, fingers tracing soft lines over her side.

you feel her freeze under you, breathing picking up, just barely noticeable but you were sharing the same airspace. her eyes meet yours for the first time that morning and you're committing the brown irises to memory now as well.

"you didn't leave." her voice is laced with morning fatigue.

you only hum in response, continuing to trace random shapes into her skin.

"why?"

you take a moment to think about your answer. years ago, you would've been terrified with the idea that someone would've found out about the two of you. that someone would know your dirty little secret. and that secret was that you were in love with your best friend. it was different for sana. sana was flamboyant, and proud, and happy. it wouldn't matter who sana liked because that didn't take away from her personality. she was still valuable as a person. you weren't like that though. you were always just sana's best friend or danny's girlfriend or frank's girlfriend or whoever else you dated at the time. the moment you deviated from that, a new label would be stuck on you, and people would pity sana, talk about how she could do so much better, how you were a witch who lured sana in. so you were selfish. you took from sana, and you never gave back. because sana was perfect in your mind, and she didn't need anything else.

"i'm sorry. there's a lot to be sorry for and a lot i need to make up to you. but at the core of it all, i love you sana. these six years without you have been hell. and i'm sorry it took that long for me to realise this, but i love you, not frank, not anyone else, just you."

you feel your eyes begin to tear up, heavy with emotions, sana's mirroring you, her bottom lip slightly quivering.

"what happened with frank?" her voice is a little shaky.

"we fought. i didn't want to deal with him anymore, my feet took me to the airport, and i ended up here."

sana sighs then, turning away from you and lying on her back. "so you're still together?"

"well... i- no but-"

"how is this time any different then y/n?"

"i- i- it's over, me and him. seeing you again has affirmed that for me. there hasn't been love between frank and i for a long time. i never loved him the way i love you. i'm ending things as soon as i get back. i promise sana. please- please believe me." you're scrambling a little, you couldn't afford to lose sana again. not after you had just gotten her back.

you can see tears running down the side of her face. you hate yourself for making her cry. that seems to be all you ever made her do.

"okay."

"okay?"

she turns to you again, wiping at her eyes, "okay. i really shouldn't but i love you too much and i've missed you too much to say no."

"really?" your perking up, disbelief clear.

"you keep asking me that and i'll change my mind." she teases, smiling for the first time.

you're overjoyed. rolling onto her and sweeping her up in a kiss, hoping your actions convey your feelings for her better than your words do. she's laughing into you and god have you missed that sound. you attack her sides immediately, almost desperate to hear it again, to make her feel something other than the sadness you've caused her. you make a promise to yourself in that moment, that you'd never, never make sana cry again.

it took you only a month to break that promise.

▂▂⌇

"hi, frank's wife right?"

you resist the very strong urge to roll your eyes, instead nodding politely and listening as the woman who approached you launches into a conversation about her husband and how he and frank got along at work and really you couldn't care less.

you were at the work event frank had mentioned in the morning. he did end up picking up his own dry cleaning and you saw him briefly at the event when you first showed up, only saying a quick hello and kissing your cheek before he was off again mingling and entertaining guests.

you had intended on just sticking to the bar and making use of the free-flow alcohol but now this woman was talking to you about her kids, and whatever else and you really just want to throw your drink in her face and yell at her about how to read a room.

you spot frank in the corner of your eye, surrounded by a group of women. you knew he had slept with other people ever since you stopped accepting his advances and affection. you're honestly surprised he hasn't asked for a divorce yet.

but frank was kinder than you. you were still his friend before you were his wife. he still cared about you and didn't want you to be left alone. you couldn't seem to convince him you were fine alone. you learnt to be fine when sana left. although lately, even he seemed to see you less as a friend and more and more, just as his wife.

▂▂⌇

"i still can't believe that time you thought danny was a good choice for you. and you defended him too!" sana was laughing, slapping your arm playfully.

you whine in response, "i told you i was sorry for that alright!!"

she's still laughing when frank comes back to the two of you, looking at you inquisitively and gesturing vaguely towards sana. you shrug, helping him set the food he had ordered for the three of you on the table.

"what's funny sana?" he asks, sliding into the booth with you and picking up a burger.

sana's waving a chip around now, pointing at you, "just talking about y/n's shitty taste in men."

frank fakes shock, looking at you with an exaggerated look of hurt, "me?"

you laugh, hitting him lightly, "not you dummy."

"yeah you're one of the good ones franky. probably the only good one out there."

"aww thanks sana."

sana grins, digging into her food.

you smile at the two of them. your two favourite people in the world. when you first met frank, you were skeptical of him. you were sure he was only trying to be friends with you to get with sana. so imagine your surprise when he had actually been plotting with sana behind your back to ask you out. you had said yes of course, he was a sweet guy, attractive too, and most importantly, sana liked him.

you ended up hitting it off, and the three of you were almost inseparable after that.

it wasn't until about 7 months into your relationship that sana started distancing herself. she would say she was busy, turn down more offers to go out, start hanging around a new group of people.

you heard from frank later that they had some sort of disagreement, which was why sana had started avoiding you. you were hurt by this though, because sana was still your friend. she was yours before you were frank's, and even when you were frank's you were still hers. didn't she know that? she had to.

you intended for her to know that when you cornered her, a late afternoon on a friday when the three of you used to go out for ice-cream as a reward for the week's end, but she had been staying behind to study or always had something else on instead.

"why are you avoiding me?"

sana's eyes are everywhere, her movements skittish as she tries to look for an escape before giving up and huffing. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"yes you do."

"no i don't."

"stop this sana. frank told me the two of you fought. if you don't want to be around him fine. that's your choice. but that doesn't mean you get to avoid me too."

she looks at you then, eyes fiery, "is that what he told you?"

you nod, "i don't understand sana. i don't care that you fought. i can seperate us and my relationship with frank. you're still my best friend."

"we fought because he told me he felt like i was stealing you from him."

"what?"

"yeah. he said he never got to spend any time with you. i was always there. he felt like he was the one who was third-wheeling our relationship."

the words third-wheel and our relationship swim around in your mind, "w-what? that's impossible!"

"is it really though y/n?" sana's voice is soft now.

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, is it really impossible for you to see us that way? frank obviously did, and he felt threatened by that."

"w-what- sana what are you talking about?"

she sighs a little in frustration, and then suddenly she's yanking you forward by the collar and planting her lips against yours. you react automatically, kissing her back, hands immediately going to her waist as you revel in the feeling of her soft lips against yours. it was always so different kissing sana compared to all the other guys you've been with. you chalked it up to the fact that sana took care of her skin, her lips, the way she smelled, all of that made kissing her that much sweeter.

but then you remember frank and you're pulling away, breaths heavier than they were mere seconds ago. "what the fuck sana?!" you're whipping your head around, looking to see if anyone had seen the two of you. it seemed to be clear.

sana's chuckling lowly, wiping at her lips, face downcast.

"what were you thinking?! i'm with frank! you set me up with frank!"

her eyes meet yours again, and you're taken back by the glassy look on her face. she's whispering, "i know. i know and i hate myself for it. i thought- i thought if- i thought i could get over this if i saw you happy with someone else. and then you were! and i just felt worse y/n. and then frank could tell and that was the last straw i guess. i needed to be away, away from you so i could get make these stupid feelings go away. i'm sorry y/n i'm so so sorry."

you're dumbfounded, staring at her blankly when she starts sobbing, hands coming to wipe at tears falling faster than she could catch them.

you don't understand what this means, what you felt, all you knew in that moment was sana was crying. the person you cared about most in the world was crying and you were the reason for it. so you do the one thing to make her stop. you tilt her chin up, heart breaking at the sniffles and the watery eyes, and you press your lips against hers again.

you end up where you've ended up so many times. legs entangled, sweaty bodies on sheets, heavy breathing, and minds lost.

▂▂⌇

you couldn't stand being inside anymore. it was suffocating.

you breathe out smoke as you exhale, the cigarette end still burning.

you watch as someone makes their way outside, shuffling around a little in their pockets and cursing when they realise they don't have a lighter.

the person looks towards you and you hold out yours. you help them light the end of their cigarette and nod when they mutter their thanks, inhaling the smoke into their lungs and standing awkwardly to the side.

it's a few minutes here in the cold, and you're almost finished your cigarette, about to throw it away when the stranger speaks up.

"do i know you from somewhere?"

you pause, looking back, you don't think you recognise this person. "you must have me confused for someone else, i'm sorry."

"wait... no you're sana's best friend right!?"

you drop the cigarette in your hand in shock. it had been a long time since someone had said that name out loud. she only ever lived in your head, it was hard to believe she was someone to other people too.

"right yes of course i remember now! i'm momo i was sana's roommate in college. although you probably don't remember i think we only really met like once. sana was always with you around campus and posted you a lot though so i remember you."

you vaguely recall the woman as she chatters away excitedly.

"right... momo... it's nice to meet you. i'm y/n."

momo grins, "have you spoken to sana lately? i don't think i saw you at the wedding, although i may have just been drunk." she chuckles a little at herself, not realising the way your face drops.

"wedding?"

momo looks at you a little in confusion, "yeah. last month? sana got married in sapporo."

your head is spinning with the new information. sana was married?

“woah you feeling okay?” momo’s reaching out for your shoulder, steadying you. you didn’t even realise you had lost your balance.

“i-i- yeah sorry.”

“you sure? are you here with anyone? anyone i can call?”

“no. it’s okay, thank you though.”

“yeah no problem.”

she’s shuffling back again, sucking on her cigarette.

“sana and i haven’t spoken in years. i was just a little surprised is all.” you speak up when you feel a little steadier on your feet.

“oh shit! i’m so sorry y/n i had no idea!”

“it’s okay, it seems no one really does.” you laugh a little bitterly.

momo doesn’t know how to respond to this, flicking her eyes between you and the door.

“it’s fine though. i’m happy for her.” the words taste vile on your tongue. is this what sana felt when she watched you walk down the aisle on your wedding day?

momo softens a little, “she is happy.” she offers you a kind smile, tapping out her cigarette and mumbling a quick thanks before heading back inside.

once you're sure she's gone you let yourself break down. sobs wrack your body as you hold your hands over your mouth trying to quiet them. you can barely see through the tears streaming out of your eyes. this was it. you'd finally lost her. you couldn't cling to the delusion that somewhere out there, some of her still belonged to you, some of her happiness, her memories, her love. you'd lost all of that now.

▂▂⌇

"what was that y/n?"

"what?"

"don't fuck with me right now. that was frank wasn't it? on the phone just then?"

you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, "what do you want me to say sana?"

"that you're keeping your promise. that you're going to return to him, break up with him, and then you're going to come back here to me. and then we can finally start our lives together."

"it's not that easy sana."

she explodes, "what do you mean?! it is that easy y/n! you told me when you came here that you and frank were over. have been for years. and now you can't tell me that same thing?"

"i don't- no sana-"

"what? what y/n? what’s your excuse now? do you have to make sure your job is secure? after you've spent a whole fucking month here you expect me to think you still care about that? do you have a child with him? is that it? is he sick? what other possible excuse is there for 'it's not that easy sana'?!"

"you don't get it! you can't say that to me sana!"

"what?! what don't i get?! tell me y/n, let's sort this shit out right fucking now. tell me why you can't be with me."

"it's not- that's just the way i am sana! i can't-"

"you told me you loved me. was that a lie then?" her eyes are brimming with tears, anger evident and your heart breaks again. you promised, you promised her and you promised yourself that this wouldn't happen again.

you're quick to step in again, trying to stop her from crying the one way you know how, brushing her cheeks with your thumbs and kissing her.

she doesn't let you get away with it this time though. she rips away from you, placing a hand on your chest and pushing you back lightly, keeping you literally at arm's length.

"don't do that." she's chuckling, her laughs mixed in with quiet sobs, "don't think you can just kiss away your problems. that's not how real life works y/n."

"please sana, please just-"

"what? you want me to be okay being your secret again? you want to be able to go around in public with frank only to come home to me? you can't have both y/n! i'm not going to do that again for you!"

you’re both crying now, standing across from each other in sana’s apartment, a place that’s felt more like home to you in a month than your place with frank has felt for you in six years.

your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper when you speak up, “i can’t- i can’t feel like this sana.”

sana’s wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. then she’s turning on her heel and heading into the bedroom.

you follow her, you’d follow her anywhere, but your heart sinks when you realise she’s going around the room picking up your belongings and shoving them into your bag.

“w-wait s-sana, what- what are you doing? stop please-“

you’re almost begging, scrambling after her trying to pull her back but she’s stubborn, she’s able to fill the bag within a minute and then she’s pushing it into you, and out the door.

“please! sana please i can’t lose you again don’t do this please- you’re my best friend sana.”

she’s managed to successfully push you out the front door now, still crying. “but you’re not mine y/n. you were never my best friend. you were always the love of my life. and you can’t be that for me anymore. so leave. please. don’t try and find me again.”

“n-no sana please d-don’t-“

“you’d have to stop the world just to stop what you feel for me y/n. but you don’t realise that. and i’m sick of loving someone who can’t give me all of that love back.”

and then she’s slamming her door shut in your face, the both of you sobbing on opposite sides of the door, hearts shattered a second time, and later, when it happens a third time, it’s only the sound of yours breaking.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Dorm Heads - Reader Has A Collection of Items

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I'm still sick unfortunately, but thankfully my migraine is gone so I decided that I should still write the asks that have been sent in. Fun fact: I have a collection of old keys as well as a collection of quarters and Midori (A×K) and Sanemi (KNY) themed items. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

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🌹 I don't see Riddle as the collecting type, so he probably doesn't get the point of having a collection in the first place. He'd just see it as useless clutter or even a bunch of random trash that you keep in your room. It doesn't matter what you collect, he just doesn't get it.

🌹 Now, while Mr. Rosehearts thinks you're hoarding trash like some sort of giant bipedal raccoon, he won't stop you but won't encourage you either. He loves you so he'll let you explore your interests at your own pace... even if he thinks it's weird. If collecting various items makes you happy, Riddle won't stop you, he loves seeing you smile.

🌹 Let's say, in Riddle's part, that you collect standard playing cards of various themes. Ex. Solitaire cards with varying seasonal and holiday designs. Riddle would most likely ask you why you need so many different packages of cards and would likely try to convince you to use them once and a while since playing cards are to be played with. But if you say no he would drop it.

🌹 If you gift him something from your collection, he wouldn't get it but would accept it anyway because it's a gift from you. Riddle would probably put it on a shelf in his room or pin it to his wall, whatever it is. He'll grab it down and just examine it when he misses you.

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"My Rose... What's all this for? ... A collection? B‐but these are— ah... nevermind, what a... uhm lovely collection you have here..."

"Oh! This one is for me? Ah... well, thank you, My Rose."

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🦁 Leona is another person who I don't see as the collecting type, but if he did have a collection I think it would be a collection of different types of pillows. He keeps his collection on his bed and the surrounding floor because there are so many. So, Leona certainly doesn't mind nor care really if you have a collection of items.

🦁 That's not to say that our lion boy doesn't get annoyed when your attention is focused on your collection rather than him. Even if you and Leona were just cuddling and you turn to your collection, you've successfully pissed him off. Good luck getting him to let you go the next time you lay down for a nap with him. He won't. You're stuck now.

🦁 For Mr. Kingscholar's part, let's say you collect little carved wooden figures. Ex. Animals, plants, monuments, etc. Leona found out about your collection before you told him actually. He was getting comfortable on your bed, ready to lay down for another nap when he felt something hard poking him in the side. And lo and behold, it was a little carved wooden lion no bigger than a chess piece.

🦁 Leona will take whatever you give him not without complaint though, but if you try and take it back he won't give it to you. He most likely makes Ruggie turn whatever you give him into a necklace or a keychain saying that he can carry it with him at all times. On days when he can't see you, Leona will stare at the item you gave him and trace its edges and crevices with a smile on his face.

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"Hah? What's all this crap doin' on your bed? Move it off. I wanna lay down. C'mere Herbivore, I need somethin' soft to lay on."

"Huh? What's this for? Ah... sure whatever, I'll keep so you'll let me sleep already."

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🐙 Azul is an avid collector himself. He most notably collected contracts before his overblot, but he also likes to collect little fossils that he finds on beaches and embankments. Azul is certainly interested in the fact that you have a collection and would love to share his collection with you.

🐙 I'll say it point blank, Azul has 100% definitely tried to suggest selling numerous items in your collection. But he tones it down when you assure him that they're not for sale. He'll bring it up in passing every once in a while though, he's still not giving up. Azul will stop if you tell him to, though.

🐙 For octopus wifey you'll be collecting rocks of all kinds. Ex. Smooth and shiny pebbles to small chunks of gemstones. Azul will also contribute to your collection by gifting you various types of pearls of small pieces of dead coral. He even got you a special box to keep your collection in, isn't he so sweet?

🐙 When you give Azul something from your collection he'll shyly accept it and mutter a cute and quiet little thank you. He'll put it on his desk in his private office in the Monstrou Lounge; he makes sure to slip it into a drawer whenever Floyd comes in though. Whenever Azul is very busy at the lounge and can't see you, he'll glance at it every so often between signing papers.

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"This is quite the collection you've got here, Angel Fish. You know... a few of your little collectibles could go for a hefty sum... No pressure, of course."

"Hm? For me? I... w‐well thank you, Angel Fish."

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🪞 Oh, Vil collects things as well. Jewelry is the item of choice in his case; from antique brooches to new-age hairpins. He doesn't mind that you collect things, but he will be a bit snooty about which items are deemed worthy of being collected. Vil will absolutely eye your collection with disdain if it's something he doesn't like, but he won't say anything.

🪞 Vil finds collecting to be a respectable hobby that any fair gentleman should have, so he certainly supports you. He actually discovered your hobby when he barged in came to your dorm to see you and saw your collection littering the vanity he ordered for you. This kind of annoyed Vil, but he let it go when he saw how happy you were.

🪞 In Mr. Schoenheit's case, I believe a collection of feathers fits the best. Ex. Pheasant feathers, eagle feathers, peacock feathers, etc. Vil doesn't mind your collection but he does think it's a bit unsanitary that you'd pick something up off the ground and keep it, especially something like a feather.

🪞 Vil will accept gifts from you all the time, but sometimes he accepts them and just puts out of sight if he doesn't like it. If you give him an item from your collection, he'll likely pin it to the side of his full length/vanity mirror or sit it on the desk of his vanity. Whenever he's too busy with his acting and modeling career to see you, Vil will take a few glances at it while he's putting on his makeup.

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"Ah... Sweet Potato... What's all this garbage doing cluttering up your vanity? Collection? Wouldn't you rather... oh, I don't know... collect more appealing items per chance."

"Where in the world did you get this? Oh? You're gifting this to me? Well... I suppose I must accept it then..."

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🪲 Kalim has a collection too! He collects anything that catches his interest at the time, so his collection is compiled of all sorts of different things. He is overwhelmingly supportive of you and your collection. Kalim would love to share his collection with you!

🪲 Please! Please, please, please show Kalim your collection, he'll show you his as well, it'll be a nice little bonding experience between the two of you. He'll often give you all sorts of random things he comes across and ask if you'd add it to your collection or make a whole new collection based around it.

🪲 For our adorable sunshine boy, we'll make your collection one of coins. Ex. Coins from different countries, coins that are no longer produced, pressed coins, etc. Kalim finds them all so interesting and always asks about the history surrounding them. He's definitely given you coins from the scorching sands so you can add them to your collection.

🪲 If you give Kalim something from your collection, he's absolutely ecstatic! He probably keeps whatever item you decide to give him in his pocket at all times. When he can't see you, Kalim will reach into his pocket and run his fingers along the item to feel its texture.

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"Woah! These are so cool! Where did you find all this stuff? Do you want to see my collection of cool stuff too? It's in my room! C'mon let's go!"

"Eh? OH! For me! You're so sweet! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I'll give you something too, wait here!"

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💀 Idia obviously has a large collection of his own. He collects anime and video game figures; he even has an entire room in the Ignihyde dorm dedicated to it. Idia's glad you collect things as well, it makes him feel like less of an outcast.

💀 Do you want to see his collection too? Idia is very enthusiastic about sharing his collection with you, which is a lot for him to trust you with, so please say you like it or he might cry. He most likely won't try and contribute anything to your collection or really compliment it all that much, he's far too shy.

💀 In Idia's case I think collecting ornate keys would fit perfectly. Sometimes, when he comes to your room, he'll be distracted by all the different keys that you had and shyly ask you where you found all of them. Idia won't ask all that often, but he tries to do it more since he likes the way you smile when you talk about your interests.

💀 Idia gets so jittery when you gift him things, he thinks he's undeserving so he always ends up with teary eyes. He'll probably keep whatever item you give him in the top drawer of his dresser. Sometimes, when he's too shy to leave his room, Idia will dig through his drawer and clutch it in his hand, running his thumb over it.

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"You collect stuff as well? Is it figurines? Do you... d‐do you wanna see my figurine collection? A‐and maybe I can look at your collection as well... i‐if you want to."

"Your giving this to me? T‐that's— A‐are you sure? I... t‐thank you..."

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🐲 Malleus isn't one to collect things, but he's certainly up to observe them. He needs nothing more than the gargoyles perched atop Night Raven College. He doesn't mind letting you indulge in your silly little human pastime.

🐲 Humans are so strange, Malleus doesn't think he'll ever understand them, but Lilia has a collection of human games so he supposes he can't complain. Do show him your collection, he would absolutely love to learn about his dear Child of Man's interests. Out of everything involving your collection, your smile has to be Malleus's favorite part.

🐲 In Mr. Draconia's case, I think a collection of dried & pressed plants would suit you best. While he definitely doesn't get why you would go out of the way to press and dry plants when they're right outside, he kind of likes it. Often, Malleus will have plants from the Valley of Thorns brought to him so he can gift them to you.

🐲 A gift? For him? Malleus would be absolutely delighted if you gave him a gift let alone one of your silly little human trinkets. He'd keep whatever item you ended up giving him in an ornate glass case and would never move it from there. When he can't see you, Malleus will gently open the glass case and observe the item for a while.

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"Ah... such interesting items that you've procured here, dear Child of Man. I wonder... would you like to observe my favorite gargoyles with me tonight."

"Oh? For me? My, my~ aren't you thoughtful, Child of Man. Perhaps I should return the favor..."

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Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Prologue

Eight people, nine rooms, seven weapons. One person is guilty, and until they are found, no one is safe; from the perpetrator of the crime, or of being accused.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Divus Crewel, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengroto, Silver, Jade Leech, Cater Diamond

Content; Gender-neutral reader, unreliable narrators

Content Warning; Death (not described), murder (not described)

Word Count; 1.3 K (includes guide on how to participate at the end)

Find this content triggering but still want to participate? Go to this Google Form! <- form is now closed, thank you to the people who voted!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

| Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

You were making your way down the main flight of stairs, ready to go crawl into your bed after the long day.

“Attention! Attention!” Crowley’s voice echoed over the PA system, still annoyingly chipper despite the late hour. What was he even still doing here? “Due to the weather, all remaining staff and students are under orders to stay inside the building until morning!” And the PA system cut out.

You groaned, “Seriously? It can’t be that bad–” A loud crack of thunder sounded directly above the building, causing the chandelier to shake. “Okay then,” you huffed, plopping down on the stairs, “I get the message.”

Of course, you would get stuck here for the night, guess that’s what happens when you stay back to study and work on assignments.

But you weren’t the only person stuck in the desolate halls of Night Raven College; seven others were in the same boat as you.

…

Vil was in the lecture theatre, reviewing his notes for the upcoming performance that the Film Research Club would be putting on next week. He too heard Crowley’s announcement and pushed his hair back, massaging his temple. He would not be getting a good night’s rest tonight.

“Tch, no use lamenting over it,” he sighed to himself. Carefully, he put the notes and suggestions away in their designated folder, and he made his way to the main hall. If anyone was still here with him, they might be there; at least he would have some company for the night, and not be alone in the empty hallways.

…

Professor Crewel was grading papers in the teacher’s lounge, and getting a migraine from it as well. “Have those pups learned nothing from me,” he grumbled.

He would much rather be at home in his finest pyjamas, scratching the chins of his dogs, but no, he was stuck here, and would be stuck until the storm passed or Headmaster Crowley got back on the PA system saying it was safe to leave. But knowing his employer, the man had transported himself home, leaving everyone stuck at the college oblivious.

I ought to wring his neck if he did.

…

Rook was in the library, perusing through various books, just looking for something to pass the time. He knew earlier that day that a storm was brewing, he could tell by the clouds and the faint smell wafting on the breeze. He also knew that Vil would be staying late, and he wasn’t going to leave Roi de Poison alone.

After going down a few aisles, Rook finally found a book to his liking. “Hmm, this is new. Ah, how interesting!” Tucking the book under his arm, Rook made his way to the lecture theatre, as that was where he had last seen Vil.

Perhaps un meurtre mystère would make for a good plot for a future performance?

…

Silver had fallen asleep in the cafeteria, apparently he had slept for most of the day. He had only woken up because of Crowley’s voice echoing loudly in the large, empty room.

Did they not notice? Silver rubbed his eyes and yawned. If he was here, there was a possibility of others also finding themselves stuck in the school for the night. The least he could do was make sure others were staying calm, and staying safe. Even outside of his duties he was ever still the protector, and far too kind.

“Hopefully no one got hurt…” he murmured to himself. There was something off, a dark presence of sorts, and it wasn’t just the dark clouds hurling down rain, hail, and lightning outside.

Something doesn’t feel right…

…

Azul was in the alchemy lab, perfecting the most complicated potion that was in his textbook; he had a reputation to upkeep after all, and didn’t want anyone usurping his rank at the top of the class.

There, I just need to add some belladonna and— the suddenness of Crowley’s overly loud voice coming over the PA system caused Azul to add too much, and the potion evaporated. Azul gritted his teeth, but took a step back. Perhaps a walk would help calm him down… he was going to have to replace all of those ingredients tomorrow…

“So close,” he hissed, and he started making his way down the hall, still muttering to himself.

…

Jade was washing the dirt from his hands, having just come back from checking on his fungi in the botanical gardens. He already knew before Crowley made his little announcement that he would be spending the night, which didn’t bother him all that much. Perhaps he could see what was in the kitchen, since he did have that new dish which looked and sounded to be divine.

But that could wait, Azul was most likely still working on that potion of his, and knowing the house warden, he had fumbled with the ingredients at the sudden noise and probably sulking… and Jade could use some amusement at the moment, and a sulking and slightly peeved Azul would do the trick.

…

Cater was in the kitchen, retrieving something for Trey since they were all out in the Heartslabyul kitchen. Of course it was something sweet, but Cater would rather be here than see the outcome of the freshmans’ antics. Sorry freshies, you’re on your own!

But now he was stuck here for the night, and having nothing better to do, and boredom starting to creep in, Cater brought out his phone and started recording. 

“It’s Cay-kun here!~” He gave a peace sign to the camera and stuck out his tongue. “Let’s see who we can find!” And he started chatting to the camera and walking towards the main hall.

…

…

Eventually, everyone had made their way to the main hall; you, Silver, Vil, Professor Crewel, Rook, Azul, Jade, and Cater. But there was no sign of Headmaster Crowley.

“Have any of you pups seen the Headmaster,” Divus asked, turning up a brow, and looked at his students with suspicion.

Everyone shook their head no. Divus sighed, and turned around the corner, in the direction of the Headmaster’s office, but he stopped in his tracks.

Curious, you looked to where Professor Crewel was staring; lying in the middle of the floor was Crowley, and he wasn’t breathing.

Dire Crowley was dead, murdered. And everyone was a suspect, including you.

About this Event

That's right folks, a classic murder mystery in the style of the board game Clue and some inspiration from the book And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie.

At the beginning and end of each part, I will be including a link to a Google Form where people can vote for who they think is the murderer, what room the murder took place in, and the weapon that was used. There's also an optional question where you can explain your answer, just do know that everything was randomly chosen by a spinner.

The form will be active for at least 72 hours; it may go on for longer if I'm busy. A new form will be added with each part, just with the suspect, room, & weapon that was voted in the last part being removed if they were incorrect... and may take some inspo from the book I mentioned.~

In future parts there will be dark content, as this is a murder mystery; all of the content warnings will be included at the beginning, and also tagged (ie. cw death). Because of this, I will not be tagging people in future parts just as a precaution.

Now, let the investigation begin!

Link to Google Form

Suspects:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show?  (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley's co-worker (Peacock) - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what's happening (Mustard) - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) - Reader; the 'house-keeper', a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach)

Rooms:

- Main hall - Teachers' lounge - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab - Library - Crowley's office

Weapons:

- Revolver - Rope - Dagger - Wrench - Candlestick - Lead pipe - Magic

...

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog, @aqua-beam, @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @hisui-dreamer, @hydra-sea, @identity-theft-101, @inkybloom-luv, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @leonistic, @lucid-stories, @officialdaydreamer00, @ryker-writes, @savanaclaw1996, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[yandere-romanticaa]

You sat on your bed and let the silence envelope you, the scrunched up piece of paper in your hand giving you some peace of mind but at the same time, if you took the offer, everything you knew could be changed forever. It was hard to focus on anything, not when the smile of that handsome stranger was still fresh in your memory like it was yesterday. A few weeks ago, you went on vacation to Japan for a week or so and it was by far one of the most magical things you had experienced. It was not because of the food, it was not because of the culture or anything related to that.

The absolute highlight of your trip was a mysterious man named Dazai Osamu.

Your meeting with him was accidental but he called it fate. After saving him from a near drowning incident the man stuck by your side like glue, regardless of the dirty looks your family gave him. He proclaimed himself as your make shift tour guide, claiming that who else was better qualified to show you all the amazing sights in the city than a hot blooded local?

There really was no beating that logic.

In the end, Dazai spent the week with you and your whole family as bonus baggage. Whenever he could, he would take you all for himself and have long talks, many of which were an odd combination of silly and soul touching. The man was strange, jumping from silly antics to a profound man who had seen all of the pain and suffering in the world who just wanted to give you some (perhaps not necessarily) helpful advice and show you a good time.

"I see that look in your eyes." said Dazai on your last night in Japan. The two of you were walking and stopped to rest near the river he almost drowned himself in.

How poetic.

You remember turning to him, confusion written all over your face but Dazai's gaze was focused elsewhere. His tone was flat, but not unkind.

"Tired. You look so, so tired."

That summed up your situation quite well. You were tired. Everything, everyone, it was just so much. No matter how hard you tried, nothing seemed to be going your way. College was giving you a massive migraine, in your head the upcoming exams were less like pieces of paper and more like massive tsunami waves, ready to destroy you right where you stood and leave nothing behind. Your social life was no better, having lost a good chunk of friends due to either life getting in the way or you simply drifted apart. Some things just weren't meant to be and that was okay.

When was it all going to end though?

When were you going to be allowed to finally breathe?

Your family was of no help either. The constant fighting and shouting, their words cutting deeper than knives. "You are a failure."

"You are not trying hard enough."

"Why can't you just do better?"

Without warning, you felt the soft touch of Dazai's bandaged hand on your cheek.

You didn't even realize that you had started to cry.

His soft brown eyes held nothing but pure sympathy for you, the thin smile on his lips causing the flood gates to burst wide open as you threw yourself into his arms, full on sobbing into his coat as the man said nothing. One of his hands made its way to your back while the other was still on your cheek, the wetness of it staining his white bandages but he didn't mind. He wasn't going to tell you, but you were pretty like this. In tears, broken, weak.

...In his arms.

He did not know you for long but Dazai grew fond of you over the past week. Was it love? He certainly thought so! Or, at the very least, the beginning of love. He wasn't sure what he was feeling but one thing was for certain - he wanted you to stay.

The universe was kind to him, giving him an angel whose wings were already so damaged. The moment he saw you, he knew that all you wished for was to flee and never return, to move somewhere no one knew you and start fresh, away from everything and anyone that ever hurt you.

Dazai saw the opportunity. He siezed it like a true devil would. He planted the seeds inside your head and you had no clue.

"You know, you can always just stay here." said Dazai, a slight smile on his face. "My workplace is always hiring and I'm sure you would be perfect."

Was this even real? His kindness was otherworldly.

Even so, hesitation ate you up like nothing else before. Do you choose to fight your demons head on or will you run away into the unknown? The paper in your hand was a letter of recommendation which Dazai had written for you, all that needed to be done was for you to commit to the bit.

With feeling as if there was nothing else for you to lose, you grabbed your phone and dialed the number that was written on the other side of the paper. At almost lightning speed a cheerful "Hello!~" greeted you on the other side.

With a deep inhale, you said three words which would change the course of your life from that moment forward.

"Take me away."

You couldn't see it but Dazai was grinning on the other side of the phone. With a click of his tongue, all he said was:

"Consider it done."

You hung up, a smidge of relief washing over you. You were more than ready to leave the demons which haunted you right here, in your old home.

And yet, you had no idea just how horrible the next demon which was going to follow you around was actually going to be.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enomane, @ishqani, @satohruu, @bluepeanutharmony

[killersfool]

hii! not sure if you’re open to requests but i’m going to give u a few ideas! most of these are for elijah hewson😭

falling asleep on the couch, waking up to not only a blanket around them, but eli squeezed in behind them

being in the studio with the band and messing about?? making jokes and being silly!

kissing and dancing in the kitchen to an old singe they both like?

eli taking care of you when you’re sick and just being super soft and caring!

spending valentine’s day together!

something about the reader playing with eli’s fingers to calm them down?

softly smiling at each other from across the room and also reassuring touches!

telling each other how much they love them

them cuddling in bed and pulling eachother closer

hope these spark your writing :))))

Kiss It Better | ELIJAH HEWSON

here's a short little thing inspired by this request!

PAIRING: elijah hewson x f!reader

WORDS: 1.5k

SUMMARY: eli's girlfriend is ill, elijah comforts her.

GENRE: hurt/comfort, fluff

WARNINGS: references to throwing up

I've never been so ill in my life. My nose is so runny. I've almost used every single packet of tissues in the kitchen cabinet right under the sink — which used to be a lot and now is very little. I've thrown up my insides into the loo way too many times to count on my fingers. Bent over the toilet, eyes pricking with tears, I've never felt so useless. At least the thought of my boyfriend getting back after his gig gives me something to look forward to. But it's far too late.

I'm staring at the TV screen. I hug my knees to my chest, attempting to generate some warmth. The blanket is upstairs — probably hiding in the space between the bed and the wall. Surely, if I attempt to stumble upstairs now, I'll just get stuck and end up falling asleep in the corridor.

I can't stop glancing at the door. I'm hoping for a doorknob twist, knock, ring of the doorbell, stamp of boots, low and raspy post-concert voice. But I'm just met with nothing. No signs of his arrival. He hasn't called me. He usually doesn't. He likes to surprise me. After having the worst migraine of my life, it would give me some comfort if he just gave me a hug. A warm Elijah Hewson hug would cleanse my mind.

Starting to realise that the TV is doing more harm than good, I switch it off. I'm beginning to see blurry triangular shapes and my eyes burn like they're on fire. The living room is pitch black. I'm freezing. I'm tired. I take two paracetamol tablets and chug some water. Curling up on my side, legs on the armrest, I close my eyes.

-

I wake up. Sunlight gleams through the gaps in the white curtains. My body is wrapped in a duvet, soft and warm. Skin is against mine. Arms are around my body, squeezing me tightly. He's shirtless. I can tell by the tufts of chest hair flicking at my shoulder. His head is on my back, curls all over my skin, lips between my shoulderblades. I don't want to move. I don't want to speak. He's asleep. Gentle snores, deep breaths, in and out.

I must've fallen into a deep sleep because I have no recollection of his arrival or him ever taking me upstairs. I'm usually a light sleeper. This migraine fully knocked me out. That's the best nights sleep I've had in a while. I'm especially thankful I managed to escape from work for the rest of the week.

Elijah's normally the little spoon when we hug like this. It's funny how the tables have turned. I think I prefer this though. But lying awake and tracing the muscles in his back always seems to calm me down.

I want to ask him how the show went and the reason for his tardiness. He had been playing in Glasgow, thankfully only a few miles away from me and had bought me tissues, chocolate and gave me an endless supply of kisses before he had to run down to meet the band.

Opening my eyes fully, I take a peek over at the bedside table. He's brought me more tissues, face masks, more chocolate and a box of sleep teabags.

I realise Elijah's awake when his fingers start to walk along my bare stomach and his mouth is at the juncture between my back and shoulder. He pulls my hair to the side, presses his wet mouth to my neck. He smells clean. I'm sure he's showered. His hair feels a little damp.

He keeps pulling me closer. Arms tightening like he's a boa constrictor. Cool rings on my stomach, large hands tugging at the waistband of my shorts.

"You feeling better?" He asks, between kisses, tongue tracing my jugular vein. It's unsettlingly nice. His words are always gruff the morning after the show. All the singing takes a toll. Makes him sound more mellow. Sometimes I worry for his vocal cords.

"Not really." I groan. A mind-numbing headache is still prodding at my brain and the brightness of the sun makes my eyes burn. He's got a hand on my forehead, cool fingers against fiery skin — checking the temperature.

"God, you're pale. And you're burning up. I should get the thermometer." He gets out of bed. The loss of weight of his body makes the mattress shift. I glance over at him. His hair has stuck up at the top, his bare back glows under the sunlight. He stands up. Sweatpants cling loosely to his hips, revealing the muscles of his abdomen and a chain circles around his neck. He leaves the room — not even giving me time to utter a word of annoyance at the sudden lack of touch.

Then he's back. He crawls into bed. The thermometer is between his index finger and thumb. I look at the cross tattoo on his palm, see the concentration on his face as he plays around with the buttons.

"It's just a migraine," I say but he's already turning it on and pointing at my mouth. I roll my eyes and separate my lips. He gives me a sly smirk, just making me sit like that for a moment. Then he puts the device beneath my tongue and waits patiently. I'm trying not to laugh at how awkward this is. I close my eyes to evade his gaze but I can still feel the force of his stare.

"You've got a fever." Dr Hewson alerts me with his expert diagnosis although the furrow of his brows makes him seem unsure. He looks down at the numbers displayed, rubbing his face with worry. "A really bad one." He's now searching up on his phone what it means.

"Should I go to the doctors?" I shuffle away from him. I don't want him to catch what I have. He has gigs all week, I don't want to ruin anything for him.

He notices my movement. Shaking his head, he drags me back towards him, making me nestle into his chest. His eyes are still darting along a website.

"I think you just need to rest. I'll make you breakfast." Elijah kisses my nose before running downstairs with his mind set solely on making some decent food.

Through the corridor, into the kitchen. He's forgotten where half the things are in the room. Opening cabinets, searching through the fridge, putting water into the kettle. Most of the time he'll get his breakfast on the way to a show. Maybe a café, maybe he'll steal some food from Ryan. Today, however, he's lucky enough to not have a gig and actually have time to look after his girlfriend. Although he's definitely going to make a mess of the place.

His final decision is to make omelettes. Oil on the frying pan, ham—leaving it to heat up until it's a little crispy. Two eggs, cracked and swirled in a glass. Cheese on top, grated with masterful excellence—at least that's what he believes. Folds it over to make it fill half of the pan. Let's it continue to fry. Then he's running over to make a cup of tea. He uses one of the sleep teabags he bought. He's just about to plate up when footsteps echo behind him.

I have to stop for a second when I walk into the kitchen. It's a rarity to see Elijah here, cooking for me. We started dating at the beginning of the tour which unluckily means that he's hardly ever home. He has to leave early in the morning and gets back really late. Whenever he has days off, he takes me on dates and walks, or we just laze around at home, basking in eachother's presence. There's times when he brings me along to the recording studio so that I can reprimand all the band members or give an outside opinion of their new songs.

Elijah seems so focused on getting this omelette perfect. He's running around the place. He grabs two pieces of bread to turn his dish into an omelette-sandwich. I stand in the doorway for a while, just watching him. But, I can't stop myself from nearing him. As he cuts an apple into a slices, I slide my arms around his stomach, pressing my head to his shoulder. He sighs quietly. I breathe in his scent, his comfort.

"You should be in bed," he whispers, although he doesn't seem to want me to let go. I shake my head as he looks at me.

There's music playing on the radio. I turn it up. It's a song by The Smiths. I'm swaying to the beat, moving Elijah along with me. He's still carefully chopping fruit into perfect pieces. Watermelon, strawberries, mango. My mouth is watering just looking at the vast array of flavours.

Elijah drops his knife, turns around to face me. His hands find my waist, his lips find my neck, his head burrows into my chest like he's a mole hiding under soil. We dance along to the crackle of music, feeling the melodies trickle into our bones. Just his presence makes me feel better, every kiss turns my negative thoughts to mush.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Hii, Delta anon back again and I have more random hc's!

So Epic obviously has the most sleep issues out of all of them, but I'd imagine both Delta and Color have a bit of issues with sleeping, too. Color because he was stuck in one place for so long, so he probably slept a lot to pass the time. Delta because he has intense PTSD nightmares, but also can't go too long without a nap or else he won't be able to function as well.

I'd imagine that the magic version of sleep-walking would probably be sleep-teleporting, or something similar. Delta probably does this, because his body takes longer to rest than his mind does, and if he starts thinking about going somewhere while he's half-asleep, next thing he knows, he's there. Epic and Color usually have to track him down and bring him back, and then babysit him to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Delta's favorite season is fall, Color's is spring or summer, and I'd imagine Epic enjoys both summer and winter.

(This one is inspired by spiralsalad's latest art piece lmao)

When one (or all) of them get sick, the other two immediately help out.

Let's say Color's the one to get sick first. Epic and Delta would immediately stop what they're doing to take care of him, even if Color protests it because he doesn't want to "bother" them. Whatever he needs, they'll get for him. I'd also imagine that his migraines, misophonia, and sensory issues would act up way more than usual during this time. He'd probably spend most of his time sleeping or distracting himself with something that won't trigger his misophonia, and Delta and Epic would let him rest until he felt like waking up to eat or drink something.

When Epic gets sick, the nightmares increase along with the pain that comes with them. And he'll do ANYTHING to avoid sleeping during this time, which means he'll be going a few days without sleep at a time. He'll try to keep going, distract himself with whatever he can before he knocks himself out, but Delta and Color force him to rest. They'll usually just watch anime marathons, and they'll always get Epic some food. And when Epic does finally fall asleep, the two make sure to stay there with him for when Epic wakes up screaming and in severe pain from his nightmares.

When Delta gets sick, he is far more difficult to deal with. He would try his hardest to pretend like he's not sick and to hide it for as long as he can, until the sickness and exhaustion takes over. Usually this means they're so exhausted from masking it, that they'd physically collapse. When they'd wake up, they'd be in bed, with Epic and Color making sure they won't try to run off. But of course, when he wakes up, he'll try to convince them that he was just tired, definetly *not* sick, that it was an accident. Obviously, Color and Epic don't believe that for a second. They'd make them rest and not even bother to ask if anything hurts, because they know they'll hide it. So they just grab any meds he could potentially need and give it to him. Same with food and drink. I'd imagine that the sickness makes him incredibly clingy, though, not wanting to be alone when he's semi-vulnerable. So they spend most of their time cuddling with Delta until he can get up and keep going. The sleep-teleporting issue enhances.

Because Color was stuck in the Judgement Hall for so long, I imagine he has mild issues with eating since there was not really food there. When he first got out, finally being able to eat after so long got to him and he ate literally until he got sick. It did not end well. Over the years he's gotten better with eating, but if he starts to feel anxious about being forgotten or abandoned again, he turns to food as comfort and a reminder of where he is now, and that he can't predict the future, but he can plan for it.

And that's all I have for now! Thoughts?

Oh I love that. The idea of sleep teleporting Delta and Color turning to food for comfort as a reminder of where he is now? Yes 👌.

I can picture Color figuring out how to bake his friends’ favorite foods for whenever they’re feeling down and need a pick-me-up or just whenever they’re sick or feeling homesick.

You know how some characters are sometimes HC’d to have the ethnicity/nationality, such as Color & Killer being Arabic, id imagine Color would try to figure out how to make cultural meals like that.

I don’t know what Epic and Delta’s creators’ are, I heard Epic’s is Philippines, but Color can make them meals of their own country or his.

And the sleep teleporting thing gave me a mental image of like, sleeping Delta trying to teleport off a cliff and like Epic having to tackle-hug them or Color having to use his Grablings to stop him from falling off the cliff 💀.

[catboyieejeno]

your lazy morning drabble w donghyuck was super cute 🥹 could i request a slight angst/fluffy drabble with how jaehyun would spoil his partner when he realizes they are going through a hard time? thank you 🤍🤍

comfort; jung jaehyun

pairings: bf! jaehyun x gn! reader (mentions of reader having hair tied back, but no pronouns)

contents: cursing, established relationship, slight angst, jaehyun cheers reader up, ending is all fluff :,(

Your boyfriend prided himself in learning and knowing everything about you; he knew you better than anyone, and even you couldn’t deny that.

Jaehyun had memorized your endearing quirks and habits, learned to appease your unique sense of humor, mentally noted your list of pet peeves, watched warily for signs of your stressors. He knew these things about you practically better than he knew himself. He was observant, patient, a good listener. All of the qualities that made you so very sure that you were in love with him, and he with you, because who else would make the time and effort to know you so well, if they weren’t.

A few months into the relationship, Jaehyun noticed the slight mood changes you would go through, where for a month or so, you would feel fine, happy, whole. Then, out of nowhere and entirely unannounced, a wave of stress would hit you. You had a sensitive soul, one prone to be affected by the external factors that were out of your control, and when too many things went wrong all at once, you would break down.

His heart ached every time he realized that he couldn’t always make it better, but nonetheless, he never stopped trying.

Today was one of those days. Your really, really shitty days.

Earlier in the week, you and one of your long term friends had a fight and stopped talking. A mere two hours later, you got stuck in the middle of a rainstorm waiting for the train home. The rain caused you to get sick with migraines, nausea, and fever galore, which you had to endure every day of class for the remainder of the week. Your sleep schedule was suffering, since you were in a constant battle with your illness which wore you down. The medication you needed barely aided your symptoms, only serving to make you drowsy, and the countless stacks of notes you needed to study for today’s midterm were relentlessly packed with information. A midterm worth a considerable, significant amount of your grade, which you failed with a 47%.

The front door slammed behind you, bag crashing to the floor as you stepped inside your apartment. You kicked your shoes off to the side, disregarding where they may have landed, keys flying onto the couch. With your lip caught between your teeth, which you were convinced was the only thing keeping you from crying out of pure frustration, you shuffled down the hall and straight into your bedroom.

As you stepped inside, Jaehyun’s head snapped up, eyes momentarily lighting up at the sight of you until he took note of your expression.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he cooed, arms pushing himself off the mattress. He hurried over to you, ready to pull you into his arms, but your outstretched hand halted him and kept him at a distance.

With the most docile tone you could muster, you muttered out a single phrase, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Jaehyun gave you a curt nod and watched, frozen in his spot, as you stormed around the room, grabbing the clothes you would wear after your shower. His eyes followed you, seeing as you drop them on the corner of the bed. In one motion, you yanked the tie out of your hair and left it on your nightstand, fingers scratching at your scalp to soothe the soreness of having it tied back for so many hours.

Your gaze landed on the desk in the corner of the room, where all your study guides, notes, and cheat sheets laid sprawled out, mocking you. Maybe if you had studied harder, if you had stayed up later. Unable to look at them any longer, you ran over, piling each stack one on top of the other and slamming the papers face down against the wooden surface. You shut the textbook with a boom, and picked up the now useless notes you had made, crumbling them up within your fists, hoping you’d find some relief by crushing them into nothing.

It wasn’t until Jaehyun came up behind you, placing his hand ever so carefully on your shoulder and uttering a small “Babe?” that you noticed the hot, angry tears pooling at your eyes.

“What?” You snapped, turning around, “I’m not in the fucking mood, Jae. I already told you I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

His lips pursed, taking in your words. “Okay.” was all he managed to say.

You continued on your track without sparing him a second glance, grabbing your clothes and going straight into the bathroom.

You spun the shower handle to the highest degree and began to peel your clothes off your body, discarding them in the hamper. For the first few seconds that the hot water hit your skin, you felt relief, as if just for a moment, everything terrible that had happened this past week was not real, like it was not hurting you. You squeezed your eyes shut, basking in the blissful feeling, until your ears pick up the sound of your front door closing and your heart dropped.

Your hand flies to shut off the water, and you wait for a moment in silence, yearning, pleading with yourself that you had only imagined the click of the door.

Timidly, you call out, “Babe?”

There was no response.

“Jae?” Your second call is louder, although somehow weaker and tainted with guilt.

Jaehyun had stormed out, undoubtedly because of the way you spoke to him.

“Fuck,”

Finally, for the first time this week, your tears come spilling out as you switch the water back on. It muffled your sobs, but it no longer soothed the hurt in your chest.

You can’t remember how long you stood there, pouring out all your pent up emotions; you had no defined measure of time, but you were there long enough for the water to start going cold, leaving you no choice but to step out.

Your tears eventually stopped as you finished dressing yourself, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself in your blanket and go to sleep.

Truthfully, you wanted to be in your boyfriend’s arms, to feel held and loved by him as you rambled on about all the things that had upset you, knowing he would not only listen to you, but hear you.

The bathroom door opened and shut behind you, and as you turn to your bed, just about ready to collapse into it, your feet skid to a stop.

Sat on the edge of the bed was Jaehyun, a bouquet of the prettiest pink tulips in one hand, an iPad in the other. Organized on the bed was an assortment of your favorite snacks and comfort foods. You take a look around, mouth agape, as you notice the white sheet hung up on the wall opposite of the bed.

A projector illuminated the opening credits of your favorite movie, the one you had been begging him to watch with you for forever, onto the smooth surface. The room light had been dimmed, replaced by fairy lights that glowed a light shade of purple. The pillows and blankets had been propped up into the shape of a fort. Your nightstand was full of your favorite skin care masks and creams, along with a new and neatly folded silk pajama set and white slippers that matched the exact outfit Jaehyun was wearing.

“Are you insane-“

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about what happened and I’m sorry for pushing it earlier, but I couldn’t just let you be-“ he cut you off, but you were quick to interrupt him, kneeling in front of him where he sat on the bed.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you, it was just misdirected anger and I know that’s not an excuse,” You rambled, bringing a hand up to cup his face, “Baby, you didn’t have to do all this,”

“I don’t care about earlier. You’ve been so upset all week, I couldn’t stand to see you like that anymore.” he explained. Jaehyun sets aside the two gifts in his hands, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

“I thought you stormed out,” you confessed, “I heard the door close and I thought-“

“I would never, love,” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips and gestured around, “I only went out to get all this,”

“I can see that,” you giggle, “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

His fingers came up to brush your wet hair behind your ear and he kissed you again, moving his mouth smoothly against yours. The feeling of bliss returned, and you swore you could’ve melted right then and there in his arms. The comfort you felt in his hold was incomparable.

When you pulled away for a breath, you looked around once more, taking in the sight of the room and gifts.

“An iPad?” you raised a brow.

“I was tired of seeing you scribble in those notebooks every day.”

Your head tilts back in laughter as you hold him close, thanking him. He started going on about the matching PJ’s, urging you to put yours on so the two of you could match, and you sighed, just about ready to get off his lap and change. Admittedly, you were anticipating his reaction to the movie and the night ahead. Before you get up, however, you remind him of a simple fact.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

+.*·

requests r open

+.*·

[lavvys-headcanons]

So I was wondering what you would think of the Skelebois with a Male S/O (or gn if you want) who's just generally really energetic and kind random. Think like a golden retriever bf but like, on crack (def mixes coffee and redbull just for shits and giggles). They can chill out for a bit from time to time but most of the time it's more of a “yes I turned an old couch into a very impractical motorboat. What of it?” Kinda vibe. (Undertale, Swapfell indigo, maybe horrortale and dealers choice for whoever)

-chocolate fo you 🍫🍫🍫🍫

AU Bros With A Chaotic S/O

Undertale-

Sans: He's so chill with it honestly. Like, he'd take your little gremlin concoction of multiple energy drinks and chug them with you and you both can die together in bed with an insane migraine. Don't get me wrong tho, he still won't get off his ass, so maybe just carry him if you wanna take him on adventures. Like he'd love to go on a date to the Hotlands and mess with Undyne with you, maybe just backpack him tho.

Papyrus: He's gonna try and parent you, snatching away your stuffs he thinks is, "dangerous", (Which is, but we won't admit it.) Look on the bright side, he can actually match your energy! Minus the chaotic-ness, you guys are a perfect pair of being golden retriever partners!

Swapfell-

Nox: The brat isn't gonna wanna run around, so he'd definitely get you one of those backpack leashes and make you wear it when you two go out. (It comes back to hit him when you just drag him along.) He probably won't indulge in the energy drinks, but he will in coffee tbh. If you time it right with his coffee, he'll be hyped enough to go around the house and mess with the other skele-boys.

Rus: On occasion, he'll jump up like a cat when you surprise him, but he'll never admit it. Lets you get your energy out of your system before he decides, "That's enough, cmere you devil", and yoinks you from your lil schemes. He'd hide you in his pocket if he could, but he'd probably squish you if we're being honest.

Horrortale-

Ash: Nervous at first when he met you, but warmed up quick when you guys got closer and got together. He's a bit too nervous to go on energy high induced adventures with you, so maybe just settle for a hike or walking around together for now?

Poplar: He wants to make you happy, but he needs you safe. His favorite methods of doing this, is either holding your hand when going out, or, alternatively, yanking you back with the hems of your clothes (lovingly). He indulges in silliness, and once you somehow convinced him to boil his pasta in energy drinks. Didn't taste good, but he ate it to make you happy.

This was a fun one to break my hiatus with tbh! I stuck with it gn, hope you don't mind, and have a lovely day!

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 2.4k ➠ warnings: cursing, explicit pre- and post-coitus descriptions (no smut but this one is definitely 18+, minors back off. you do not need to read this one to understand the rest of the series, i promise), implied unprotected sex (wrap it up, y’all— also reader is totally on birth control i SWEAR it’s just not TALKED ABOUT) ➠ genre: fluff, some minor angst, mature (as said in the warnings, 18+, minors stay out! if you skip this one, you will still understand the rest of the series), established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (after garbage goal, before saltwater smiles) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i thought i was done with these two but they really do have me in a chokehold y’all 🤧 ➠ series masterlist

“I’m baby again?” He asked, his eyes sparkling hopefully.

“Oh, my Sungchannie,” you sighed, climbing onto his lap. His hands immediately found their natural place on your waist, looking up at you like he was holding the entire universe between his two palms. You looped your arms around his neck, the cool metal of your bracelet resting on the bare skin of the back of his neck. “You’re always going to be my guy. Don’t think one disagreement is going to free you. You’re stuck with me.”

“I love you so much,” Sungchan sighed, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“Gross, you’re all sweaty,” you half-heartedly pushed at his bare chest pressed against your back, scooting forward to try to get away from the uncomfortable feeling of your hot skin sticking together. “Let me go.”

He just wrapped his arms around you tighter and pulled you back to him, a playful growl in his throat. “Say it back and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a loser,” you sighed, turning your neck to be able to peck the tip of his nose. “I love you, Channie.”

“I love you more, baby.” He connected your lips, earnestly slipping his tongue into your parted mouth. “Love you so much… can’t wait to marry you…” He breathed out between pants, cupping your cheek with one hand as his other traveled down the front of your body again. “And have the most beautiful babies with you… love of my life…”

You squeezed your eyes shut as his words stabbed you right in the chest, turning your head and rolling away from his grasp. “Sungchan, we’ve talked about this.”

There was pain and confusion on his features as he watched you sit up at the edge of the bed. He scrambled to follow you up, sitting next to you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, pecking your temple. “I know what you said—the migraines are genetic, you don’t want to risk passing them on. I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” You sniffled, feeling tears rise in your eyes and a lump start forming in your throat. “Kids…”

“Baby, I want kids with you, because I love you.” Sungchan grabbed both your hands, squeezing them tightly. “And I mean—would it really be the worst thing for them to possibly get migraines? If they were even half as amazing as you in every other way?”

Your hands went limp in his as you stared him down. “Sungchan. Think about how you feel every time I have a migraine, and you can’t do anything to help. How useless you are. Now picture how you’d feel if our kid had one. Our baby. Twelve, ten, eight years old. Sobbing in your arms because it hurts so bad, begging you, their dad, to make it stop, just make it stop, but you can’t. And I can’t. Maybe they get the nausea part of it too, and they’re throwing up, and they get dehydrated and we have to take them to the ER because they can’t hold anything down and their muscles are cramping up and everything hurts so bad. What if they have to get brain MRIs, Sungchan? Imagine them being all alone in that machine, nobody to hold their hand. Not to mention— I can’t take any of my medications from the day we decide to start trying, while I’m pregnant, and while I’m breastfeeding. So in addition to everything I’d have to go through being pregnant, I could have migraines four or five times a week for… over a year? Two years? But hey, maybe they’ll get my smile and your eyes, at least, right?”

Sungchan’s eyes were brimming with tears, and he swallowed thickly. “I get it, I get it…”

You shook off his hands, standing up and wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling too cold sitting naked in your bedroom. “I have to go shower… I’m sweaty and have… cum dripping out of me.”

The shower that was usually cramped when the two of you were packed in there together felt oddly big now as you washed up by yourself, harshly scrubbing at your skin. You stared blankly at the water droplets running down the tiles long after you’d finished washing up, standing there as the water turned lukewarm, until it was freezing cold and you were forced out shivering. Turning the spray off, you grabbed a fluffy towel to dry off with, stepping out into the still-steamy bathroom.

You stopped at the vanity, the foggy mirror looking too empty without Sungchan filling it up from behind you, distracting you from your skincare routine under the guise of “helping.” You could hear him still moving around in your bedroom, and part of you wished you didn’t have the sick feeling in your stomach that you did every time you fought so you could pull him in and do his skincare too. You loved your quiet, silly nights when you got to put a fluffy character headband on him and apply a face mask and rub in various moisturizers and the like all while listening to music and sitting in his lap, exchanging pecks on the nose every so often.

It was a rarity when you and Sungchan did anything more than lightheartedly bicker about stupid, inconsequential things—you were sure you could count the number of real fights you’d had in five years on one hand and have extra fingers leftover—but every time you did, it made you feel like you were going to be sick, and you always lost your appetite.

Something sitting on your vanity next to all your bottles and creams caught your attention. Your fingers graced over the corded blue and orange bracelet, tracing the five familiar beads fondly. 27JSC. It was a memento now, of his collegiate hockey career, and the bubbly beginnings of your relationship in your last year of undergrad. As your lives changed, the token no longer coordinated with your professional office wear you had to don day in and day out, something that you thought would have made your clingy boyfriend pout. But instead, he had excitedly gifted you the bracelet you were wearing now, a dainty and stylish silver chain, with five small silver letters—27JSC.

You still put the old bracelet on every so often, when you were invited back to watch the big games along with the other graduated players. The first home game of the season, league rivals, and of course the championship series.

You finished your after-shower skin routine and cautiously treaded back out to the bedroom, towel still wrapped tightly around you to protect you from the cold air. Sungchan was no longer in your bedroom, and you could hear him ransacking the pantry. While you lost your appetite when you fought, Sungchan was the opposite, very much an eat-his-feelings type of guy.

Without hesitation or another thought, you grabbed a pair of panties and shorts from your side of the drawers and a t-shirt from his side, the top covering pretty much all of your bottoms. You stopped at the dresser after getting dressed, grabbing the top and taking a few deep breaths. The image of Sungchan with tears in his eyes flashed in your mind again, and you shook your head. You hated that you had done that. But the conversation that immediately preceded those tears replayed in your mind, and your fingers gripped the furniture tighter. Had he really not listened to you the first time? Did he think he could change your mind about it or something? You wouldn’t wish this on your worst enemy, how could he ask you to risk giving it to your kid, the one person you were supposed to love more than anybody else? More than him? It just struck you as a total misalignment of values... something you needed to talk about more, make sure you really understood where his head and his heart were at.

With one final deep breath, you pushed the bedroom door open wide, and walked out towards the kitchen hesitantly. Sungchan had his hand stuffed in a bag of chips, and you saw several other containers of snacks strewn around on the countertops. As he spotted you, he didn’t bring the handful he had just grabbed out, instead dropping it back in and wiping his mouth with the side of his palm.

“Hey...” You said quietly, stopping at the threshold between the kitchen and living room. “Are you ready to talk? Or do you want some more time?”

“I can talk, yeah,” he nodded, setting the chip bag down. “Let me uh, let me wash my hands and put all this away, then we can sit wherever you want. Kitchen table, couch.”

“Okay.” You gave him a small smile, turning back around to head into the living room. You sat down on one of the central cushions as you heard the sink running, then the crinkle of bags being rolled back up.

When Sungchan finally joined you again, he didn’t sit as close as he normally would’ve, but it wasn’t an awkward amount of distance. Just enough to allow you two to focus on the topic at hand.

He wrung his hands over his lap, offering you a nervous smile. You decided to go first.

“I shouldn’t have called you useless, I’m sorry,” you apologized sincerely, remembering the hurt that had come across his face as soon as the word left your mouth. “That was… just mean of me. You’re not useless. It’s easier to get through the migraines when you’re with me, you make me feel less alone and that makes a big difference.”

Sungchan offered a hand out palm-up in the space between you, and you set yours atop it. He squeezed your hand, his always much bigger and warmer than yours in comparison. “Do you remember that Halloween party? Before we started dating, when you had asked me to stay with you during that migraine.”

“Of course. It was... you were great. I fell for you before I even knew it.”

“The next morning, when we were sitting on Jeno’s bed in that nasty fucking frat house—”

That earned a chuckle from you, and Sungchan smiled bittersweetly, running his thumb over yours.

“—you were telling me about how you just wanted your pain to be real to somebody, because after so long, the word ‘migraine’ had sort of lost all meaning to the people around you. I let that happen to me, too. I was dismissive of all your pain and was even willing to put it on a hypothetical child of ours for a selfish reason. I’m so sorry for doing that to you, for making you feel like that, for becoming one of those people. I’m so, so sorry.”

You brought a hand up to stroke his cheek, his face more manly now than it had been on that Halloween night he had just described. “I forgive you. And I hope you don’t think this is the end of the kids conversation for us. I love the idea of starting a family with you, too. I think you’ll be a great dad. I just… Chronic migraines have a genetic component and I can’t stand the thought of passing on this kind of pain to my kid. You understand that, right? Please tell me you get that?”

“Yeah, of course. And I didn’t even think about you going off your meds either. God, I’m so sorry.” He leaned his head into your touch. “You’ll be the best mom. And I know that because you’re already making the best choices for them and they don’t even exist.”

You smiled softly at that. “I… probably could’ve been less… vivid earlier. It was a bit harsh.”

“No, I needed a reality check. A good slap out of the post-nut haze I was in.”

“Yeah, because you would’ve enjoyed a real slap,” you snickered, pulling on his ear gently.

He pouted at you. “Are you kink-shaming me?”

“No, just teasing you, baby.” You pinched his chin and wiggled his head back and forth.

“I’m baby again?” He asked, his eyes sparkling hopefully.

“Oh, my Sungchannie,” you sighed, climbing onto his lap. His hands immediately found their natural place on your waist, looking up at you like he was holding the entire universe between his two palms. You looped your arms around his neck, the cool metal of your bracelet resting on the bare skin of the back of his neck. “You’re always going to be my guy. Don’t think one disagreement is going to free you. You’re stuck with me.”

You leaned down to sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting and sucking a mark into his skin. He immediately groaned, his hips pushing up into yours and his hands gripping onto you with a bruising strength.

“Nowhere else I want to be, than right here with my girl.” He was already breathing heavily. “God, so obsessed with you, baby. Could stay here and make love to you all day every day.”

“‘Make love?’” You repeated with a giggle, kissing a trail up his neck until you were sitting up straight again, looking him in the eye as you asked, “Not fuck my brains out?”

“Can do both at the same time,” he grinned, scooping you up in his arms bridal style. “Fuck your brains out lovingly.”

You let out a squeal of surprise, throwing your arms around his shoulders as the couch went out from under you. “Gah! Maybe your post-hockey hobby shouldn’t have been weightlifting. You scare the hell out of me every time you do that, Channie.”

“You love it and you know it.” He shook his head at you, looking pointedly at where your hands were gripping his well-defined shoulder and back muscles.

“I’m invoking my right to remain silent.”

“Don’t be too quiet.” He dropped you gently onto the many pillows at the head of your bed, immediately climbing over you. “We don’t have a baby to wake up yet.”

“Slow your roll, you haven’t even proposed,” you teased, sliding down flat on your back, grabbing his collar to bring his lips down to meet yours as you did.

“I’m— mmh— working on it,” he promised between kisses. “My girl deserves the best. Need it to be so special.”

“You’ve been saying that for almost a year,” you reminded him, pulling insistently at his shirt hem.

He obediently yanked his sweatshirt off, tossing it to the side before locking his lips with yours again. “Impatient?”

“To marry you? Mm, maybe,” you hummed, running your hand appreciatively up and down his pecs and abs. “Aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” he moaned just at the thought, latching onto your collarbone. “I’d elope with you right now if you asked me to.”

He paused for a half beat, as if waiting to see if you would, then continued on when you didn’t. “I’m going to make it perfect for you, baby. Promise. Anything for my girl.”

“Well in the meantime…” You reached a hand down, palm out with your fingers spread, and Sungchan immediately laced his fingers with yours. You brought your linked hands up above your head, smiling down at him. “How about you fuck your girl’s brains out lovingly?”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

[lemonnsss]

Moral of the Story pt.2

Warnings: cheating, illusions to sex, angst, not BETA'D we die like men.

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry for making y'all wait two extra weeks, enjoy!

MotS Masterlist

Taglist: @vicmc624, @mostlymarvelgirl, @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy, @moonlightreader649, @whattheduckisupkyle, @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan, @mrsbarnes32557038, @imyourbratzdoll

Word count: 1.2k

Within a few days, I'd moved across the country. Even though anyone from Xavier's could fly over without warning, I thought it would be good for me. I wanted to escape Jean and the heartache she brought with her. Jean had everything. I had left, she had Logan, and I'm sure she would find a way to manipulate Scott again. Just like always done.

Given the circumstances, I wasn't looking forward to my return as a teacher. I had worked as a secretary for a lawyer through college to be able to pay for tuition, and I decided that would be my best bet.

I sat in my bed at the hotel, craning my neck at my laptop screen. Finding a job here was a lot harder than I had anticipated. After a few hours, I had finally found a decent opening. It was a higher-level position at a conglomerate major enough for even me to have heard of. I suppose it's not shocking how much the former CEO is always in the news. A fact that makes sense with the understanding that almost every eligible lady threw herself at him and, oh, how could I forget, one of his board members and most trusted advisors had tried to kill him. Twice. 

I set up the meeting for the day after tomorrow, fearing that the next day would be filled with an intense migraine, a common side-effect of driving past 2 A.M. trying to make it to California in the shortest time possible. I got up, placed my computer on the provided desk, plugged it in, and begrudgingly moved to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

The next day came, and for the second time this week, I'd been right in the type of way I loathe. When I got up, I could barely move, my muscles aching after spending the past few days stuck in my car, only taking a few long breaks to get some rest and about a half dozen times each day for food, drinks, and the restroom. Changing into something comfortable, I left my hotel room. The search for a decent coffee shop now beginning.

After about half an hour, I found a place that looked decent enough. I walked in, and it felt like all eyes were on me. The feel of burning gazes, the sudden urge to make myself as small as possible, and the waves of dread crashing down on me. My symptoms of anxiety. An all too familiar feeling. I looked up at the menu, order already in mind. 

 “Hi! I’ll get a hazelnut latte with almond milk if you have it. Oh, and it says on the menu that there’s a white chocolate scone. I’ll have one of those as well.”

 “Okay, an almond-hazel-latte with a white scone. Who’s it for?”

 “Uh, Kyrie.”

 “Okay, Kai. Someone’ll call when your order’s done.”

 “Okay, thank y-“

 “Please, go find a seat.”

I backed away awkwardly. Slightly raising my arms, hands up in thumbs up. I walked away, putting my arms down, looking for a table to work at.

To no surprise, most tables were empty. For those occupied, their occupants were dressed in semi-professional attire, almost definitely catching up before going to work; the separation between their lives and my own shifted into something all the more evident. 

After about ten minutes, a barista called for the fake name I had given them. I got up and grabbed my order.

I sat at a table away from the windows and took out my laptop. I opened my email, checking for any new correspondents, to see almost 200 new emails, over half of which were from Logan and the other teachers of Xaviers. I went to Logan's profile, blocked him, and used the search bar to delete his previous messages. I don't need to read the pity speech of someone who doesn't value me as even a human being.

I scrolled through and saw an email from Scott, an unusual occurrence for him. I clicked to open it but didn't get the chance to read it, the screech of someone pulling at the table's other chair making it exceptionally difficult.

“Why are you- why did you sit down?”

 “I’m hiding from my bodyguard who is very determined to stay aware of my whereabouts. Even if he thinks it’s me sitting with you. He won’t interrupt our conversation. So, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" said a man with dark brown hair in an expensive-looking suit, "You're new around here aren't you?"

Great. Preppy, rich white guy hiding from his bodyguard, the horror. I laid my head on my hand and took a sip of my coffee.

 "And how would you know if I was? My attitude, my dress, perhaps an unusual drained look plastered on my face." A cheeky tone in my voice. It didn't matter if I was exhausted; this could be fun.

 "I was going to say your accent, but sure, let's go with one of those."

 "What do I get?" I took a bite of my scone. It wasn't as good as I had hoped but not far from what I had expected.

 "I'm sorry, pardon?" Moved his torso to face me.

 "What do I get if I don't rat you out?"

"You get a conversation with me, not something afforded to most." He leaned back.

The door rings. A bigger man in a suit with short, curly hair, a goatee, and sunglasses walks in. The man in front of me gives me a slightly urgent stare.

"I want a favor. Anything, anytime. Within reason, of course."

"Okay, fine; that works for me, just well, you know help." His voice was now a low whisper.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I say as I grab him by the tie, pulling him into a kiss. After a few seconds, I pull away slightly. I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on his supposed bodyguard. The man in question was looking the other way, an almost abashed look on his face.

"Wow, I was not expecting that."

"I'd recommend getting used to it, sweetheart."

His bodyguard took a final look around the room, figuring his client was somewhere else. Just as he entered he left, without a single word.

Hearing the door close he leaned back stretching almost, "So, what do you want? Money, political support, a fun time maybe. I mean with the kiss you gave me I would think the last of which."

"I'll pass. I just moved here, and I need a job. So, If my interview tomorrow goes to shit, your company or whatever you do is the backup now. Congrats!" My voice was now full of sarcasm. 

"Hand me your phone, now. Don't be shy." I opened and closed my hand repeatedly to affirm my statement. 

"Pushy, are we?" He sat up lightly and pulled out the latest iPhone. I should have expected that. I grabbed it and slid the lock screen open.

"Really? You don't have a password? Mr.," I paused with the new knowledge of who this man was, "Mr. Stark. Know what? I'll call in that favor right about now."

[hyucksos]

after rain, comes sunshine — huang renjun [preview]

pairing: huang renjun x f!reader genre: coffee shop au, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, romance, slow burn-ish preview wc: 0.6k (actual wc: 6.7k) synopsis: a thunderstorm leaves renjun stuck with his relentlessly cheerful, ever-optimistic coworker— you. you're the embodiment of everything he hates, but as the night stretches on, renjun starts to realise that the things that irritate him the most may not be all that unbearable after all. at least, not if it involves you.

There are three things in this world that Renjun hates.

Early mornings, small talk, and thunderstorms.

He must have done something super horrible in his past life, because it's barely even 3pm, and Renjun has had to go through all three of the aforementioned in that exact order.

He wasn't even supposed to come in to work today, but Donghyuck had called in sick (Renjun finds that hard to believe) and he was the only other person on the roster who knew how to make a Toasted Caramel Cloud Latte. Obviously, that wasn't a good enough reason for Renjun to willingly sacrifice his much-needed sleep, and it seemed that Donghyuck knew that too, because not only was he quick to promise Renjun to cover him for his next shift, the boy had also vowed to chip in to buy the new set of gouache paints he had been eyeing for so long.

That was what got Renjun out of bed, albeit begrudgingly.

The last thing he needed was an extra factor to contribute to his already-terrible mood, but that was what he got anyway when he stepped into the café, only to be met with you.

"Morning, Renjun!" You chirped from behind the counter as you dried down a mug, the café already prepped for opening— you liked to take your time when doing the opening duties, and you found that coming in earlier helped avoid any unnecessary rushing on your end.

Renjun didn't say anything, opting to shut his eyes as he tilted his head to the ceiling. You didn't miss the tick of his jaw as he trudged towards you wordlessly, letting his bag fall from his shoulder to the shelf beneath the cash register.

"You know how to make a cloud latte," he muttered under his breath as he put on his apron, securing it tightly with a double knot behind his back. "Why am I here?"

Despite his less-than-enthused response, you grinned. You've been working with Renjun long enough to know that he's a little bit of a grump, so you didn't take his moodiness to heart.

"Hyuck's your best friend. It would make sense for him to ask you instead of anyone else," you reasoned lightly. "Plus, having company isn't so bad, is it? You'll be out the door before you know it!"

"Citizens are advised to stay indoors..."

Renjun lets out a groan as he lets his head hit the cabinet behind him. It hurts, but not as much as the migraine that's already beginning to form in his temples. And as if to add insult to injury (no pun intended), the sky lets out yet another guttural rumble, reminding him once more of his ill-stricken fate.

"I don't think Seoul's had a downpour this bad in ages," you remark from somewhere at the dining area. Renjun couldn't tell where exactly you are; he had slid down to the floor when he decided to accept his fate fifteen minutes ago, and his only view since are the bottles of syrup and unopened bags of coffee beans under the espresso machines.

And as if to add even more insult to injury, the two of you are the only ones left in the shop. With it being a Tuesday afternoon, most of your regulars are either at work or school. Renjun has never liked working during the rush hour, but God does he wish for that to be the case now.

He looks up when he sees your head pop above the counter, raising a brow at the smile on your face. He knows how awfully cheery you are, but even in a time like this?

You must be crazy, he thinks.

[adiluv-moved]

❥ PHOTOGRAPHER + SLEEP HCS ꒰MINI꒱. ˚⊹꒷

🌷୧・꒰word count꒱ 710.

💮୧・꒰warnings꒱ none!

🌸୧・꒰adi moment꒱ i initially drafted this when i was about to pass out, and i figured that i might as well turn it into a post since i'd wanted to put something up today. very happy about men with long nails! hope you enjoy! ꒰*ˊᗜˋ꒱ ♡

꒰⚔️꒱・First thing first, Joseph is both a late sleeper and a late riser. Sure, his title may not hold any real weight within the confines of Oletus Manor, but he’s quite literally an aristocrat—he needs his beauty sleep! The hecticness of the manor occasionally has him playing in matches for a majority of the day, oftentimes returning with pockets worth of photos that need to be developed. This process takes him well into the night, and it certainly doesn’t help that most of the photos are of random parts of the maps that he plays in—considering that he tends to use whatever camera is closest to him in order to save time. All things considered, don’t be too surprised when you suddenly feel an extra weight sliding beneath your covers at some ungodly hour. He does his best to be quiet, at least.

꒰⚔️꒱・Despite his own questionable habits, Joseph will absolutely get on your back if you have a bad sleep schedule—using your eyebags ꒰assuming you have them꒱ as a form of evidence… despite the small ones that have formed beneath his own eyes. Should you attempt to bring up this fact at all, he’ll simply counter by mentioning that this ‘intervention’ is meant to be about you, not him. After all, while a lack of sleep has a terrible impact on your health, it also puts you at a heavy disadvantage during your own matches. He loves you, and he realizes that the steaks are oftentimes higher for survivors than they are for his fellow hunters—so why should you risk making a bad call, getting yourself hurt, or even losing the match when you could just..! Go. To. Bed! 

꒰⚔️꒱・Attempting to use early matches as an excuse for your sleep deprivation would have him to writing to Miss Nightingale in an attempt to get her to move your matches to the afternoon. He, alongside some other hunters, have had the same arrangement made for them—he doesn’t see why she couldn’t make an exception for you, as well. As he continuously attempts to reiterate to you—the proper amount of sleep is crucial ꒰plus some extra, in your case, due to your sleep debt꒱—even while stuck in the manor. And assuming that Nightingale caves, you’ll lose your excuse to leave his embrace so early in the morning.

꒰⚔️꒱・If he enters your bedroom after developing a day’s worth of photos to find you still awake—he will lure you away from whatever it is that you’re working on. Whether that be with the temptations of cuddles, kisses, or perhaps a massage to your scalp, Joseph has quite the knack of luring you away from your desk. However, if all else fails, he’ll simply end up dragging  your chair over to the bed and pulling  you beneath the covers. You’d called his bluff when he’d first threatened you with the concept, and the completely deadpan expression on his face as he actually did it was a bit hilarious. Or, at least it was to you, in your exhausted state. 

꒰⚔️꒱・Speaking of scalp massages, Joseph makes very good use of his long nails whenever he gives them. If you tie your hair tightly, or if you’re prone to headaches and migraines, he’ll often attempt to soothe the discomfort by pulling you onto his lap and weaving his fingers through your hair. He makes the same offer if he notices that you’re having trouble falling asleep, the gesture being calming enough to allow the Sandman to whisk you away and to your dreams. He thinks you look absolutely adorable whenever you drift off like that, and he’ll often take photos of you to keep with his room.

꒰⚔️꒱・His hair is incredibly soft, and he usually prefers to sleep with it down. Combined with his love of cuddling and sleeping as close to you as possible, there have been multiple instances where you’ve woken up during the night to find some of it in your face and mouth. He’s quite appreciative if you ever offer to reciprocate his own massages, as getting hit on the head with palettes does tend to hurt him quite a bit. Sometimes, you’ll tie your hair with his ribbon while giving one to him. He’ll... also be needing a photo of that.

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[italiansteebie]

There's a Volcano In my Head

With all the trauma, there’s bound to be some lasting effects.

For example, migraines. 

Steve has been getting them since he was a kid, but after all the blows to the head, they’ve just gotten worse. Not to mention the emotional trauma they all went through, the amount of stress would effect anyone negatively. 

So they’ve got a protocol.

Code: Explosion.

That’s what they call it.

And they all have go bags for whenever anyone radios one in. 

So when Steve’s miserable voice crackles over the walkies, “Code Explosion,” they all jump into action. Steve’s got his own bag, but he’s stuck in bed with the pain, and his bag is ALL the way down stairs. So he calls it in, with the emphasis on needing the supplies in the bag.

Now the contents may seem an odd mix, or nothing that would be too helpful with a migraine. But oh, there has been time and thought put into these bags, and each item has proven to have a major effect on the lasting of a migraine. 

The most important item: Tylenol, and Ibuprofen. You gotta take both, it's the rules. Two tylenol, and one ibuprofen. 

To go along with that, there’s an assortment of easy snacks, applesauce pouches, crackers, fruit snacks, and per Robin’s request, squares of chocolate, and some salt. 

Under any circumstances, the bag should be filled, and they have all got checklists that look something like this:  

Meds

Snacks (Make sure to get Robin’s chocolate and Salt.)

Sock full of rice (Only heat for 30 seconds).

Weighted eye pillow

Sunglasses

Ear plugs/ Headphones

A laminated guide to headache relief pressure points (Courtesy of Joyce)

Conduction Hand warmers

Conduction Ice packs (Boil to reuse)

And last, but certainly not least,

A neck pillow

The protocol states that if any items are lost or removed, they need to be replaced ASAP. 

Steve turns over and groans into his pillow, he just hopes whoever brings their bag is full, his has been ransacked by Dustin, who claimed the world was ending when he experienced his first migraine, which was just last night. He’s been put on the list of people who need to have a prepped “Explosion Bag.” 

Dustin was resting on the couch, hopefully recovered by now. He loved the kid, but he was whiney. And Steve could not deal with that right now. He thinks distantly that most of them know Steve needs quiet and dark, but he’s in too much pain to form an actual thought so he just really just hopes for the best with his face pressed into the pillow. 

The doorbell ringing sent a spike straight through his head, and he could only hope Dustin was smart enough to answer the door for him. He must’ve dozed off because the next thing he knows there’s people surrounding him in his own bed, a mystery hand tangled in his hair with cool metal hitting his scalp he quickly recognized this as Eddie’s hand. He faintly heard Robin’s whisper floating above his head, she and Eddie updating each other on their lives, afterall, it’s been two whole days since they’ve seen each other. Steve is able to form a light grin at the sound of his people’s voices, and he shifts to roll over, pausing as the dizziness hits him. “I gotcha, big boy.” Eddie said, gently pushing Steve over so he was laying on his back. “Thanks Eds,” and the smile that appears on the metalheads face is almost too bright for Steve’s eyes. He shares the sentiment to which Robin rolls her eyes fondly at, and somehow causes Eddie’s smile to get even bigger.

“Up for some toast, Love? Gotta get something in your stomach so the meds don’t hurt ya.”

Steve nodded, only whining slightly when Eddie shifts to get up and get him some toast, “Butter, please, baby.” He says holding on to Eddie’s hand to keep him from leaving. Eddie shakes his head and laughs, “I know, Stevie.” Steve ducks his head as Eddie places a soft kiss on his knuckles, and Robin shakes her head. “You two are so gross.” Steve turns slowly, smacking a hand across Robin’s cheek before squishing her face with his fingers. “You love us.” Eddie says, sauntering out the door. “Unfortunately,” She sighs before turning back to Steve. “How ya feelin’ kid?” 

“Better than I did when I first woke up, I can talk now. Did Dustin let you in?”

“Good, good. Yeah, he let us in. Good thing too, Claudia was just pulling in as we were ringing the bell.”

Steve lets his head roll back, “So that’s why it’s so quiet.” He says, head hitting the pillow behind him. Robin stifles her cackle in sake of Steve’s poor noggin, “Yeah. We would’ve kicked him out anyway. He can’t ever keep his mouth shut anyways.” She grins as Steve laughs softly. “He’s a good kid. Accept I caught his stupid migraine,” 

“You can’t catch a migraine, Dingus.”

“Whatever,” he huffs, curling into the plush bedding, “T-t-t-toaasstt time,” Eddie cheers gently, flopping down onto the bed, minding the bounce as to not make Steve any dizzier than he already is. “Don wan toast.” Eddie huffed, “I went all the way downstairs, slaved over the toaster, and you don’t want it? Steve. The betrayal.” Eddie pressed his hand to his forehead, in the dramatic way he is. Steve only huddled down further into the covers. “Stevie, seriously, babe. You gotta eat and take some meds. It’s gonna help.” 

“C’mon, dingus. Don’t make me come and get you.”

And that brought Steve out from under the covers, opening his mouth like a bratty toddler, waiting to be fed. “Seriously, Steve?” Robin asked incredulously. Steve nodded, mouth still open. She rolled her eyes, plucking the toast from Eddie’s grasp, chomping a corner off, and sticking the other end into Steve’s mouth. “Take it, brat,” She huffed, and Steve smiled as he chewed, all in fondness. 

And the two continued like that, until the two of them had finished two pieces of toast, Eddie’s fingers running through Steve’s hair continuously. “M gonna fall asleep,” Steve whispered, Eddie stopping his motions immediately. “Hey,” He whined, “Hush. You need to take medicine, then you can fall asleep. Open up,” He instructed, reaching for the bottles that had been sitting on Steve’s night stand. He popped the pills in Steve’s mouth, raising a stray water bottle to his lips, helping him swallow the pills. Eddie shifted his eyes over to Robin who seems to have dozed in the quiet peace. 

Eddie continued his movements, softly pulling at the hair that was at the nape of Steve’s neck, watching as his boyfriend’s eyes fluttered closed, breathing evening out. With the cool breeze from the ceiling fan, and the soft sound of his boyfriend and best friend's breath, he too fell to the same fate. He was never more grateful for Steve’s big ass rich person bed. 

—-

If only the peace lasted, because the next morning Robin rolled over, face pale, and uttered a simple “Code Explosion.” And flopped back into the bed. Steve and Eddie looked at each other, a matching half smile, half grimace on their faces. “Here we go again,” Eddie sang softly, but apparently not soft enough because soon after a pillow was flying at his face. And an absolutely guttural “Shut uppppp.” came from Robin’s side of the bed.

[julesthequirky]

Beautiful Trauma - A Soldier Boy Miniseries: Chapter 1

Beautiful Trauma

Pairings: Reader x Ben/Soldier Boy

Summary: The reader is the real widower of Ben/Soldier Boy and loved their life together before the incident. In 1983 she took Compound V, so she could be with Ben forever, but in 1984 her life crashes to the ground, and she's stuck in a world without him. In 2022 a knock at the door changes her life, and when she's told that Ben is alive she hopes that there can be a forever after all.

A/N: Reader has certain traditional gender values, that are antiquated today. I'm also hoping to convey a softer side to Ben, than what we have seen on The Boys.

Chapter Warnings: Antiquated views, language.

Chapter W/C: 2015

This work is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. If you like it, heart, and reblog it. All feedback is gold.

1983

It burned as it travelled through your body. The agony compared to nothing else. To say you were unprepared had been an understatement. Ben said it would hurt, and you would wish you were dead. You’d scoffed at his words. You’d been through pain. Your daughter’s birth had been complicated – If you could live through that, then you could live through this. To that, he had raised his eyebrows at your disregard – “Alright, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Your throat ripped from the scream tearing through, sweat dripped from your skin in rivulets, and nausea built rapidly that it had you heaving over the side of the bed into a bucket Ben had placed for you.

You wished you had heeded his warning. Because he was right. You honestly wished you were dead. You grasped Ben’s hand tight. Tighter still when the pain built. Your breath hitched, and you grit your teeth. It didn’t take long for you to beg him to end your life.

“Ben, please, I can’t. Please, Ben. Please!”

Ben smoothed your hair away from your sweaty face gently. The slight pull felt like needles stabbing into your skull. He hushed you in the same tender manner he would do with your daughter as he dabbed a cool flannel on your forehead to help keep you from burning up. The contact had you crying out. You sobbed, which was another mistake. The tears felt like acid as they trickled down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline.

“I know, darling.”

His soft, deep voice boomed inside your head, and stars burst behind your lids. A migraine bloomed behind a temple, and you welcomed the black dots descending with it. Relief would be a godsend.

Ben’s thumb stroked the back of your hand, and you hmmed before finally succumbing to the darkness dragging you under.

*

“Ben.”

Saying his name felt as if razor blades were slicing your throat after swallowing them. You lay looking at Ben, exhausted and aching. It hurt to move, and thankfully most of the pain had subsided.

“Hmm?”

“Water.”

He stood to fetch the water you requested. He gently placed your hand on the bed, but you grabbed his hand, forcing Ben to turn his attention to you.

“I don’t feel any different.”

The tears burned in your eyes until you blinked them away.

“What if…what if I’m not…”

He knelt and cradled your face with his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks and wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Hey. Hey, don’t concern yourself with that now. There’s time for that later.”

You wanted to nod, but everything hurt. The bright agony had disappeared, but now it was a dull ache. Everywhere.

Ben stood, and this time you let him. He exited the room but returned soon enough with the water you’d requested. He sat it on the bedside table and helped you sit up. He plumped the pillows behind your head and eased you back. The bed dipped as he sat beside you. He held the glass of water, bringing it to your lips, and tipped the liquid in.

You gulped it down, the coolness refreshing and aided your throat.

“Easy now.”

Ben controlled the flow, stopping you from gulping the entire thing like a parched beast. You asked for more after emptying the glass, but he just shook his head.

“Rest now.”

He helped you lie down. From the cupboard, he pulled out a blanket. He shook it from its folds and placed it over you, tucking you in. He kissed you on the lips and wished you a good night.

2022

For once, you were bright-eyed and clear-headed. Today was starting to feel like a good day. You didn’t know what it was, but today was yours, and you could do whatever you wished. Perhaps today would be the day you’d tackle laundry, and maybe you’d get around to the rest of the housework.

You gulped back the medication, chasing it down with water, and then you made yourself breakfast. Waffles and ice cream. Then time seemed to stand still as you looked at the just made plate.

Your hands gripped the counter as your vision began to distort and crack. Damnit. You thought you’d gotten over this. You closed your eyes and were instantly transported back to the eighties.

Ben was laughing, and as he ate his waffles with ice cream, he was also feeding his daughter, pretending the spoon was a plane. His plane sounds were crappy, but your daughter loved it, and so did he.

“Woman, where’s my coffee?”

You lifted the mug up, so he could see it. “Got it right here.” Then you took your plate and his coffee to the table and sat to eat with your family. Ben leaned over and kissed you on the temple before resuming eating and feeding his daughter.

The plate of waffles no longer seemed appetizing. The ice cream had melted, saturating the waffles and the entire thing had congealed together. Nearly forty years had passed, but you still couldn’t look at a plate of waffles in the same way again. In a quick fit of rage, you screamed and tossed the plate, sending it careening into the wall.

A bash on your front door stopped your rage from going any further. But annoyance set in. It was most likely your neighbour coming to yell at you for disrupting her peaceful morning. You were all ready to tell her to go fuck off. You wrenched the door open ready to yell at her, but instead of your sage-toting neighbour, a man stood in your doorway.

“Bad time, luv?” He asked, peering around your door, eyeing the smashed plate, waffles, and melted ice cream on the floor.

Cockney. The long black coat he wore made him look like Neo from The Matrix, except it was dirty as fuck. He had no care for his appearance. Dishevelled hair and a beard to match. You regarded him with irritation and suspicion.

“Fuck you want?” You closed your door behind you, so he couldn’t peer in like the nosey fucker he was.

“Charming. You Miss Smith?” Though he pronounced it as Smiff.

“Mrs.” You corrected.

“Right. Well, I’ve got a warrant for your arrest ‘ere.” He showed you his badge.

What?!

“Your bad day’s about to get a whole lot worse.”

*

Some cop. He didn’t take you to the station. Instead, he had you in some crappy run-down building where he’d built an office for himself. He brought a seat out for you and handcuffed you to a table leg.

He wasn’t alone. He had a group around him. Some skinhead sat with a moody Asian, a young buck and a black man, who all watched her intently.

“You’re not a cop, are you?”

“Nah. But I do work with the CIA.” And then he proceeded to show you the badge. At this point, you didn’t know whether or not he spoke the truth, and you were about to say, until—

“What do you know about Soldier Boy?”

It all came crashing back. What you’d worked so hard to barricade came flooding through. The memories flashed right after each other. Domestic bliss. Your daughter. Arguments, and that night before he went away to Nicaragua.

You tucked your head between your legs as best you could and breathed steadily. In and out, nice and slow. Your hands curled into fists, and you shook, desperate to keep it together.

“Alright. You tell us where the Crimson Countess is, and we’ll let you go.”

At her name, you looked up. You fixed the unkempt one with a stare so intense his gaze flicked away to one of his gang members.

“Why would I know where Cuntess is?”

He grinned deviously. “Ain’t she his boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. What a laugh. It had been a shitty PR stunt to up Crimson’s stats, to boost her sales, and in turn, it would boost Soldier Boy into the stratosphere. Everyone loved a power couple, and they were the ones to be. But you knew the reality. He hated it. And so did you. It caused many arguments where you begged and pleaded with him to cut the deal. You resented Crimson and the rest of Payback for going along with it. But most of all, you resented Ben. And he knew it.

There had been no big wedding for you and Ben. No, it had been done in a dingy registrar’s office who had been forced to sign an NDA. There had been no wedding dress, bouquet, first dance or cutting of the cake. Just you in a pretty dress, him in black slacks and a Philly baseball shirt.

Of course, after waffles and ice cream, he had taken you home and fucked you silly, and you had loved it, forgiving him.

“Yeah, and I’m his wife.”

After those words came out of your mouth, the leader smiled even wider. This had been his plan all along. To get you to divulge “secrets” as such.

“Mon dieu…” Whispered the man stting beside the Asian.

“Ben’s dead. Why can’t you let me be miserable and live my life?”

“He’s not dead—”

“He died saving America from a nuclear meltdown in Ohio. It was all over the news.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Ben’s agent wasn’t answering your calls, nor were any of Payback. Your daughter screamed, wanting to be changed or fed. But there was also a good chance that she just wanted her daddy. Then it came on your tv.

BREAKING NEWS: SOLDIER BOY IS DEAD.

The phone dropped from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your daughter’s cries felt distant as you crashed to your knees in front of the tv, watching Ben’s pictures flood the screen. Apparently, the bastards at Vought didn’t think you deserved the decency to know before everyone else.

The weeks after were Hell. You couldn’t grieve properly and had to learn to navigate the world without Ben. His face was all over newspapers, magazines and Times Square. You couldn’t get away from it if you tried. The tv showed false girlfriends offering their condolences and Crimson Countess was all over your screen, blubbering about how Americal had lost such a hero and how she’d lost the love of her life. In a distraught, drunken moment one evening, you threw a crappy ornament at the tv, smashing the screen and blowing it up.

No one knew the real Ben. No one, but you. You screamed down the phone and left messages on their answering phone demanding, pleading, begging for anything. But they did nothing. Vought didn’t care. Instead they erected a monument of Soldier Boy in honor of his service and act of heroism.

You struggled to adjust. First, you had to change all the accounts into your name, which also meant getting a job, so you could pay the bills. You hadn’t worked in years, and they required all kinds of skills you didn’t have. Then, you got testy with the man trying to help you put a resume together, so much you accused him of judging you for being a widower and a single mother. You didn’t know how the world worked anymore and needed Ben by your side.

You never even got an invite to his memorial.

“I see you weren’t privy to the truf.”

“What do you mean?”

The man in the long coat scratched his face as he said. “He nevva died. Payback betrayed him and got taken by the Russians, but he’s escaped.”

Payback.

Betrayal.

The story of him saving America from a nuclear meltdown had been a lie.

Ben was alive.

Hope blossomed in your chest.

“And we fink he’s gonna go after Payback.”

You didn’t give a shit about them. They deserved everything that would come to them when Ben found them.

“Let them die.” You were adamant.

“Woah, hold on now—”

“I don’t care. They took my daughter! And when Ben finds out, he'll go scorched earth to find her.”