#and if you’re going to tag this as ‘me but with [other thing]’ please just make your own post

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[curatedcurios1ty]

(18+, fingering. reader has a pussy)

It had been a long week, and honestly, it had been even longer since you’ve masturbated.

It’s not that you dislike devildom or anything..it’s just a little frustrating not having any time to really take care of yourself.

So when the perfect night rolls around, with most brothers out of the house (lucifer meeting with diavolo, mammon doing god knows what, asmo clubbing, levi at a convention with beel tagging along, and satan at book club). You take full advantage.

And so, that’s how your night begins, you’re under your blanket with your knees up, underwear hanging off of one ankle, your hand makes its way between your legs and you sigh, finally.

And yeah maybe you’re kinda excited to be able to cum, too excited in fact. To the point where you almost (almost) miss the click of your door opening.

Dammit!

God Dammit. That’s it, you decide, the entire universe must be against you. Shouldn’t he be sleeping? Fuck! You drop your knees back down onto the bed. Belphegor makes his way over to the bed, he’s just about to get under your covers when you reach out a hand to stop him.

“Hold on, not tonight.” Thankfully he pauses, fist wrapped around the blanket.

“Why not?” His voice is soft, he’s almost pouting.

“It’s just…because, i’m busy right now.” You don’t have the heart to tell him what you were actually doing. Yet, after a moment of silence he’s already pressing forward again.

His expression shifts into something quizzical, like he’s trying to figure something out. You see him sniff the air around you and look back at you.

“You’re turned on. Were you masturbating?”

God fucking dammit. This is embarrassing. Is it a demon thing? You knew Asmodeus could sense lust, but can Belphie really smell your arousal? Well if he knows, he should be giving you space now. You hope.

“Uh, yeah actually,” That was still mortifying to admit, your body feels hot in more ways than one. “That was my plan for tonight, so maybe you should nap someplace else?” Even after all of this you still want to cum.

Instead of listening to you, Belphie fully slides under the covers. His eyes hold this intensity you’ve never seen before, and it’s all directed towards you.

“Let me help you, turn around.” He sounds more serious than you’ve ever heard. You don’t know what compels you to but you obey, turning so he’s pressed up against your back.

He wedges his head into the crook of your neck and inhales. “Let me take care of you.”

One of his hands traces along your side until it reaches the swell of your ass. He gives it a light squeeze before gripping your cheek and using it to push it to the side, giving him access to your pussy.

He uses his fingers to spread your pussy open, and fuck, you’re glad he can’t see how soaked you are..it’s just been so long.

As soon as that thought passes through you, feel his other hand reach under you. He drags his middle finger over your throbbing clit down to your sopping, wet hole before pulling back completely. You can’t help but moan, his touch is delicate yet deliberate. You want more.

You’re about to ask him why he stopped when his hand comes out from under the covers and into view. He holds it out in front of the two of you.

“Wow, you’re really wet, huh?” You can’t help but to be in awe as well. The digit is shining in slick juices, only made worse when he spreads it over to his pointer finger with his thumb.

“Belphie, keep going,” You don’t think you can take this teasing, not when he’s still holding you open. “please.”

“Okay.” The fingers disappear from view, a moment later you feel them on your clit rubbing in small circles. You move to grind on them but the hand on your ass holds you in place.

This continues for a while, you’re getting more turned on by the second. It’s good, but you need more.

“Put a finger inside.” You expect the ones on your clit to fulfill that task, but instead he stops holding you open to wriggle his other middle finger inside you. Fuck, it’s almost too much it’s-

“So good.”

He’s mouthing along your neck as he stretches you with his finger. He’s slow with it, but it feels like you’re on fire. Soon, you feel him slip out completely and trace over your hole with two fingers.

“Can I add another?” You nod, not sure if your voice would come out whole. Slowly, his fingers push in, and you gasp. He reaches so much deeper than you could on your own.

Slow thrust turn into slight stretching, which then turns into him curling his fingers. Hitting that gummy spot that makes your mind go blank.

“Do you think you could come, just like this?” His breath is hot against your neck, hell, everything is hot right now.

“Yeah, I could. Keep going, please.” And you mean it. Fuck, your orgasm is so close you can taste it. Like he can read your mind, his hands speed up. You’re moaning louder than before. And just like that something snaps.

You feel yourself clench around his fingers during your orgasm. Your sure belphie can feel it too, from the breathless way he says your name as his hands slow back down.

You’re still blinking hard from the aftershock when he finally pulls away. You turn your body to see him wipe his fingers on the corner of the blanket. Too out of it to say anything, you try to remember to wash it later.

He turns back to you and looks you in the eyes. Even if his face is flushed you can tell that he’s utterly exhausted. Your point is proven by how he cuddles up to you and completely deflates.

“Can we sleep now?” Any reply you would have giving would be useless. His eyes closed, and breathing already slowing down. You decide that you could save a real conversation for later.

For now you’ll just lie down with him.

[quokkaholic]

Hit Me h.j

Warnings/tags: MDNI, smut with no plot in sight, oral f receiving, face sitting, hj, sub!Han, reference to switch!Han and impact play, 1 slap. Lightly edited 

Synopsis: After relentlessly riding Han’s face to his and your delight, he just has one thing to ask of you.

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Han always eats it like a man starved, but tonight he is particularly determined to kiss, lick, and suck your soul from your body, greedily lapping up your nectar as you hover over his mouth. Your mind is so fogged by lust, you’ve lost track of time and your highs are starting to blur together. After your first O, you tried to shift from above him, but Han’s strong hangs clung to your waist pulling you back down to his lips, eager to draw as much pleasure from you until you were beyond satisfied. He frames it as wanting to be good for you, but you know he loves this as much as you do. He’s always begging to go down on you, randomly in the middle of the day, during foreplay, in between rounds, and when you think your loving making has ended especially after he's made an absolute mess of your pussy savoring the flavor of your mixed juices. It's almost as if he's doing it for himself, and your pleasure is a blessed side effect of his insatiable hunger for you. He thrives off knowing how crazy he can drive you with just his mouth. He asks to taste you almost more than he asks you to suck him off, which is frequently. The man loves oral, and you love him for it.

Grinding down onto his face causes a long groan to escape from both your throats as you cum on his tongue yet again; this time you absolutely have to pull away, giving a shove to Han’s vice grip arms to signal him to free you as you feel like you might collapse if you don’t take a moment to steady your shaking limbs. As you raise your hips, a still hungry Han tilts his head back and sticks his tongue out of his panting mouth, straining to remain attached to your dripping cunt. Pressing back to lightly sit back on his chest, you can get an uninterrupted view of his utterly pussy drunk expression written all over his reddened face. There's the slightest twinge of coyness as you glide your trembling fingers through his silky hair and caress him down to his glistening chin, running your thumb over his swollen lips.

“You’re so beautiful Ji. Make me feel so good; it's unreal. I'm so grateful you're mine,” you utter in a hushed and warm tone as you stare down into his sweet, round eyes. He doesn't say anything in response, but his glossy, slightly agape lips bend up into his earth shattering grin as he turns his head into your touch then kisses your hand. His actions are enough to tell you he feels the same. He turns his head to the other side to press wet kisses to the inside of your thighs that still frame his face.

“You still want more baby? I'm so beyond sensitive Sungie; can't it be your turn? You deserve to feel good too,” you say as you lean back reaching for his undoubtedly flushed, stiff cock. He remains kissing your plush thighs, raising his head desperate to get his mouth higher and higher until he can taste you again. As you trail your hand down the soft skin of his toned chest and tummy, you feel the little puddle of precum that has dribbled out from his needy tip. Dragging your fingers softly over his balls and shaft causes him to shiver, but his desire to please you is relentless. Even as you finally grip him, he whines against your skin as you begin to rub him slowly, his loving kisses become more harsh and sloppy with intermittent bites signalling his impatience as you keep what he wants out of his reach, but you can’t hold out for long. You fold, scooting so his expert mouth can feast once again but with your concession you warn,

“Fine babe, but you have to be so gentle!”

He hums in confirmation of your terms and covers your lower lips with soft kisses and licks. Even with Han using the most bare amount of pressure, it still causes your lazy strokes to stutter. He’s so vocal and responsive, whimpering and moaning everytime you give an extra squeeze or more attention to his tip. You have to let go of him for a moment to steady yourself as another orgasm at the hands of the man you love warms your soul and radiates through you. 

Once gathering what little strength you have left, you move back to rest on his chest again and see a temporarily satiated and gleeful Han staring up at your undoubtedly disheveled and flushed appearance. His smile is infectious, but it is quickly replaced with screwed eyes and lips bitten shut after you coax him to spit into your hand and go back to pumping him in your fist giving a little twist at the end. The lust coursing through him and a minor lack of oxygen from your pussy blissfully smothering his face just how he likes it had previously caused him to pant, but the added pleasure of your ministrations have his chest heaving as he moans your name in a plea.

“What is it baby?” you ask sweetly not truly expecting him to answer as he seems so close to the edge, but to your surprise he whispers his request,

“Hit me,” eyebrows pinched up in a pleading look, truly so desperate.

“What?” is all you could think to say through the shock from his ask, but you remain stroking. He looks too pretty to stop. You guys are no strangers to impact play, but it's typically you on the receiving end.

“Hit me y/n” he says a bit louder and demanding,

“Han I don’t want to hurt you” He is quick to reassure you obviously wanting this for himself but also wanting you put you at ease,

“It's fine baby, I promise, just please,” his speech is broken up by whiny breaths,

“Please, hit me.”

With that, you pull back an open palm and land a slap to one of the full cheeks you cherish so deeply, not nearly as hard as he spanks you, but enough to sting and leave a temporary red mark. As soon as you make contact, Han lets out a prolonged hiss followed by mumbled and huffy  ‘I love you’s, and you feel his hot cock oozing into your hand and all over his stomach. With the same hand you inflicted the damage, you rub over the reddening skin before finally getting off from above him to shower him with kisses and cuddle before taking a sweet and intimate bath together, chatting until the water cools. Although the conversation doesn’t revolve around sex and travels from topic to topic, he makes sure to let you know multiple times throughout that he wants you to do that again and soon. 

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A.n- was planning to post some fluff this week, but smut is just so much easier for me to write for some reason. Very exited for the livestream tonight.

-mo 🎀

Masterlist

[daisy-01-blog]

Happy Valentine, don't call me again (Gojo x reader)

A/N: Angst. Just pure angst, no comfort whatsoever. 

It’s Valentine’s day, and it’s also winter at the same time. You have a toothache and Gojo would usually scold you for eating too many sweets. 

Or maybe not. You guys talked everyday, but it has gotten so cold. 

Gojo is your boyfriend of a year, you guys met because your friend introduced him to you. 

There’s nothing wrong about the relationship, except for the fact that you guys are tired of this. 

Your tooth stings but maybe your heart stings even more, it’s cold out here. 

You stare at the chocolates on the store-the couple chattering and being lovey-dovey. 

You feel sick. 

You have talked to Gojo about this last month, asking to break up with him. Because it’s going nowhere. And he refuses, saying you’re just tired and we’ll talk later about this. 

But there isn’t any talk about it at all. And at night he embraces you and you let him. 

At times he would cry, another time it’s you crying. 

You two are scared, it has been nice to stay with each other and there’s an unhealthy bound you two feel. You guys are attached to each other. 

But it’s leading to nothing. A year and you feel empty, and you know he felt that way too. 

So you asked him to meet today, on Valentine’s day. 

Your tooth aches, and your heart too. 

“Let’s break up,” you said. The cafe you chose is cozy and warm, there’s not many people there. But your heart feels cold. 

“..why?” he asked even though he already knows the answer. 

“We can’t do this” you pause, your tears fell down “anymore” 

He pretends he didn’t see you sob, pretending he didn’t want to wipe your tears. Because his heart is torn to pieces. 

It’s the right thing to do, he realizes. But what if he wants to stay?

“You’re sobbing” he mutters, his voice is hoarse. 

You calmed down, eyes red and he had to hold himself to not hug you. 

You want to stay, you fucking did. But there’s nothing left to say. 

“I-” 

“Don’t” you sob “please don’t say it” 

“I imagined us having kids” he mutters and you sobbed. The waitress there stared in concern and you wiped your tears. 

Because you did too, you imagine having kids with him. One that looks like you and one that looks like him. 

“...We should break up,” you looked down. 

“Okay” he said, and you feel your heart breaking. 

You nodded “I have to go” You said. 

“Will you text me?” he asked. 

“Sure” you said hoarsely, and he knows it’s a lie. 

“Happy Valentine” he said “if we cross path again” he said “I hope we’ll be ready this time” 

You hoped so too, but you cannot say anything. 

So you just left him. 

It’s winter, and you feel like dying.

Tag: @rinkomei

[00valentina-writes00]

please please put the self harm fic back up, it was really good, and as someone who’s struggled before, it brought me some comfort. i really wish people just didn’t interact with things they don’t like, it’s appropriately tagged, and it’s not hurting anyone. i genuinely didn’t see anything wrong with it

You know what. Yeah I will. Here you go mamas <3

♡♥︎Grayson and Sevika catching you in a self harm relapse♥︎♡ (reuploaded)

Warnings: self-harm, mental health struggles, depression, angst, cutting, blood, sensitive topics

Disclaimer: This post isn’t meant to offend anyone (I already deleted it once), and I don’t recommend reading it if you’re not in a good place/can’t handle it. I wrote this because some people find comfort in reading things like this, and just because you don’t want to read it doesn’t mean you have to ruin it for everyone. Please just don’t interact/read the post if you don’t like it. For those who do read it and find comfort in it, I hope things get better for you. It sucks being in a place where you mind is your worst enemy, and my heart goes out to all of you.

♡Grayson♡

The weight of the silence in the house feels like a tangible thing—thick and suffocating. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, not really seeing anything. The quiet hum of the air purifier and the faint creaking of the old floorboards are the only sounds breaking the stillness.

It’s hard to pinpoint when the darkness started creeping back in, but it’s here, and it feels heavier than ever. There’s a weight on your chest, as if something is sitting there, pressing you down until you can’t breathe.

You feel it—how the world looks like it’s slipping through your fingers, how you can’t keep your head above water. The struggle is so exhausting. You can feel the tears building, the tightness in your throat as they fight to spill over, but you swallow them down. You can’t burden her with it.

Not now. Not when she’s already dealing with so much.

Grayson’s voice echoes in your mind, the soft yet firm way she always tells you, “If you need anything, you just ask. Don’t shut me out.” But asking for help feels impossible when it feels like you’re crumbling from the inside out. You know she means it when she says it, and you know that deep down, she’ll always be there for you. She has been.

But she’s been working late recently. You know the weight of her job—how demanding it is. How much responsibility she carries on her shoulders, always so composed, so calm. She’s always the one who carries others, the one who stays steady when everything else feels like it’s about to fall apart.

And yet, here you are, falling apart in the silence of your own mind.

You press your hand to your arm, feeling the familiar pull of that dark urge. It’s like a quiet whisper, promising you release, promising relief. You know it won’t fix anything—it never does. But for just a moment, the thought of it feels comforting. Control, a semblance of control, over a mind that is spiraling.

The sharp sting of a blade against skin is an old friend, one that promises to quiet the storm in your head, if only for a little while.

You grab the razor blade from the drawer by the bedside table, your hand shaking as you press the cool metal against your skin.

The moment it cuts into you, it’s like the world finally exhales. The pain is sharp, but it’s also grounding. It’s familiar. The blood wells up beneath the surface, the warmth of it seeping through your fingers as you press harder. The relief is fleeting but enough to keep you from drowning, at least for a little while.

You exhale shakily, closing your eyes as the tears finally come, hot and uncontrollable.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell yourself you’re better than this. It doesn’t matter how many promises you’ve made to Grayson that you’re okay. You’re not. You never are, and right now, the world is too loud, too chaotic, and all you want is for it to stop.

When you hear the door creak open, your heart skips a beat. Grayson’s home.

You panic for a moment, suddenly aware of the blood on your fingers, the rawness of your own skin. You want to hide it, to pull away from her, to bury it and pretend that everything is fine.

But it’s too late. She’s already stepped into the room.

Her gaze locks onto you immediately, and you see the shift in her expression—a flicker of concern, followed by something else, something darker. Her eyes move to your hand, still clutched around the razor, then slowly trail up to your face, where the tears are still streaming down.

“Baby…” Her voice is low, filled with a quiet kind of devastation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The words are trapped somewhere deep inside, stuck behind the lump in your throat. Grayson is across the room in an instant, her long strides making quick work of the distance.

She kneels down in front of you, gently taking your hand with the blade in it, pulling it away from your skin, and tossing it onto the bedside table. She holds you, and it feels like the weight of the world has shifted, the tension in your chest finally starting to ease. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you to her, as she presses her face into your hair, murmuring soft words of comfort that you can barely hear over the rush of blood in your ears.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into her, the warmth of her body and the scent of her cologne grounding you in a way nothing else does. Her arms tighten around you as she pulls you closer, as if trying to protect you from the storm inside your own mind.

“You don’t have to hide this from me,” Grayson says, her voice a mixture of pain and resolve. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

You can hear the underlying frustration in her tone, the helplessness that has started to creep in. She’s used to being in control, used to being the one who takes care of everyone else. But right now, she can’t fix this. She can’t make it go away. And that hurts her, you can see it in the way her brow furrows, in the way her hand gently caresses your arm as she inspects the damage.

Her fingertips brush against the cuts on your skin, and you flinch, not from pain, but from the guilt that rises in your chest. You can see it in her eyes—she’s not angry. She’s not disappointed. But she’s scared, and that’s almost worse than anything else.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I just… I didn’t want to bother you with this. You have enough on your plate.”

Grayson’s grip tightens around you, pulling you closer, her voice soft but unwavering. “You’re never a bother. You’re my wife, and I love you. You’re never a burden.”

You bury your face into her shoulder, the tears coming faster now, as everything you’ve been holding inside comes crashing to the surface. The guilt, the shame, the weight of it all—everything that you’ve kept hidden from her, from yourself, spills out in a flood of emotion that feels impossible to stop.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I can’t stop. I can’t stop it. It’s too much, Grayson.”

“I know,” she murmurs, her hands gently smoothing over your back, offering comfort in the only way she knows how. “I know, baby. I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her words are like a balm to the rawness inside you, but the emptiness lingers. You feel lost, adrift in the dark waters of your own mind, and nothing seems to anchor you. Not even Grayson, though you know she’d do anything to keep you safe.

But you don’t know how to be safe anymore. You don’t know how to feel okay when everything inside you feels broken.

Grayson doesn’t say anything for a while, just holding you tightly, letting you cry, letting the storm rage inside you until there’s nothing left to say.

You eventually feel her fingers gently tracing over your arms, inspecting the cuts more carefully now. The gentle touch sends a shiver through your body, and you can’t help but wince, both from the pain of your wounds and the fear that she’ll look at you with disgust.

But when you look up, her face is soft, her eyes filled with nothing but love and concern. There’s no judgment in her gaze, only a quiet understanding that cuts through the fog in your mind.

“You’re not broken,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re not broken. You’re just hurting. And I’m here. We’re going to get through this together.”

Her words sink in, the weight of them settling on your heart like a gentle, steadying force.

You don’t have to fix yourself. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

Grayson will help you piece yourself back together, just as she always has.

♡Sevika♡

The quiet hum of the city’s underbelly surrounds you, but all you can hear is the pulse of your own heartbeat, the rhythmic rush of blood beneath your skin. Your breathing is shallow, erratic, barely keeping pace with the thoughts that whirl through your head, drowning everything in a familiar numbness. Every inch of you feels heavy—like the weight of the world is bearing down on your chest, leaving you gasping for air.

You’ve been here before. Staring down at your own hands, watching them tremble as they hold a blade. The same blade you’ve used countless times to try to carve out the pain, to silence the screams in your head. You think you’re past this—think that maybe you’ve come far enough, healed enough, but the reality is… you never really can outrun the shadows that lurk behind you.

Sevika’s voice still lingers in your mind, distant yet comforting. The low, gravelly tone that usually manages to settle your nerves is nowhere to be found. She’s been busy, off with Silco’s business. There’s always something. Something that pulls her away from you, and each time, the void in your chest grows a little larger. The silence between you two stretches thinner, and you start to wonder if you’re just another weight—something she has to carry, but doesn’t truly need. Maybe you were just a brief moment of comfort for her, something to fill the empty space in her own broken heart.

It’s pathetic, you think.

Your gaze flickers to the blade in your hand—sharp, gleaming, a perfect reflection of everything you’ve been trying to avoid. With a shaky breath, you press it to the skin of your arm, not sure what to expect, but desperate for release.

The first slice is almost too easy, like the blade already knows where to go, knows exactly how to break you. You hiss, biting back a gasp. The rush of blood that spills out is both soothing and terrifying, pooling around your wrist and dripping onto the floor. It feels like you’ve just cracked open a dam, and there’s no stopping the flood.

But you can’t stop. You need to feel it. The rush. The pain. The way it takes everything away, leaves you empty but somehow full at the same time. It’s familiar, comforting, like a twisted lover.

But this time, it’s different.

The bleeding doesn’t stop.

Your breath catches, the room beginning to spin as the crimson liquid flows freely, quicker than you can manage. Your vision blurs as the pulse of panic rushes through you. You try to hold pressure, but it doesn’t work. You try to stop it, but it’s like the blood has a mind of its own, pouring faster than you can keep up.

Why won’t it stop?

The panic sets in, clawing at your chest, a grip of cold fear tightening around your ribs. You try to move, to find something to hold against the wound, but your hands are trembling too violently, your fingers slick with blood. The room feels smaller, darker, and all at once, you feel the walls closing in. Every breath is a struggle, and every thought feels like a weight you can’t bear.

And then—footsteps.

Sevika.

Her voice, low and dangerous, cuts through the haze of panic. “What the hell is going on here?”

You don’t have time to answer before she’s in front of you, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the sight of you, the blood dripping from your arm, the panic in your eyes. You want to say something, to apologize, but the words are tangled in your throat, a mass of guilt and shame. Her presence, usually so reassuring, now feels like an inescapable force, suffocating you with its intensity.

She doesn’t need to speak, her gaze enough to make you shrink back. But she doesn’t leave. She’s here. And that alone is enough to send a wave of emotion crashing over you—relief mixed with guilt, pain, and that overwhelming, gnawing feeling of needing something you can’t quite define.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but it’s like your body betrays you, unable to form a coherent thought.

Sevika’s gaze shifts to the blade in your hand, and for a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you two. Her jaw tightens, and her lips press into a thin line. But then her hands move, strong and steady, like the storm in her eyes isn’t enough to tear her apart. She takes your wrist with a force that makes you flinch, her fingers like iron bands around your arm, yet there’s no malice in her touch. Only a quiet fury—one that’s familiar to her, but so unlike you.

She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t ask you why. Instead, she moves quickly, her voice calm but filled with that hard edge of discipline. “Give me the fucking blade.”

You hesitate, feeling the cold, sharp steel pressing against your skin. For a moment, you wonder if this is it—if she’s finally tired of you. If this is where the weight of your brokenness makes her snap.

But instead of anger, you see something different in her eyes. Something sharp and raw. Something that looks like pain.

You don’t argue as she pries the blade from your trembling fingers. Her gaze never leaves you as she takes it, her lips pressed into a hard line. You can’t tell if she’s angry or worried, but you feel like you’re drowning in her gaze. In the silence between you two, the blood that still flows from your arm, the tightness in your chest, the burning shame—you feel it all. The weight of your struggle is too much for one person to bear, even if that person is Sevika.

She’s too quiet, too still, for too long. And you can’t take it.

“I—I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracked and fragile. “I didn’t mean to… to make you worry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Sevika doesn’t respond right away, her face unreadable as she carefully presses a cloth against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. The way her fingers move so methodically, the precision of her touch—it makes you feel like you’re falling apart even more.

“You didn’t want to make me worry?” she says, her voice quieter than usual, a soft growl of frustration in her words. “Then why the hell are you doing this to yourself?”

You shake your head, biting back the tears that threaten to spill over. You don’t have an answer. You never really did. It’s always been a struggle, hasn’t it? One that you fight alone, because nobody could possibly understand. Not her. Not anyone.

But Sevika doesn’t need answers. She doesn’t need you to explain yourself, not right now. All she needs is to fix this. To stop you from bleeding out.

When she’s sure the bleeding has slowed, Sevika pulls you close, her strong arms wrapping around you. It’s the first time in what feels like forever that she’s not pushing you away. She holds you tightly, her breath steady against your ear, and for a moment, you forget about the cuts on your skin, the mess you’ve made of yourself, the guilt that weighs you down.

She doesn’t say anything for a long time. Her grip tightens around you, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she speaks, her voice low and rough.

“Don’t do this again.”

You nod, feeling a sob rise in your chest. You want to tell her you’ll be okay, that you won’t fall back into the darkness. But you don’t know if you can promise that. And for the first time in a long while, you let the tears fall, not because you’re weak, but because you don’t have to hide from her anymore.

Sevika’s not going anywhere. She never has been, not really. Even if she can’t fix everything, even if she doesn’t have all the answers—she’s here.

[chanranghaeys]

☀️ here, there, and everywhere

This journal belongs to: me. If found, please contact this number. (And please do not read it—unless you want to read the ramblings of a person who fails to deny their feelings for a certain someone.)

pairing: lee chan x gn!reader word count: 2.5k+ genre: fluff for (belated) happy chan day and carat day! rating: pg tags: college friends, they grew up, time skips between entries, mutual pining, happy (open) ending, stream of consciousness, excessive italics, please read the whole thing as if it were a private journal of sorts warnings: mentions of alcohol, death of a family member (brief mention, off the page)

a/n: this is a self-indulgent piece on my ultimate crush and the love of my (kpop) life, lee chan. i can’t keep denying you, so here we go. in an alternate universe, you would’ve been my best friend that i loved to hate and hated to love, until one of us finally gave in to our feelings and hoped for the best. happy birthday chan! you’ve given me nothing but color in my life ever since i became a carat. i wish you all the beautiful flower paths ahead ✨

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Dear Chan,

You must think me pathetic if you ever found one of these letters.

It sucks…this little crush I’ve discovered I have on you. And I am only saying this ONCE on the page. And to no one else. Because when you talk about a crush, it only grows, right?

So I'll just talk about it to myself.

I hate crushes because they are so unexplainable. They’re unexplainable feelings that latch on to you so hard and never let you go until you fumble and mess up and just make an utter fool of yourself.

I first found out I had a crush on you last month.

I had long admired you from afar through your dancing. You’re beautiful when you dance—in the zone, focused, bursting with energy. I’m genuinely jealous of how you can do the things you do with your body, how you tell such beautiful stories with every little move you make.

But it was that time during a production runthrough—the simultaneous evaluations—where you made that one mistake almost fatal to your team on that one sequence you spent weeks perfecting.

Yet there you were onstage, just laughing it off. So instead of your team being anxious or frustrated, they just laughed along with you.

It turned out to be the best performance of the night, your laughing played off as banter and camaraderie by the guest audiences.

That’s when I first felt the intense grip of this thing called feelings on my poor little heart.

Absolutely disgusting.

Anyway.

This “writing letters I'll never send to you” is all just for me to really process all these feelings I’ve discovered for you. No other reason aside from that. In my head, this is a form of acknowledgment so I can easily get over whatever this is.

So yeah. Feelings. A crush. On you—someone younger than me—of all people. I can’t believe it.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

We were crossing the street when you suddenly held my hand. You did that to pull me to the other side of the road farther from the direction of the car.

“Be careful,” you said.

I shouldn’t feel special. Maybe you do this with everyone else anyway.

I hate how I can’t help but feel just a teensy bit special. Indulge me on this.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I hate how you’re so stubborn. I hate how you’re so passionate. I hate how you’re such an amazing dancer. If I didn’t know better, I’d be so goddamn jealous of you.

Well, maybe I already am.

But above all that, I feel so in awe of you.

I hate how amazing you are in everything you do.

I hate how you’re actually inspiring me to be a better person. Little by little.

You’re inspiring me to be more diligent, to work harder, to believe in myself and my artistry way more than I ever thought I could—even through the infinite doubts.

Because that’s what you do to me.

“You can do it!” you said. “I’ll be right in the audience cheering for you, too. Because you’re my number one supporter, I’ll also be your number one supporter.”

I hate how you’re right. Why do you always have to be right?

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I don’t get it. I really don’t.

I don’t understand why you would do such things to me and for me.

It was such a simple and offhand remark.

“Is that a new necklace?” you asked.

“Nah,” I replied.

“It’s pretty. I don’t usually see you wearing that necklace. Where's the other one? The silver one with the daisy pendants?”

It was only because that one—my favorite one—broke and I didn’t have the time to have it fixed yet. Too busy with org scheds.

And you know what you said?

“Give it to me. I’ll have it fixed.”

What in the actual—

You didn’t have to do it, Chan.

Yet there I was, handing over my most prized possession...to you, my...friend.

You better give it back to me fixed, or else.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

We’re in the library pretending to study for this godforsaken exam. I’ve practically given up on it.

(lol just kidding I can’t do that)

So we’re on a break. You’re sitting right in front of me, writing something down in your own notebook. Good thing the tables are a bit wide. I really wish that you won’t be able to see your name plastered on top of this page.

I never pegged you for someone who writes. In my head, I will take this as my own influence over you after my constant stories of how journaling and writing is such a simple thing that can heal you so easily and thoroughly.

Maybe my influence, and Seungkwan’s as well. At least he’s a good influence.

It was so funny, even, how you made a huge show of showcasing your little black notebook. When you opened it, I saw that it was already bookmarked at the halfway point.

So you do write. You have been writing.

Stop making my crush on you grow. Stop.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

You were so drunk last night. I don’t think you’ll remember any of it today.

But I remember everything crystal clear.

You’ve had how many bottles of soju at that point. You slung your arm around me and leaned your head on my shoulder. Never mind how fast my heart was beating at that point. Whether from alcohol, or you know what, I will never know.

You told me, “You’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

Your best friend.

A friend.

A stake to the heart would’ve hurt less, in my opinion.

But then again, better a best friend than nothing at all.

I wish I was as drunk as you were last night. Maybe I could forget that one sentence and just carry on living as if this thing between us is nothing.

As if us holding hands the entire night last night under the guise of you “needing a steady hand to hold so you wouldn't fall because you were drunk as hell” is no indication of any thing.

Whatever this thing is.

Sincerely,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I promised not to write anymore—believe me I tried. We’re best friends, right?

Best friends meet up for breakfast before going separate ways for the day, right?

Best friends make sure to ask if you’re home at the end of every day, right?

Best friends have random snacks or your go-to pick-me-up drink delivered to you when they know you’re having a terrible day, right?

Best friends do that, right?

Even if they’re both in separate relationships already?

I’m so confused. I shouldn’t be, but I can’t make it make sense.

Maybe it’s just me and these lingering and unresolved feelings. I hate them.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

Thank you for meeting me as soon as I called. Thank you for holding me as my world fell apart. Thank you for comforting me even as my tears fell. Thank you for being reliable. Thank you for giving me my comfort ice cream. Thank you for helping me through this breakup even though I know you’re on the brink of your own.

Thank you for being a friend—my friend.

Thank you for always catching me whenever I fall.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’m sorry about the breakup…or am I?

I’m not too sad about it, I’m sorry. I always knew they were a bit off for you. But I hope I’ve been the right kind of friend that you need right now.

Or however you need me. I'll be here for you, the same way you were for me. You know that right?

I know you held back a few tears when we were at the cafe earlier. You loved them, for sure. I know how far you go for love—that's how true your love is.

But you should've seen the look in your eyes. It tells me you’re not too too sad about it either.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Yeah, definitely just me.

Maybe it was more of me wanting to see the spark in your eyes again after you kept denying that it had been gone for so long.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

You should've seen your face earlier. It was so…

With all of your hip-hop and R&B playlists, I never pegged you to be one to appreciate any of the oldies.

“This is my favorite Beatles song,” I said.

You immediately stopped scrolling the phone hidden behind the book reading the book in your hand to listen to “Here, There, and Everywhere” playing from the cafe's tinny speakers, straining to make it out above the chatter of the establishment.

You said you'll pull up the lyrics to read, and as you did, the smile on your face grew ever so slowly with every word that your eyes traveled to. You started to slightly bob your head to the beat while mouthing some of the lyrics as the song continued on.

Okay, fine, I was watching you. You didn't notice anyway.

“It’s a great song,” you said. You looked up with this sense of meaning in your eyes. I feel like mine had a look of question marks in them.

Your fingers danced on your phone. I’m sure you added it to one of your playlists. Well, I hope.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

This is the last letter I’ll write. I promise.

It’s graduation tomorrow. If you give me nothing and nothing happens within the next month of tomorrow, I will stop this nonsense and maybe try to finally get over these feelings I seem to have for you.

Whatever it is.

I just…don’t think I can bring myself to do it first.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

This is so random but you just suddenly crossed my mind. And I remembered this notebook full of so-called "unsent letters to you."

I wonder how you are and if you're doing okay. I don't know why we grew apart after graduation. I just...I don't know. I can't even think about it without my head aching.

It does kind of feel like there's a hollow void in the shape of you somewhere in my body, particularly somewhere around my chest area.

(nope, I won't say it)

I hope you're doing alright.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I can’t believe you came. It's been five years since we saw each other, three since we last spoke, yet you came—the person I least expected to see in the wake.

I never thought there'd be another letter but how could I not write anything?

I didn’t realize how painful and heavy it was to lose my grandfather until you hugged me. You were the first one to see my tears. You were the only one brave enough to hold my broken pieces without caring if you'd get cut by my sharp edges.

How you were able to do it even after all these years will forever be a mystery to me.

Thank you for catching me before I further shattered myself.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’m still reeling from recent events.

It was so nice to see you again last night, though. Thanks for dragging me out of my apartment. It’s been so long since we went out like that, just for some frozen yogurt, which naturally turned into a few drinks because after all, it’s still the two of us together.

But good lord help me, I’m still in a daze. How can I be normal when I just dropped the biggest truth bomb of my life thus far?

I told you, “Maybe I’ve always wondered what it would be like if we ever tried before.”

But you know what you said? You know what you frickin’ said?

“I wish you told me earlier. Why didn’t you?”

Well, why didn’t you??????

I swear I could’ve combusted on the spot if I could. I swear I just said that so I could finally let go of this weight from my chest.

But you know what you did?

You walked me home. You made sure I was safe.

And then you visited this morning with coffee and breakfast to nurse the drinks from last night.

You’re just outside my room right now, sitting on my small couch, playing Beatles songs from the speakers. You’re waiting for me to finish whatever I’m doing here because you’re taking me out to see this movie I told you I wanted to watch. Why?

“We have to make up for lost time,” you said.

Chan, what are you doing? Just tell me so I know what I should do.

What do I do with you now?

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Happy Chan Day!

I hate you.

I wish you told me about your party earlier! I mean, even hours earlier, not like an hour or two right before.

Okay, I know it’s a spontaneous birthday party and all—I GET IT. But please tell your friends to at least invite your other friends beforehand? So we can also prep stuff for you, okay? I moved around so many schedules for this—for your party. How could I not?

So I hope you’ll forgive me for not preparing your gift yet. I was planning to get it in the coming days when my sched was relatively freer. Still, I’m really, truly sorry for not getting you a gift. I know you like getting gifts because you like giving them as well.

You know, it’s your birthday, yet you were the one who said something that was almost like a gift to me.

You said, “Don’t bother with the gift. As long as you’re here with me, I don’t really need anything else.”

Chan, I still hate you. I think.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’ve come to the harrowing realization that I’m in love with you.

No scratch that. I love you. Throughout all these years, I’ve always loved you.

How’s that for a hit-me-with-a-firetruck realization?

Yours truly (I wish),

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

Do not laugh at me. Do not be condescending. Do not dismiss me—your best friend. Do not leave me hanging. Just…do not.

When I show you this, just don’t.

Just read it.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Hey, you.

If only you knew how many pages I’ve written about you. Glad to know I’m not the only one doing so.

It started on that day we were in the library. I’d already written about so many things, but that was the first time I ever wrote about you. I’ve never stopped writing since.

And even in pages full of you writing about me, I still write about you.

You’ve always been here, there, and everywhere to me.

Yours, truly and only yours,

Chan

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

NOW PLAYING: seventeen's playlist - song # 2

“To lead a better life / I need my love to be here // … // will be there and everywhere / Here, there and everywhere”

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ together; alternate version (정윤호 ♡ j.yh)

yunho's been away for tour, only this time, when he comes home you have very different news to share.

style: bullet drabble (alternative sequel to losing time) pairing: non idol!yunho x fem!reader word count:��2.5k tags/warnings: fluff, light angst, all things pregnancy and babies, light smut with breeding kink/preg kink (yunho is v happy she's pregnant essentially lmao) notes: this was fully inspired by an anon in my inbox who asked what would have happened in my short fic together if the news reader had to share was a pregnancy and how would yunho react to that. i don't take fic requests, but i love babyfic and this just turned into a little bullet and drabble fic i thought i would share with everyone.

[masterlist]

at the end of losing time, yunho leaves for tour and it’s a long one. a full two, two and a half months abroad in europe while you’re left at home in a different time zone missing him terribly. 

you find out the truth while he’s away, only a few weeks into tour when you start getting sick. it’s not something you can just spring on him while he’s on tour, it would distract him, it would stress him out, and frankly you just don’t know what to do. what decision to make. 

you know how you feel about yunho, and you knows how he feels about you….  but this type of news always changes everything. 

so you keep it to yourself, and you do your best to make it through. 

only when yunho does return.... you’re showing. it's not a lot, just the beginning stages of a curve at three months, but it's starting to be apparent if you’re wearing fitted clothing and it's not something you would be able to keep from him if he touched you. 

so when he comes home, finally, and texts you, asking if he can send a car to bring you to the studio, you want to say yes so badly but you can’t. 

this isn't a conversation you can have in front of anyone else so you say no. and you’re honestly terrified, so you lie, just a little white lie. you tell him you can't come and that you’re not feeling well, you’ll see him another day soon.

anxiety is fully eating you up and you’re spiraling, and you don’t know it but your texts fully freaked yunho out. he's convinced that you’re going to break up with him and waited until after tour to do it, and he's sick about it.

after dance practice, he sneaks out and comes to your place.

all of a sudden hes there, he’s knocking on your door. 

you thought you had more time, you still don’t know how to tell him, what to say- but he’s there 

and -

You're a mess. Your hair is tangled from running your fingers through it again and again, and you're pretty sure this sweatshirt has a coffee stain on it, but he's here and no matter what you have to face this.

He knocks again, a soft rap on the door, "y/n, please let me in,"

"Just a second," You call back, knotting your hair back into a bun and kicking on your slippers. Your stomach rolls with nervousness, but at least, you think, it's not morning sickness.

When you finally pull open the door your hands are trembling, and Yunho's pained expression doesn't help.

"Hey," You manage.

"Hi," His eyes dart over you, a crease of concern between his brows, "can I come in?"

You move to let him in immediately, stepping back into the apartment, "Sorry, of course,"

When you shut the door tight and flip the lock, silence fills the space, but somewhere within you, you find the strength to turn around and look up at him.

He shifts from foot to foot, clearly off balance at the strange discomfort between you, and finally he sighs, "Whatever it is," he says, "I know we can work it out."

A strike of panic lances up your spine at the thought he might already know what words are sitting like lead on your tongue, but all you can manage is a soft, "What?"

"You're avoiding me," His hands flex and release, "we haven't seen each other in months, and now I'm here, and you haven't even smiled. I don't think you're sick, I think something's wrong."

"Yunho," Your voice cracks, and you can feel tears threatening your eyes already. You wanted to hold it together, but this is already too hard.

He swallows tightly and keeps talking, his own voice laced with nerves, "I know two months was a long time, and I know I haven't been the best boyfriend, I should have called more, made more time for us, but, y/n," he takes a tentative step towards you, "I love you, and I really don't want to give up on us, please, don't,"

Things slot into place at his words and you shake your head, "Who said anything about giving up on us?"

The words hang for a moment, and then he softly exhales, "You're not breaking up with me?"

"No!" Your voice squeaks as you rush to dispel that idea, "No, oh my god, not at all,"

He grins, covering his face with his broad hands and sighing, "Jesus Christ," he sighs, "I was going out of my mind,"

"No," You shake your head again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you like that."

He drops his hands and you can see the tension leave his tight shoulders, "Thank god," he smiles and steps towards you.

Panic bubbles back up inside you and you raise your hand to stop him, stepping back until your hips bump into the back of the couch, "Wait,"

His expression crumbles, "What's going on?"

You just have to say it.

"Um," Your stomach flips, "I do have some news."

"News," He repeats numbly.

"Yeah," You start to cross your arms over your chest but the realization that it would pull the fabric of the sweatshirt closer to you rockets through your brain and you drop your arms helplessly by your side. You have no idea how to tell him this.

"You can tell me anything," He says softly, reading your panic in a moment, "and you know, there's nothing we can't handle together."

"Yunho," Tears start to gather, making your eyes glassy, "I don't know how to tell you this,"

"I'm here,"

The panicked, terrified, anxious part of your brain scoffs, for now. You look away from him immediately, eyes glued to the floor. If this is how you lose him, then you guess it just wasn’t meant to be.

You take a steadying breath and jump, "I have something to tell you," you knot your fingers together, "and I didn't know how to tell you while you were away. I was afraid of distracting you or trying to figure this out while you weren't, you know, here,"

"Okay," He murmurs, taking a slow step in your direction, "I'm here,"

"A week after you left," You press your eyes closed tight, tears tracking down your cheeks, "I missed my period,"

He's silent. Your stomach churns again, but you keep going, "For a little bit I just thought it was stress, or something funny, I'm not always on schedule, but, then I started getting sick," With your eyes closed and with him so quiet, you can almost pretend you're practicing this speech, one of the many times you talked it through in the shower, lying in bed, pacing laps around your apartment. "I'm so sorry," Your voice cracks, "I'm pregnant," You can't bring yourself to open your eyes. "I know I should have told you," Tears rush forward a little faster now and you take a hitched breath, "and I know you don't want this, but you deserve to know, and I... I don't, Yunho, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I'm s-supposed to do, and," Yunho steps forwards all at once, his hands cupping your cheeks and drawing your face upwards, "Hey, hey," he soothes, voice tender, "look at me," Your eyes finally open, meeting his gaze. You expect to find him terrified, any twenty-something guy with a delicate career would be, but all you find in his eyes is soft comfort. There's no trace of the idol in him, just your lover, your best friend. "It's okay," He wipes away your tears gently, "sweetheart, breathe," "Why aren't you angry?" Tears rush faster, your breath tight. He smiles, "I'm upset you didn't think you could tell me," he dips forwards and presses a kiss to your forehead, "but y/n, I love you, this isn't... baby, this could never be bad news." "W-what?" "The timing's terrible," He admits, "and I also have no idea what we're supposed to do, but I don't care. I love you, we'll figure this out." Of all the reactions you expected from him, this hadn't even crossed your mind. When he leans back from you a little to study your tear stained face again, he smiles, and it feels like everything about your life is about to change. Slowly, you pull his hands away from your face and take a steadying breath, "Yunho," you manage, "you're an idol, and besides, we're twenty-six, we're not even married, we're not, what the hell are we going to do with a baby," He slides his hands over yours and brings them together, lifting them so he can press his lips to the back of your knuckles, "We'll do what people do, we'll make it work." You shake your head, feeling fully unmoored, but he keeps going. "I knew you were it for me on the second date," He says and the world slows to a stop, "the only thing in the world I'm terrified of is losing you, but this? y/n, I'm in love with you. Did you think I haven't imagined what our lives would be like?" "I," You can't find the right words, but you try, "I love you," His smile widens, and he moves quickly, tugging you forwards and wrapping his arms around you properly. He's much taller, and he has to lean over you, but he wraps one arm smoothly around your lower back and your hands settle on his shoulders. He pulls you up in one smooth motion, his free hand slipping under your thighs as you wrap them around his waist to hold you tight against him. He kisses your lips, tender relief in every press of his mouth on yours and he nuzzles your nose with his, "I missed you," he breathes. "I missed you too," You confess, your body finally relaxing and melting into him, weeks and weeks of tension bleeding out of your body, "so much," He hugs you close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck, and then he freezes, "Oh my god," his hand slides over your back, landing on your waist, "you really are pregnant," You know he can feel it, the change in your body when you're pressed flush against him like this, and you nod into his neck. "H-how," His hand pushes under your sweatshirt, searching your skin, "baby, how far?" "Fourteen weeks," He sucks in a breath, dropping you gingerly back to your feet, "I can't believe you didn't tell me," For a split second you think you're finally getting the anger you anticipated, but the giddy expression on his face says otherwise.

"I've missed so much," He snakes a hand under your hoodie, and lays his palm over your slightly distended belly, "I'm... god, I can't believe this," "You're not upset?" You check softly. "No," He shakes his head, and then he tugs gently at your sweatshirt, "No, but, can you take this off, can I see?" You're nervous again, but his easy energy wraps around you like a safety blanket and you nod, swallowing back any fears and pulling off the sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but your sweat pants, and a tight tank top. His eyes zero in on the bump immediately, and the sliver of skin between your sweats and the hemline of your top. Your hands rest over your belly, a nervous, protective instinct, "I know," He blinks hard, tearing his eyes away from your changing body and up to your face. "What?" You ask, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "You're really pregnant," He says, his voice a little rough, and then he reaches again until his hand slides over the smooth plane of your stomach, tracing the curve, "that's my baby," "Yeah," You breathe softly. 

Tears track down his face and he laughs, reaching for you again, up into his arms and nestled against him. 

From there?

He’s kissing you and he just can’t stop. 

You’re a mess from stress and tears, and hardly feel sexy, but he doesn’t care. He’s missed you, he loves you so much and this news is unexpected and terrifying but he’s so happy he doesn’t care

So holding you in his arms still, he takes you to bed

And you’re apologetic about the mess, your bed stand is covered with water bottles and anti-nausea medication and it hits him all at once how you’ve just been holding it together by a thread 

And he pulls you into the bed - “You’ve been sick, this hasn’t been easy, has it? I could have been there for you, I wish I had been there,” 

But you assure him that you’re mostly on the other side of it, you’re only sick like once in a while now not every second of every day 

And he’s like….. we are talking about that later, but right now how are you feeling? 

And you’re good…. but god, you missed him and now you’re just so relieved

So he begs you to let him take care of you now, he’s home, he can carry that weight if you’ll let him

And teary tender kissing in bed leaves his hands wandering, noticing how much is different, losing his mind over your bump and the new fullness of your breasts

And he’s hard and you’re touch starved 

And then he’s just losing it a little - kissing your body, telling you how much he loves every inch of you, how insane it makes him that he did this to you, how you made something together

And all the tenderness to dirty talk sends your brain into overdrive. 

It’s all just desperate needy, thank god we didn’t break up i can’t believe i got you pregnant sex

Worshipping oral, lots of body kissing and feral groaning from Yunho

His absolute insanity at being inside you like this - and you’re tighter, wetter, and needier than ever, and he’s just feral for it

“You’ll be the prettiest mommy, won’t you?” 

Just heaps of breeding and preg dirty talk

“God, I hope you want a lot of kids,” 

“You look so good like this, I’ll have to knock you up again,” 

“So pretty with my baby inside you,” 

And when you’re done, you fall asleep instantly. you’ve been sleeping so much more all of a sudden, and you suppose your body needs it, but it feels like you’re finally resting for the first time in weeks

When you wake, your apartment is clean, he got take out (but he’s googling best soups for morning sickness and texting Wooyoung cooking questions), and he’s making a list of everything you’ll need. He’s already making a plan of what you’re going to do. 

So even though the tour was terrifying, he’s home, he’s got you. You’re together on this, always.

[cherrycheolkat]

• no blueberries, feat. mingyu, pt. 1 •

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader x christian yu (dpr ian - i use 'ian' - you'll see in part ii)

word count: 4.1K

genre: fake dating, college au, college student!mingyu, college student!reader, fluff, f2l, idiots, idiots in love, angst, pining, denial of feelings, exes to lovers, study abroad, established open relationship (reader x ian), rivalry (low key)

summary: mingyu was just your lab partner and study buddy for several semesters, but lately things seem to have changed, and maybe everyone else has noticed, but for the most part, neither of you even think about what you are to one another until mingyu asks you to be his 'fake' date for a long weekend trip so he can avoid an ex, the biggest problem is realizing that there's nothing fake about your relationship but when mingyu won't even talk about what you are to each other, you start to think things might be over before they even really start

warnings: explicit language, mentions of anxiety, sexually suggestive situations, drinking, established open relationship

a/n: they are literally idiots in love but they're so dumb they almost don't deserve a happy ending - i am screaming at them ;-; ooof writing part ii...and well, i need to update this with additional characters and genres...oops (if you don't know - i am not a planning writing - i just go where the characters take me - they get their shit together - trust the process) besides it's named for a dpr ian song anyway, might as well include him for his dilf status and the accent

xx kat

[part ii - in progress]

♡ if you would like to be tagged in my upcoming posts, go [here]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

“please, y/n,” he was definitely begging now. 

she rolled her eyes, “dude, she’s your ex - you’re over her, just go and be normal, okay?” she was a bit annoyed at this point because he was over her, wasn't he, she wondered.

he whined softly, “seriously, just come with me, pretend you’re into me for like four days - i can’t deal with her, you know, alone,” she watched him stare at his textbook, looking fully embarrassed. 

she blinked quickly wondering how she was the friend being enlisted for this - to her they were mainly lab partners and study buddies. she had no clue how he had decided they were close enough to even bring this idea up. but she did feel bad. even as lab partners, she knew his ex was genuinely horrible, as in her entire personality was “gaslight, gate keep, girl boss” - as though those were positive things no less. 

she sighed, “i thought it was kind of a couples thing? since almost everyone is part of a couple,” she trailed off. 

he nodded, “yeah, it is, but she’s going alone - she told someone her whole goal is to fuck me one more time,” he mumbled the last part, blushing hard, “apparently, she ‘misses’ that,” he rolled his eyes, looking miserable. 

even she was shocked to hear that. it was certainly a new low. 

“that’s - that’s really shitty,” she sighed, not knowing what else to say. 

she watched him nod, still staring at his textbook, thumbing the edges of the page. she bit her lip gently, “can i think about it for a bit?”

he nodded, glancing up at her. she couldn’t help but notice how glossy his eyes looked - she worried he was on the verge of crying. she wasn’t equipped to deal with a crying mingyu. happy? sure. drunk? yes. whiny and ridiculous? no problem. 

but to see him on the verge of tearing up because he was worried or stressed or whatever, that was beyond her friendship scope. but to be fair, fake dating probably was too. even if she knew some people did mistake them for a couple. that really wasn’t the point.

the point was the longer they sat there fake studying, she knew what she was going to do. she couldn’t sit back while he went off to a terrible trip to the lake where he might be the target of his ex’s sexcapades. she knew he hadn’t dated since her, which would just be a point againts him - she could easily imagine, ‘oh baby, you haven’t even tried since me?’ - gross, she thought. besides, if he were gone for the break, she wasn’t really sure what she would do anyway. 

the standard was for them to study friday afternoon, and then they would usually met up at a party or something and would duck out for food when either of them got bored and go back to y/n's to watch tv and pass out. saturday was fairly similar, but sunday was more like study, and then they kind of always ordered food and watched tv or something. sometimes he slept on the couch - something her roommate would roll her eyes at whenever possible, espeically since ‘sometimes’ seemed to translate to almost every sunday. 

she had finally told him to just bring clothes so he would't be late for monday morning practices anymore. her roommate had wondered loudly why mingyu didn't just move into y/n's room and get a tiny corner of the closet already. she had ignored that unnecessary commentary. 

she groaned inwardly, “okay, fine - i’ll go with you, but you owe me,” you whispered. 

he glanced up, “really?”

she ignored that he sounded a little too happy and nodded, “yes, if it means you can avoid her insanity for the long weekend,” she tried to feel confident about the decision. 

luckily, she knew there was nothing between them. they’re only lab partners and maybe friends, at best, she tried to assure herself and ignore every other thought she had. 

⋆˙⟡

she truly hated packing for anything, and this trip was no exception. the only slight difference was mingyu hanging out on her bed while she packed this time. she wasn’t sure if he was nervous or what, but he kept shifting around on her bed - it reminded her of a puppy rolling around in the hope that someone would rub its stomach. she tried not to laugh at the mental image of him rolling around in search of belly rubs. instead, she tried to focus on what to pack. 

it was still warm enough to go swimming, despite the fact that it was ‘fall’ break, so she tried to decide on swimsuits. ultimately, she just packed them all - they were basically underwear anyway, she reasoned. 

“are we sharing a room?”

“yeah, you know, since we’re together and ‘finally admitting it’ - is that really what jeonghan said?” he asked. he had been annoyed about that response for at least two hours. 

“i literally showed you his text,” she mumbled as she hunted for friends-who-are-fake-dating appropriate sleepwear, aka her most oversized tshirts, sleep shorts that were as un-sexy as possible, and a few sweatshirts in case it was cold.

he sighed, “okay, but that’s such a flippant answer,” he complained. 

she snorted, “‘flippant’?”

“yes!”

she grinned, wondering when he started using words like ‘flippant’ in normal conversations. mingyu was one of those guys who she hadn’t taken seriously when she first met him - he was fun at parties, but when he wanted to study together, she had been seriously skeptical. but then she saw their first exam grades post and realized how well he had ranked. she had wondered if it was just his personality or if he actively worked to hide the fact that he was that smart. 

it hadn’t really mattered though since they had been studying together since then. something she distinctly remembered being an issue for his ex - katie had genuinely hated y/n and wasn’t quiet about it. it was maybe the only time she had seen mingyu fully lose his mind over something - she had never heard the words ‘get fucked’ said quiet so intensely, especially since that they were sitting in the library at the time. 

she sighed, “don’t you think it might be a little obvious for us to show up together?”

“not really - she always said we had some weird thing, so why not let her be right,” his voice was concerningly normal. 

she had been thinking about the fact that it was kind of a petty move. actually, there were loads of reasons she could think of for not going, including almost every scenario from a horror movie - she was not discounting serial killers in masks waiting in the woods. but her main concern was being confronted by katie - it just felt like a needlessly stressful way to spend her fall break.

“okay, but i mean, you couldn’t think of anyone else?"

he sighed, “like who? i hang out with you, i go out with you - you make sense,” his voice was soft, but he still sounded just a little disappointed that she was asking him…again. 

she rolled her eyes, “we could just hang out like normal and avoid this.”

she glanced at him, watching him mull over what she had said and not for the first time either. to be fair, her anxiety was only growing. she left him to go pretend to be discerning about how much of her skincare she was packing, even though she was blindly grabbing everything from her counter. when she walked back into her room, he was sitting up.

“even if she’s there, the trip is just to have fun and not be on campus - you know, a break at joshua’s nice lake house,” he didn’t look at her as he explained. 

she stared for a moment and turned back to her already exploding suitcase, “you only asked me because of her,” she felt like it was very obvious why she was going, but she heard him mumble something, which she ignored. instead, she violently jammed her clothes and toiletries into her bag. 

she absolutely hated that knowing katie would be there made her feel a tiny bit competitive - she had purposefully picked all of her smallest swimsuits - she had even gone to get waxed for this, something she definitely would never admit to anyone. she had even dragged out her status luggage bag - the one her step-mom had given her two christmases ago that made her cringe. there was also the little, tiny mean voice in the back of her mind that had always thought katie had never been good enough for mingyu anyway - she wasn’t especially cute, and her voice drove y/n up the walls - not to mention she was kind of dumb and objectively sucked at beer pong. y/n would also never admit that she used to play them on purpose just to beat them because she was good at beer pong. 

she jumped when mingyu touched her arm, “fuck, what?” 

she hadn’t even noticed that he was lying on his side, watching her jam everything into her bag.

“you don’t have to go,” he whispered. 

she swooped all of her hair off her shoulders in annoyance, mostly because there was something about the way he whispered, with this weird tenderness, that made her feel way too quivery. it wasn’t fair because she knew she never affected him like that. she just shook her head. she was totally fine with everything. plus, she didn’t believe him for a moment that she could just stay. she knew in her gut that she had moved something in their friendship past a boundary that she hadn’t even noticed, and now, she couldn’t just take it back without suffering the consequences. 

⋆˙⟡

she was glad she was driving. she could at least focus on the road, plus they were the ones tasked with stopping at the liquor store, so she only had to deal with mingyu and seungcheol - she only wondered briefly why no one cared that seungcheol was solo for the long weekend. actually, it only annoyed her slightly that mingyu had left that fact out - she knew he could have spent the entire break with seungcheol, no problem, which only made her wonder why he really asked her. worse was her wondering why it seemed to matter that mingyu sounded disappointed at the idea of her not going, accepting but unhappy - not like he had been when she said ‘yes’. 

she walked through the store, mainly looking for the things she wanted. her ideal party weekend was starting her day off with something bubbly and moving on to liquor by lunch. she wasn’t really paying attention to the cases of beer, tequila, and vodka mingyu and seungcheol were collecting. instead, she was in line to pay for her stuff and some edible gummy candies she noticed last minute - she grabbed several of those. she could’ve kicked herself for not asking her roommate’s girlfriend for some weed before she left. she waited next to her car for them to come out, answering a few texts. she ignored the ones from mingyu. she couldn’t help that she was from a family of people who completely avoided their emotions, plus she could see the message preview - it wasn’t anything life-changing. 

when they came out, she wasn’t super shocked by the very full cart or the fact that they practically filled the back of her suv - they had to move their bags into the seat with seungcheol. it was like half the soccer team, their girlfriends, and friends for five nights, after all. the team wasn’t known for holding back at any of their parties - the rule was ‘no empties.’ she could only hope that the people getting food were grabbing enough to balance everything out. 

the rest of the drive was uneventful. it was pretty though - even if it still looked like summer and not a bit like fall. 

the house was a massive hunk of glass overlooking the lake. everything was very modern and sleek inside. she had been imagining something a little more cozy, less brutal. but that didn’t really matter, especially when they started divvying up the rooms - she and mingyu had a room that shared a bathroom with seungcheol’s room. and it hit her immediatly, mingyu was staying in seungcheol’s room. she wasn’t sure why it annoyed her, but it did, especially when she planned to be sharing a room with him. 

she starfished out on the bed - her bed - and decided she would probably go home the next day. there was literally no reason for her to be here, and there probably never had been. also, sharing the bathroom with two whole ass guys just sounded miserable. she sat up after a few moments of moping, remembering the edibles she had - she ate three and dropped back onto the bed. she wasn’t planning on coming out of her room. mingyu could get fucked, she decided. 

it was seungcheol who was leaning over when she woke up with a yelp, “what the fuck?” her heart was pounding. 

he laughed, “sorry, mingyu wondered if you were okay, so i came to check,” he raised an eyebrow, “you seem alive, though,” he concluded.

she rolled her eyes, “thanks for the astute diagnosis, dr. choi,” she murmured and fell back onto the bed.

he laughed, “seriously though, you good?”

she exhaled loudly, “is he like standing in the bathroom or something?”

seungcheol shook his head.

“liar,” she groaned and rolled over, “i’m going home in the morning, so he can stop feeling whatever way he’s feeling.”

seungcheol looked surprised, “you’re just heading back? isn’t this like the first time you’ve like been somewhere together?”

she shrugged, “and?” your annoyance was definitely coming through, loud and clear.

seungcheol nodded, “right, you two have weird vibes, but look, i need him out of my room - my date is here, and i actually want to spend time with her.”

she could only roll her eyes, “so four people and one bathroom - this is only getting better,” she sighed, “i should just go home now.”

seungcheol shrugged, “whatever, just say it’s okay for him to come in here, so he stops whining in my room - it’s seriously killing my mood.”

“okay, whatever, i don’t care.” 

this was truly going downhill as far as she was concerned. and why would mingyu be whining to seungcheol anyway, she wondered. she heard him come into the room, but she didn’t move. even when he sat on the bed, she stayed still. 

“are you really leaving?”

she pressed her lips together, thinking, “probably not, but seriously, why did you even ask me?” 

she had maybe run out of whatever annoyance she had felt before at being woken up out of nowhere, plus her edibles were wearing off. she sat up so she was next to him, “just tell me what this is - like i’m a buffer, right? but you didn’t tell anyone that i was just coming along, you told them we’re dating, and that comes with like expectations,” she trailed off. 

“since when do you care about expectations?”

she wondered if smacking him would be too strong of a reaction. 

this was all such a bad idea. she was going to have a shit weekend and probably lose her friend in the process. 

⋆˙⟡

the rest of the night was uneventful, with everyone filtering in and no one eating at the same time. she grabbed food and something to drink and mostly avoided conversation, especially if it had to do with her and mingyu. 

she also decided if she pretended this was like a retreat, she could just focus on swimming and hiking since, according to her phone, there were some great trails around. and obeying her fake retreat rules, she grabbed some extra water and headed to bed early - she needed to sleep if she was going to go for a sunrise swim. she was glad that she brought a sleep mask and ear plugs.

her only problem was mingyu’s texts. he hadn’t answered her question about why he asked her or explained why he went nuclear and told everyone they were dating. she had thoughts on what was going on, but she was as bad as he was. even lying in bed, in her not sexy at all clothes, her brain was in overdrive thinking about him in ways she didn’t want to be, especially since her phone kept going off. she knew he was thinking about her, even if it was this pretend, fake way - it didn’t matter. she pulled her pillow over her head to try to drown out the telltale buzzing. she refused to check her phone. 

even when she finally heard the sounds of people going to bed. she cringed at the idea of seungcheol fucking. her gut reaction was that man would be loud. 

she heard the footsteps outside their door, “come on mingyu - baby, just come to my room - you know you want to,” she sat up, knowing the voice immediately. 

“no, i told you i’m not” — she heard the sudden wet sounds of a kiss.

“fuck, katie, stop - what are you not hearing?” she could hear the edge in his voice. 

she sighed, she was technically there to help him avoid this kind of thing. she got out of bed and pulled off her sleep shorts, so she was clearly down to just her panties and tshirt, and tossed her sleep mask. 

she walked to the door and opened it slowly, “gyu?” she made sure sleep was thick in her voice, as she pouted up at him adn tugged his shirt sleeve, “come to bed,” she whispered, biting her lower lip gently. 

she didn’t even look at katie, just him.

he looked at her, “hey, baby,” he didn’t miss a beat, pulling away from katie as fast as he could and walking into their room after her, closing and locking the door. 

she walked back over to the bed and flopped back onto the soft mattress, “helpful enough?” she asked. 

the low light from outside was enough for her to see him nod, “sorry we woke you up,” his voice was soft. 

she shook her head, “it’s fine, just come to bed - i want to swim in the morning,” she was already happily back under the duvet. 

he was gone long enough for her to doze, but she opened her eyes when she heard him, “do you literally mean come to bed?”

she turned over and threw the covers back and patted the spot next to her. he still looked uncertain. she sighed and moved so she was on her knees - she grabbed his hand, “how much more of an invitation do you need?”

“you didn’t even check my messages,” his voice was so small - he sounded hurt. 

she tried to find some answer in the way he was looking at her. but there was nothing besides the fact that she had hurt his feelings. ignoring him was the only thing she knew genuinely drove him nuts - he had told her when they were strictly lab partners how much he hated it - how much it annoyed him. she rarely ignored him. but she had tonight, mainly because her own thoughts were kind of fucked, seeing his stream of conciousness texts would have made it worse.

“so let me apologize,” she whispered, pulling his hand gently - it wasn’t lost on her that he was just in his underwear. 

he let her pull him into bed, and she straddled him, reaching down to smooth his hair back from his face, “what hurts, baby?” 

he touched his lips - she nodded, leaning down to kiss him softly. she held his jaw gently and kissed him slowly. she moaned faintly when she felt his hands ghost along her lower back and under her shirt. his hands were so warm, she shivered. she deepened their kiss, tracing her fingers through his hair as she did, loving how soft his hair was. they stayed that way, making out like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. even when she felt one of his hands slide down over the curve of her ass to trace his fingers under the hem of her panties, she didn’t break the kiss. she wasn’t worried about where his hands might wander. there were only so many things he could touch. 

when she finally pulled away to breathe, she still played with his hair, “so, tell me what we’re doing, mingyu - so we both know, please.”

she could feel his hands on the backs of her thighs - he squeezed her thighs lightly, “what we do every weekend, y/n,” his voice was low.

she bit her lip softly, thinking about the weekend before, letting all her memories bubble to the top. her favorite part was the way he had held her back against his chest, leaning down to kiss her while he fucked her from below. 

she shook her head gently, “just say it - tell me the way you told everyone else,” she murmured. 

she waited for anything besides silence before sitting up and shaking her head. she moved to her side of the bed. she didn’t understand how they had gone so fluidly from one thing to another without really talking about it at all. but then again, that was maybe exactly how it happened - they hadn’t called it anything - it was just what they did. and she hadn’t cared about what it was anymore than he had until he brought it up - until he told people what they were. but somehow, that was the fake part - actually calling it a relationship wasn’t real, even though they had clearly been more than friends or anything else for months. 

⋆˙⟡

she went to sleep purely for spite. and when she woke up with her alarm, she slipped out of bed, grabbed her swimsuit and went to change. it was when she walked out of the bathroom and by the bed that she felt him grab her hand gently, “are you really going out?”

she nodded, “yeah, why shouldn’t i do the stuff i want?”

“i didn’t say you shouldn’t,” he let go of her, sighing as he shifted around under the duvet. 

she didn’t repsond, instead, she just grabbed her stuff and went quietly through the house and out the back. she walked along the dock, pausing at the end for a moment before jumping into the cool waters. even when she surfaced, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. she floated, thinking about the fact that whatever they were was only nameless when they were alone. she laughed to herself. 

she got out when she started to feel chilly. she dried off and walked back to the house. she poked around the kitchen to find something for breakfast and some ice - she had kept her own drinks in their room, knowing they would be gone otherwise. 

she went back to their room, bypassing the bed in favor of going onto the balcony they had. she hadn’t looked at it the night before. she only went back in to grab a bottle of champagne. she popped the cork, not really caring that it wasn’t chilled yet. she sipped it before sticking the bottle in the ice she had gotten. she ate fruit and some leftover steak she had found in the fridge. she scrolled through her socials. 

a few of her friends had messaged to ask if she were really dating mingyu - her blanket response was easy, ‘no.’ 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

a/n: told you they are dumb af...trust the process, yes they're about to be messy af...but i only write happy endings

♡ kat

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

tag list: @syluslittlecrows

if you want to be tagged, go [here] my [master list] if you want to read more

[tired-truffle]

My Soul to Keep

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.6k

Tag List: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @ihascat5 @pebble-bb @goooofy-goooober1121 @furblurwurblur @potatointhedirt @webofwhimsy @mad-simp420 @xo-mingx @patchs-curiosity-corner (Let me know if you'd like to be added)

Chapter 2

Masterlist

You’d never imagined being a ghost tethered to a place to be a very fun experience. Being unable to move outside of your haunting space or see new scenery would drive anyone at least a little crazy after a few years. Being tethered to a person or an object, on the other hand, would give you a bit more wiggle room and the ability to explore. Except it would only be at the whim of the person carrying your object, or the person themselves. While you hadn’t figured out if you were actually a ghost or not, less than a minute after Viktor had left his apartment, it became viscerally clear that you were attached to something or someone on the move. Like an invisible wall of force, you were shoved from your spot, hovering uncertainly above the leather couch, and dragged through the floor. 

Your shrieks of terror went unheard as you passed by room after room, making your descent from the upper floors. A man frantically buttoning his vest, a piece of toast crammed into his mouth, groaning his irritation as crumbs scattered over his chest. A woman reading a newspaper, a cup of tea in her hand. A young couple, one wrapped nothing but a thin sheet as they kissed goodbye at the door. 

Wonderful, not only were you some sort of ghost-like creature, but you were now a Peeping Tom too. 

After what must have been upwards of fifteen rooms, you finally reached the ground floor, floating down until you hovered over smooth tile flooring, polished marble tiles laid out in an intricate herringbone pattern that stretched from wall to wall. Towering columns of veined stone rose to meet a vaulted ceiling, where ornate chandeliers hung like crystalline raindrops frozen in time. Their warm light glinted off the gold-leafed accents adorning the walls and archways, rendering an atmosphere of quiet luxury.

A polished mahogany reception desk stood to your left, its surface so reflective you assumed it must be polished on the hour every hour. Behind it, a wall of brass mailboxes glinted, their tiny doors neatly labelled with apartment numbers.

As you floated there, drinking in the details of your lavish surroundings, a soft 'ding' broke you from your curious reverie. The elevator doors slid open, and Viktor stepped out.

It took him a moment to spot you, likely not having expected to see his hallucination lying on the floor of his building’s entry, but unfortunately for you, there was no coverage to hide your embarrassment. Like a flame flickering into existence, his eyes widened as they landed on you, stuttering in his steps. With a resigned sigh, you waved at him and floated back to a standing position. 

Out of all the side effects of your predicament, the floating was probably your favourite. It was the little things that kept you going. 

Recovering smoothly, lucky that the few others in the lobby weren’t paying attention to the newcomer, Viktor resumed his long-legged strides, his shoes clicking against the marble floors. When he reached you, you floated along at his side, hands clasped behind your back with the dignity of someone who did not just fall through the ceiling. 

“It seems like I can’t leave your general vicinity. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” You elbowed him, even knowing it would go right through him. It was the thought that counted. “I don’t think anyone else can see me though, or a lot more of them would have freaked the fuck out when I appeared in their rooms.”

The subtlest of smirks canted at the corners of his lips. He pushed open the glass door, the creaking of the hinges masking his voice so only you could hear his reply.

“I’ve had worse tag-alongs.” 

That shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did, but you beamed at him anyway, pleased like a student who’d been praised by an overly harsh teacher. 

You hovered in silence beside Viktor, acutely aware of the peculiar situation you found yourself in. The bustling streets of Piltover unfolded before you, gleaming with wealth and innovation that left you slack-jawed with wonder. It was one thing to see it on screen, and another to experience it first-hand.

Sleek, chrome-plated carriages whizzed by, and the people of Piltover moved with purpose, their attire a dizzying array of fine silks, tailored suits, and accessories that sparkled with precious stones. You realized, with a start, that even the most modest outfit you saw probably cost more than you'd ever seen in your life.

Street vendors hawked their wares on the cobblestone roads - miniature clockwork toys, glowing vials of mysterious substances, and gadgets whose purposes you couldn't even begin to fathom. You longed to stop and examine each fascinating item, but the invisible tether binding you to Viktor urged you onward.

After a few blocks of sensory overload, you approached a structure that made even the grandest buildings you'd passed seem modest in comparison. The Academy loomed before you, a colossal edifice of azure stone that seemed to touch the very heavens. Its walls were smooth and polished, reflecting the sky like a massive sapphire.

As you ascended the steps alongside Viktor, you noticed how the stone beneath your feet - or where your feet would be if you weren't floating - clicked and moved to match the height and speed of his strides. Would they get smaller for someone like Heimerdinger?

You turned to Viktor, bursting with questions and observations, but held your tongue, remembering that he couldn't respond without looking like a madman talking to thin air. Instead, you contented yourself with a small smile, grateful for this unexpected adventure and the chance to witness the wonders of Piltover firsthand.

It wasn’t until you were through the foyer and into the elevator - alone with Viktor - that you spoke up. 

“So,” you elongated the vowel as you thought of what to say. “What do you do with this professor?” 

Viktor was young and mostly healthy, no illness eating away at his lungs, and if he was going to meet Heimerdinger first thing in the morning, you imagined it was because he was still working for him. However, there was a chance that he was meeting with the professor about Hextech. 

“I’m his assistant,” Viktor said plainly, confirming your suspicions. 

You frowned, consideringly. “Prestigious.”

He shrugged. “It has its perks.”

The elevator dinged, its doors opening to the tenth floor. Viktor stepped out, cane softly thudding against the carpet and accompanying his muffled footsteps. It was just the two of you, as far as you could tell. 

“You’re welcome to accompany me, though it appears you have little choice in the matter, but I must warn you I will not be able to speak with you,” he said under his breath. “Heimerdinger may appear…aloof at times, but he is sharp as a whip. If he believes that I’ve cracked under the pressure, he will have me immediately escorted to the nearest in-patient facility. That or he’ll lecture me over tea, neither of which I am particularly fond of.” 

You nodded along as he spoke, spinning so you were floating on your back, watching the sparkly tiled ceiling flow by. “I figured as much. Don’t worry about me; I’ll just chill in the corner. You won’t even know I’m there.”

And you’d been so close to being right. 

You’d done as promised, perusing the corners of Heimerdinger’s office while they reviewed their daily tasks, and trailing as far behind them as you could when they set out. The limit seemed to be about twenty feet in all directions before the barrier kicked in and shoved you along. Entirely aggravating - you’d never liked being told what to do, not even by invisible walls. 

Every so often, you'd push against the barrier, testing its limits. It was like pressing against an elastic wall - you could stretch it a bit, but eventually, it would snap back, dragging you along.

As you drifted through the corridors, you noticed something peculiar. Whenever you passed through a person, they would shiver involuntarily, as if a sudden chill had swept over them. You watched as a young student, her arms laden with books, trembled as you glided through her. Her eyes darted around, confused before she shrugged it off and continued on her way.

Intrigued by this discovery, you decided to conduct a little experiment - if you were going to surround yourself with scientists, you might as well try to blend in. You positioned yourself in the middle of a busy intersection where multiple hallways converged. As people walked through you, one after another, you observed their reactions. Some merely twitched, while others visibly shuddered, their teeth chattering for a brief moment.

Interesting, but you weren’t sure what to do with this newfound knowledge.

They didn’t head back to Heimerdinger’s office until late into the evening - it was clear where Viktor got his unhealthy work habits from, if he hadn’t had them already. By that point, you were bored out of your skull, and you couldn’t even get the reprieve of banging your head against the wall. 

All you could do was talk and float around, and since the only person you could talk to was Viktor, that left you with floating as your only option - and there was only so much flopping around into different positions that you could do before you lost your mind. 

Your wish for entertainment came in the form of an overly distracted Heimerdinger. You hadn’t been watching, Viktor hadn’t been watching - busy sorting through the missives that had piled up on the professor’s desk while they’d been out - and Heimerdinger himself hadn’t been watching where he was going, too enraptured in his thoughts. 

Bang! The loud slap of a stack of books toppling to the floor jolted you out of your calm - albeit painfully boring - state. 

Your perspective shifted dramatically, as if the world had grown larger around you. The colours of the room muted, losing their vibrancy, yet somehow, you could see more of your surroundings at once. Your visual field expanded, stretching to the corners of the room that were previously out of sight.

Your closest surroundings blurred, becoming indistinct shapes in your new vision. Yet, you found yourself drawn to the smallest movements - a piece of paper fluttering in the breeze from an open window, specks of dust filtering through the air.

Everything was different, more immediate, filled with scents and sounds you hadn't noticed before. The musty smell of old books mingled with the sharp tang of ink and the faint aroma of Heimerdinger's pipe tobacco.

Your ears twitched, picking up sounds you hadn’t noticed before. Viktor's breathing seemed louder now, the soft rustle of his clothing, the subtle creak of floorboards beneath his feet.

Instinctively, you hissed through clenched teeth as confusion prickled along your spine, your fur standing on end as your back arched. The sound that escaped your throat was alien and feral, nothing like your usual voice. As soon as it happened, you froze, bewildered.

Hold on.

Be so fucking for real right now.

This could not be happening.

Viktor’s wide eyes and slackened jaw said otherwise, his missive falling to the floor like a feather on a gentle breeze. 

You became acutely aware of your new feline form. Your whiskers twitched, sensitive to the slightest air currents in the room. Your tail, a foreign appendage you'd never possessed before, swished behind you with a mind of its own. You flexed your paws, feeling the soft pads beneath and the sharp claws that extended and retracted at will. The fur that covered your little body was a sleek black, looking soft to the touch as though you’d spent hours grooming it.

“Gadzooks!” Heimerdinger exclaimed, his head popping up from where he’d dived behind his desk to avoid being crushed. “That was a close one! Are you alright, my boy?”

Viktor hadn’t even been close to the books, but it was sweet of the professor to ask - not that you could register it in your shock. 

Shaking himself out of his stunned stupor, Viktor turned to face his employer. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“I’m alright, but it did give me quite the scare.” Heimerdinger chuckled to himself, but you were too busy freaking out to fully appreciate how the yordle’s ears wiggled when he laughed. 

Why the fuck were you a cat? And how were you supposed to turn back?

Oh God, were you stuck like this forever now? No, you refused. You’d had enough weird shit happen; you weren’t going to let this control you too.

Closing your eyes, you concentrated on slowing your heart rate. Like water falling off a duck's back, your feline form melted away. A tingling sensation spread from your core to your extremities, and you sensed your body stretching and reshaping. When you dared to open your eyes again, you found yourself back in your ghostly human form, hovering a few inches above the ground.

Frantically, you patted yourself down, checking for any lingering cat-like features. No tail. No fur. No whiskers. You ran your hands over your head, sighing in relief when you felt your hair instead of pointed ears. The world had returned to its normal proportions and colours, the hyper-awareness of scents and sounds fading back to normal.

Still shaken, you drifted over to Viktor, who was helping Heimerdinger gather the fallen books. You hovered close to his ear, hissing in a low, urgent whisper - a human hiss, not a cat hiss - "What the fuck was that?"

Viktor's eyes darted to you for a split second before returning to his task. His lips barely moved as he hissed back, "How am I supposed to know?"

You ran your hands through your hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. "I turned into a fucking cat!" you whispered incredulously, your voice rising slightly in pitch.

Viktor's jaw clenched, and he shot you a warning glance. His eyes flicked meaningfully towards Heimerdinger, who was dusting off a particularly old tome.

You nodded, forcing yourself to take deep, calming breaths – not that you actually needed to breathe, but the familiar action helped steady your nerves. As Viktor and Heimerdinger finished tidying up, you retreated to a corner of the office, trying to process what had just happened and wondering what other surprises your strange new existence might have in store for you.

Sitting in awkward silence wasn’t your favourite activity, but lately you’d been doing a lot of things you typically avoided. 

“Do you still think I’m a hallucination?” You broke the silence, your elbows resting on your knees as you floated above the couch, legs crossed. 

Viktor swayed his head and twisted towards you, his piecemeal dinner of toast and jam abandoned on the coffee table. “I have not concretely ruled it out, but since no one else can see or hear you, that may be difficult. For now, I am leaning towards no. It is much too fantastical for my mind to come up with. Besides, I do not feel as though I have lost my senses. There would be other signs.”

Logical, as you’d expected. 

“I wish I wasn’t real,” you sighed, tilting your head back to look at the popcorn-textured ceiling. “This is all so crazy. I don’t know where to begin trying to find answers.” 

“Do you remember what happened before you arrived here?” 

You shook your head. “Not a thing.” 

Viktor hummed his understanding. “You said that this world should not exist, what did you mean by that?”

Right, you had blurted that out in a panicked rush, hadn’t you? 

“If you don’t think you’ve lost your mind, then you definitely will think that I have when I try to explain it to you.”

He smiled, soft and patient, and in response, your stomach conjured up a flurry of butterflies to tickle your insides. “I promise I will not pass undue judgment. If I was going to, I would have already, given that you’re transparent and can turn into a cat.”

“Fair point.” He had you there, and what else did you have to lose? “Though don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He sat back, motioning for you to begin. 

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders. “Do you have televisions here? Like screens that play pre-recorded videos?” 

“Some do, though it is not particularly common.”

“Thank God,” you breathed, “I really didn’t want to try to explain what that was. They’re pretty common in my world, at least where I come from, most households have them. We’ve got millions of shows and movies to watch. There was this one show called Arcane that was about, uh, here. Like, Piltover and Zaun.” 

He nodded sagely, and you couldn’t find any traces of disbelief in his eyes. He was just…accepting it? Or he was a very good actor. You were leaning toward the latter. 

“You were one of the main characters,” you continued, noting that this did get a reaction from him: a slight raise of his eyebrows. “And judging by a few observations, this is before the start of the show, though it can’t be more than a few years at most. If I had to guess based on my luck lately, we’re pretty close to it, weeks if not days.”

Viktor's forehead creased as he processed your words. "A show…about Piltover and Zaun. I suppose the politics could be intriguing. And I'm a character in it?"

“You are, but I don’t expect you to take me at my word. I can prove to you that I know things that I shouldn’t, and I can predict a few upcoming events, though we must prevent one sequence of events or everything goes to shit, so I may need a little bit of trust from you.”

At this, he looked interested, and you took this as a win. “Intriguing. You may proceed.”

You paused, what could you even tell him? What would be believable? “You…know a lot of things.”

“True.”

“And if you’re still thinking I may be a hallucination then I can’t tell you your history ‘cause you already know it.” You tapped your chin, lips twisted as you thought hard. “I’m trying to prevent the immediate future, so that wouldn’t work either, but…oh! Are you able to go to a doctor anytime soon?”

Viktor blinked, startled back. “A doctor?” 

“Yeah, like a medical one, not Dr. Reveck.” 

“Who is Dr. Reveck?” 

It was your turn to express your confusion. “You know, the doctor in that cave you met as a kid? When your boat went down the stream into his lab?”

Viktor eyed you, suspicion swimming in the depths of his gaze. “He never told me his name.” 

“Oh, uh,” you grinned sheepishly, “I guess you know it now. He’s the inventor of Shimmer. He’s trying to cure his daughter of death. He should probably be stopped, but that’s a later problem.”

“Right.” He was dubious, but he waved for you to continue. 

“Okay, here it goes, and it’s probably gonna suck to hear, so I’m warning you now,” you said, and upon Viktor’s nod, you started. “They never told us what illness you had, or I guess you have, just that you got it from Zaun’s shitty air. Your lungs will start to fail you, you’ll need a crutch, you’ll lose weight, and you’ll start coughing up blood sometime in the next seven years. Eventually, it would kill you. But, many people believed the illness was similar to one that we have in my world: tuberculosis or consumption, depending on the time period.” 

Viktor's face paled as you spoke, his lips pressed into a thin line. He sat in silence for a long moment.

"That's... quite specific,” he said when he was able to form a response. “And rather grim."

“I know. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I’m sure that’s a lot to take in, but if it is something like tuberculosis, then the good news is it’s totally treatable before it gets to the active stage. Do you have any of those symptoms now?”

“I don’t,” he said, a wariness to his tone. 

“That’s great!” You clapped your hands, relief flooding through you. What were you supposed to do if the one person who could see you died? “That means you don’t have the active stage yet, or any illness at all, but if it’s caused by Zaun’s air and you haven’t lived there for some time, then it wouldn’t make sense that you pick it up later. Can the doctors here test your blood for an illness like this?” 

“Yes.” His fingers drummed a steady rhythm on the arm of his chair, a nervous habit you hadn't noticed before. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get checked, though the idea of being ill and unaware until it is too late is unsettling."

Silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft ticking of a clock on the wall and the distant hum of the city outside. You wished you could offer more comfort, but what could you say to someone who'd just been told they might have a potentially fatal illness?

"I'll schedule an appointment as soon as I can," Viktor said, quiet but resolute.

You nodded, relieved that he was taking your warning seriously. "That's good. Really good. Thank you for listening to me."

Viktor's lips quirked into a small smile. "It's not every day a ghostly entity from another world appears to warn you about your health. It would be foolish to ignore such a specific prophecy."

You chuckled, appreciating his attempt at levity. "That’s the spirit."

Over and over in your mind you prayed to whatever gods may be listening that they could catch his illness in time. And if they couldn’t…you weren’t sure you had it in you to stop him from becoming the Machine Herald.

A few days later, he had his appointment set, and until then, you were stuck following him around. It wasn’t all bad, you’d spent most of your time idly floating, watching the scenery as you trailed after Viktor, and the evenings were spent in peaceful companionship. Surprisingly, he was more chatty than you’d expected. Late at night as he pursued his work, he’d talk to you about it, or rather talked at you as you had little to add. But still, you appreciated the entertainment. 

You had avoided turning back into a cat again, if such a thing could be avoided. One thing at a time; address Viktor’s illness, get him to believe that you were real, and then you could figure your shit out. 

On the day of the appointment, you floated beside him as he made his way to the physician’s office. It was in a central part of town, a quick trolley ride away. As you entered the sleek building, a thought occurred to you that you’d nearly forgotten. 

“Did someone teach you to use your cane on the same side as your injured leg?” 

Viktor halted in his steps, said cane clacking against the floor. It was just him in the entryway, and he looked at you with bewilderment. “I beg your pardon?”

You cringed, who were you to tell him how to use his mobility aid when you couldn’t even use your legs? There was no such thing as an inaccessible environment when you could float everywhere. “It’s just that you’re supposed to use a cane on the opposite side as the disabled leg, right? But I thought maybe there was a reason you weren’t doing that.”

He glanced down at the cane and then back up at you. “That’s what my parents taught me.” 

Ah, it was as you feared. No one had taught him to use it properly, and they’d been letting him go his whole life using it in a way that would damage his body over time. It made sense that Zaun didn’t receive proper health education on top of everything else. “Maybe you can talk to the doctor about it while you’re here.”

He pursed his lips, gaze distant as though evaluating memories you were not party to. “Perhaps.” 

After signing in and waiting his turn, Viktor was called back. 

“I’ll wait outside the door if that’s okay with you,” you offered, floating down the long hallway as the nurse brought him to a clinic room. Viktor nodded his understanding. 

You hovered in the hall, your ethereal form passing through the occasional nurse or patient who hurried by, watching as they shivered or shuddered.

As you waited, you observed the diverse array of people moving through the clinic. A young woman with braided hair adorned with gold jewelry passed by, her eyes fixed on a small device in her hand. An elderly gentleman hobbled along, supported by a woman of a similar age - his wife, maybe. A pair of identical twins, no older than ten, chattered excitedly about the latest comic their parents had bought them.

The nurse who had escorted Viktor into the examination room emerged, her shoes squeaking softly against the polished floor. She moved with purpose, her crisp white uniform much too clean for someone who no doubt frequently got her hands dirty. How many changes of uniforms for its staff did this place have to keep up appearances?

Minutes ticked by, and you found yourself studying the patterns in the wallpaper, tracing the delicate floral designs with your eyes.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only about thirty minutes, the door to Viktor's room opened again. This time, a distinguished-looking man in a white coat stepped out, followed closely by Viktor. The doctor's salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, and his glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a reassuring expression that immediately put you at ease.

Viktor's face was a mask of calm, but you could see the subtle tension in his shoulders. He extended his hand to the doctor, who grasped it firmly.

"Thank you, Doctor," Viktor said. "Your insights have been most valuable."

The doctor shook Viktor’s hand, his smile widening. "It's my pleasure. Remember what we discussed, and don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions."

With a final nod, Viktor turned and began making his way down the hallway towards the exit. You floated after him, your ghostly form easily keeping pace with his measured strides. As you followed, something caught your eye, and you did a double-take.

Viktor was using his cane differently.

Where before he had held it on the same side as his disabled leg, now it was on the opposite side. He had listened to your suggestion and brought it up with the doctor. This small change could make a significant difference in his daily life, potentially alleviating pain and improving his mobility.

As you exited the clinic, the bustling streets of Piltover greeted you. The afternoon sun beat down on the cobblestone paths, and you floated alongside Viktor, studying his face for any sign of what the doctor might have told him. His expression remained impassive, but when there was a break in the crowd, he leaned closer to you.

“I will receive a call with the results of the testing in a few days,” he whispered. “But you were correct about the cane. Thank you.” 

You shrugged, entirely unsure what to say. “I hope it helps.” 

An uptick at the corner of his mouth was the only sign of his smile. “Only time will tell.”

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I hope this makes it to you in time, and thank you so so much for all the support you gave for the first chapter <3

If at any point when reading this chapter you thought to yourself: "I just want you to stop sayin' odd shit." I do not blame you. It's not going to get any less weird, but I hope you enjoy it!

[captivating-flavors]

date | zayne

pairing: zayne x non mc actress!reader

prompt: -

summary: you did your own stunt but it went wrong.

words: 1,680ish

warning(s): mentions of loss

a/n: inspired by this hc by @sylusonychinus and valentines day also i think i have to preface this by saying that english is not my first language and my laptop broke down so this is poorly edited and.... yeahh enjoy <3 reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated since its been a while since i wrote anything

It was supposed to be a simple stunt; that’s why the Director even allowed you to do it in the first place. You were supposed to jump of the railing, with a harness attached of course, but accidents happen and you ended up having to land earlier than the timing agreed beforehand. You didn’t have enough experiences with stunts, therefore you panicked and landed on the wrong position.

“I’m fine, Tara.” You said as you were holding an icebag against your right foot.

“What do you mean you’re fine? Your ankle is purple and swollen!”

“The standby medic said it was fine. You didn’t need to call for a freaking doctor.” You knew Tara, you best friend and assistant, meant well but calling for a doctor over a sprained ankle is just way too dramatic.

“No, but what if it doesn’t heal right? Or what if–”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’m pretty sure Dr. Greyson, who’s a heart doctor mind you, has other and more important things to do than tend to a sprained ankle, don’t you think?”

Tara had been dating Greyson for the past few months and it’s not the first time Tara has called him over for you. She did that once when you got a fever after shooting a scene in the rain and another time when you caught a stomach bug.

“He’s a cardiac surgeon–”

“Exactly, my point why would he–”

“Also, that’s not who I called.”

“Wait, what? Then, who’d you–”

At that exact moment, the door to your trailer swung open and Dr. Zayne, the Dr. Zayne, walked in carrying a small white bag.

“Wait, Dr. Zayne? What– Why are you here?”

“I heard from Tara that you got into an accident. What happened?” Zayne looked frantic, a detachment to what you’re used to seeing from him, calm and composed.

You were about open your mouth, to tell him that it was not a big deal and to just go back to the hospital, when Tara interjected, “She fell, sprained her ankle and now it’s swollen. You should–”

“Miss Tara, could you please come to the Director’s tent? Thank you.” The walkie-talkie snapped onto Tara’s waistband interrupted her.

“I have to go. Thanks for coming Dr. Zayne.” Tara said before she left the trailer, leaving the two of you alone.

Zayne walked over to your chair and knelt in front of you, taking your right foot in his hands, examining the swollen area of your ankle. You winced as he tilts your foot from one side to another.

“It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. The medic said it’ll heal in a few weeks. You must be pretty busy so you should head back, Dr. Zayne.”

“I told you to call me Zayne.” He said as he grabbed a compression wrap from his bag and started wrapping it around your ankle.

He did tell you that the last time you guys met, when you came over to the hospital to give him coffee and visit the kids two months ago.

The two of you have somewhat of an odd relationship. You first met him at a fundraising event held by a charity specializing in helping children in need to get treatments and surgeries for Protocore Syndrome two years ago. Where the two of you had a meaningful conversation about wanting to help those with the disease, whilst also keeping the memory of the ones you’ve lost. Your sister and his childhood best friend.

And then there’s Tara and Greyson. Tara would visit him during the monthly filming breaks and more often than not you’d come with her. At first, you only tagged along to do somewhat-of-a-research for an upcoming project that you’ll be filming in eight months, in which you were cast as the lead in a medical romcom. At some point, the hospital visits got boring because you would only sit on the lounge as to not intrude on Tara and Greyson’s time together, and observe the doctors as they rush through the halls to tend to their patients.

On your visits, you rarely ever encountered Zayne. Greyson had mention that whenever he’s not in surgery, he prefers to spend his free time in his office. Until one day, you were sitting on one of the seats in the lounge, doing your usual people watching routine when you saw him.

“Dr. Zayne, what a lovely surprise.”

“Likewise, Miss Y/N.” He responded, as polite and curt as ever, continuing to stride towards the nurse station a few feet away from your seat. You felt that it was nice to see a somewhat familiar face because the observation had just gotten boring, since it does not seem like a busy day at the hospital.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine. I never see you around during my previous visits.”

“So, what brings you here,” he pauses, before continuing, “Y/N?”

“Tara wanted to see Greyson and I agreed to come along since I needed a breather from the scripts, rehearsing and all that. Oh, and I’ve also been taking notes of how doctors act and work, you know, for a project.”

“I see.”

He turns his attention to the nurse behind the station desk, “Hello, Yvonne.”

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne. I assume you’re here for the treats?”

“Yes.”

The nurse grabbed a small jar of what seemed to be candy and hands it over to him, “Here you go.”

“Thank you."

“So, what are you up to, Dr. Zayne?”

“I’m visiting my younger patients over at the kids’ ward.”

“Oh, that's so sweet of you, Dr. Zayne.”

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Would you like to join me?”

“Alright, why not?”

You tagged along and got on to the elevator behind him, him pressing the sixth-floor button.

“So, you’re just going to hand them candies?”

“Yes. To cheer them up as they recover, I suppose.”

The two of you arrived at the sixth-floor and got off the elevator to a hallway of rooms, all of them filled with kids and their families as they recover. You follow behind Zayne as he approaches the first of the beds, where a young girl, probably seven or eight, sits up.

“Hello, Eleanor.”

“Hi, Doctor Zayne.” The child says cheerfully.

“How are you feeling today? Does anything hurt?” He asks as he places the end of his stethoscope over the girl’s heart and she shakes her head in response.

“Have you been taking your medicine regularly?”

“Yes, but they taste awful.” The child grimaces.

“Here’s your reward for listening to your doctor well and it might help with the bitterness.” He hands the kid two pieces of wrapped candy.

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne! But, Doctor, why is the Princess of Solon behind you?” Eleanor questioned, referring to your character from your latest movie.

“Well, she’s here to cheer you up.” He says as he nudges you forward.

“Hello, Eleanor.” You said, putting on your princess voice.

And that was the start to your somewhat tradition with Zayne. The two of you would come to the kids’ ward, he’d check on their progress, give them their rewards and you’d talk and take pictures with them. It was refreshing to see that there was actually a warmer side to Zayne, as opposed to the polite and curt side he always seemed to project.

“That was fun. We should do that again.”

“I agree. The kids were infinitely happier in the presence of the Princess of Solon.”

And that became a regular thing. Every time you had your monthly breaks, the two of you would spend the day at the hospital chatting and playing with the kids. It just became a regular way for you to spend the day or two off each month you got it. You also managed to feel somewhat closer to Zayne through the days spent together, as you genuinely enjoyed spending the day with him. Seeing him interact with the kids and care so much about more than just their physical well-being made you admire him even more.

But despite being able to act warmly towards the children, whenever it was just the two of you it felt like he’d go back and forth from his warm side to his regular curt self. He’d open up a little bit, do little things that makes your heart race like remember your exact coffee order and have it ready by the time you came by, but then he’d shut down again, going back to his distant self. But you still looked forward to seeing him and spending the day with him each break.

A gentle pressure against your foot brought you back to the present.

“Well, you did. But you’re always so…”

His voice from your last meeting two months ago rang in your head.

“You know, you can just call me Zayne.”

“I hope to hear it the next time we meet.”

He looked up at you, “So what?”

“Formal? I don’t think that’s the right word. I don’t know. You always seem so close but distant at the same time that it kind of sounds weird to just say your name like... Zayne.”

He stopped, never taking his eyes off yours, “Say that again.”

“Zayne.”

He shifted his gaze back down and continued to wrap the bandage over your ankle, putting slight pressure against the adhesive, making you wince. And you swore that his ears were red.

“There. You should be fine in about two weeks as long as you don’t move too much.”

“Thank you. But really, you didn’t have to come all this way for a sprained ankle. It didn’t even hurt, much.”

“I didn’t come for a sprained ankle. I came for you.”

That was not the response you expected from him, “…What?”

“I was worried when I heard from Tara that you’d gotten into an accident. I wanted to come and see for myself that you were alright. And you haven’t been to the hospital in a while. The kids missed you.”

“Yeah, about that. I haven’t gotten a day off in the past two months since they’re reshooting some of the scenes and–”

“Also, I missed you. And I’d rather not wait for another accident to see you.”

“I– What?” To say you were baffled by the confession and would be an understatement.

“Let’s have dinner instead. When you’re all better, of course.”

“Are you asking me out, Zayne?”

“Yes.” You chuckled, amused at despite how confident and blunt he sounded, yet you could see the entire time that his ears were red.

“...Alright, then. Let’s set a date once I’m doing better,” you paused to smile at him, “Zayne.”

[themultifanshipper]

that liam helmet reveal got me thinking about him bending you over in front of the mirror. he’s holding your face down against the table with one hand while he fingers you with the other, ring catching with every thrust. it’s both too much and not enough but he knows exactly what you need and he’s not gonna give it to you unless you beg for it sweetheart. it’s humiliating enough that he’s already got you whining from his fingers alone and you’re sure as hell not gonna give him the satisfaction. but eventually he gets you to crack and soon enough you’re an incoherent mess pleading with him to fill you up you’ll be such a good girl for him you promise please you need more more more. he finally lets your face go, immediately jerking you up against him by your hair as he replaces his fingers with his cock. your hips are pinned between his and the table and the way he’s driving into you there’s no chance you’re walking away from this without a couple bruises but the only thing you can focus on is how he’s gripping your face his fingers digging into your cheeks forcing you to look at yourselves in the mirror. the whole time he’s fucking you stupid he’s whisper the most degrading filth in your ear

-🦴

p.s. i feel like i might be sending too many of these and i don’t wanna take over your inbox so let me know if you want me to stop 🫣

Never stop, baby these give me LIFE

Btw i made a tag for the mean!Liam AU

You are dripping down your thighs with how Liam has been finger fucking you for the past half an hour

He's still wearing his helmet and his suit is hanging off his hips

You came in and said his helmet was ugly, just to piss him off

Spoiler alert: it worked. Of course it did

You're a begging mess under him, being held down on the table with a hand on your back as he looms over you

You've come several times already but he just won't let up

Your eyes rolling back while your body convulses through an orgasm is too pretty a sight to stop

Begging and pleading for him to fuck you, you're barely coherent at this point

The only time he enjoys hearing your voice is when you're crying, because he is the one making you cry

It's been so long, you're begging for his cock like you're going to die without it, and that's his weak spot

He finally decides he doesn't want to wait any longer and shoves his cock into you in one easy thrust

His thrusts do not stay easy however because soon he's fucking into you as hard as he can, probably bruising your cervix in the process

But you don't care, you're too far gone

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up just enough to force you to watch yourself in the mirror

He kicks your feet further apart so that he can drive into you deeper and harder

Your breath is fogging up the mirror as you struggle to breathe with how deep he is inside you

He leans over you, helmet glinting in the soft light and starts whispering absolute filth in your ear

About how you're not good enough for his seat, and all you're good for is a good fuck

Your tight cunt is the only good thing about you and you don't even deserve to be here

His fingers are digging into your jaw painfully

And you know that after this he won't be done with you, he's going to fuck you on every surface available to ensure you have as many commemorative bruises as possible

You come with a scream around him, milking his cock and he grunts when he empties himself inside you

His fireproofs are soaked and the carpet is ruined

But he doesn't care because the sight of you under him crying and twitching is worth more than any of it

[defututus]

Even When I’m Not With You | Chapter Three

Sprite & Confessions

masterlist

Summary: you and Eddie are getting closer and it has become impossible to ignore your feelings for each other.

content warnings: mentions of a lack of romantic experience but I swear this chapter is all fluff, Eddie being gross for a minute

word count: ~4.8k

author's note: this chapter is my favorite and I hope you all see why <3 also, I had someone ask for a taglist so if anyone else wants to be added please let me know!

As always, thank you to my favorite people @corroded-hellfire and @munson-blurbs for helping me when I need advice. Also, I don’t know if they remember helping me with this, but I want to thank @vintagehellfire for letting me pick their brain and suggesting things while I writing about Eddie’s… incident. I cackled when she suggested some of the dialogue.

reposting because I forgot to tag it properly!

divider by @saradika-graphics

You and Eddie quickly became thick as thieves. The two of you were either hanging out together or talking over facetime or texting. There were always updates on how your day was going, memes being sent, random thoughts that popped into your head. You couldn’t go an hour without speaking to one another with the exception of sleeping or you being in class, in which Eddie would just message hou until class was over and you’d catch up on everything he sent you. You eventually learned everything about him - about his uncle and his band, Corroded Coffin. You learned he was a music production major with the hopes that his band would make it big but kept a job at the local mechanic for the time being and in case plan A doesn’t work out.  

The two of you would usually have breakfast together, schedules permitting, and then walk to your respective classes together.  You were always amazed at how much Eddie was able to eat every morning, especially when you ate dinner with him the night before and remembered how much he ate then. He also tried a new combination of food every morning - some of these made sense, like Cocoa Puffs in chocolate milk, while you vividly remember him trying Fruity Pebbles in orange juice and how he got a weird look from the dining hall staff when they saw him happily walking to his seat with that in his bowl.  It was during these meals together that you two realized how much you both had in common - a love for horror movies, rock and metal music, and obviously, Dungeons and Dragons. Eddie swore you two were destined to become friends and he wished he had met you sooner. 

You both had planned to sit together after your classes had finished and get some work done before the end of the week. Eddie specifically said he needed you to hold him accountable and make sure he didn’t get distracted and click off his schoolwork like he always ends up doing. He wasn’t exactly lying when he made that request. Eddie always struggled to keep his focus on homework, but he really wanted an excuse to spend more time with you. 

You meet up with him after class in the campus brightly-lit convenience store to grab some snacks. You go for a small cup of cheez-its and an iced tea, while he immediately grabs a large bag of pretzels and two sprites. Your mind immediately goes back to earlier in the day during breakfast where you saw him eat two Belgian waffles, scrambled eggs, and Cocoa Puffs. You’re looking at him in surprise and Eddie can see it in your eyes, because he looks at you and holds his family size bag of pretzels close to his chest, defending himself by saying, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m a growing boy, I need food!” 

You snort and begin weaving between the aisles of chips and candy to the checkout counter, greeting the cashier who you have grown fond of over the past three years and swipe your food card to pay for your items. Eddie isn’t too far behind, grabbing a pack of gum before he pays for his own food. You’re waiting for him outside the store as you put your snacks inside your backpack. Once they’re safely stored inside, you look through the front windows and admire Eddie from afar as he chats up the cashier. She’s laughing with him and he has this infectious smile that spreads even to you. You’re admiring his dimples and the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs. He’s wearing a red flannel on top of a black Pantera shirt, his hands in his pockets and watching as the cashier counts out his change. Maybe he could sense you were watching him, or maybe he just happened to look over at you, but you two locked eyes so he gave you a toothy smile and stuck his tongue out. You giggled, and although he couldn’t really hear it through the glass, he still felt the same amount of joy that he felt every time he heard you laugh. Eddie steps outside a minute later and the two of you walk up the hill, shoving your hands in your hoodie and shivering when the wind begins to blow. 

 It felt as if fall had swept over the campus seemingly overnight, because all of a sudden the grounds were awash with hues of orange and yellow. The tree-lined walkways were littered with leaf piles and smelled of autumn. As the seasons began to change, the student body began to pile on layers of clothing to keep the chills away as the winds kicked up. It was one of the cruel facts about going to school in a mountainous area - it was going to get cold. However, the drop in temperature did not keep students from taking advantage of all the outdoor seating the school had to offer. You always maintained that you’d stop sitting outside when it dipped below 40 degrees and that still hadn’t happened yet, which is why you still found yourself sitting at one of the picnic tables outside the school’s student center across from Eddie. 

You two choose a table near the front of the building with a view of the school quad. The winds have died down for the time being so you could safely unload your backpack without worrying about any papers flying around. The sun was shining towards the quad so you two sat on the same side of the table with the warm rays hitting your backs. You’re laying out everything you need to get your work done, a few articles to outline for class next week, your copy of The Odyssey to continue translating, and your notebook. Everything was color coded, so you took out the blue highlighter and the blue post-it notes that went along with them. All Eddie takes out is his laptop with his music program already loaded up, most likely left there from class earlier in the day, and his pretzels laid open right next to the laptop between the two of you. The cheez-its you bought came out a few minutes later once you heard Eddie quietly chewing and remembered your own food. Eventually, you and Eddie fall into a quiet, comfortable routine. You’re focusing on your work and he’s focusing on his. There are moments of brief conversation, like when you ask him if your translation of a sentence sounds clunky or not, or if he’s stuck on how a certain part of a song should sound, but otherwise it’s complete silence between you two.

At some point in your work you begin eyeing his pretzels. You hadn’t finished your cheez-its yet, still having around half of the small container left to eat, but you just found yourself craving the snack your friend had purchased. He bought a large bag and didn’t make much of a dent in it yet, so it wouldn’t hurt to just take a few pieces. 

You glance over at Eddie, the muffled sounds of guitar chords from his music program blaring into his ears as he seems completely focused on his work. Part of you was surprised that he hadn’t complained about any hearing loss based on how loud he always kept things. He wouldn’t care if you took some, right? 

You turn the bag over to you and take a few pretzels out of the bag, popping them in your mouth and resuming your own work. These clauses aren’t going to translate themselves, and you were getting to your favorite part of the story so you were excited to go over it again.

Eddie sees your movement out of the corner of his eye and does indeed notice you taking some of his food, not that he minds, of course. He’d give you the entire bag if you asked him. However, he did like being a pain in the ass to you sometimes, so he holds out an expectant hand between the two of you. It takes you a moment to notice it, and you only do when he begins wiggling his fingers in waiting and you see him looking right at you. He arches a brow at you and waits for you to pay up for the stolen salty snacks.

You crack a smile at him, which he returns,  and then place a few cheez-its in his hand. They were  roughly the same amount of pretzels that you took from him, you weren’t sure. He closes his hand once the crackers are in his hand and tosses them all into his mouth. His cheeks are puffed up like a chipmunk and you’re sure he must be getting crumbs over his laptop but doesn’t seem to care. His face is almost comical and it makes you laugh. Unbeknownst to you, he’s only doing this to get that exact reaction out of you. Your laughter gets him higher than even the best weed in the world. He wishes he could record it and listen to it all day long. Maybe one day he’ll ask if he can do that, but at this moment he’ll take what he can get.

Your laughter dies down and you’re trying to get back to work, which Eddie just could not accept, so he develops a plan. He initially wanted to buy Mountain Dew when he went into the convenience store, but they were unfortunately out so he went for Sprite instead. He looks over to you, looking adorable as always, especially when you’re deep in focus. Your brows are furrowed as you read a sentence out under your breath and tap your pen against the paper in frustration. 

Eddie nudges you to get your attention and motions to one of the bottles of sprite that he’s pulling out of his bag. You watch him in confusion and curiosity as he unscrews the cap and begins to chug it. You watch his adam's apple bob as he’s drinking it, momentarily pausing to grimace and choke out, “This was a horrible idea,” before resuming the challenge he had set out for himself. You’re a little worried he might throw up from this but at the same time you’re curious to see if he can actually do it. It’s still not looking good for him though, judging by the way his face is contorting in pain and his free hand is now gripping his stomach.

Miraculously, he manages to down the entire bottle without puking. Eddie throws the bottle down on the ground and the hand once holding the sprite is now gripping the table. His head is hung low and he’s panting heavily. You’re leaning in to get a better look at him and place a cautious hand on his back.

He’s silent and keeps his head hung low. You scoot closer to him, your thighs now touching his and ask, “Ed, you okay?” and he shakes his head. His eyes are shut, he looks like he’s holding something back. You’re about to ask him if he needs anything - tums, water, hell maybe even an ambulance - before he speaks up.

“Sweetheart, I think I’m dying. There’s no saving me now.”

You’re glad he’s at least feeling well enough to make a joke - you think he’s joking. Second later, his eyes open wide in fear. He lets go of the table and is now fully bent over in pain. It’s a little hard to hear, but you swear you hear him say to himself, “This was the worst decision I’ve made in my entire life.”

Your concern for him intensifies and you begin to rub his back, trying to think of something, anything to help relieve the immense discomfort he’s feeling. He’s also becoming very quiet, and you’ve never known him to be a quiet person. He’s always making some noise, either tapping his pen against something or humming a tune under his breath. His shoes are always loud so everyone can hear him walking into a room. You’re sure he also snores when he sleeps, because you cannot imagine him just sleeping peacefully at night.

Finally, Eddie makes a noise.

The burp that comes out of Eddie doesn’t sound real. It’s akin to something you’d hear in a kids show because of how loud and exaggerated it sounded. There are a few people sitting at the next table who hear Eddie belch and look over at you two, and one of them even looks a little impressed. Eddie is once again quiet, but he looks less pained and more embarrassed by what just occurred. Your hand stops rubbing circles into his back and he’s relieved you haven’t removed it yet - it’s probably the only thing keeping him from running away. He soon looks up at you and plainly says, “I, uh, I thought I was gonna die.”

You nod and pat his back, but your hand still doesn’t move away from him. He’s honestly looking a little embarrassed and you didn’t even know he could get like that. In all the time you’ve known Eddie, you’ve always known him to be loud and proud, so this is something entirely new. You try to lighten the mood by saying, “I wouldn’t let you go that easily. You’re one of my best friends now so you’re stuck with me forever.” He smiles at that, and you can tell he’s starting to feel better by the small chuckle he let out. He’s looking down at his hands and playing with his rings again.

Eddie noticed how your hand never left his back and he could feel the warmth of it through his layers. He lifts his head slightly and you see him looking at you through his bangs. In that moment, you wish you could always look at him like this, just inches away from each other and no other friends to interrupt the moment. Every time you two were alone together every second felt so intimate. The bleary-eyed breakfasts, late night facetime calls where you two discussed your hopes and dreams, the times you would get high in his car and share your favorite songs with each other. Every moment was so cherished and you could only imagine the possibilities if things advanced between you two, if you became something more. More late night talks, he might put an arm around you during your movie nights, maybe you could go on some impromptu dates once midterms were over. They were nice ideas and all, but you had to shut them down before you began daydreaming about the man who sat beside you and almost died from drinking too much Sprite.

Instead of letting yourself get lost in your fantasies you turn your focus back to making Eddie smile since he always did the same for you. The eye contact was back but he had a smile that took your breath away every time. You (begrudgingly) take your hand off his back and nudge his shoulder with yours. “Nah, I knew you’d make it through that… so are you gonna chug that second bottle?” Eddie scoffs at the idea and playfully slaps your arm, finally laughing again and shaking his head. 

“You’re insane if you think I’m EVER doing that shit again!” You watch as he gets up to jog over to the recycling bin and toss his empty Sprite bottle inside. Eddie turns around to see you pouting and giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He would definitely do it again since it made you happy, but he didn’t want you to see him actually throw up that time. “That look is NOT going to work on me, sweetheart. Don’t pull that shit on me!”

You try your best to ignore the comment and instead look down at your incomplete translation, deciding it best to focus on your studies and not the possible feelings he could have for you. Reluctantly, you take your hand off his back and say, “Okay! Let’s get back to work, shall we?” 

Eddie nods his head and you go back to your schoolwork, but Eddie instead minimizes his music program and begins looking things up online. You don’t notice for a couple minutes until you look over at him to sneak another peek at his face and see that he’s scrolling through Netflix. You tap your pen against the laptop screen and say, “Hey. That’s not homework, close that.”

Eddie bats your hand away and clicks to Prime Video and opens the horror category up again. You speak up again, “You know, if you’re planning to write a song based on a horror movie there’s another band that already beat you to that. It might become their whole thing in the future.”

He’s ignoring you now and opens up a few more tabs with movies. You’re now as distracted as he is, leaning in to point out movies you liked or movies you wanted to see. Eddie stops looking at the screen and is now looking at your face, completely mesmerized by your beauty. He can’t believe you’d ever want to hang out with a guy like him. 

“Hey, uh–“, Eddie scratches at the back of his head as he tries to figure out how to ask this without stumbling over his words and making himself look like an idiot in front of you “– we should do a movie night tonight, we haven’t had one in like two weeks. Are you free?” 

You hesitate for a moment, mentally going over your schedule for the night. This was your only homework that had to be finished by tonight and the rest of your assignments can be finished tomorrow. Even if they were all due tomorrow, you’d much rather spend time with Eddie watching a movie together. The fits of laughter when someone dies, ordering pizza and arguing which snacks to eat after dinner, curling up under the blankets with your knees grazing each other. Lingering glances when your hands touch and the blush that always appears on Eddie’s cheeks when you two accidentally lock eyes. Those nights you let your mind wander, and wonder if maybe you could have a future with Eddie. Maybe you two could be more than friends. Perhaps you could have more than momentarily looks and brief touches. For now, you’ll take every moment you can get with him.

You respond to him with a smile, saying, “For you? I’m always free.”

Eddie is continuing to look nervous, his hands moving from his laptop to under the table and fiddling with the rings on his hands. He’s biting at his lip and going over his next words in his head, but sets them aside for later. He shifts his attention back to the tabs he had pulled up previously, clicking between a few possible choices. 

“Ok, cool. So we have a few options… uh, there’s A Quiet Place, I think you said you haven’t watched that yet. We still haven’t finished our Saw marathon, so maybe we could do that? Or,”” Eddie clicks over to one last tab, the preview picture showing a silhouette of a giant deer standing in front of a burning house  with what looked like hands hanging from its face, “we could watch The Ritual. This one looks amazing.”

You take his laptop and tilt it towards you and read through the summary given by the streaming service and scroll down to the reviews - they’re all positive and talk about how unnerving the movie is. The eerie imagery combined with the whole movie being set in the woods already had your skin crawling. You don’t notice yourself doing it, but you start smiling as you read each review talking about how this movie gave people nightmares and how they could never look at a forest the same again. Once you hit the bottom of the page, you turn the laptop back to Eddie and confidently say, “Eddie, we have to watch that.”

He’s nodding and closes his laptop for now before fully turning to you. There’s a constant hum of students in the walkways in front of you as they’re all let out of class, and Eddie finds it a little calming as he tries to figure out what to say. He hesitates a little before biting the bullet. 

“How would you feel about making it a date?”

You blink a few times as you try to process what he just asked you. Maybe your parents were right and you really were damaging your hearing by listening to your music too loud because there’s no way you just heard Eddie Munson ask you out. There are so many things you want to ask. Why? Are you sick? Is this a joke? Please don’t let it be a joke.

All you can muster is a confused, “What?” before Eddie has to begin explaining himself.

“I’ve wanted to ask you out ever since I’ve met you, but I’ve been scared that you might not feel the same way and I might ruin our friendship,” Eddie takes your hand in his and then takes the other which was currently sitting on your lap. There’s a constant hum around you two as people are leaving their classes and making their ways to their destinations, whether it be their next class, the commuter lounge, or home for the day. You can barely hear it over the sound of your heart beat. Eddie continues on, “Steve told me the other day that he was sick of watching me stare at you like a lovesick puppy and said he was pretty sure you liked me back, so I figured I might as well try…”

You look down at his hands and a drop of water falls down onto one of them. Is it raining? No, you’re crying. Hurriedly, you reach to wipe the tear away hoping Eddie doesn’t notice but how could he not when he’s been watching you this entire time. His hand beats you to it and wipes the following tears away. In a hushed tone, he asks, “Hey, hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” It’s that damn pet name again. You weren’t imagining things - he doesn’t treat everyone like this, you realize, this is all real. 

Your eyes shut but the tears continue to fall. Thankfully, you manage to keep the noise to a minimum to avoid any unwanted attention. Between quiet sobs, you say, “I’m sorry, but nobody has ever liked me, and I couldn’t imagine anyone ever liking me back. I’m just not used to this. I thought this could only ever happen in my dreams.”

Eddie stays quiet as you tearfully explain your lack of dating history and the guys in school only ever asking you out as a joke, how it wrecked your self-esteem and by the time you were halfway through college you just gave up. Never in a million years did you imagine someone like Eddie would ever like you, but here he is. Eddie’s hand stays on you, eventually moving from your cheek down to your shoulder and down to your arm. It’s a comforting reminder that again, this is real and he’s there. 

Once you’ve finished explaining yourself, Eddie squeezes the one hand he’s still holding. He says, “I wish I could have met you earlier, whether it be earlier in college or high school. I wish I could have made you realize how beautiful you are and shower you with compliments until you finally see yourself in the same way that I see you - as the most beautiful, stunning, perfect person in the entire universe. And sweetheart, if  you let me, I promise to start right fucking now.”

You had to be dreaming at that point because Eddie Munson does not feel real to you. Either you’re dreaming or your daydreams have gotten a little too realistic. You chew at your lip and ask him, “You’re really serious?”

“As serious as a heart attack. Now, is that a date?”

You feel your face flush and nod sheepishly, having to break eye contact and look down at your conjoined hands. Eddie chuckles at your reaction and gives your hands a squeeze before he unfortunately lets go of them. He turns to face his laptop again and opens it back up before saying, “Great, now let’s get back to work, shall we?”

A few hours later, Eddie returns to his shared apartment with Steve with a pep in his step. He’s humming a little tune and places his backpack next to the door. Steve is lounging  on the couch playing video games after class, having changed into a Hawkins Basketball hoodie and black sweats, when Eddie arrives and he’s immediately suspicious of him. It reminds Steve of the day that Eddie met you so he has an inkling of an idea of what could have happened today. Sure, Eddie has been in a better mood ever since the two of you reunited, but even this was a bit much. 

Steve pauses the level and rests the controller on his chest before looking at his roommate - Eddie pads over to the kitchen and opens the fridge to survey the contents of it. After that he goes through each of the light oak cabinets, taking note of the snacks available to them. He’s talking to himself, something like, “The regular popcorn should be fine, right? She hasn’t complained  about it so far…” and pulls his phone out to tap a quick message away. Eddie turns to the living room to head towards his room when he finally notices Steve. “Oh, Steve! Hey uh, can you do me a huge favor?” 

Steve cocks a brow at Eddie and replies with a cautious, “Okay…? What is it?” 

Eddie walks over to Steve on the couch and shoves a hand in his pocket, the other scratching at his stubble on his chin. Should he shave? No, you already saw him like this earlier. It would be weird if you came over and saw that he shaved. “Can you like… fuck off for the rest of the night?”

Steve scoffs and fully sits up, the video game controller long forgotten now and falls from his chest to his lap and onto the carpeted floor. “You want me to fuck off? Last time I checked we both live here.”

 Eddie realized how that sounded the moment he closed his mouth and was already fumbling over his words to try and sound like less of a tool. 

“I mean, I just need the place for a few hours. You’ve asked me to do the same thing, remember? Please.”

The former jock pulls a leg up to rest on the couch to lean on it. “Yeah man, but that’s for when Nancy comes over. Like, for a date.”

“Well, I… ok so,” Eddie shuffles his feet and kicks at the leg of the coffee table, looking up at Steve and raises his eyebrows at him, “I did as you told me to today.”

It takes Steve a second to realize what he’s talking about because, frankly, Steve has asked Eddie to do a lot of things. Like the dishes and to take out the bathroom trash. Also, Eddie can be a bit of a dumbass sometimes. Then, it clicks. He shoots up off the couch, the controller falling onto the carpeted floor with a muffled thump.

“Jesus Christ, you finally fucking did it. You asked her out? Seriously?”

Eddie squints and leans in, lowering his head and speaks in a hushed voice. “No Steve, i asked out the lady that works at the fucking dining hall. We have a real connection and bonded over the fucking pancakes. OF COURSE I ASKED HER OUT, YOU DUMBASS.”

Steve narrowly misses the coffee table as he runs past it to pull Eddie into a bear hug. Eddie is awkwardly standing there but eventually hugs his roommate and even laughs a little. He would never say this, but Steve is actually proud of Eddie for finally telling you how he felt. Steve swore he’d never see the day where his best friend would finally confess his feelings towards you. In fact, he was so confident that he and Robin made bets on it.

Steve remembers this and pulls away with a huff as he silently pads to the couch to grab his phone. Eddie watches him in confusion as his roommate seemingly angrily taps away on his phone. When Steve eventually looks up with pursed lips, Eddie cocks an eyebrow as if to ask what’s going on?

Steve states, “I owe Robin $25 now.”

taglist: @justalotoffanfiction @iyskgd

[w0rmss]

Hi!could you write a hc about bruce wayne and fem reader? Reader is short and looks cute and her voice is so thin but her personality is like bruce she is really independent and intelligent and at first she didn't want to have anything with bruce cuz she knew he is acting just like her. Please take your time sorry if it's long.

Thank you so much.

headcannons

You both first meet at a gala. You were a server at an event he was at. You had no interest in him no matter how many times he tried to flirt.

He eventually got your number after talking to you for a while and asked you on a date.

He took you to the museum and then lunch for your first date. He adores how smart you are. How you dont expect things of his.

When you both officially start dating Bruce loves that you dont mind giving him space. He loves that you’re just as happy to go out alone than with him. He likes that you can sit reading while he works on cases or paperwork.

Bruce has his brucie wayne personality I'm public. You on the other hand you don't you have the same calm stoic personality everywhere

The media is constantly calling you bruce waynes pretty little wife and saying how cute you are. Bruce thinks it's so funny. You not so muchMost people are shocked when they hear you talk for the first time.

One not expecting to her such a calm neutral tone and two not expecting you to sound and speak so smartly and properly.

You do a lot of charity on your own without your husband and often make a lot of the decisions when it comes to his charity work.

People take photos of you on the street and tag it as bruce waynes sweet little wife. Your child think it's funny You dont and bruce tries to buy them from the press to make you happy.

thats all. Hope you enjoyed keep requesting I’ll get to them eventually.

Have a good day night afternoon etc.

happy Valentine’s Day for those who celebrate and those who are extremely single me too guys me too

[boybandbaby]

The Sweet Escape Part VII

911 AU (Prince!Evan Buckley x Fem!Baker!Reader)

previous part

word count: 2316

warnings/tags: lots of buck tears, parental toxicity, verbal and physical argument, name calling, as always if I miss anything please lmk

note: I’m so sorry for lagging yall imma crunch out the next chapter and hopefully post tomorrow

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

One thing you’re not is a liar. Evan was really not in your bakery or in your home at the time of the incident and you’re grateful for that. You’re not sure how he would’ve reacted but you can guarantee it wouldn’t have been good. Plus, you don’t think you’d want to see him like that.

He, on the other hand, wishes he was there. Wishes he was there to defend you and wishes he had the courage to stand up to his parents like you did.

He’s also very very embarrassed that they acted that way towards you and in your place of business, in front of so many people, and on a day where you’re already dealing with so many emotions. He feels like everything is his fault and he’s not sure why you’re being so nice to him.

He knows you guys have surpassed the bickering, non-friends/enemies stage but after this he would’ve expected you to hate his guts. You could never though.

So here he is, standing between your thighs as he holds a bag of peas to your cheek. Every so often he lifts the bag and kisses at the cold skin. His cheeks are stained with sticky tears not only from your recollection of the argument but also from his visit to Daniel’s grave.

Buck doesn’t know why he went there but as he knelt at the grave, he let his tears fall. Tears of sadness from not having his older brother around but also tears of anger for Daniel leaving him. Daniel’s death was long awaited but still surprised him nonetheless.

Buck didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye as he’d been away for school.

Buck wishes he had Daniel here to help him get through this but he knows if Daniel was here he wouldn’t be going through this at all.

“Buck? Hey, come here.” He hears your voice. He feels your hands pull him to your chest. He doesn’t register that he’s crying again until he’s buried in your shoulder and your soaked top clings to his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything.” He sobs. “You don’t deserve any of this. It’s all my fault.” It comes out choked and broken.

“Stop, stop.” You whisper into his ear, petting the back of his head. “None of this is your fault, you hear me?”

“How can you say that? I feel like I can’t do anything right.” He looks up at your face.

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” You cup his jaw, thumbing away his tears. He nods, sniffling. “I don’t want you to worry about what happened with your parents okay? I can handle myself. I just want you to focus on you and what you want.”

“What if I don’t know what I want?” His voice is so small.

“I think you do, Evan. You just don’t want to let yourself have the things you want. Things you deserve.” He doesn’t say anything else but you can see him trying to process everything. “You look so handsome today by the way.”

“Do I look like shit every other day?” He quips immediately.

“Of course not.” You laugh. “Look, I’ve got to help Albert out front. He’s been doing everything today. Go up to my room, get some sleep and we’ll figure everything out together okay?”

“You’ll join me after?” He shyly asks.

“Duh. Now go get some rest okay?” With a peck to his lips, he’s running upstairs.

When you go upstairs just over an hour later, you find your grandma and Buck cooking dinner in the kitchen.

“What is this? You,” you point at your grandma, “are supposed to be on bed rest. “And you,” you cross your arms and glare at Buck, “you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“We got hungry.” Buck shrugs, nonchalantly.

“I’ll cook, both of you sit please.” You sigh.

“Babe, we’ve got this.” Buck ushers you to sit down, pulling out a chair for you. “You’ve had just as much of a rough day as we did.”

“Fine, fine. I’m going to shower and change. Please shout for me if you need me.” You smile at him. You give your grandma a kiss on the cheek and squeeze Buck’s hips.

“So, you and my granddaughter are an item now?” She wiggles her brows.

Buck laughs nervously. He scratches the back of his neck and nods. “I would say so.”

“Good.” She stirs the pot of soup. “Will you be staying with us?”

“Oh… I- no ma’am. I wouldn’t want to impose. I’m going to figure everything out tonight.”

“Stay for the night. Worry about everything tomorrow.” She smiles.

“I couldn’t really-“

“Evan, please don’t be difficult.” She points to the cabinet and then the bowls once he opens it up. Buck brings three out and sets them on the counter.

“Thank you.” Buck says earnestly. “I’m sorry about everything.” About today’s event, about his family, about the loss of her daughter, your mother.

“Don’t.” She shakes her head. “It’s okay. Now help me carry these to the table, and grab that loaf over there.”

Buck grins and helps your grandma set the table before pulling her chair out for her. He asks where to find cups and pours three drinks for a pitcher in the fridge. “Just take good care of her, Evan.”

“I will ma’am. You have my word.” He takes a seat.

When you appear, you’re fresh faced and squeaky clean. Buck jumps up from his chair with a bright face. “Hi, you look pretty.” He whispers as he holds his hands out. You grab his hands, aware of your grandma’s prying eyes.

Buck guides you to a chair and caresses your neck, then along your shoulder as he moves to his seat. He wants to kiss you so bad but knows it’s not appropriate right now.

“What have you two been talking about?” You grab a napkin and place it on your lap.

“Not much.” Buck looks to your grandma.

“Actually, Evan here was telling me that you’re dating.” She smirks. Buck chokes on his water.

“Is that so?” You giggle. “He has yet to ask me.”

“In time.” He winks at you.

“Okay you two, I’m going to get ready for bed. Be on your best behavior. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, grandma.” You smile.

“Thank you for dinner.” Buck stands to offer her an arm and walk her to her room. She pats his bicep before retreating to the room.

“Oh, you can sleep in the same bed but the door has to be open.” She calls out.

Buck’s cheeks redden and you drop your face onto the table with a thud.

As tired as you both are, you hardly sleep. You’re both too excited to be in each other’s arms that you don’t get a wink of rest. Your bodies and brains are exhausted but you’re savoring this moment together.

You have no clue what’s going to happen moving forward. You still have doubts that Buck will cave in and go back home to get married. Buck has no clue what his next steps are but he knows he has to start somewhere. He figures he can rely on the people he trusts to most to guide him in the right direction.

In the morning, after many sleepy kisses, he tags along with Albert to conduct the daily delivery. He figures this is the best way to sneak back into the palace without being stopped by guards. If he can just talk to Bobby and get some guidance, the knot in his stomach can unravel a bit.

It really doesn’t take much for him to get in which should alarm him but he figures it’s not his problem anymore. Albert goes in first and gives him the all clear that it’s safe to come inside.

“Well, look who it is. Our runaway groom.” Bobby raises his brows, lips in a small, teasing grin.

“Hey…” He chuckles.

“You’re bold to come back, Buck but I’m glad to see you.” Bobby brings Buck in for a hug.

“Thanks, Bobby. I’m sorry about yesterday. I hope I didn’t get Athena into too much trouble.”

“Nothing she can’t handle.” He smiles. “You hungry?” Buck shakes his head. Bobby already has a knowing look on his face.“How’s y/n doing?”

“Better than yesterday.” He cringes. “If I don’t see her today, tell Athena thank you for coming to y/n’s aid.”

“Will do.” Bobby smiles and nods his head behind Buck. Buck spins so quick he gets dizzy.

“Maddie!” Buck gasps and rushes to her, enveloping her in a hug.

“I’m so glad to see you.” She immediately breathes a sigh of relief. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

Maddie sneaks Buck into his room. She waits for him as he showers and changes out of his wedding attire and into something more relaxed.

“Thanks for this. I really needed to get out of those clothes.” He rubs his hair with a towel before beginning to pack a bag of clothes. “Think you can sneak me back out?”

“You’re leaving already?” She stands.

“Well, I can’t stay here. I just came to get some clothes and money.”

“What are your plans? Where will you stay?”

“Y/n and her grandma are letting me stay until I get on my feet. I’ll help out around the bakery until I get a job.”

“So that’s it?”

“What do you want me to say Maddie? What do you want me to do?” He zips the zipper a bit too aggressively.

“Talk to them.” She pleads.

“For what? They don’t listen anyways. I told them I didn’t want to marry June and they didn’t listen. They pushed me to this point and now they have to live with it.”

“Please Buck, don’t leave like this.” She places a hand on his bag.

“I have nothing to say to them. I’ve decided to live my life the way I want to. Look, we’ll stay in touch. You know where I’ll be.” He gently holds her shoulders. “I love you but I’ve got to go.”

“I love you too. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” She wipes her eyes. They’re too caught up in their moment to hear the door open.

“Evan?” Margaret cautiously calls out.

“Fuck…” he groans.

“Where have you been?” Her voice comes out sweet and concerned.

“That’s none of your concern anymore.” He grabs a hold of his bag.

“You’ve embarrassed us for the last time.” Phillip stands tall behind her.

“See Maddie? This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk to them.”

“Talk?! Evan, you don’t talk about things, you runaway.” Phillip steps to the side and in front of Margaret.

“I wouldn’t have to run away if you acted like parents and took into account what I want for my life.”

“God,” Phillip groans. “It’s always me me me with you. Your brother was never this selfish.”

“Dad-“ Maddie starts, stepping between them.

“It’s fine. You both think you’re stellar parents when in reality you never should’ve had kids. You hear me but you don’t listen to me. I’m asking you to listen.” Buck steps forward.

“We don’t listen because you don’t say anything of substance.” Phillip spits. Maddie holds her hands up, pushing both of them apart.

“You’re so insufferable! It honestly amazes me. I didn’t come here to beg for forgiveness or to argue with you.” Buck pulls Maddie’s hand from his chest, dropping it softly.

“Then why are you here, Evan?” Margaret pipes up, voice shaking with fear and something else that Buck can’t decipher.

“You can disown me if you want but I’m 25. I’m old enough to make my own choices and I’m deciding to not be king. If that means not being part of your family, then so be it.”

“And what are you going to do, huh? You’re going to run off with that… that gutter rat?” Phillip yells.

Buck sees red and his ears ring. He can feel his blood boiling before he’s shoving Phillip against the closest wall. Buck’s fists ball up the front of his dads’s vest and he’s lifting him just barely off the ground. The tips of Phillip’s shoes graze the floor as his feet dangle. Maddie is lucky enough to move out of the way.

“Stop! Stop!” Margaret cries as she hold onto Maddie’s arm.

“Buck, don’t!” Maddie screams. “Go get Eddie!” She shoves her mom towards the door. Margaret doesn’t stop to question as she bolts out of the room.

“Don’t ever,” he barks, “ever talk about her like that again. She’s a better person than you’ll ever be.” He whispers the last part, voice dropping with venom.

“You’re going to end up in the streets, Evan. Why would you want to leave us? You could have everything you ever want!”

Eddie’s rushing into the room with Chimney and Bobby behind him. Their faces full of concern as they pry Buck off of him. Hen rushes in to unfortunately check on Phillip.

“I don’t want any of this.” He looks around the room. “Don’t you get that?” Buck struggles to move against the three pairs of hands holding him back.

“You’re making a big mistake.” Phillip rubs the back of his skull as he is guided to sit down. “You’ll be back, Evan.”

“Well, don’t wait up for me.” He sasses, turning to leave. Bobby and Eddie are hot on his trail as Chimney stays with Maddie.

“You can stay with me.” Eddie offers. “We’ll help you through this.”

“Don’t worry Buck, we’ve got you.” Bobby pulls him in for a hug.

ANNOUNCEMENT

Evan Buckley hereby declares his irrevocable determination to renounce from the throne including any future descendants. This abdication takes place effectively immediately.

Phillip and Margaret Buckley wish their son the best in his future endeavors. King Phillip will continue as King until further notice.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

next part

[pokemon-radical-red]

I hate it when I headcanon a character who’s canonically a girl as a trans man and make ships of him and a character who’s canonically a guy and I refer to it as a gay/mlm/guyxguy/whatever ship and someone gets mad. Like omg let trans people have FUNNNNN. Why are queer headcanons and genderbends cool until they’re saying that the character is trans???

“OMGGG you’re so misogynistic I can’t believe you would erase FEMALE representation!!!”

and like half of the characters in the franchise are women, and a total of… NONE of the characters are trans men. Also, my headcanon doesn’t change the source material. If my stuff upsets you, you can block me and go engage with the source or maybe every single other fanwork, since mine is the only trans man hc for this character that I’ve ever seen.

or when people are like “WTF??? this is so transphobic!!! how dare you imply that a character who looks like that could be a trans man?!?! do you think that trans men are women or something??? she uses she/her, and you’re misgendering her!”

No, I don’t think that being a trans man makes you a woman or vice versa. That’s why it’s a headcanon, and the headcanon is that this character is actually a trans man and not a woman at all! You’ll never guess what pronouns most trans men had to use at some point in their lives, and you really won’t like it when you find out about pre-(or no-)transition trans men… or trans men who are in the closet… or trans men who don’t know that they’re trans yet.

“But the character is a kid!!! Saying they’re trans is sexualizing them.”

I’ve seen this one from other queer people. Like did you miss when all of the homophobes said this about your identity, or do you think that bigotry is only bad when it’s directed at you?

“Why would you say ‘testosterone could fix her’??? Are you trying to call her a delusional woman?”

Why would your brain even go to that first? This literally has to be a bad faith reading, because there’s no way that someone could see what I said and get this unless they were specifically looking for something to be mad at me for.

(Note for anyone unaware: “Estrogen would’ve fixed him!” was a meme going around at the time I said this. I’m not sure if it’s still super big, but this was a joke to the effect of that.)

“So girls can’t be tomboys anymore? You just wanna trans everyone?”

This is like actual real life transphobic rhetoric. This isn’t even just shitting on my headcanon, but in fact, sending transphobic hate to a trans man. Thanks 👍. Maybe you should go send JK Rowling another message about how much you loved her essay instead of bothering me.

[goldkirk]

hey this isn’t aimed at anyone in particular but I’m saying it for the record here: if I tell you no, please stop messaging me about fundraisers and mutual aid.

I get enough messages that it’s impossible for me to keep up without devoting at least half an hour each day, when I’m not even on tumblr that long most days. Me having a boundary about this isn’t a moral failing, it’s a lifeboat for me on my own blog.

In my personal life I’m already advocating and donating literally as much as I can spare. This is not me not caring, it’s just me not willing to interact with that on the one place I go online to not interact with irl news and world events for the most part.

I cannot be upset all the time. I cannot be upset everywhere. I cannot use all my emotional and mental energy fielding my own upset from ongoing events. My options are to hold boundaries about this or stop coming online at all.

I’m all for sharing information and signal boosting to reasonable extents, but the scale of it this year is so large and so enduring that it is literally not possible to for me to participate on every account I have. I’ve previously shared links to Gaza eSIM donations and a major hub of verified Go Fund Mes here and elsewhere online. We, the online humans, know how to look those things up ourselves by now. There are many, many people choosing to do advocacy work, and right now, I can’t be one of them.

If you’re extremely upset when I tell you I can’t share/donate right now about a Gaza family or personal fundraiser you ask me to share here, just unfollow and block me. That’s what those buttons are for. Protect your own emotions and energy and get me off your feed instead of staying upset and continuing to engage with online people or content that upsets you.

Please don’t send repeated angry messages based on manufactured purity politics and moral outrage into my messages and inbox when I exercise the right to run my own blog.