#and like is having his blood a good thing or a bad thing they are getting confused. bc ace said before dying that he has a demons blood...

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 18 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: You find out why you have been feeling so sick lately. Some things are good. Some things are bad. And other things are straight-up cruel.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy issues/abortion, kidney failure, poisoning, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

The voices were so soft that you barely even heard them, but you knew they were there.

You were probably dreaming. But what were you dreaming about? What had you dreamed? Were you already fully awake – awake enough to forget what you had been dreaming about?

A sharp pain in your arm made your eyes flutter open and you glanced around in panic. It suddenly all came back again, quick and unyielding.

The blood. He had to be dead. But, God, why was he dead? And why had he followed you?

Your gaze flew around the room, helplessly trying to recognize where the hell you were, when it suddenly dawned on you. You weren’t home.

Maybe you were indeed still dreaming.

Or maybe it was a nightmare you were caught in.

You gasped loudly and tried to sit up, only to feel a pair of gentle, yet firm hands, push you back down.

“Stop, I- What-“

“Shh.” He kept you gently pressed against the bed and regarded you with a look so tender and concerned, it immediately increased your panic. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re in the hospital. You’re alright.”

You glanced around, only to then realize it. The white walls, the neon lights, the rustling and the people around you. One looked like a doctor, another one like a nurse, but she left quickly.

It slowly came back to you. The wardrobe. The dizziness. The god-awful amount of blood. Your first impulse was to ask him what had happened, but you kept quiet. Everything was just too much – and his expression was by far the worst about it. His brows were furrowed in concern and his eyes were soft and cautious, as if he expected you to pass out again any moment.

He hadn’t even managed to get properly changed. You still saw the faint traces of blood on his shirt, right under his jacket. And even his hands had that light, red glow of someone who had just butchered a lamb.

The faint cut right above his eyebrow was new. And it made your heart clench.

“What happened?” You whispered hoarsely. “How long was I-“

“The doctor was just about to explain.” He said as he gently squeezed one of your hands in his both. “I told him that you don’t speak Korean. He’ll explain it in English.”

Your eyelids fluttered in confusion. He was behaving so…odd.

Of course he had been gentle before, no question. But this was so entirely unlike him. He was so soft-spoken and careful. It was hardly the same man.

When the doctor cleared his throat, you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at him instead. You were filled with dread, far more so than ever. Something was wrong, you could tell. A part of you expected him to tell you that you were going to die soon. Who knew? Maybe you would. It wouldn’t have surprised you. That was just what your life was like. Predictable and disappointing.

“We ran a few blood tests, miss, as I just now mentioned to your husband.”

Husband. The word rang in your ears.

You nodded.

The doctor, a man in his middle-age with kind eyes and a certain softness in his voice, sighed softly and slowly sat down on the chair by your bed.

“I have bad news and good ones. I would like to start with the bad news.”

You felt him tense beside you and his hold on your hands tightened ever-so-slightly.

By the time you looked up to meet his gaze, you realized, he wasn’t looking at you. Instead he was staring at the doctor before you, his eyes fixed on the man and his body rigid on his own chair.

You nodded again.

Oh God, what now?

“The reason for your breakdown was a circulatory collapse. That in itself isn’t all too bad. Your husband informed me of the fight you witnessed.” The blood on him. Clever. “That level of stress, combined with your high blood pressure, were what caused it. I ran a few blood tests and that’s where it gets complicated. I’m sorry to inform you that one of your kidneys is in the process of failing.”

You felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You had always known this would come someday. But you couldn’t help but ask.

“The slow one or the other one?” You asked quietly.

You felt him stiffen beside you and the pressure on your hand was almost painful by now. He stared at you with an incredulous look. “What do you mean the slow one?”

You found yourself staring at the doctor instead. Maybe you should have told him, you suddenly realized.

The doctor kept staring between the both of you, before he hesitantly settled his gaze on you again, after you just so openly ignored your husband, waiting for his answer.

“I think your wife is referring to her birth defect. She was born with a kidney that’s rather small and has a hard time keeping up the process of cleaning her blood, as while the other one is normal in size. But unfortunately, that’s not the one failing.”

You closed your eyes. “So, the good one.”

“That’s the thing. I noticed something about it. I found your blood levels concerning, so I ran a few more tests. There’s a lot of protein in your urine. Have you had a history of using the bathroom often?”

“Yes.” You said quietly. “But it was always like that.”

“Did it lessen over the years?”

That made you pause and you took a moment to actually think about it. Looking back, as a child, you had to use the bathroom at least every hour. But these last few years…

“Yes, I think so. Why?”

He nodded with a solemn expression on his face. “I assumed so. I have a bad idea about what might be going on. I’m sorry to say this, but neither of your kidneys was working properly. They were just barely keeping you alive at this point.”

“Wait.” His voice was so soft that you barely even heard it, but it was enough to make the doctor’s head snap up.

“Yes?”

“So, she was born with one kidney damaged. And the other one is failing right now.” His grip on your hand slackened and so did his expression. You slowly turned your head to look at him and the sight of him nearly made you go pale. He was pale. His eyes were and his hair a mess. You had never seen him look like this before. He looked so…so…afraid. “Did…Did something cause her kidney failing? Did someone cause-“ He stopped and you felt the way his hands were shaking.

And you suddenly realized what he was asking. What he was thinking.

Did I cause her kidney to fail? Is it me who almost killed her?

You quickly reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, but all he could do was stare at the doctor with the same horrified look.

The doctor leaned back in his chair, clutching the papers in his hand and he sighed deeply.

And to your horror, he nodded. “I’m afraid it were indeed external circumstances that caused your wife’s kidney to give in. I’m afraid someone might have poisoned her.”

For a moment everything was quiet, except for the soft humming of the machines, the slow drip of the IV. But then something in his face changed. The fear turned to the same murderous look he held whenever he got so ungodly angry.

“Poisoned her?” He said slowly.

The doctor nodded again. “I’ve found her sodium chloride levels are concerningly high. And unless she hasn’t been eating spoonsful of salt every day for months or years of her life, someone might have slipped her a preparation.”

His expression changed yet again and now he looked at you with a mixture of fury and pleading; pleading to believe him that it hadn’t been him who tried to poison you. But you were already more than aware.

“I know who did it.” You said quietly. Both of them stared at you in shock.

“What?” Asked the doctor.

You nodded slowly. “My mother. She gave me medicine for my slow kidney since I turned fourteen. I never questioned it.”

The doctor’s expression turned sour at the mention of that. “If that truly is so, we have to inform authorities and-“

“My mother is dead.” You said without flinching.

“Oh, that’s…alright, then. However, it would make sense. It’s good you stopped taking the medication. Had you continued to take it, it might have caused a cardiac infarction. Your husband said you just recently turned twenty-five. That’s not normal. It was highly intentional. Your mother caused great harm on you, miss.”

You took a slow breath to try and keep yourself from crying, but it was useless. Tears clouded your vision and you hid your face behind your hands.

Despite the tension in his body, the anger coursing through his veins, his hands were gentle in your hair.

“It’s okay.” He whispered in a mixture of furious and tender. “She won’t ever harm you again. No one will.”

It took you a few minutes to finally calm down again, but when you did, he gently pulled your hands from your face and looked at you with the same concerned look.

“So, what does this mean now?” He asked the doctor. “What will become of her?”

The man looked down at the files on his lap and shook his head. “On the long term, she will need a kidney transplant.”

It was the worst thing he could have said. The worst. A quick death was what you always anticipated and hoped for. Him losing his patience and shooting you in a fit of anger didn’t sound half as bad as that did. You knew how these things ended. You’d get on a list and you’d never ever get a kidney in time. And if you did, your body would fight it and you’d end up dying anyway.

He seemed to have the same thoughts, because you felt him freeze. His grip on your hand stayed the same, but all the color drained from his face. “Transplant?”

The doctor nodded. “On the long term, yes. We already put you on the waiting list, miss. We’ll do our best, I promise you and I stand by my promise. You’ve been through so much and you’re so young. We’ll do our best for you. Until then…you’ll have to go with dialysis.”

You were crying silent tears, begging and praying on the inside.

God, why me and why that? Why couldn’t it have been me who fell on the trainlines instead?

“Dialysis.” Your so-called husband responded in a breathless whisper. “That…that’s not so bad, right? It’s not like chemotherapy.”

The doctor nodded. “It’s still a great effort for her body to take, but it’s not comparable to cancer. She’ll be weakened, yes, but she’ll be able to perform basic tasks and take care of herself. And we’ll be working to find a kidney for her as fast as possible. A kidney isn’t as hard to find as a heart would be. It’s not likely. You might even get lucky and have a donor in your circle.”

He released a slow breath and drew gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

“You said you had good news for us?” He asked quietly.

The doctor nodded slowly and set the papers aside. His expression calmed somewhat and he regarded you both with a long look, before his gaze settled on your face.

“You’re seven weeks pregnant.”

He might as well have punched you, because that was exactly how you felt.

You wanted to react, in any way really. But you had no idea how you felt. How you were supposed to feel. You only knew that you were terribly afraid.

And so you slowly looked over to the man hunched beside you, trying to gauge his own reaction. Was he happy about this? Was he angry? His face gave nothing away. He looked dumbstruck. And for the first since you knew him, he looked genuinely terrified.

“Pregnant.” He whispered.

His gaze slowly wandered to you and back to the doctor. “But her kidney-“

“It is not impossible to carry a child in her condition. There may be a few complications and the risk is slightly higher than it would be if she was completely healthy, but it isn’t impossible.”

“What does slightly higher mean? Higher chance to die? No, forget it.” He bit out. “We’re not doing this.”

“Forgive me, but-“

“No.” He said firmly. “I’m not going to let her die over this.”

The doctor cleared his throat and nodded. “I understand that. And what you’re going to do will be you and your wife’s own decision in the end. I’d just like to make the following clear: She can still take the dialysis, even while pregnant. We could perform a peritoneal dialysis. It would have to be done every day, but she could do it at home. It’s rather uncomplicated.”

He was still rigid beside you and just as he was about to snap at the doctor again, you spoke in a quiet voice, causing him to stop himself.

“Would it harm the baby?”

The doctor smiled a gentle, reassuring smile. “No.”

“And the baby wouldn’t have any disadvantages due to my lack of a functioning kidney?”

“There’s always the possibility that the baby might come early. We’d have to keep a keen eye on its development, of course. It could be that it gets born with a birth weight of under 2.500 gram. That’s not uncommon for cases like yours, but it by far wouldn’t be the first one.”

You felt your insides twist painfully. Everything was simply too much. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact that your own mother tried to murder you for some reason and now you were here. Pregnant. Talking about things like birth weight.

“Am I-“

“I told you, this isn’t up for discussion.” His firm voice suddenly interrupted you.

You bit your lip and looked up at the doctor. “Could I get a moment alone with my husband?”

He immediately got up and gathered the documents surrounding him. “Of course. Take as much time as you need.”

The moment the door shut behind him, he shot you a crazed look. “There’s no way in hell you’re actually considering this.”

You stayed silent. A part of you wanted to fight him on this, but you felt weak. Too weak to argue, too weak to even speak. Something had changed, something had changed so drastically that you didn’t even know what you wanted anymore. The only thing you truly knew…

“I can’t kill it.”

He took a deep breath and sat down beside you again. “We’re not killing it. It doesn’t understand what’s going on. It is too tiny to feel pain.”

“But it’s our baby.” The words slipped out in a pained whisper before you could stop yourself and the effect your words had on him was immediately recognizable. His eyes softened the same instant.

“I know.” He said quietly and reached for your hand again. “And I’m dying to have a baby with you. Really, I am. But not if it means you might die trying to bear it.”

“But the doctor said-“

He gently cupped your face in his palms and made you look up at him. “You’re sick.” His voice sounded as firm as it was gentle. His eyes were practically pleading with you. “You’re sick and I can’t lose you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and gently circled his wrist in your hand. You were probably being manipulative, you were biased anyway. Unlike your mother, you immediately loved your child. You didn’t understand it. Didn’t even fully realize that it was truly there, inside you, but you loved it. And you couldn’t kill it. Never.

You gently got hold of his hand and guided it down your chest, until it reached your abdomen and you pressed it down softly.

His eyes followed your movement and he seemed to hold his breath. He wanted it just as much as you did, if not more. You saw it in his eyes. The tenderness. The pain. The instant protectiveness. Everything you loved about him.

The man who cut your hair and hit you when you spoke out of line, he was gone. The man who took your name and your identity from you, the man who threatened you, the man who scared you – he was nowhere to be found.

He was still the same, dangerous man underneath it all. You knew that. There was no way you could ever forget it. After seeing him murder someone twice – and maybe a third time – you knew what he was.

But in that moment? In that moment, he was somebody else.

The husband type of guy.

Your guy.

Your man.

And you were his. Only his.

He released a slow breath and his gaze slowly wandered up from your stomach to your face.

“I can’t.” He said quietly.

When you shot him a confused frown, he sighed and leaned back, but he kept his gentle grip on you.

“I can’t lose you.”

You sighed softly and gently tightened your grip on his hand. “But I might die anyway.”

His eyes darkened at that. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare even think that.” He hissed.

“It’s true.” You said quietly. “How high is the chance that I get a kidney in time? How many people live in Korea?”

“Don’t think about that now.” The determination is his voice was almost reassuring. Almost. Like he knew something that you didn’t. “I’ll find a way.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “All you need to do is focus on yourself, alright? Nothing else. I’m going to take care of everything else.”

“Okay.” You said quietly, even though you were not even close to convinced. What would he take care of? What did that mean? You had a bad feeling about it. “But I’m not having an abortion.”

He exhaled slowly. “You’re so fucking stubborn.”

You smiled weakly. “And you hate that about me, don’t you?”

Surprisingly he returned the smile and gently touched your chin. “I love that about you.”

His gaze wandered back down to where his hand lay and he slowly shook his head. “Are you really sure about this? It won’t be easy.”

You bit your lip and nodded.

His brows furrowed in thought and he didn’t meet your gaze yet. “I’m going to be a terrible father.”

That sent a spark of pain through you, because you heard the sorrow in his voice. What a silly man he was. Didn’t he see it?

“No. You’re going to be a wonderful father.”

He scoffed and attempted to look away, but your hand shot out and you gently touched his cheek, guiding him to look back at you. He seemed surprised, but he still let you.

“You are going to be a wonderful father.” You said slowly and firmly. The firmness in your voice took you by surprise, but you didn’t back down. For some reason, you were more than convinced of your own words. “You’re going to be everything your own father wasn’t.”

Under the gentle touch of your hand, you felt him tense, but he didn’t look away and it wasn’t anger in his eyes. It was uncertainty. Fear, maybe. And a whole lot of disbelief.

“How would you know that?”

“I know how it feels to be loved by you.” You said quietly. It was true. He was a twisted freak, someone who had missed not many an opportunity to hurt you. But at the same time, he protected you. He cared about you and he went to extreme lengths for you. “Wouldn’t you die for me?” You didn’t understand your own question or why you asked it, but something made you. A higher power, something that took control over your mind and tongue.

His frown deepened and he tightened his grip on you. “What a dumb question.”

You nodded and gently caressed his cheek. “That’s why I’m sure.” You whispered. “I want this baby. I want our baby. Because I…I trust you to take care of me. Of us.”

He kept staring at you with the same thoughtful, pained frown, until he finally closed his eyes and gently buried his face against your midsection.

“You’re such a stubborn idiot.” He murmured.

You smiled and gently buried your fingers in his hair. “Such a harsh way to talk to the mother of your child.”

You heard his smile, even though you didn’t see it. “I have a few conditions though.”

He looked back at you with a stern glint. You raised a brow and waited for him to continue.

“You don’t do anything. All you’re going to do for the time being is lay in your bed, read your books and nothing more. You’ll leave everything to me and you’ll listen to me. Understood?”

For some reason, that made you smirk. “Or else what?”

His eyes darkened. “Understood?”

Your smile softened and you nodded. “Understood.”

He sighed deeply and regarded you with a careful look. He still didn’t seem all too convinced.

“Alright.” He murmured.

“One more thing.” Your eyes shot open and you looked at him, the softness and warmth gone from your tone. “What happened today?”

He tensed again and averted his gaze. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“What? But that guy who followed us-“

“Shh.��� He shot you a glare. “Stop it. No one followed us.”

You frowned incredulously. “I’m not letting you shut me out like this. Where did the blood come from? What did he want?” You said lowly, looking over his shoulder to make sure there was no one listening in on your conversation.

“This is neither the time nor the place.”

“You said something about my mother.” You suddenly remembered. “Before I passed out. Tell me the truth. I’m not joking. What about my mother?”

He clenched his jaw. He was losing his patience, but so were you. “I didn’t-“

Now it was you who shot him a glare. “Tell me.”

“Listen.” He said slowly as he leaned back and shot you another stern look. “I can’t have you stressed out right now. Did you forget what happened last time?” He tugged gently on the IV as if to remind you.

But you didn’t let him and you caught his hand in your own. “Tell me. Right now. Why did he follow us? Did he-“ Your eyes widened and your grip on him loosened. “Oh God.” You whispered. “Oh God, she sent him.”

He immediately caught you by the shoulders as you tried to sit up. “Calm down, okay? Stop this. It’s not that dramatic.”

“She sent him.” Your voice grew shaky in panic. The same woman who had systematically tried to poison you. The same woman who marked you. Who isolated you. The woman who was supposed to love you and give her life for you. “Did you kill him?”

“No.” He said quietly.

“No?”

He shook his head. “He’s in the wardrobe.”

You felt yourself go pale. “What? In the-“

“Don’t. Panic.” He said firmly. “I’m not letting him leave like that. I have plans for him. I’m going to find out what he knows and how he found it out. And I’m not letting him get back to her. I have his phone and everything else.”

The dizziness came back the same instant and your eyes fluttered shut.

“Hey, hey.” He murmured and gently touched your cheek. “It’s alright. Don’t worry. You’ll never see her again. I promise you. Over my dead body. And you don’t have to see him either. All of that is nothing but a matter I’m going to take care of.”

You nodded weakly, but inside you felt nauseous. How on earth did she find out?

“And the blood?” You whispered.

He scoffed. “The bastard tried to inject me something. And he even had a taser. What kind of man would use a taser?”

You took a shaky breath. “But he didn’t?”

He shook his head. “You think I’d let him?” He smiled bitterly. “When I looked outside, I saw his gun and I knew something was off. I immediately knew he wanted something from you. Why else would he have followed us? I also have no idea how he found the right apartment by the first try. There are many things I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out. But you.” He shot you a stern look. “You are going to stay in bed and do nothing but take care of the little one right here.” He gently prodded your bellybutton with his index finger and it almost made you smile.

If it wasn’t for your mother, you would have smiled.

“I can’t go back to her.” You whispered. “I’ll die before I do.”

He inhaled slowly and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “No one’s taking you away from me. And anyone who tries, will see.”

After a while, the doctor came back. He explained a few more things and after running a bunch of tests, he announced you wouldn’t have to go through dialysis yet. He’d have to check your kidney progress twice every week and there would be no way to avoid it, by the time your slow kidney decided to give up entirely.

But until then, you’d check your blood pressure three times every day and unless it got worse – you were free to act normal. Of course everything was a bit complicated so he prohibited you from taking any demanding tasks. But so far, and unless you weren’t taking the dialysis, your pregnancy wasn’t high-risk. He said that he would prefer it, if you took things easy – “Oh, she will, don’t worry. I’m not letting her leave the bed.” – but he gave you green light for light tasks and intimacy. Before you left, he said something to the doctor in Korean. They both glanced at you quickly before they slowly left the room, leaving you there in confusion and suspicion.

The drive home was rather quiet. Both of you were lost in your thoughts and your fears, but he kept a possessive grip on your thigh the whole way.

“You can’t die, you know.” He suddenly said. “If you did, I’d follow you and kick your ass.”

You smiled softly and looked up at him, but his gaze was trained on the street and there was not a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I won’t.” You said quietly. “Who else would show you how to change a diaper?”

Now, that made him smirk. “As if you know that.”

You laughed quietly. “We’ll learn it together.”

He took a turn and parked in the car park. When he was done, he slowly turned to face you.

“Are you really sure you want to go through with this?”

“I am.” You said gently.

He took a breath and nodded. “Alright.” Just as he was about to open the door, you held him back.

“What did you ask the doctor?”

His brows shot up in surprise. “What?”

“You know what I mean. Before we left, you spoke in Korean. What was that about?”

He clenched his jaw and averted his gaze. He got worse and worse when it came to lying to you.

“Come on, let’s get inside. I have to take care of a few things.”

___________________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Surprise, surprise. Hehe. Also, guys, I have a feeling I'm stuck between half the readers wanting more angst and drama and the other half wishing for more fluff. Might have to throw some flashbacks in?

Love you!

[ill0usainte]

But, we friends thou? 3k+

pairings: virgin!caleb x virgin!reader

cw: unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, college au, corruption, nipple play, dry humping, messy make out, rough sex, choking, overstimulation, rubbing, loss of virginity, dom!caleb, hentai reader!caleb, cherry popping (iykyk), both are inexperienced, stomach bulge, creampie, pet names (princess, pipsqueak, pretty girl), edging, nasty sex, no penetration, squirting, mentions of blood, crying

Caleb is known for being the heartthrob of the campus. He's everything that people want-- smart, handsome, athletic and was rumored to be "big" down there. A lot of girls in the campus have been gushing over your best friend. Many have been saying that he sleeps with different girls everytime-- but was it true?

And of course, in your part you don't get the hype about Caleb. Yeah, he's your first kiss but so what? As his best friend, you both share secrets with each other. And one secret that you've kept about him is that....

He's a virgin himself.

As cocky as he is-- of course he'd feed into those rumors about him just to boost his ego. Little do they know, he's just a virgin otaku who reads hentai mangas on his free time. At first, it did bother you that he started reading those-- but as time passed by, you got used and even shared some recommendations you've found. And started having interest of his likings.

"Have you seen the new publish?" He asked, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls. You leaned your back against your chair as you cross your arms.

"Of course, the art improved a lot" You answered, crossing your legs while Caleb shows you a panel of the erotic manga he's talking about. "You bet! It looks so realistic!" He chimed, pointing at the part where the girl was getting fucked and you can only push his phone away.

"Seriously, be glad that some of our classmates went out" You scoff, leaning against your desk as you grab your bag and started putting your textbooks inside. "Come on, I know you agree that scene was hot!" He raise his brow to tease.

"Shush" You silenced him and he only shrug in response as you continued putting your things inside your bag. You can't lie but that scene was really hot-- the way that the guy was dicking down the girl so good. Makes you wonder how would it feel like if it was you.

Your thoughts were pushed away when he interrupted. "Oh, I almost forgot" he said, straightening his back as he grab his bag and opened it. "I just finished the manga that you recommended me a few days ago" Grabbing the book from his bag as he placed it on your desk-- and you were quick to snatch it. It was embarassing the fact that the cover of the manga was a girl getting railed.

Hugging the book against your chest as you glare at Caleb and punched his shoulder, earning a grunt from him. "No need to be harsh, pipsqueak" He chuckled, as he looks at you in amusement.

You whisper curses at him as you opened your bag wider to fit the book in but something suddenly fall out.

A condom.

"Wha-" He froze, as his eyes widened-- looking at the packet of condom over your desk. Your eyes shifted to him as you look at him confused.

You hum, and followed where his gaze was at-- making your heart drop when you saw the packet of condom over your desk, you quickly grab it by your hand and shove it inside your bag. "Haha- my bad...." You chuckle awkwardly as you sweatdrop, closing your bag and rested your hands over your lap-- eyes glued to somewhere while you pretend nothing happened.

"I'm pretty sure that was a condom...?" Caleb thought, sweadropping also as he cleared his throat. But at the same time he wants to push your buttons--to see where you'd last.

"...an interesting thing you're carrying around...." He smiled, making you uncomfortable as you felt heat rising through your body out of embarrassment.

"It's just something I bought out of curiosity....." You answered, fixing your skirt because it was revealing a glimpse of your plushed thighs. Caleb noticed how you shift--only makes him want to push further. I mean maybe something might happen after this?

"Oh...I thought you're going to use it"

"Huh- haha no way...."

Awkwardness seeps between the both of you--while you try to not steal glances at the male. Inhaling deep as you question him.

"Do you have one, Caleb?" You asked.

"Have what?"

"Well...a condom?" You whisper, loud enough for him to hear as you toy with the ends of your skirt. Caleb blinks as he looks away, leaning against his desk while fidgeting his pen.

"I don't...not like I'd have a chance to use one anyway" He joked, shaking his head lightly. You nod at his words as you pursed you lips. You can't help but wonder if all of those rumors about him is true-- about "big" he was. Even though you knew he's a virgin there's still apart of you that doesn't believe that.

Class ended early as you and Caleb walked together. Talking about the new mangas that were published while enjoying each other's company.

"I swear that old man should stop giving us new assignments everyday" Caleb sneers, putting his hands behind his head while walking besides you.

"He should, I swear I noticed his bald spot earlier during lecture" You snort, making him laugh at your words as you joined.

You were glad that everything went to normal-- that Caleb forgot about that condom incident earlier. You can only swear that if he brings up the topic again you would just dig your own grave out of embarrassment.

The laughters piped down and you both continued walking together-- your eyes focused on your surroundings while Caleb on the other hand is urging to bring up the topic again.

"Hey"

"Hm?" You answered, eyes glued to the path.

"So, that condom talk earlier.." He spoke, looking somewhere while you paused. Cursing at yourself because you knew Caleb damn well--if something peeks his interest he wouldn't let go of it.

Inhaling deep as you face him--he puts his hands inside his pockets and gave you a sincere smile-- not that smile, you knew that he's plotting something which makes your body shiver at the sight of it.

"If someone were to ask you to 'use it' would you?" He asked, tilting his head as he waits for your reply. The question makes your body heat rise as you put a hand on your nape.

Letting out a soft awkward chuckle as you look at him "That's way to sudden" You mutter, making Caleb chuckle as he puts a hand over your head-- ruffling your hair.

"Like y'know, the thing I read on that manga you let me borrow" He said and your shoulders tensed up. Glaring at him as you pushed away his hand away from your head because it was messing up your hair.

"Hmp, don't bring me into your erotic fantasies" You huff, brows furrowed while you clutch onto the strap of your bag.

But the thought of it sends excitement through your body onto your clothed pussy-- I mean you'd always wondered what it feels like getting fucked and would you waste this chance? But the only problem is that, Caleb.

You can't imagine seeing your childhood best friend dick you down-- but the thought of it. Too consumed by your thoughts, Caleb pushed the topic further.

"So, what do you say?" He asked, making you snap back at your thoughts. You gulped as you look at him. Lowering your head while you fidget with your fingers-- hesitating if you're going to do it or not.

"We only live once, so risk it!" The voices in your head said in unison.

"I'll let him use it.."

It didn't take long for you two to arrive at Caleb's dorm. Feeling nervous as you try to calm yourself-- while Caleb on the other hand was all chill. You can't help but feel frustrated, can't even believe that you're going to loose your virginity to this man in front of you.

But what you didn't know, is that Caleb was more anxious than you. You both sat besides each other over the edge of his comfy bed as you clear your throat catching his attention.

"So what now...?"

"Right-- Uhm" Putting a hand over his nape as his usual sheepish attitude drains out of his body.

"...let's get naked first." It's rather a command than a question--Caleb nods at your words as he chuckle.

Pouting at him as your hand playfully pushed his face away from your direction "...I don't want you to look.." You confessed, face flustered making him smile as he hums.

"I'm still going to see you naked later, y'know that right?" He teased only for you to push him away more making him give up as you face his back.

Pursing your lips as you unbutton your top-- starting from the top to the button. Your eyes trailed to the figure in front of you-- Caleb removed his shirt in one go, revealing his well built back. And what got your attention was his muscular biceps. You can't help but stare at it but you were interrupted when you heard him talk.

"Like the view?" He chuckles, making you roll your eyes as you told him to shut up. As you finished unbutton your top, you slowly removed it from your body--leaving you just in your lacy bra hugging your plushed tits.

"Hey"

"Hm?" You hum. "Can I look?" Caleb asked, moving his head to the side a bit as he tried to get a glimpse of you behind. You quickly used your arms to hide your tits while glaring at him.

"You sound like a pervert"

"Come on, princess" He pleaded, Your gaze focused on his back as you sigh-- finally giving up as you removed your arms away from your chest. The man in front of you then quickly shifted his body to your direction-- now facing you as his eyes trailed on your plushed tits. His face flushed as he licked his lips-- letting out a soft chuckle while smiling.

"Wow....I couldn't tell at all that you're hiding something like these behind your clothes" He remarks, making you gulp as you sweat drop. "Is that so..." You mutter, lowering your head as your eyes focused on him.

Don't look at him with those eyes-- those doe innocent eyes of yours. Makes him want to bend you over and just fuck you on the spot.

Biting your lower lip as you both stare at each other. "Can..I touch them?" He asked, his hands clenching-- eager to touch your plushed tits. You nod at his words, he had to look at you again to make sure-- his hands tremble as he reached out to your tits in display.

Palm of his hands came in contact with your plushed tits as he gently massaged it-- he couldn't believe it, he's finally touching a literal tits right now. His gesture made your body squirm as you try to bit your lower lip to muffle your moans. Breathing softly as your hand reached behind your back to undo the hook of your bra. Unhooking it in one go as your bra fall from your shoulders as it spills out your bare tits to the male.

His hands continued to massage your tits, thumb toying your perked nipple as you let out a moan-- making him startle as he retrieved his hand.

"Ah- sorry" He apologize, you shook your head and reached out for his hand-- bring it back to your tits. "N-no...you can touch them however you like" You mutter, making Caleb gulp as he starts to feel heat gushing through his body. You're definitely putting fuel to the fire.

Caleb is anxious as he continued massaging your tits with both of his hands-- thumb rubbing circles and pinching your perked nipples earning sweet whimpers and moans from you. The sight makes his cock harden inside his pants-- he can't help but feel aroused seeing you so sensitive to his touch-- so needy.

Your soft moans occupied Caleb's mind-- your moans can't even compare to those erotic hentais he watched, yours is too hot-- like music to his ears. You blabber words at him but he's not listening at all-- too focused on fundling your tits.

You can't help but feel satisfaction that you're able to fill his thoughts-- smirking as you look at him with your hazy eyes. "Are they your satisfaction, miste--?" Your words were cut off when Caleb suddenly lounged at you and pinned you down over his bed. Both of his palm holds your wrists at both side as his soft lips latched onto your tits earning a yelp from you while you squirmed.

"W-wait-..Caleb--!" But he doesn't budge, continuing to suck your sensitive tits as his hot tongue swirls around your perked nipple making your toes curl. His other hand lets go of your left wrist as he reached out to your thigh and places it on the side of his hip. Positioning his hardened cock against your clothed pussy.

Feeling the arousal gushing through your aching pussy as you feel him grind his hardened bulge against your wet clothed pussy. Finally removing his hand from your other wrist as it moves to your left tit and massaged it while he sucked on the other one. Your hands run through his black lock and tried to push him away from your tits--but he wouldn't, still latching on it like a hungry mad man.

"Ngh-! Too much...C-Caleb....Caleb-!" You moan, as your hands cup his cheeks pushing his face away-- he finally gives up, earning a loud 'pop' when he pulls away from your perked tits. Cupping his cheeks as you can see drool from the side of his mouth making you grunt as you noticed how he filled your tits with his saliva.

"Please..." He pleads softly, rubbing his cheek against your palm like a cat begging its owner for food. His muscular arms sneaks behind your back as he wraps it around your waist-- burying his face against your tits. Where did the usual cocky Caleb go?

Letting a soft whimper as you feel him grind against your wet clothed pussy-- shamelessly. Caleb lift his head up as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

"Wanna put it in so bad....but..."

"I don't want to rush you" He exhales, while your heart flutters in awe. Caleb has always been prioritizing your needs other than his-- he wants to make you comfortable, he's not the type to rush you to do things. You flutter your lashes as you lean closer-- connecting your soft lips to his, Caleb melts against your warmth as he relaxes, continuing to grind slowly against you.

His hand reached to the waistband of your skirt along with your lacy panties as he slowly pulls it down-- discarding it on the floor. Pulling back from the kiss as you both pant-- your tongue sticking out as a string of saliva connects to both of your tongue. You're such a hot mess for Caleb-- it makes his cock twitch even more.

"So sensitive just for me...."

His fingers brushed away some strands of your hair from forehead-- you blink, noticing a wet patch on his gray sweats, your eyes then trailed on the visible bulge in front of you. Making your wet pussy twitch.

Caleb is not experienced--but he learned a lot from those hentai mangas he read. And of course a key to start off railing a girl aka his best friend is to penetrate their aching pussy first. He said to his mind.

While you on the other hand was eager-- already wanting to be dicked down by Caleb. Want him to stretch your virgin aching pussy so bad.

"Caleb"

"Yes, princess?"

"Please fuck me"

His brows raise in surprise as he looks at you "But, I need to penetrate you first-- it might hurt if we're going straight at it" He said, tone laced with worry. He feels like he's rushing you-- he doesn't want to.

Feeling embarrassed as you looked away "It's okay...I can handle it" You whisper, your cheeks flushed red. Caleb is having mixed feelings-- he never seen you so vulnerable, so submissive towards him. He can't help but want to abuse the control he has over you.

He clicks his tongue as he chuckled-- grabbing your hand and intertwined it with his, kissing the top of it as his eyes locked on yours.

"You're going to take it like a good girl." It wasn't a question-- your mind goes hazy, all you can think of is being intoxicated with the heat of both of your bodies. You flutter your eyes at him and nod-- following his order like a puppy.

He lets go of your hand and slowly pulls down his sweats-- leaving him with his boxers, you can't help but look at his visible bulge. Oh he's hard-- very hard. You gulped at the sight of it, noticing a wet patch on the part where his tip is-- already oozing pre-cum.

"Don't stare at me like that" He snorts, grabbing both of your thighs-- hands gripping the plushed flesh as he placed it on the side of his hips.

Pulling down his boxer as his hardened cock bounced up against his pelvis-- your eyes widened when you see his cock in display.

You felt embarrassed-- those rumors were indeed true. Caleb's cock is thick and long-- you can see visible veins lining while his angry red tip is already oozing cum.

"W-wait-!" You breathe out when you see him position his aching cock against your hardened clit.

You both locked eyes-- his eyes were filled with love and lust while he continued on rubbing circles against your hardened clit using his tip-- using the pre cum as a lubricant to make it slippery to rub on.

"Let me take care of you..." He muttered, rubbing his tip against your wet pussy lips-- smearing his cum all over it. Earning moans from you as your toes curl, feeling his gritty cock run against your folds to your hardened clit. It sends arousal to your throbbing wet pussy.

Caleb lets out soft grunts and moans as he holds his hardened cock with his palm, pumping it up and down while pressing it against your clit-- making your body twitch with every stroke.

He fastened his pace of rutting his aching cock against your hardened clit. "F-fuck-- I haven't even got inside of you..and I'm already a mess with just rubbing it against your pussy..." He growled, continuing to rut against you making your eyes roll as you felt the bed shaking.

Breathing heavily while you endure the friction against your hardened clit to your puffy slit--a drooling mess as he mixed his pre cum and your juices together and smearing it all over your poor pussy.

Feeling the arousal rising-- you can feel your climax taking over, too overstimulated as you're eager to cum. But just right after you felt the walls of your pussy throb as it ready to release--Caleb stopped rutting his angry tip against your hardened clit. Making you whine in return while you look at him with your glassy eyes.

"W-wha- why--,?" You complained, looking at him while he brushed some strands of his hair sticking out of his sweaty forehead. Panting heavily as his gaze towards you darkened. He lets out a husky chuckle while kneading the plush of your thigh with his hand.

"it'd be a waste if I'd cum outside, right? " He whispered, leaning close to you as your perked tits were pressed against his chest. Feeling his hot breathe against your skin-- making you hitch, your ears perked when you hear him reach out to your bag placed over the nightstand beside.

Even feeling intoxicated, you moved your head where his hand was reaching at-- you quickly grabbed it as you pull it away from your bag. Making Caleb confused as he breathes.

"What?" He stopped reaching out to the condom inside your bag-- you pulled his hand away as you guide it towards your lips. Placing kisses against his fingers with your soft lips while you look at him with your hazy eyes-- just filled with words unsaid. And for Caleb it just translates into "raw, next question"

The sight makes him aroused as he shook his head lightly. "Too impatient? Bad girls like you needs to be punished" He said-- voice low and husky as he slowly pulls away his hand from your grasp and pulls in down-- tracing your chin to your neck.

You bit your lower lip-- you try to hide the fact that you're getting more hornier seeing Caleb being so dominant towards you. But your fucked up face didn't helped. You yelped when you felt his veiny hand grab your neck as his grip tightens--not in a way that you couldn't breathe.

"I'll make sure to fuck you so good-- shit, even better than the ones I've read." He chuckles, making your mouth agape as he pressed your legs against your perked tits. His other hand holds his gritty cock as he positioned it against your drooling slit.

Your heart beats faster-- too anxious and aroused at the same time, while you wonder if his cock would even fit inside your tight little pussy. Too occupied with your thoughts, you suddenly felt him push hit tip inside your tight hole-- causing your eyes to widen as you let out a grunt.

"ngh-! I-i...I don't think it will fit--! Ah!" You moaned, feeling him force his tip to stretch out your tight hole. His hand tightened more around your neck as he chuckles."H-hah-- it's just the tip and you can't handle it?"

"fuck, I wonder what would it be like if I slam my whole cock inside?"

Tears stream down your cheeks while you drool. Seeing him having a hard time pushing his gritty cock inside your pussy--earning loud moans from you while you endure the way his tip is stretching your little hole.

"'ts hurt...s-so much.." You babble, as you bit your lower lip. Caleb pants, as he slowly pushed his gritty cock even more-- your tight hole finally swallowing his whole tip. Even with just the tip inside of you, makes Caleb want to cum and make a mess out of you.

"f-fuck--!"

It's so warm-- he feels like he's in a kiss of ecstasy. The way the walls of your warm tight pussy is hugging his tip so good while it throbs-- is such a euphoric feeling. Shit, he can't even describe what he's feeling right now, finally having to empty his balls in a literally pussy and not with those hentai mangas he reads.

You cried out while Caleb drill his gritty cock inside your warm tight pussy. Both of your bodies tremble, his hand finally letting go of your neck as it joins to hold both of your thighs together and pressed it against your tits. You finally exhales as you try to catch your breath-- hands gripping the covers of the bed tightly.

"nghhhh-! Hah- 'ts hurt so much, I can't-!"

"Fuck!" You screamed, feeling his whole cock slide inside of you so quick-- tears streamed even more as you cry out, grunting as you felt the pain of his gritty cock stretching your tight pussy so good. You drool as you try to process of what happened, feeling a hot liquid oozing out of your entrance.

"S-shit, tight hole finally swallowed me whole" he chuckles, eyes looking down at your pussy sucking him. Blood dripping out of your entrance--just like what he saw on every hentai mangas he read, a cherry pop. His hand reached for your clit as he rubbed circles against it-- making your legs tremble.

"'m gonna start movin', 'kay?" He muttered making you nod as you swallow your cries. He leans close to you-- kissing your forehead as brushed some strands of your hair away. Forehead against each other as his lips slammed to yours. Pulling you into a heated kiss--pushing his hot tongue inside your mouth, as he explored every part.

You moaned between the kiss as you feel him pump his gritty cock in and out of your tight pussy. He was only pushing a small distance inside your pussy--trying to stretch you slowly before he dicks you down for real. You swallow his cock so good, he can't help but grunt each time the walls of your warm pussy throbs--on how it hugs his fat cock so well.

Angry red tip kissing the lips of your womb as he continued on with his pace-- you felt a knot forming inside while gushing an upcoming climax thought your throbbing pussy.

Hot tongues dances and swirls with each other-- leaving you both in drooling mess while you suck on his tongue. This was different from the first kiss you two shared-- this isn't a small peck anymore this is one nasty heated make out.

Hot bodies against each other-- you can't feel your juices oozing out of your pussy as it soaks the covers of the bed, leaving a nasty mess under.

His thumb continued on rubbing your hardened clit-- using your juices as a lubricant for it to be slipper to move on. Your body twitches when you felt him pinched your clit, earning a soft whimper from you.

He pulls away from the kiss, smearing your drool to the side of your mouth while you pursed your lips. Just right after that you yelped as you felt him fastening his pace of fucking your tight pussy. You cried out, your hands wrapping around his chest while you dig your nails against the flesh of it-- earning a grunt from him.

"fuck-- ha- how d-does it feel? Seeing your best friend taking your virginity" He snickered, the fucking is so sloppy-- you hear the sound of your pussy slapping against his pelvis-- causing clap sounds.

"'ts so fuckin- hot- ngh-- dicking you down"

The gushing of your blood and juices mixed together as he fucks it back in-- you can feel your climax on its edge, ready to release. You babble nonsense while you cry against the crook of his neck. Sticky body against each other while he plants kisses over your face.

"cum--! Cumming-!" You screamed out, tightening your legs wrapped around his hips as Caleb continued to drill his cock inside of you relentlessly-- stretching your walls so good as his cock fills every part of it.

You bit down his neck and cried, releasing your high as it squirts against his cock and pelvis. Your pussy is definitely designed just to be a cocksleeve for his fat gritty cock.

"hah-...cum for me, pretty girl"

Poor you, your mind is occupied of Caleb's fat cock. It amuses him that you're a blabbering mess-- just letting out words like "too much, hurts, Caleb, Caleb, Caleb, cumming-, cum, Caleb" and he loves you for that. Because it means he dicking you down so good-- it made you feel like you're in cloud 9.

Caleb grunts as he felt your hot juices against his cock-- squirting endlessly as it drips down like a waterfall. He can feel your hot breathe against the crook of his neck while you sob, but he doesn't stopped there.

"d-dont be passing out-- h-hah..on me" He muttered, pulling out his whole cock out as he slams it back in-- he continues his rhythm as his fast pace remains unchanged. Fucking you like a dog in heat and like there's no tomorrow.

"no more-! Ngh-! Caleb--!"

He continued drilling his fat cock inside while your mind goes hazy as you feel like passing out. Caleb's breathing unsteadies, feeling his throbbing cock twitching inside of you as he pump it in and out-- he can feel his climax building up to his tip. His thumb pushed down his bulge against your stomach as he continues fucking you-- feeling his tip hit against the walls of your stomach.

The walls of your throbbing pussy tightened around his fat cock-- preparing for another release. He felt it too, causing him to let out a hoarse grunt as he continued to rut inside. "Fuck..fuck fuck-- I-I'm cumming, pretty girl"

"w-where-" Before he could finish his sentence you replied quick.

"I-inside!"

And with that, Caleb lets out a soft whimper-- shooting loads and loads of his thick hot cum inside your tight pussy, painting the walls white as he fucks it even more inside of your womb. Following, you release your high, squirting as it drips down out of your pussy--oozing along with his cum.

Caleb hugs you against him as his body trembles still shooting more loads inside your aching pussy as it tightens around his fat cock. You hugged him back, feeling you clench around him as your mind went blank--too cockdrunk to say anything as you let him be.

Let him give you a creamy creampie on your first sex.

He collapsed over your body, face against the crook of your neck as you felt his hot breathe against your skin. You squirmed as you felt his hot cum leaking out of your tight entrance--dripping down to your legs and to the covers of the bed.

Caleb looks over you as he caress your cheek, thumb brushing your eye as you closed your eyes--melting through his warmth while you softly sigh.

But oh...he's not done yet.

"Let's....hit it from the back. Want to see your ass clap, pretty girl.."

Don't worry, you'd get used to it. After all, that's what friends do.

This isn't proofread, sorry if there are mistakes T_T

masterlist

[sailorsoons]

Blood & Popcorn (l.c)

 Pairing: Lee Chan x f. Reader 

Summary: Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. It’s been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn. 

Word Count: 11,315

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff

Type: Smut 

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Literally so much misunderstanding and repressed feelings, pining, light themes of jealousy, recreational drinking, recreational weed use, bad communication skills, some mild insecurities, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (do not do this lmaooo), nipple stim, light teasing, oral (f. receiving), clumsy/playful sex, jokes/banter while fucking. They’re both down horrendous. Joshua as an almost love interest. Jeonghan is both terrible and great at advice.Alternating POVs and some time skips. 

A/N: This was originally posted on my old blog, and is being reposted to celebrate Valentine's Day! Enjoy Chan and Bambi the way god intended.

A/N 2: Thank you to @daechwitatamic who beta read this and who this was dedicated to!   

Main Masterlist | Permanent Tag List| Ask | Read Next

“So why not Blood and Pizza if pizza is always involved but popcorn isn’t?” Mingyu eyes the french fries on your plate. You give him a warning glance, pointing the sharp tines of your fork at him. He retreats, leaning against the cracked vinyl of the booth, pouting. “Also, the title sounds gross.”

“Good thing it has nothing to do with you then.” 

“Wow, you’re not even going to invite me?” 

“No,” you chirp, popping a shoestring fry into your mouth. You savor the saltiness, humming delightedly. “It’s for me and Chan. Not me, Chan and you. Plus, you know nothing about Buffy.” 

“Isn’t that a magic dragon? And are you sure you two aren’t dating?” 

The look you send Mingyu makes him hold up his hands in surrender. It isn’t the first time someone has asked if you and Chan are dating, and you know it won’t be the last. You don’t want to start down that avenue tonight, trying to navigate the questions of why and well you seem to be a good match. 

If romantic relationships were started over simply having things in common and matching a vibe, you and Chan would have started dating a long time ago. But you’re not, and you’ve already gotten over the fact that you’re not dating and that you will not start dating.

Mostly. 

The bell rings above the diner door, drawing your attention. Like he’s been manifested by Mingyu’s dangerous question, Chan spots you and lifts a hand, a smile splitting his face as he heads over. You scoot over in the booth, dragging your plate along with you to make room for him. 

Chan is dressed in jeans and a green sweater, your favorite color on him. He sits down next to you, cushioned seat dipping a little as he leans over to kiss the top of your head and steal fries off of your plate. You let him, feeling heat flush up the side of your neck as you look anywhere but Mingyu’s accusatory stare.

“These are so good,” Chan says around a mouthful of fries. “Thanks, Bambi.”

You grin at the nickname, trying not to flush too hard. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Mingyu says pointedly. You ignore him, shoving your burger in your mouth. “Apparently I’m not allowed fries or to attend your movie night.”

“Order your own fries,” Chan says. 

“Ugh. I already ate mine.”

“So order more, idiot. And of course you’re not invited to Blood and Popcorn. That’s our thing.” 

Our thing. 

The corner of your mouth twitches as you glance at Chan. He doesn’t notice, catching the eyes of the server and waving happily, giving her a broad smile. She gives him a thumbs up in return, confirming she’ll put in his usual now that he’s there. 

There are a lot of things that belong to you and Chan. Studying at the very diner you were sitting in during freshman year had been one of them, though now in your final year there’s not as much of a need to study and you’ve incorporated other friends in your late night trips for grease and calories. 

You also shared trivia nights on Tuesdays with Vernon and Seungkwan, football Sundays with Seungcheol, Mingyu and Jeonghan, once a month family dinners with everyone, and most importantly, Blood and Popcorn. 

Chan steals another fry off of your plate and you let him, leaning back in the booth. Mingyu glares daggers at you, dark eyes flicking from your plate, to you, to Chan. You grin around a mouthful of cheeseburger and he scoffs before looking away. 

Behind you, Chan’s arm stretches across the back of the booth, just barely brushing against the top of your shoulders. Your stomach flips a little, momentarily elated at the contact before you swallow it down with Sprite, pretending it wasn’t there in the first place. 

The two boys immediately fall into a conversation about their shared engineering class. You tune it out easily, a learned habit over the last four years of having to listen to Chan tell you the functions of a bridge and the best way to design one. Instead, you focus on the rise and fall of Chan’s soft voice and the way it lulls you into a state of calm. 

When the server brings over his order, he pulls his arm from over the back of the seat. Immediately you snatch one of the onion rings from his basket, popping one into your mouth and hissing as the crispy snack burns you. He shakes his head, laughing as he gives you a napkin while you sputter.

“Careful, Bambi,” he murmurs. “They’re literally steaming.” 

Mingyu reaches for an onion ring, only to be threatened with the blunt end of Chan’s steak knife. “Don’t even think about it.”

“But she-”

“Bambi has special privileges,” Chan quips. “Order yourself some more fries for the love of God. I’ll pay for them.” 

Mingyu immediately stops whining, mood improving markedly as he orders fries, wiggling in his seat happily. Chan cuts his burger in half, asking, “Why were you talking about Blood and Popcorn anyway?” 

“Shua asked Bambi out on a date,” Mingyu answers around a mouthful of fries. “She told him she couldn’t go because of Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan stops eating and looks at you, brows creasing. You feel your heart rate speed up as you kick Mingyu under the table. He yelps, knee jerking upward to slam against the underside of the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattle in place as Mingyu bends over to rub his shin. 

“He didn’t ask me out on a date.”

“He asked you to dinner!”

“As friends!”

“Oh yeah,” Mingyu snorts, rolling his eyes. “Friends take friends to fucking prime steakhouses. He asked you out on a date.” 

For a moment, silence envelops the table. You stare at your fries, watching Chan out of your periphery. He looks away from you, wiping the grease from his fingers onto the napkin. The air feels pregnant with tension suddenly, your anxiety bubbling as you open your mouth to assert once more it wasn’t a date.

Chan beats you to breaking the silence, “We can skip this Friday so you can go!”

You open and close your mouth a few times, heart dropping to your ass. “What?”

“It’s totally fine if we have to skip. I don’t mind.” 

Chan picks his burger back up, not looking at you. Heart pounding in your chest, you can’t help but watch him in total silence, trying to string together a response. Sure, maybe Chan doesn’t mind if you miss your weekly solo hangout. But you care. 

The ache of the implication cuts you suddenly, a delayed reaction. You feel your throat tighten painfully, reaching for your Sprite to try and swallow past the sudden tension. It does nothing to quell the way the casual dismissal of your tradition keeps cutting you long after he’s said the words, sawing down to the bone. 

“I wasn’t aware that we could just skip Blood and Popcorn, I guess.” 

“I mean if you’ve got a date.” 

That’s not the point, you want to scream at him. 

Chan is a lot of things. Perceptive isn’t one of them. If he had been, you know he would have sniffed out your feelings for him a long time ago. Luckily for you, he’s remained completely oblivious over the last four years of your friendship, and you like to keep it that way. Keep it safe. 

Nothing ruins a friendship more than unrequited romance. You know that from more than just the media you consume - you’ve seen more than once first hand when one friend catches feelings for the others but the desire isn’t mutual. 

It isn’t mutual here. It’s always been very clear where Chan’s interests lie, and you’re totally fine with that. You accept the relationship that you have happily and quietly, and thought moments like are a brutal reminder of where you stand, it’s alright because you also love your friendship. More than you love him - at least, you think so. 

So when Chan so easily suggests to go on a date, to cancel your thing with him to accommodate, you know it isn’t because he doesn’t care. He just thinks that you should go on a date because it doesn’t occur to him that the real reason you don’t want to is because your interests are somewhere else. That you don’t want to cancel Blood and Popcorn because it’s for the two of you and no one else. 

“Yeah,” you rasp, unsure what else to say. “Um, maybe.” 

“Shua is a good guy.” 

“Yeah. Yeah he is.” 

Mingyu and Chan go back to their conversation about class. You finish your meal in silence, leaning back against the seat as your thoughts wander listlessly. You gaze around the diner, drinking in detail as their conversation becomes background noise and you can no longer understand what they’re saying. 

Rounders Diner had been a staple in the college community long before you were born, and continues to be the center for academic life. Students fill the booths sipping on milkshakes as they cram for exams or homework, night shift workers sit at the countertop and order coffee before heading to work, and the jukebox in the corner glows neon, only offering a selection of music from the 50s. 

Behind the countertop is an open scratch kitchen, the sound of sizzling grease and yelled orders bracketing an Elvis song you know the words to but don’t know the name of. Black and white tile flooring with years worth of scuffs reflect the canned lighting in the ceiling. Over near the entrance is a wall covered in pictures of students of note throughout the years. 

You remember the first time Chan had hauled you to Rounders. It was the first day you’d met, two freshmen absolutely terrified of the world after experiencing two back to back intro courses together. The dining hall was on the opposite side of campus from your classes, but Chan had insisted there was a diner just off the corner that everyone said was a necessary experience. 

He was the first real friend you made. Your roommates had become your best friends too, Lorna and Mai splashed across almost every memory you have of college. But that first day is only colored with Chan, who had slid into the seat across from you and looked around the diner with a bright grin like he was suddenly at home. 

Wanna start coming here after class? 

You did. And you had. 

A hand waves in front of your face, making you blink several times before Chan’s face swims into focus. Your thoughts are a little delayed as you drink him in: dark hair framing dark, angular eyes that turn molten brown when the sun hits them just right, a jawline that has turned sharper as he’s aged, though his cheeks still have a youthful softness that you adore, and a grin that makes the world dim. 

“What?” you ask him, totally at a loss for words. 

He laughs and you feel the corners of your lips turn upward, an automatic response to his mirth. “I asked if you were ready to go.” 

You look up to see Mingyu at the register, passing over the bill and a card. “I think I spaced out. I thought you were buying him fries?”

He snorts. “Never fear, it’s my card. Everything okay?” 

You hesitate. Not for the first time, the urge to spill your guts to him grips you so forcefully that you almost do right in the middle of Rounders. Almost tell him everything from start to finish, the feelings, the reason you don’t want to date Joshua, how beautiful you think Chan is-

Mingyu starts heading back and you force a grin on your face, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Of course. A little tired, though. Thanks for dinner.” 

“You know I’ve got you.” He gets up from the booth and holds his hand out to you. “Always.” 

-

Chan is the stupidest fucking person he knows. He lets out a loud scream into the warmth of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays face down in his bed. His arms are shoved under the pillow, fisting in his sheets as the long-winded scream finally begins to die out. 

“Yes, that is healthy,” Seungkwan calls from Chan’s desk against the window. “Let the pillow know everything that you’re feeling.” 

Scowling, Chan lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at where Seungkwan is sitting. His roommate is hunched over Chan’s laptop, a document open on the screen as he clicks around rapidly, cursing under his breath. 

“Why are you in here again?”

“My literature professor is a dinosaur,” Seungkwan answers. “And only accepts printed essay submissions.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No, I mean you don’t have your own printer?” 

“No, and I will not be paying thirty cents a paper for an essay that is almost thirty pages long.” 

“That’s like, nine dollars dude. Also, why is your essay thirty pages long?”

“Ask the dude who wrote Beowulf.” 

“Isn’t that like… a movie?” 

Seungkwan mutters something under his breath. The printer chimes, followed by a mechanic whirring as the paper feeds into the machine and starts printing. Spinning in the chair, Seungkwan looks at where Chan is still laying stomach down, face squished against his pillow as he cradles it. 

“Speaking of movies - are you having Blood and Popcorn here or at Bambi’s?” 

Chan can’t help but smirk at the nickname. It had stuck ever since your freshman year when you’d called Rin Hartford a bambi-eyed bitch for saying nasty things to Mingyu. He thinks that night might be the night he realized he was absolutely head over heels for you, even if he had only known you for two weeks then. 

Despite your quiet disposition, you’ve always been the epitome of bravery. He can’t recall a time that you haven’t said what you meant or meant what you said, and defending your friends and speaking up has always been paramount to you. 

For someone like Chan who was often the youngest and the softest spoken in any group he was in, you were a breath of fresh air. And you’ve taught him to speak up for himself, letting him grow comfortable pushing back with people - especially his friends - and how to give back what he gets. 

Corrupted, Seungcheol joked once. She corrupted him and taught him how to bully us back. 

“I’m not really sure,” Chan says slowly, thinking about your conversation at the diner, the exact source of his pillow-scream. “We might not be doing it.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise. We’re just friends.” 

“That’s the trouble I’m talking about, brother.” Seungkwan turns around to start collecting the pages out of the printer. “Is the Blood and Popcorn cancellation the reason for your pillow screaming?” 

“I don’t know that it’s canceled.” 

“That really clarifies the issue.”

Chan scowls. “Did you know Shua was into her?” 

“Uh, yeah.”

“He asked her on a date.”

“Joshua must have got tired of waiting for you to make a move on Bambi. I guess he decided you weren’t going to.” 

Chan frowns and sits up. He didn’t realize Joshua remotely had a thing for you, and while Chan adores the older member of their larger friend group, the thought of him taking you to dinner - a date - makes his stomach tighten. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Seungkwan clarifies. “That you have had the last four years to nut up or shut up. Everyone has waited for you to make your move on Bambi and you haven’t. If you’re not going to do it, someone else might as well.” 

“I mean, anyone could ask her out. It’s not like I have-”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t have dibs. Dibs can be unspoken, Chan. You’ve been in love with that girl since freshman year, if you think people - especially our friends - cannot tell and don’t respect you enough to give you time to ask her out, you need to wake up.” 

“It’s that obvious?” 

“Not to her, clearly.” Seungkwan stands and grins at Chan placidly, his essay collected in his hands. “Fortunately for you, the only person who is as dumb as you are is Bambi. Match made in heaven, really.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. That offers a little bit of relief. He doesn’t like knowing that his feelings are so obvious to everyone else, but at least you don’t know. He cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would make your friendship dynamic knowing he was mooning over you while you just saw him as a friend. 

“Well, she doesn’t feel that way about me. I’m not going to confess my unrequited feelings and put her in that position to deal with them. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Seungkwan gives Chan a slow blink, smile turning plastic. “Like I said. Match made in heaven.” 

Heaving a sigh, Chan throws himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Chan was certainly an idiot for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason has to be the way he has let his feelings for you fester since freshman year. Instead of implementing preventative maintenance, he’s let the problem grow to the point that his friends are no longer waiting for him to do something about it. 

The window of opportunity is gone. 

Not that there was a window of opportunity to begin with. Chan has seen what it looks like when you’re interested in guys - dazed eyes, a little flustered, a tiny grin on your face. You’ve never looked at him that way. At least, not really like that. You smile at him all the time, but it’s different. 

If he had the slightest indication you looked at him like you were interested, he’d have spilled his feelings a long time ago. Hiding this from you feels almost like a violation of friendship, but in order to preserve the friendship and keep you comfortable, he does what he must. 

The memory of him telling you to go on a date with Joshua makes him  groan in embarrassment. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his lids. It had been a knee jerk response, something to distract you from the immediate jealousy and panic he’d felt that moment that Mingyu had dropped that bit of information at the table.

Mingyu. That motherfucker did it on purpose - not to rile Chan, but to try and  give him a kick in the ass toward the right direction. But like everyone else, Mingyu doesn’t get it. If Chan told you how he felt just to get it off of his chest, it would be putting his burden on you. You’d be the one who had to feel guilty for it being unrequited, you’d be the one who would inevitably feel uncomfortable or out of place. 

No. It would be the highest form of selfishness he can think of, offloading the heavy weight of his feelings just to give them to you as a reprieve from carrying them around so long. 

Chan blinks away the swimming colors, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom again. He can hear Seungkwan singing somewhere in the apartment, liquid voice calming even in Chan’s mild state of distress. 

Joshua is a good guy. Honestly, there are only a few guys that Chan knows who would make a suitable partner for you, and he begrudgingly acknowledges that Joshua is at the top of that list. And yet he still feels a twist of self-loathing that he had pushed you so quickly towards it, the regret like bile in his stomach. 

The last thing Chan wants to do is skip Blood and Popcorn this week. It is the one guaranteed day of uninterrupted time with you, and he waved it away like it meant nothing to him, which could not be farther from the truth. The nights of watching Buffy and eating pizza and sometimes popcorn mean everything to him. 

He just wishes he had been brave enough to stand his ground. 

-

Maybe Joshua Hong is the worst person ever. Chan dismisses the irrational thought as soon as he has it. Joshua isn’t awful at all. It’s just that he’s leaning in toward you and saying something into your ear over the loud din of the party, and Chan watches the way you nod. 

Crack. The plastic cup in his hand splits and immediately spills rum and coke all over the kitchen floor. Jeonghan starts yelling at him, ripping paper towels off of the roll and throwing them in Chan’s direction. He mutters an apology, gaze drifting over the kitchen counter to the living room where you’re laughing, head tilted back, warm light splaying across your throat-

“Ya! Don’t just let it pool at your feet!”

Jeonghan’s screech brings Chan back to life. He snatches the copious amounts of paper towels Jeonghan has thrown at him and starts to soak up the drink. The tile floor is already sticky and Chan cringes. No way have either Jeonghang or Seungcheol cleaned this floor any time recently. If anything, Chan has done it a favor. 

The party is in full swing around him. He stands up with the soaked paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash and grabbing more while Jeonghan digs underneath the counter. Chan finishes soaking up the spilled drink and comes eye to eye with a new set of paper towels and spray cleaner. 

Chan gives Jeonghan the soaked papers. “Jeonghan, your floor is already disgusting.”

“Then you should have no problem cleaning it!” 

“Sure, Mom.” 

“Don’t call me that!”

He rolls his eyes but does what Jeonghan says, spraying the area quickly and pressing down the paper towels. They come away sticky and black, making him cringe in disgust before tossing them out and washing his hands. As he turns off the faucet, Jeonghan has the decency to hand him a new drink.

Chan takes it without comment, the image of Joshua leaning into you a little too much for him to deal with right now. He drains the cup, sputtering a little. Jeonghan is a heavy pour and the spiced rum goes down rough, his eyes tearing just a little as he finishes the drink. 

“Well, that’s one way to stop from spilling.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a look before reaching for the mixer and handle of rum again. “You do normally drink like a fish, but anything in particular driving tonight’s thirst?” 

“Nope.”

“Right, so it’s not tall, dark and handsome hanging out with Bambi?”

Chan feels his eye twitch as he heavily pours the liquor into his cup. “Nope. And Joshua isn’t even that tall.” 

“Taller than you.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a venomous look. His face is beatific, grin a little bit dangerous as he holds his hands up in a white flag. “You look pretty bothered. If only there were a way to fix that.” Chan looks at Jeonghan with wide eyes, hope surging for a moment. “Just tell her you like her.” 

“Why is that the only advice any of you have?”

“Because it’s the only advice I have. Either tell her or get over your feelings. Those are your options.” 

“And I’ve already told you, it would just make her uncomfortable. It’s not her burden to bear.” 

Jeongan taps his fingers on the countertop, studying Chan. Chan pouts into his cup, taking long draughts, trying not to cringe at the strong taste. He can already sense the oncoming buzz and he welcomes it, needing a little something to distract him from the obvious elephant in the living room. 

“Alright,” Jeognhan relents. “Then deal with the consequences and get over your feelings.” 

And he will. Chan has always been good at dealing with the repercussions of hiding his feelings, and he does them well. So he tips back the cup and rejoins the party, nerves steeled and ready to deal with the consequences like his friends keep telling him to. 

-

“What?” you asked, lifting your voice to be heard over the rowdy game of cards at the coffee table. Joshua had asked you something but the words had been lost on you as your gaze drifted to Chan where he was leaning against the wall, talking to a girl you didn’t know. He was leaning awfully close. “I didn’t catch that.” 

Joshua smiles. He really is handsome, and everything someone could want in a partner. He’s kind and gentle, has a little bit of an insane streak, and he is incredibly intelligent and loyal. So why do you feel nothing when he grins at you or laughs? 

Your eyes drift over to Chan again and you feel your stomach flip. The alcohol turns to lead. The girl Chan is speaking to is so close to him, both of them turned toward one another as he ducks his head down to say something to her. She laughs and he smiles, looking her up and down.

Jealousy swallows you whole. It roars so loudly in your ears that you almost miss Joshua’s question again. “Did you give any thoughts about dinner on Friday?” 

Dinner? Friday? Oh right. He had asked you to dinner on Friday, but you’d declined due to your planned Blood and Popcorn night. With Chan. Who is flirting with the girl next to him, who is flirting back. 

The jealousy feels like a raw, rotten thing. It turns the alcohol in your stomach sour, makes the sweat on the back of your neck feel too much, like the room is too loud and too full. Even as the envy rears its head, an ugly beast ready to unleash, you turn to Joshua and say, “I really can’t. Friday nights are really important to me.” 

Joshua looks disappointed, but he’s polite enough to nod and smile. “I understand. Maybe a different night?”

“Um, maybe. Would you excuse me? I really need some air.” 

You stand abruptly, starling the people next to you. The cup in your hand shakes a little and your throat constricts and oh god. You cannot cry in the middle of a party just because you’re a little buzzed and the boy you like is across the room with another girl. 

“Do you want me to-”

“No!” You quip, shaking your head. “Totally fine, I’m so fine, I just need some air. Please! Sit! Stay!” 

Joshua raises his eyebrows at your frantic commands and you give a laugh that is a little on the hysterical side as you step over the legs of people sitting on the floor and on the couch. Joshua calls after you as you make the escape but you don’t turn around, eager to get out of the room. 

You trip over someone’s foot and nearly launch into a passerby as you go. Strong hands steady you before you totally topple over, though your drink sloshes over the edge of your cup, spilling it on the carpet. 

“What is it with you and your other half?” You look up to realize that it’s Jeonghan who stabilized you. “Spilling drinks all over my damn floor!”

“It probably helps. Your floors are disgusting.”

“Ya! That’s beside the point - why do you look like you’re about to die?”

“I feel like I might. I need fresh air.”  For a moment, Jeonghan looks confused. You watch his dark brows pull together and he looks over your head, dark gaze scanning for something. For Chan, you realize. It’s usually Chan who leaves with you if you need air or need to stick your head in a bucket to vomit. The realization hits you like a brick. “Not him,” you whisper. “I’m fine.” 

Your words land at the same time Jeonghan focuses in the direction you’d last seen Chan. He holds you there, suspended in time for a moment as his eyes dart between you and back to where you know Chan is still leaning against the wall. 

There is a flicker of something that you cannot place in Jeonghan’s gaze before it softens and he nods. He pulls you toward him and helps guide you around the groups of people. “Fresh air it is.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“I don’t know, crying alone is kind of lame, Bambi.”

Cool air hits you the second you step onto the porch. Soonyoung is sitting on the railing with Jihoon and Vernon leaning next to him. He waves enthusiastically when he sees you, breaking out into a grin and lifting the joint between his fingers, an offer. You shake your head and he shrugs, passing it to Vernon who lifts a hand in salute. 

The smell of weed chases you down the grass slope of Jeonghan’s backyard. It’s not so much a backyard as it is open to the apartment community’s lake. The spray of the fountain grows louder as the sounds of the party fade. 

Jeonghan sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands. You join him, cringing at the dampness from the dewey grass. Taking in a deep breath you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting the wind cool the sweat on your overheated skin. The breeze mists the fountain, tiny specks of water tingling on your face as you sit in silence. 

Behind your lids, you can see the image of Chan leaning in toward that girl. The intimacy of the space. You hate how you can recall it in such detail - you’d always been able to remember details where Chan was involved. Like the way he was wearing a black, long-sleeved tee that pulled against his chest and arms perfectly, or the way the necklace you bought him two years ago glinted in the light of the living room, or the way-

“I did it to myself, huh?” you ask, feeling the first tear collect on your lash line. You tilt your head upward, trying to blink it rapidly away. “I could have just told him a while ago.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re entirely responsible,” Jeonghan mutters. “Look, putting your heart on your sleeve is really scary, especially when it’s to someone you really value. But you have to decide what to do. You can either tell Chan you love him or you can decide to get over it. You can’t cling to unspoken feelings, though.”

“I just… I don't feel like he returns the feelings and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Then get over him.” You snap your gaze at Jeonghan, who is looking at you with the cool and calm you wish you felt. “If you’re unwilling to be honest with him, then your option is to get over it.” 

“Do you think he would… react poorly?”

“Of course not, but I will not speak to all of Chan’s feelings. Those are his to share, not mine, and I believe in the sanctity of acting on one’s own.”

“You sound so… saintly.”

“Dealing with all your problems has turned me into a saint. Do you know what it’s like being therapy to all of these damn people? You all take ‘door open’ a little too seriously.”

You laugh, feeling a little lighter. Pulling at the grass, you sigh. “You’re right, though. I either need to just tell him or let it go. I can’t just… suffer.”

“If only you’d come to that conclusion a while ago.”

“Bleh.” 

Fresh air and the weight of Jeonghan’s words weigh down on you. You know that he’s right. Though you’re confident that Chan doesn’t return your feelings, you don’t explicitly know because you’ve never asked. And if you never ask, you’ll never know. 

Calm settles over you as you decide your course of action. Blood and Popcorn is in two days - you can bring it up then. 

Nodding to yourself, you pluck more grass out of the ground. “Alright,” you tell Jeonghan, heaving a sigh. “Thanks, Mom.” 

“Ugh, you two! Don’t call me that!”

-

Hands shaking, you stare at your phone. You’ve had two days to mentally prepare for this evening and yet when you look at your phone, you think two days was not remotely enough to prepare for this evening. You haven’t spoken to Chan at all about what time you want to have your weekly hangout, but that’s not unusual. 

The only thing unusual is your hesitation to hit the call button and ask what time he wants to come over. It’s such a simple thing - you don’t need to confess your feelings to him right now. But the anticipation of what inviting him over means and the possible disaster it can bring makes your fingers shaky. 

Instead of hitting dial, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly. In slowly again, and-

Your phone starts ringing before you can finish the exhale. Your heart pounds in your throat when you see Chan’s name flash across your screen. For a few seconds there is pure panic, but you manage to collect yourself and slide your thumb across the screen. It takes a few tries, your hands clammy with anxiety as you answer. 

“Hi!”

“Don’t kill me,” Chan immediately says on the other side of the line. You pause, cocking your head. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“I have to raincheck on Blood and Popcorn tonight.”

“Oh no, are you sick? Do you need me to bring anything over? Is Seungkwan-”

Chan laughs on the other side of the phone and your stomach flutters helplessly. You hear the creak of bed springs and you know he’s sitting on his bed. He has the world’s creakiest bed. “I’m not sick.”

“Oh.” 

You frown, sitting down on your couch and folding your legs. There’s nothing else you can think of that Chan would cancel Blood and Popcorn for, so illness had seemed like the first rational thing. You feel a little embarrassed at immediately trying to take care of him, but push it away to ask, “What’s up?” 

“I have a date. Tonight is the only night she was available for like two weeks. She’s in her first year of law school so her availability sucks.” 

It feels like the air vanishes from the room. You lean back against the backrest on the couch, deflated. You hold the phone to your ear, but don’t feel the weight of it in your hand. The TV across the living room becomes a blur, the muted program in the background unrecognizable. 

A date. Chan has a date. That he’s willing to cancel your night for. 

You think back to that night at the diner when he told you to just go out with Joshua instead of doing Blood and Popcorn. How easily he pushed it aside. Like it was unimportant. Easily missed. 

“Bambi?” Chan’s voice sounds distant through the roar of your emotions. “You there? The cell service in your apartment is so shitty.” 

“I’m here.” 

“Oh good. Sorry to miss, please don’t kill me. We can add two days of Blood and Popcorn next week to make up for it?”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah.” 

There’s a pause. “Are you okay?”

“Definitely.” Lie. “Sorry, I just woke up from a nap and I’m a little spacy.” Lie. “No problems here. I’m not mad. Enjoy your date.” Lie. 

“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes after!” 

“For sure.” 

When Chan hangs up the phone, you think that Jeonghan was right. Crying alone is lame. 

-

Chan can’t do this. 

Sol isn’t the problem - at least not directly. She is beautiful and funny, sharp as a whip and has an edge to her that he loves in women. She is successful, has goals, and she’s sensible. And she’s into him, which is perhaps the biggest plus of all. 

But she isn’t you. Sol’s biggest problem is that she’s not you, and it’s not really her problem at all. It is Chan’s and Chan’s alone, and he cannot sit through this date anymore. He’s tried for the last hour already, asking all of the right questions and laughing at all the right places, but he cannot stop the way he wonders if you’re watching buffy. He cannot help but wonder if you’re in those expensive pajamas you like, drinking inexpensive wine from the corner story, his favorite contrast. 

Chan cannot stop thinking that his button up is a little too tight on his chest and the uncomfortable way his new shoes rub his ankle. He’d rather be in a tee and shorts, freshly showered and stretched out. He cannot stop blinking his eyes, hating the way one of his contacts is irritating him, wishing instead to be in glasses and the lowlight of your apartment. 

From the moment he ended that call with you to cancel Blood and Popcorn, all he’s felt is dread. Dread for the upcoming date with someone he should be excited about, dread for telling you how it goes, dread for having to be in public with people and to get to know someone, dread at what happens at the end of the date, does he have to kiss her? Does he have to go get ice cream? What does he do-

“Are you okay?” Sol’s raspy voice draws him from his thoughts - not for the first time that night. She’s leaning back in her seat, dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She is as sharp as she is beautiful, and normally someone like Sol would make him trip over his feet. “You zoned out.”

“I apologize, that was rude of me.”

“It was,” she agrees. She swirls the wine in her glass, looking him up and down before giving him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t be offended if you want to call this off early.” 

“What?”

“You’re not interested,” she asserts. Confident. Self-assured. “It’s totally okay if it’s not working for you.” 

Heat crawls up the side of Chan’s neck. He runs his sweaty palms over his slacks. “I am so sorry,” he says earnestly. “This sounds so stupid to say, but it is me, it isn’t you.”

“No offense, but I know. You’ve been distracted since we got here. You obviously have something or someone else on your mind.” 

“That easy to read, huh?”

“Open book. I have some pride, though. Let’s pay the bill?”

“I’m sorry.”

Her grin is polite. Understanding. “Don’t be. You’re cute and nice, but I cannot suffer knowing your mind isn’t on me.” 

“Understandable.” 

Chan knows he’s lucky. Anyone else a little less level-headed or less confident might have made him suffer. As it is, Sol does let him suffer a little, sliding the bill over to him with a knowing grin. He likes Sol - not like he likes you, but she’s good people. 

“Promise me one thing?” Sol asks before ducking into her Uber. “It’ll help my pride.”

“Sure.”

“Go spend the rest of the evening with whoever it is and make sure you tell them how you feel. It’ll be worth it, that way.”

Chan grins. “Alright. I promise.”

And he does intend to hold to that promise. Something about tonight is different. He can feel it as he walks quickly to his car, undoing the top button of his shirt as he goes. The air is crisp and there are still a few streaks of orange in the night sky, the sun long gone. 

Chan calls you as he turns his car onto the road, heading toward your apartment on the northside of down. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel, buzzing with nervous and excited energy as the line rings. When you don’t pick up, he ends the call. 

Jeonghan was right - he usually is. Chan could either tell you how he feels or live with the consequences, and he’s decided he cannot live with the consequences. He cannot sit across the table from someone who isn’t you and pretend that he isn’t wondering what you’re doing. He cannot look at the curve of someone else’s mouth and wonder what it would be like if it were yours. 

The date had been spurred by the intense wave of jealousy and inadequacy he felt at Jeonghan’s party when he saw you sitting on the couch with Joshua. He has no idea how else he would have had the confidence to start chatting up someone as commanding as Sol, but he was powered by rum and a wounded heart. 

Stupid. It was stupid, he realizes now. He has been stupid so many times regarding you and for long enough that even Joshua, the most polite of his friends, felt like they could respectfully intercept you, now. 

Well, perhaps you will choose Joshua instead. Chan is fine with that. What you want has always been paramount to him. But if you choose Joshua, it will be with the knowledge that Chan loves you and he always has. 

Steeling himself, he gets out of the car at your apartment complex and looks up at the building. He can see the lights on in your living room, confirming you’re still home and probably watching Buffy. The thought sends a thrill through him and he smiles, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

“You’ve got this, Lee Chan,” he tells himself. “You’ve got this.” 

-

A loud knock on your door startles you. You finish blowing your nose in the issue, trying to suck up the rest of your tears. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater - Chan’s sweater - over your hands, you wipe your face with sweater paws, trying to erase some evidence of your tears before having to face the delivery person. 

Grabbing the bills on the counter, you wonder how many people delivering food have seen people answer the door while crying or immediately after crying. Honestly, they’ve probably seen all types of strange situations, which makes you feel a little bit about answering the door after very clearly sobbing. 

Unlatching the top and flipping the deadbolt, you yank the door open, prepared to not make eye contact to make it a little less awkward for you and the person just trying to hand you pizza and soda, except- 

“Chan?” 

It is Chan standing outside of your door. You blink in surprise, giving him a quick once over. He looks really nice, dressed in slacks and a black button up shirt that is a little too tight across the chest - not that you’re complaining - and the top of the buttons undone to reveal the necklace you gifted him. His dark hair has styling product in it, pushing it out of his face, save for a small rebel strand that hangs over his eyebrow. 

Chan looks… beautiful. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, face swollen from crying, nose a little snotty and looking worse for wear. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Why are you crying?” 

Chan pushes his way into your apartment and you let him, dropping your arm as he passes by. He shuts the door for you, flipping the latch and lock out of habit as he turns to you. He reaches out to grab you by the shoulders but you back up a little, suddenly terrified of his touch. 

He notices. “Why are you crying?” he asks again, dark brows knitted and mouth twisted in a frown. “Talk to me.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” 

“Left early, wasn’t working. What’s going on?” 

You swallow thickly, realizing you’re at a crossroads. Silence stretches between you as he waits for your answer, looking at you with so much concern that you begin to crack. The tension in your throat returns, the telltale sign of tears and you ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.

A torrent of feelings bombard you. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Relief. Hurt again. 

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn.” 

Chan opens and closes his mouth, head cocking to the side a little bit. He looks mystified, trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “I don’t understand.”

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn for something else. For someone else.” 

“I-” 

A series of emotions flit over his face. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you watch each one, trying to catch them as they go. Confusion. Thoughtfulness. Confusion. Realization. You watch as he drinks you in, the tears, the wet stains from crying on the shirt, your words. Slowly, Chan puts the pieces together for the entire picture, and his face becomes so soft that you nearly cringe. 

“Oh, Bambi.” 

“You can date whoever you want, you’re not mine,” you punch out, wiping a tear as it escapes your eye. Feeling small, you back away from him a little, breaking eye contact. “But it hurts when you shove me aside like that. Look, I know we’re friends, but-”

“Bambi,” he says gently. You’re not looking at him, but you know that tone. The pleading. He’s begging you to stop, you think, but if you don’t get this out now you never will. 

“Blood and Popcorn is important to me. You’re important to me. I know you’ve never seen me as more than a friend, but Chan-”

Chan interrupts you again. This time though, it’s by crashing against you. You nearly topple over onto the coffee table with the force of it, but you cling to him, digging your hands into the meat of his biceps to hold yourself to him. His hands press into the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity to you that you can’t pay any attention to, because Chan presses his mouth against yours softly, stealing all of your thoughts.

For a second, your brain goes static. You’re so stunned you don’t do anything but cling to him, vacantly aware that the softness of his lips are on yours. Tentative. Questioning. 

Chan pulls away and your eyes flutter open. He is only an inch away from your face, his minty breath fanning your lips as he begins to apologize, panic on his face. You interrupt him this time, surging forward to crash your lips to his, far less gentle than he had been the first time. 

The box you’ve shoved every feeling for Chan cracks open. You feel everything pour out of it, a steady stream of want as you press into him. He smells like teakwood and mint, hypnotizing you. His mouth is soft and eager, sucking gently against your bottom lip. 

Everything feels lighter, like gravity has lost all meaning. Chan pulls away from your mouth a little, close enough to brush your lips against his in a feather-light kiss, but enough to gaze down at you through half lidded eyes. 

“The date didn’t work out because I kept thinking of you,” he whispers, voice shaking. You feel your breath stop as he speaks, each word sinking in. “It was stupid to ask her out. I was feeling insecure about Joshua asking you out, and it was stupid and petty-”

You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss, letting you lead him, slow and lazy. You feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you eagerly let him in, toes curling as he licks into your mouth. 

“I just want you,” Chan admits, breaking away for a quick breath of air. He presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek. He peppers your face in them as his hands skate up your back, hot even through the material of his sweatshirt. “I have for so long and I’ve been so afraid to tell you.”

“I was afraid too.” 

“I have wasted so much time.” His hands cradle your face, turning you to look at him. 

Chan is so earnest. Raw honestly glitters in his eyes. Deeper, hiding beneath the surface is something a little darker and more intense. Want. Desire. Something that lingers, waiting for you to call it forward. You love him so much that in that moment you almost cry more, feeling overwhelmed with everything you’ve buried down for years. 

“I want to make up for it,” you whisper, stealing a kiss that is more teeth than anything. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Your hands sink to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “I was actually going to tell you tonight, before you canceled.”

“What a stupid man I am.”

You smirk a little. “Yes.” 

“Let me apologize,” he murmurs, voice low. You feel yourself shiver as he pushes you toward your room, connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and needy, so different than the one moments before. You tangle together, stumbling toward your room. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Oh?” 

The crash landing onto your mattress is not graceful. Chan’s full weight falls on top of you and your foreheads smack a little. You yelp in paint and Chan groans, burying his face in your neck. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles to the surface, exploding out of you as your hands press flat on his back, soothing as you hold him to you.

“First step of apologizing,” you wheeze under him. “Give her a concussion.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face further in embarrassment. “I’m a little eager.” 

His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm under him. He seems to notice, opting to press open-mouthed kisses against your throat. You hum, eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. “It’s okay,” you breathe, fingers turning to claws against his back. “It’s cute.”

Chan leans off of you, properly supporting himself with arms on either side of your head, caging you in. His knee slots between your legs, making your stomach leap in excitement as he scoots it up a little, almost pressing against you. 

“You’re cute,” he notes, kisses getting messy as they go up your neck toward your ear. He nips your ear and you let out a sound. His laughter is warm against you and you shiver. “You’re in my clothes.”

“I wear them all the time.”

He groans. “I know. Fuck I know.”

“Is that what does it for you?” You move your hands from his back to his waist, pulling the tucked shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hips twitch forward, excited. He busies his mouth with pressing wet kisses to your jaw. “Me in your clothes?”

“Everything does it for me. I am down horrendous for you.” 

“I really didn’t know.”

He moves a hand to pull at the collar of his sweatshirt, exposing more of your collarbones to him as he kisses. “Everyone else did,” he assures you. You hiss when he bites down and licks over the sting, looking up through dark lashes to gauge your reaction. You nod a little and he grins, doing it again. “Biting. Got it.” 

With trembling fingers, you work the buttons on his shirt. You steal touches as you go, greedy for him. Too long have you hidden what you want in the shadows, too long have you resisted this. Now, you take. 

You brush your fingers against the flexing muscle of his stomach as you pull at the shirt, making him moan deep in his throat. His skin is like fire as you brush your fingers across its warmth, shoving his shirt off. He leans up, letting it fall from his shoulders, rippling to the ground.

The light from your hall glows behind Chan, halloween him in golden light. Your breath catches in your chest as your fingers press to his skin, brush over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach. You feel him twitch beneath your hands but he lets you explore, breathing hard under your reverence. 

Golden boy, so full of fire. It’s all you can think of as you stare up at him, equal parts light and dark in your bedroom. Your hands drop to his belt and you tug him to you, desperate for him. 

“Kiss me,” you beg. 

He does. His mouth is greedy, stealing your breath. A thrill shoots through you when he slides his knee up higher, pressing it between your legs. You breath the kiss to gasp at the barest amount of pressure and Chan grins, watching your reaction through a heavy gaze. 

“Take this off for me,” he asks, voice raspy. He pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt on your frame. “Please.”

You lean up, pressing your mouth to his collarbone in a sweet kiss as you pull the shirt over your head. He helps you, tossing it somewhere else. His hands go to your sides, fingers tracing up your curves as he pushes you back down, claiming your mouth again. 

It feels like you might go crazy. Your bare chest presses against his, the friction turning your blood to liquid fire. His knee is firm between your legs, and when his hand slips to your waist, squeezing you and urging you to roll your hips you can’t help but let out a moan in the shape of his name, helpless.

“Fuck,” he swears, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he helps you move against his thigh. “If you say my name like that again I might bust in my fucking pants.” 

“Chan.” 

“Don’t,” he laughs, biting your shoulder. “I want this so bad.” 

“I want you.”

“I might pass out due to sheer joy.” 

“I have some ideas on how to revive you.” 

He lets out a swear and you laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

“Maybe.” 

Truth is, you think he might be the death of you. You’d die happily in his arms, completely swept up in the feeling of Chan’s tongue as it skates across your skin and up the swell of your breast. When he pauses, you look down at him. He smirks, happy to have your attention before he flicks his tongue lightly over the peak of your nipple. 

You squeeze your legs around his thigh, back bowing off the bed. He lets out a chuckle, repeating the flicking motion as he watches you with dark, satisfied eyes. It drives you insane, the way he watches you with equal parts reverence and determination to find out what makes you squirm. 

Chan is a fast learner. His teeth scrape against your nipple and you whine, thrashing under him as he teases you, pulling gently. The sting feels so good, making you melt into the mattress underneath him. He makes a sound of appreciation, sucking gently and sending you to the moon before trailing his mouth toward your other breast. 

The hand on your hip squeezes you, reminding you why it had been there in the first place. “Keep going.” His breath fans against your skin and you tremble. “I like seeing you worked up.” 

“God,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his leg again. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and as he sucks greedily at your chest you feel like you might rip at the seams. “Who knew you were so… this.” 

You feel his wet grin against you, tongue flicking against your pert nipple. Your head falls to the side as you pant, trying to catch your fucking breath. 

Of course he can reduce you to nothing so easily. No one knows you better than Chan, the two of you like twin flames. Every touch of his tongue, every press of his fingers into your skin, every breath of your name on his lips were made to unravel you because it’s Chan. Your Chan. 

Your Chan who gently pulls the sweatpants from your hips, groaning low and slow when he sees the way your panties stick to your folds. Your Chan who kisses and bites the softness of your thighs, breath ghosting across sensitive flesh, fingers prying your legs apart when they start to twitch shut. 

You’d always been made for him. To think otherwise was folly. You know that now, hand gripping his bones tight as he pulls your hands to the side, the cold air hitting your aching cunt. He lets you squeeze his hand, not caring that your gripping is bone-breaking. 

“Hmm.” He looks up at you and you look down at him. His eyes are blown and he grins, shaking his head a little. “This for me?” You nod, your thoughts banging around the near empty space in your head as you do. “Fuck.” 

And then his tongue presses against you, flat and warm and fuck fuck fuck. You can barely function as Chan drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, avoiding your clit entirely before dragging it back down. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a whine and you nearly lose it there, driven insane by him. 

Chan takes the hand he has linked with yours and rests it on your hip, pressing into you to keep you still. You buck under his mouth and he laughs, unbothered as he looks up at you. The vision of him between your legs makes you dizzy, his hair mused, tongue pressed between your folds, eyes starving. 

Your other hand grips his wrist where his opposite hand holds you open. You cling to him, thighs twitching as he licks you at his leisure. His mouth is a weapon, bringing you to the edge of insane easily. When he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, you fear you might break. 

He can sense it too, setting himself to the task of pushing you over the edge. Chan learns you so quickly - maybe just knows you intuitively - alternating between circling his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking on it gently. 

“I am going to die,” you gasp between ragged breaths. “Your fucking mouth.” 

“Yeah? Feels good?” The buzz of his words drive right into your lower stomach where your orgasmed has so much compacted pressure you know you’re going to snap any moment. “Taste so good. I could eat this pussy all fucking night.” 

“Fuck, Chan. I’m gonna come.” 

He gives a harsh suck to your cunt, the wet sound obscene. “Good.” 

“Like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, panting. He does it again, following your instruction. Your mouth falls open as you nod, unable to string together more than. “Mmm.” 

Chan doubles his effort, the wet sounds of his mouth making it all the harder to keep it together. He keeps you in place as best as he can, but his little hums of pleasure and the combination of his mouth and tongue send your orgasm slamming into you. 

You think you say his name. You have no idea if anything comes out at all. You come hard, thrashing against the bed as he licks you through it, uncaring. Every nerve in your body is on fire, limbs tingling as you float in the momentary high of your peak before you start to come back down, breathing raggedly. 

A cramp throbs in your fingers that are still twisted in Chan’s grip. You loosen your grip a little bit, feeling a little bad about almost snapping his fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind, head still between your legs, tongue gentle and pressed against your twitching entrance. He avoids your clit, letting you catch your breath.

“Chan,” you mumble. He lifts his head, your arousal spread across his mouth. He is a mess, spiking your need for him. You pull at him, wild. “Kiss me.” 

He doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles up to you, letting go of your hand in favor of cradling your face. The kiss is hungry and wet, your heady taste on his mouth as you drink him in. You don’t care, desperate to have him close, pulling him into you. 

One of your hands snakes between your bodies, pressing against the firm outline of his cock through his pants. He lets out a whine, shaking his head as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy. 

“Don’t,” he begs. “I will cum right now.” 

“Oh?” 

“I’m so serious, I almost came untouched.”

“Wow, I really do it for you, huh?” 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His sincerity makes you flush and you peck him on the lips. “I cannot promise I will not come apart after a single stroke.” 

“Don’t care.” You undo his belt, pulling. “Want it. Want you. Please don’t make me wait.” 

He curses. “I can deny you nothing.” He sees your wicked grin and shakes his head, laughing as he pulls away to kick out of his pants. “You like having me wrapped around your finger, huh?” 

“You’re not the only one whipped.” He looks at you, doubtful. “You think I share my fries with anyone? Be so real, Chan. That’s something only you can do.” 

“Got it. French fry privileges, what else can I weaponize?” 

You don’t answer his question, distracted by him as he peels his briefs off and fists his heavy cock. You lick your lips, drinking in the length and thickness of him, the sticky, swollen tip, the way he pumps himself when he kneels on the bed again. 

“Hmm?” he asks, noticing you're distracted. “Everything okay?” 

“You have a nice dick,” you blurt. He pauses, raising his brows, thighs pressed to the back of yours. You fold your lips flat, a little embarrassed by your outburst. “Thank you is the proper response to a compliment.” 

He bursts into laughter and you can’t help but join him, covering your face as it heats up. “Don’t hide from me, wanna see you,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your face. He pins them above your head. “And thank you.” 

Chan runs the head of his cock along your sticky folds, both of you moaning in unison. His hand still pins yours above your head, making you feel open and vulnerable. Your knees squeeze his hips as he ruts against you a little, eyes focused while he uses his other end to guide himself to your entrance. 

“Mmm,” the sound escapes you as he presses in, the ache in your core doubling for a second as he sinks further. “Fuuuck.”

“Okay?”

“Very. Just- slow.”

“You got it, baby.” 

The term of endearment hits you low in the stomach. Between him whispering baby and sinking into the hilt, you don’t know what drives you crazier. The easy answer is just Chan. It’s simply Chan who does this to you, who turns you inside out, who reduces you to a whimpering mess. 

Chan lets go of your hands and brings it to your face. He leans down, supported by the other hand as he kisses you gently, letting you adjust to his girth, pussy spasming around him as you try to keep it together. The kiss is slow and sweet, in contrast to the feral kiss you shared earlier. 

“Fuck,” he breaths against you mouth, laughing. He presses his forehead against yours. “You’re fucking squeezing me. I might die.” 

You do it on purpose this time and he hisses, all of his muscles clenching. “Like that?” 

“Doonnn’t. If I come right now I’ll be so embarrassed.” 

“Why? It’s just me.”

“I don’t want to one-stroke my dream girl, are you serious?” 

“Dream girl, huh?” He pulls out a little before shallow thrusting back in. “Mmm yeah. That feels good.” 

Instead of answering your jest, he kisses you slowly. His strokes are slow but deep, making you sigh. He feels so good, having him like this. Chan presses his body against you, melding the two of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing to keep him as close as possible. 

Your name falls from his lips as you move in sync. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel him shake in your hands. He buries his face in your neck, mouth pressed against your skin as he breathes heavily. You cling to him, as though you could press your love into him, as though you can transfer it through touch. 

Chan slides a hand between the two of you, reaching down to circle your clit gently. You whimper in surprise, squeezing around him and drawing out a low sound. “I’m gonna come soon,” he murmurs. “Do you have another one, baby? Can you try for me?”

You nod. He presses his lips to your temple, driving his hips faster, fingers firm. You feel yourself wind up again, desperate to catch up to Chan, to give him what he wants, to come undone together. You’d do anything for him - anything he asked. You always have.

A glint of metal catches your eye. You see the necklace you gifted him hanging around his neck, tapping his collarbone in time with his movements. The sight of it makes you possessive, your desire for him surging. Gripping the back of his neck, you bring his mouth to yours. You don’t kiss him, but your mouths are pressed together as you mutter, “I love you, you know?” 

He groans, hips stuttering, fingers firm. You’re so close, you feel yourself right on that edge again. “I do know,” he admits, his cock pressing that perfect spot inside of you that has the room spinning. “I love you too, you know?”

You feel him smile against you. The kiss he gives you is so gentle that it sends you over the edge. You hold him tight, coming undone around him as he groans into your mouth, unraveling with you. When he stills, you keep holding him to you, his embrace warm. 

Chan nudges your nose with his. You open your eyes to find his dark ones peering at you. You smile, lifting a hand to trace your fingers along his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks. You note the faint freckles under his eyes, his long lashes, the way one side of his lips lifts before the other when he smiles. 

“Hmm?” he asks.

“You’re so pretty.” You trace your finger to his nose and then flick it. He frowns and pulls away, making you laugh. “There is cum leaking down my leg to my ass.” He thrusts once sharply and you whine. “Chaaaan.”

“Hmmm?”

“Can we shower?” 

“We?”

You grin. “You speak French?” 

“I speak pussy.”

“Ew, get off of me!” you laugh, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughs too, rolling off and pulling out. “Take me to the shower, you loser.” 

“Oui.” 

“Then I want to watch Buffy - oh no.”

“What?” He stands and reaches a hand out to you, helping you up. “Are you alright?”

“I ordered pizza and they probably tried to deliver.” 

“That’s okay.” He pulls you toward the shower and smacks your ass lightly, making you yelp. “Start the shower, I’ll call and get it re-delivered.”

You pause, looking at him, unable to bite back the smile. “I love you.”

“Mhmm. Love you too, Bambi.”

-

“I know I’m good looking,” Chan murmurs, eyes on the screen. “But you’re staring very hard at me.” 

You’re laying against his chest, head tilted up to look at him. You can’t help it, watching the blue light from the TV dance across his face, reflected in the glasses he put on after the shower. His hair is still damp and fluffy, skin glistening from the skincare post-shower. 

“You are good looking.”

“Damn. Only like me for the looks?”

“Well your jokes aren’t very good.” 

He levels you with a glare and you laugh, kissing him quickly before settling down in his arms again. His embrace is warm and he smells like your shampoo. You press yourself into him further and he grunts, letting you. 

“Can we do Blood and Popcorn forever?” you ask, watching him fondly. He smiles and kisses your forehead, flooding you with warmth. “Please?”

“Anything you ask, baby. Blood and Popcorn forever.” 

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[seijorhi]

Bite

Selkie Miya Osamu x female reader

tw: blood and gore, yandere, hard vore (not reader), noncon, nsfw-ish

Fairy & Rhi's Big Bad Valentines Event ~ Here there be monsters

“Are you ever going to come in?”

Kana shrugs, hunched over on the edge of the pier, knees pulled to her chest. She doesn’t look at you when she speaks – her attention’s wholly fixed on the male figure lazily gliding through the water a few feet away. “I’m good here.”

Slate-brown eyes peer back, flitting between you. Appraising you both. 

A twitch of his lips and he ducks below the surface. Kana stiffens, but you, you know this game. Like a bullet, he shoots his lean, streamlined body towards you, mouth open wide, sharp teeth bared – your heart stutters instinctively, breath caught in your chest – only to divert at the last second, curling to loop around. 

Not for the first time, you reach a hand out as he glides past, let your fingers stroke along the soft, spotted fur of his tail. Softer than it has any right to be. You shiver, a smile lighting your face, and in turn you’re rewarded with a trilling warble as he circles you again and rises to the surface, this time belly up, one arm stretched back behind his head, the other resting over his pale stomach – an oddly human pose. 

“Leopard seals have killed humans before, I googled it,” your cousin says. “They’re dangerous and aggressive. The smart thing to do would be to leave it and give him a wide berth, not play together in the ocean like it’s a dolphin at SeaWorld.”

He glides closer, nudging himself against you and grabbing your hand in his to place it on his belly, just above his fur. 

“One, he’s not a leopard seal, and two, it’s been over a week, don’t you think that if felt threatened by us or wanted to attack, he would’ve by now?” A light nip at your shoulder and you laugh, snatching your hand back. “Osamu’s friendly.”

Kana’s eyes narrow, sparking with irritation. “Just because you gave it a name, doesn’t make it human,” she mutters, like she thinks you’re an idiot. “We don’t know enough for you to be making any kind of a judgement call over whether it’s docile or not. I just don’t want you getting hurt. Animals turn on people all the time.”

“He’s not an animal.” But it’s pointless, because you’ve had this talk before. She’ll tell you you’re being reckless and stupid, you’ll tell her she’s being a buzzkill. “And Samu’s a he, not an it. I think he’s beautiful.”

As if he can understand you, his chest rumbles in agreement, chuffing. You fight back a grin. 

From the navel up, he could pass for human. A lithe, lean torso. Hooded, dark eyes that glimmer with intelligence, a strong jaw. Silvery-brown hair that matches the sleek fur on the top-side of his tail. Even his teeth, too sharp and jagged, breaking the illusion when he grins, send a strange sort of thrill through you. He’s always careful with them when you play – nipping, never biting. 

“We should at the very least tell someone,” she scowls, rolling her eyes.

You won’t, though, and she knows that. They’d hunt him down and take him away, lock him up somewhere to study, never to swim free again, and if they somehow don’t manage to catch him, you can’t imagine he’ll ever come back. Selfishly, you don’t want that either. 

“Kana–”

But you don’t get more than that before his hand snares your wrist and you’re yanked underwater.

The world turns hazy blue, a burst of bubbles – a cry of surprise – rushing from your lips. You blink rapidly against the sting of saltwater, trying to reorient yourself, to fight your way back to the surface, but Osamu’s there, his other arm curled around your waist, pulling you to him, keeping you from rising.

The two of you spin, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes open, boring into you as you slowly, desperately, run out of air, thrashing in his arms. The edges of your vision begin to darken, your body screaming for fresh air. There’s a splash nearby, a noise that warbles underwater, but your head’s pounding, the lack of oxygen becoming critical. 

And still, you and Osamu dance. 

Without conscious thought, your lips parts, ready to force a mouthful of seawater into your lungs when his mouth crashes against yours. Osamu exhales, and you breathe, greedily gulping it down.

For what feels like a lifetime, he holds you there, mouth melded to his, breathing for you.

And then, his hold loosens. He catches your lower lip between his teeth and gently nips at it, smirking as you struggle against him, but he doesn’t stop you from shoving your way out of his arms and kicking for the surface. 

The first breath of fresh air is dizzying in its rush. 

You choke on it, halfway to a sob, and spin frantically to get your bearings. The pier is less than thirty feet away, but that might as well be a mile. Your energy’s sapped, limbs leaden and heavy. You’re going to need help to the shore, you need–

The pier’s empty. 

Kana.

Panic rips through you.

You dive before you can think better of it, before your tired muscles can scream in protest. You’re met with a haze of red. Blood.

Osamu had always been so careful with his teeth around you. They’re sharp. Jagged. Designed to cut through flesh and tear muscle from bone. A blur of grey darts through the water, and you watch as his mouth opens, jaw stretched wide like he does when he’s playing with you.

This time, he doesn’t swerve from the flailing body in his path. . 

His teeth sink in, hands grabbing her by the shoulders for better leverage, and you watch through horrified eyes as he rips a chunk from her neck and chews.

—

You’re lying on something smooth. Silky. Furry?Warm, despite the cool air licking at your damp skin. Outside, you think. On a beach? The air smells of salt, and if you focus, you think you can hear the waves lapping at the shore.

And you’re moving. Rocking back and forth in little jolts, a pain between your legs like a dull ache. Your neck throbs, pounding with every thud of your heart.

You’re so tired. Your whole body hurts.  

You should open your eyes, but that feels like too much effort. A whimper slips past your lips and there’s a brush of something soft against your forehead, a weird cooing noise you’re too out of it to place.

Your fingers twitch. The darkness coaxes, warm and soft and gentle. 

A problem for later, you think.

[heliosunny]

Hello, may I request mydei and phainon reaction on self sacrificing reader? Both are in the middle of battle, but they fail to notice a sneak attack resulting reader shielding them. But instead of backing down, the reader just continue to attack the enemies ignoring their injuries, after battle reader still alive in the end, just barely (I'm not ready for angst 😔). Sorry if it's bad desc, I'm not good at explaining. Anyway, thank you.

You first met Phainon and Mydei when you were barely old enough to wield a sword. And if fate had been kinder, you never would have met them at all.

You had no noble blood, no great legacy. You were just a normal human, a child caught in the endless conflicts of kingdoms. Your only talent was surviving, and that was enough to bring you to the war camps where young warriors trained.

It was there that you met them.

The first time you saw Mydei, he was getting scolded by his instructor for fighting bare-handed instead of using his sword. He had just sent another boy crashing into the dirt with a well-placed throw, all while laughing like this was the best fun he’d had in weeks.

“You’re supposed to fight with a weapon!”

“But what if I lose my weapon? Gotta be ready for anything, right?”

You expected him to be arrogant. A prince, after all, had no reason to look twice at someone like you.

But when he caught you staring, he just flashed you an easygoing smile. “Hey. You fight?”

You hesitated. “…Yeah.”

His grin widened. “Great! Let’s spar.”

He didn’t give you time to refuse. Before you knew it, you were thrown into a match with him, and to your own surprise—you managed to hold your own.

When you knocked him flat on his back with sheer endurance alone, he just laughed.

“I like you.”

You frowned, breath still heavy from the fight. “That’s not how sparring works.”

“That’s how friendship works” he corrected, completely unbothered by the bruises forming on his arms.

And just like that, Mydei decided you were his friend.

If Mydei was chaos, Phainon was discipline.

You saw them for the first time in the middle of the training grounds, surrounded by fallen opponents. Not one of them had been able to land a hit.

Phainon was not just a warrior—they were a force of nature. Their movements were efficient, precise, with no wasted energy. Where Mydei fought like a wild storm, Phainon fought like a perfectly honed blade.

And yet, when they turned those sharp eyes to you, there was no arrogance—only assessment.

“You” they said, stepping toward you. “Fight me.”

“…What?”

“I’ve seen you train” he said, voice steady, logical. “You’re not strong, not fast—but you endure. Show me.”

You had no choice but to fight. Phainon was ruthless, pushing you harder than you thought possible, knocking you down over and over.

But when you refused to stay down, when you stood back up on shaking legs, they finally spoke again.

“…Not bad.”

It was the closest thing to acknowledgment you’d ever get.

From that moment on, Phainon kept an eye on you. They never forced their presence on you like Mydei did, but they were always watching. Training with you. Correcting your form. Testing your limits.

It wasn’t friendship in the usual sense.

You were never meant to stand beside them.

One was a prince, born to rule. One was a warrior, destined for conquest. And you? You were just human.

But none of that mattered to them.

Unlike Mydei, who was born into royalty, or Phainon, who had carved their name into history through sheer force, you had nothing. No title, no noble blood, no powerful lineage to back you.

So you clawed your way up from the dirt.

You trained until your body was broken. You endured countless battles, taking orders from those who would rather see you dead than standing beside them. You survived betrayals, wounds that should have killed you, and nights spent in cold trenches while nobles feasted in safety.

You suffered because you had to.

And eventually, you earned your place.

You weren’t the strongest. You weren’t the fastest. But you were relentless.

By the time you stood as an equal beside Phainon and Mydei, you had already been through hell.

And they knew.

----

The campfire crackled, casting flickering shadows against the worn faces of your soldiers. The night was cold, but the warmth of camaraderie kept the chill at bay. After a long patrol, exhaustion should have weighed on everyone’s shoulders, but instead, laughter echoed across the clearing.

You leaned back against a log, arms crossed, watching as your team exchanged stories, tales of near-misses, foolish mistakes, and victories hard-earned.

But as always, the conversation turned to you.

"Come on, Captain" one of the younger knights grinned, nudging you with his elbow. "Tell us another one. The one where you held the pass against the raiders—alone!"

You raised a brow. "I wasn't alone. I had twenty men."

"Against a hundred raiders" another soldier interjected. "And still, none of us could have done what you did."

Murmurs of agreement passed through the group. Even those who had been quiet before now leaned in, waiting.

You exhaled. You weren’t one for boasting. The fight had been brutal, the kind that left scars deeper than flesh. But this was more than just storytelling—it was morale. Your men respected you not because of your birth, but because of what you had endured beside them.

And so, you gave them what they wanted.

You spoke of the storm, the cold bite of steel, the way the enemy came in waves. You described the desperation, the way your body had nearly given out, but you had refused to fall. You told them how you had stood—how you had fought until the last breath, until the tide had finally turned in your favor.

By the time you finished, the air was thick with awe.

"You're a damn legend" one of them muttered.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No. Just someone too stubborn to die."

The laughter that followed was warm, genuine.

But across the fire, Phainon and Mydei sat in silence, watching you with unreadable expressions. You didn't have to hear their thoughts to know what they were thinking.

They hated this. Hated how your men adored you for the very thing that drove you into the ground. Hated how you spoke of near-death with nothing more than quiet acceptance. Hated that you kept proving, again and again, that you would rather break than yield.

And most of all—

They hated that they couldn’t stop you.

----

The battlefield had been left behind hours ago, the scent of blood and steel still lingering in the air. Though the war never truly stopped, for one night, you, Phainon, and Mydei found yourselves in the rarest of circumstances—a moment of peace.

The three of you sat atop a high cliff, overlooking the vast plains that stretched beyond the horizon. The stars were sharp and clear, and the wind was cool against your skin, carrying with it the distant hum of life beyond war.

Phainon lay sprawled against the grass, arms folded behind his head, his silver hair catching the moonlight. He looked peaceful.

Mydei sat cross-legged, methodically sharpening their blade. The rhythmic sound of steel against whetstone was the only thing keeping them from getting restless.

You were silent, watching them both, content in the quiet.

For once, neither of them seemed interested in lecturing you about your reckless choices in battle.

“You never talk about it.” Phainon’s voice broke the silence.

You blinked. “Talk about what?”

“What it was like,” he said, still looking up at the sky. “Before all this. Before you fought your way to where you are.”

Of course, he’d ask that. He always wanted to know more.

Mydei didn’t speak, but they were watching you now—golden eyes sharp and waiting.

You weren’t sure how to answer.

What could you even say? That you had spent your youth crawling through the filth, scraping for survival while people like them lived in castles? That no matter how much you proved yourself, there were still nobles who sneered at you, waiting for the day you finally broke?

Instead, you just shrugged. “It was hell.”

Phainon turned his head toward you, frowning. “That’s it?”

You smirked. “What else do you want? A poetic speech?”

“Hm. Maybe.” He rolled onto his side, propping his head up. “You never let anyone see the weight you carry.”

“You don’t need to carry it alone.” Mydei’s voice was quiet, but firm.

You glanced at them. Their hands were still steady, but there was something restrained in their posture, as if they were holding back something heavier than words.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I’ve always carried it alone.”

Mydei clicked his tongue. “That’s the problem.”

You sighed. “You two wouldn’t get it.”

“We do.”

You paused. There was no hesitation in their voice. Because they had fought their own wars, too. Different from yours, but battles all the same.

For a moment, none of you spoke.

Then Phainon grinned, stretching. “Alright. Since we’re being honest tonight—” He suddenly sat up, his eyes glinting mischievously. “If you weren’t so stubborn, I’d have kidnapped you and kept you in a palace by now.”

You snorted. “You wouldn’t get the chance.”

“I’d find a way.” His smile was too wide, too knowing. “Or Mydei would beat me to it.”

Mydei said nothing, but the way their gaze lingered on you said enough.

You rolled your eyes. “You two are ridiculous.”

----

The palace was drowning in chaos. The walls that once gleamed with wealth were smeared with blood, bodies of soldiers and assassins alike littering the marble floors. The chandeliers swayed from the force of battle, casting flickering shadows across the carnage.

Screams, steel clashing, the sickening crunch of bones breaking—it all blurred together in the madness of war.

You didn’t have time to think. You fought on instinct.

Your blade tore through enemy after enemy, your breath ragged, sweat mixing with the grime on your face.

But even as you cut down the last opponent in your path, you felt it.

Through the haze of battle, your gaze snapped toward Phainon and Mydei.

They were cutting through enemies with brutal efficiency—Phainon’s movements were deceptively relaxed, his silver hair whipping through the air as his sword cut down a soldier trying to flee. Mydei fought with terrifying force, every strike designed to kill.

But they didn’t see what you saw. A shadow slipping between the columns, too fast for an ordinary soldier.

A glint of steel—aimed for Phainon’s back.

Another enemy, moving low, aiming straight for Mydei’s unguarded side.

You moved.

A sharp whoosh of air as the assassin’s blade descended—

And you were there first.

Pain exploded through your body as the dagger buried itself deep into your side. You felt it tear through flesh, hot blood gushing down your armor.

But you didn’t let it stop you.

With a snarl, you twisted your own blade, cutting through the assassin’s ribs. They crumpled against you, lifeless, but the second attacker was still moving.

You forced your battered body forward, barely managing to intercept them before they could reach Mydei. Your weapon met theirs in a brutal clash, sparks flying from the force of impact.

The pain was unbearable.

Your vision blurred. Your legs screamed at you to stop.

But you kept fighting.

Something cold dug into your ribs, slicing deeper into your wounds. You barely managed to kill the last assassin before you staggered.

“Y/N!”

You barely registered Phainon’s voice before another enemy rushed forward.

Your fingers tightened around your weapon, forcing your body to move—

But this time, you were too weak.

Mydei's eyes blazed with fury as he cut the enemy down in a single, merciless strike.

“Fall back.” Mydei’s voice was sharp, his breathing controlled—but his hands were shaking.

You tried to push forward instead. “I can still—”

A hand grabbed your wrist. Phainon.

His grip was tight, almost painful. His blue eyes, always unreadable, were now filled with raw, unrestrained rage.

“You’re done.”

Your body gave out.

The battlefield was gone.

All that remained was you, barely breathing, and the two who refused to let you go.

Phainon and Mydei had fought countless battles. They had seen warriors fall, seen blood spill across countless lands. But nothing..nothing had ever made their hearts stop the way it did when your body collapsed in their arms.

Your skin was deathly pale, drenched in too much blood. Your breath came in weak, ragged gasps, every exhale sounding like it could be your last.

Phainon knelt beside you, his hands pressing hard against your wounds in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

“Stay with me” he muttered, voice hoarse. His hands were slick with your blood, and no matter how hard he pressed, it wouldn’t stop.

You didn’t respond.

Mydei was already barking orders at the soldiers. His golden eyes, sharp as ever, held none of his usual composure.

They had never been frantic before.

“We need the best healer” Mydei snapped, “Now.”

A knight hesitated. “The nearest healer is—”

“The best. Find the best in the kingdom. If they take too long...I’ll make them regret it.”

The soldiers ran.

But even with the best healer, would it be enough?

Phainon and Mydei didn’t know.

With you in Mydei’s arms, your body limp against his chest, he sprinted through the war-torn corridors of the palace. Blood from your wounds stained his armor, dripping onto the cracked marble floors with every hurried step. Phainon ran beside him

Every second mattered.

You weren’t allowed to die.

Not after everything. Not after you survived hell to get where you were.

Mydei moved faster.

They both knew exactly where to go.

The grand hall of healers was a place untouched by war, its white stone walls glowing beneath the soft light of enchanted lanterns. The scent of herbs and incense clashed with the overwhelming stench of blood that followed Phainon and Mydei as they burst through the entrance.

A group of healers turned in shock, their pristine robes paling at the sight of the two warriors—covered in your blood.

“Save my friend.” Mydei ordered.

The head healer, an older woman with sharp eyes, stepped forward. “Put them here” she instructed, motioning to a large healing table.

Mydei carefully lowered you down, but his hands lingered longer than necessary. As if letting go would mean losing you.

Phainon stood at your side, arms crossed, his fingers digging into his sleeves. He watched as the healers swarmed around you, their hands already moving, pressing against your wounds, muttering incantations and preparing potions.

One of them turned toward Mydei and Phainon.

“They’ve lost a dangerous amount of blood,” the healer said grimly. “And the wound was deep—if it had gone any farther, it would have been fatal.”

Phainon’s jaw clenched.

“But?” Mydei demanded.

The healer hesitated. “They are alive.”

For a moment, neither Phainon nor Mydei spoke. The tension in their shoulders didn’t ease, their expressions didn’t change.

But something in them released—like a thread that had been stretched to its limit, finally loosening.

As the healers worked, neither of them moved from your side.

They wouldn’t leave you alone.

Because if you woke up and they weren’t there—

They didn’t know if they’d ever forgive themselves.

Hours passed, maybe days, but you never stirred.

The healers did everything they could. The best potions, the most advanced spells—everything to stabilize you. But in the end, it was your body that had to fight.

Phainon never left your side.

Not even once.

He sat by your bed, his arms resting on his knees, his fingers digging into his palms. His blue eyes—once so sharp, so full of amusement—looked hollow.

He watched over you like a sentinel, barely blinking, barely breathing whenever you exhaled just a little too softly.

He spoke sometimes, his voice rough, low, meant only for you to hear.

“You’re really pushing it this time, huh?”

A pause. His fingers twitched against his knee.

“You’re not allowed to die, you know.”

His chest tightened painfully. His heartbeat felt wrong without you awake to match its rhythm.

Mydei didn’t sit.

He paced.

His golden eyes never left you, his hands clenched so tightly at their sides that their nails dug into their palms.

He should’ve noticed the assassin.

He should’ve been fast enough to stop it.

And now, you were paying for it.

The first night, he barely said a word.

He stood at the far end of the room, back straight, jaw locked, every inch of him looking like they were ready for battle—except he wasn’t.

“…You’re an idiot”

A shaky breath.

“We told you not to throw yourself into war.”

“Next time…” His voice wavered. “Next time, you let me take the hit.”

The room was silent. Phainon still sat beside you, unmoving. Mydei stayed at the edge of your bed, eyes dark with guilt.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them slept.

Neither of them moved unless it was to check if you were still breathing.

Because until you woke up—

Nothing else mattered.

It started with a breath.

Phainon noticed first.

His sharp blue eyes, which had been locked onto your face for days, widened the second your fingers twitched. He straightened so fast his chair nearly toppled over, his heart slamming against his ribs.

“Y/N?” His voice was hoarse, his throat dry from days of barely speaking.

Mydei’s head snapped toward you

Your eyelids fluttered.

A slow, exhausted movement, like lifting them took more energy than you had. The world was blurry at first, too bright—but the moment you saw two figures hovering over you, you knew.

They were still here.

“…Stop” you rasped, voice barely above a whisper. “…staring.”

Phainon exhaled a shaky laugh—relieved, but also furious.

“You absolute menace” he muttered, but there was no heat behind it. His shoulders shook, his usual confidence shattered. “Do you have any idea how long you kept us waiting?”

“…You’re idiots” you mumbled, still exhausted, still in pain. But the words were laced with something softer. Something grateful.

Phainon let out a slow breath, running a hand through his messy silver hair.

“You’re one to talk.” he muttered.

Mydei finally spoke, their voice quieter than usual.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

You didn’t respond right away.

Because you couldn’t promise that.

You all knew it.

You barely had time to process being alive before they smothered you.

Phainon and Mydei weren’t the type to hover—or so you thought.

But as the days passed, as you drifted in and out of consciousness, you realized something:

You were never alone.

Phainon was always there when you woke up.

Sometimes sitting on the chair beside your bed, boots propped up on the frame like he had no care in the world. Other times, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like a hawk.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence.

Then you woke up at three different times in the night and saw him still there.

“Phainon” you muttered, voice weak. “You need to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when you stop looking like death” he shot back, tossing a small piece of fruit at you.

You barely caught it with your sluggish reflexes. “…Did you just throw food at a wounded person?”

“Gotta make sure you’re still functional” he said with a smirk, but his fingers drummed anxiously against his arms. “Eat it. You need strength.”

The next time you woke, he was gone. But the blanket was pulled higher over you, and a small tray of food rested at your bedside.

Unlike Phainon, Mydei didn’t talk much.

Instead, he acted. When your muscles were stiff from days in bed, he was the one who helped you stretch. Silent but firm, guiding your movements with precise hands, ensuring you didn’t push too hard.

When the bandages needed to be changed, he did it himself.

“I should’ve noticed the attack.....I should’ve stopped it before you had to.”

You frowned. “…It’s not your fault.”

Then, without a word, Mydei tightened the bandage a little too much.

“Ow.”

He didn’t apologize.

But the next day, when you struggled to sit up, he was already there—offering a silent hand for you to take.

Phainon and Mydei switched shifts without speaking. If one left, the other appeared like clockwork.

When you finally stood on your own, Phainon cheered like you had won a tournament. “Look at you! Walking! I almost forgot you had legs.”

“You’re still weak” Mydei muttered.

“Thanks for the confidence boost.” You rolled your eyes

Their hands hovered near your arm, like they were ready to catch you if you so much as wobbled.

----

“Alright, Y/N, you’ve had your fun. But no more war for you.”

“…Excuse me?”

“We’re not letting you go back” Mydei stated.

You stared at him. Then at Phainon. Then back at Mydei.

“…That’s not your decision to make.”

Phainon sighed dramatically, pushing off the wall. “See, that’s the thing—you clearly don’t make good decisions for yourself. Case in point: nearly dying.”

“You nearly die all the time” you shot back.

You turned to Mydei, expecting at least some reason from him. “You know I can’t just sit here and—”

“You will.” His voice was calm, but unyielding. “You’re not throwing yourself into another battle.”

You clenched your jaw. Frustration bubbled.

“You can’t stop me” you said, evenly.

Phainon and Mydei exchanged a look.

Then Phainon smiled way too cheerfully. “Oh, we absolutely can.”

Days passed. You regained your strength, your mobility.

But Phainon and Mydei never budged.

They weren’t just forbidding you from going back to war. They were enforcing it.

Phainon kept distracting you—always dragging you into conversations, sparring matches, or just physically blocking the exit with a lazy grin.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You scowled. “Outside.”

“Mm. Sounds fake.”

And Mydei? He didn’t play games.

He simply stood there. His golden eyes pinned you in place, and when you tried to slip past him, his hand shot out—gripping your wrist.

“You’re not leaving.”

One evening, you snapped.

“You can’t keep me locked here like some fragile thing,” you spat, fists clenched. “I fought my way up! I bled for my place in the army, and I’ll keep fighting whether you like it or not!”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“You think we don’t know how hard you fought?” His blue eyes burned with something unreadable. “You think we don’t know what you sacrificed?”

“We watched you almost die, Y/N.”

“And you would do it again” Mydei added, “Without hesitation.”

You turned to them, ready to argue—but stopped. You could fight them. You could keep arguing, keep pushing, keep forcing yourself into battle until you finally didn’t make it out.

Or

You could stay.

Not out of weakness.

But because, for the first time, someone was telling you

You’ve done enough.

You let out a slow breath, your shoulders finally relaxing.

“…Fine.”

Two pairs of eyes locked onto you—one shocked, one wary.

Phainon’s grin was slow, careful. “Fine?”

You huffed. “Fine. But if you both get yourselves killed without me, I’ll find a way to haunt you.”

Mydei let out the smallest, barely noticeable breath—relief.

Phainon’s grin widened. “Aw, you do care.”

You rolled your eyes.

But when Mydei placed a steady, reassuring hand on your shoulder and Phainon bumped his fist against yours with a lopsided smirk, you realized you weren’t fighting alone.

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ LITTLE LIGHT

tw. vampire!iwa, noncon, pain play, cannibalism, blood

iwaizumi x fem!reader, for the ‘here be monsters’ event

The figure is hunched over another body like a gargoyle. Statuesque shoulders sculpted against the dark walls of the alley almost look beautiful. In their horror.

His teeth are sunken deep into their throat as blood pumps out of the veins he’s sliced open. It’s not pretty, or clean. It is not gentle nor sexual like in books, and more than anything, it douses you in a fear unlike anything else. You can’t feel your fingers, drenched in blood. You don’t feel the glass shard that’s sliced open your palm, only a dull thumping.

Red paints his face much like a lion on prey. The pulsing vein sprays blood with a desperate gurgle — dead limbs falling to the floor. There’s more bodies left in a heap behind him, icy, cold things stained with maroon. Your stomach twists, and bile rises in your throat. Sour that you swallow down, along with your spit.

Fear makes your heart bang too loud, as he bites, gnashing meat between deathly sharp teeth. Your back is slicked, stuck to the damp wall, no way out. You could try to climb, but the walls are so high, and- His stony features seem like marble as his lashes flick up only to regard you.

You scramble. You claw at the wall, trying and failing so desperately to jump high enough to escape. All you do is get tears stuck in your throat, as pitched, pathetic, prey-like whines come out of your chest despite yourself. “Please, god, please, please, please. I won’t do it again, I won’t ever do it again. Please.” 

Before you have a chance to right your mistake, hands are on you. Cold nails that yank your head back as they tangle in your hair, as heavy puffs of air brush over your neck. Instead of screaming like you know you should, your whispers only continue. You don’t know why. You’re not particularly religious. “Please, please, please! Plea-” 

The touch makes you choke. Your heart beats like a little rabbit mid-flight, and pumps so much adrenaline to your extremities it’s making you tingle. It smells like blood, heavy and thick and everything feels so much louder between your ears than it is and — the pain you wait for doesn’t come.

Your eyes slowly flutter open. With your head turned like it is, you can catch his jawline beside you, chin and neck dripping blood, exposed collar and chest pressed against your back. He’s still- panting like an overexcited dog into your temple. “P-please. I-” When you try to budge, the fingers holding your skull still tighten, and his nose buries deeper into your crown.

“You’re sweet.”

The deep, gravelly tone washes over you. Makes your back break out in goosebumps. Your fingers burn hot. Before you can respond, his other hand slides down your front along your body until it settles between your legs. “So fucking sweet, little bun.” His breaths are cold against you, and again you try and fail to escape the hold he has on your hair. Your hand hurts. Stings bad, a soaring pain that travels up your arm. Suddenly, your daze clears enough to feel the glass you’re still clamping your fingers around. “I don’t like my lunch so sugary sweet but-”

You slash at him. Wildly jam the glass where you can reach, and turn. It’s enough to release his hold on you and let you run back the way you came. Your feet splat on the pool of blood, hands reaching out to push yourself forward.

But it’s no use. You land hard, clattering teeth, as an impossibly huge, heavy body presses you to the cold floor. Your cheek scrapes the pavement when he forces you to look back, nails digging deep into your cheeks. “So cute… did that feel good?” His face is right on yours as he smiles, teeth all bloody. His tongue is stained a deep red. “Did you like hurting something for once? You wanna play rough?” 

“No, no, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

He shushes you, presses his lips over your pulse point. “That’s okay, bunny. Shh, shh, it’s okay.” Hot hands glide down your body as he leaves small kisses all along your neck to the crook of your neck, before breathing out. “Keep pressure on it, m’kay?” Teeth break flesh. And immediately, a biting pain takes over you. It’s acidic, burning as you pant out against the pain— it’s all you can focus on even when his hands pull your pants over your ass.

“Hold it,” he grunts when he pulls back, revealing that devilish mouth with your blood. Your legs shake from the adrenaline, as you do as you’re told. Wet, hot blood pulses between your fingers as you hold the flesh together that’s been bitten open. Spilling down your chest, down your forearms, it coats everything maroon when you pull back. “Let me see that pretty, frightened face.”

You’re turned around like you’re a ragdoll, too easily tossed between his legs. Olive greens peer down at you, gleaming in the low light, as he breathes out a chuckle. You know you’re crying. You were crying for the second he was on you- but now you start to choke on it, constricting your throat- it doesn’t move him. It’s so much feeling that you go umb to it. “There she is.” He pulls your pants down your calves as he bites his bottom lip. “Doesn’t it feel good, baby? So full of fear, all that adrenaline?”

The pain fades, though you know it shouldn’t. You’re bleeding out. Yet all you can feel is the icy cold of his skin on yours, leaving hot trails in their wake. Your stomach turns, as you stare back at him. It doesn’t scare him. “It does, don’t it?” He licks his wet lips, before pushing your knees apart. “I’ll make you feel even better. Just gotta part these- uhuh, that’s a good girl.” You’re too weak to stop him from pushing you open entirely, as his nails hook on the wet crotch of your panties.

Almost mockingly, he pulls the fabric taught before leaning down. His eyebrow lifts, irises completely black now. “Sweet, with such a wet little hole. You must make all the boys crazy.” Your legs tremble, and your pussy slicks up under his patient, prodding fingers, raking the touches all over your bottom half until your vision goes blurry.

“I don’t- I- I-“

Only then does he push his only article of clothing down his meaty thighs, and wipes the back of his hand along his mouth. A loud pulse beats between your ears, and your hands are warm and sticky, but you don’t move. You’re frozen under him, extremities cold. Once he’s done undressing, he heaves himself above you so you’re face to face, and those soulless eyes glint amusingly. You’re staring.

His cock is big, and veiny, and almost mockingly, the only color left in his body is the red blood flowing under the skin. It’s cruel. The aching pain all over your body hasn’t faded, it’s just- less important when you meet his touch, allow him to cup your cheek. “Want it?” You want him to fill you up entirely, spill out into your body until you’re whole. He lifts one leg aside to wrap around his hips, before pushing into your unprepared pussy hard. It makes you squeak, head falling back.

“Oh, god. Oh my- fuck, agh-ah. No, no, please.” The push is too tight for only a few pumps before you start to melt, and his nose buries into your hair to breathe deep and overly loud. It’s gross, it is, but your body doesn’t comply. It only blurs the edges of pleasure and pain further, taking over your vision in wobbly black spots— and your body melts into his with each pump.

He’s so heavy. Heavier than any human has any right to be, crushing you into his touch and forming to his shape, as he takes your air and forces kisses onto your mouth. “Smell like fucking toffee apple, baby.” He presses another kiss to your lips as you’re mumbling pleas, then forces your hands away. “Let me see. You’ve made me all hungry.”

He licks his gums, before pushing your head further back. He tangles your fingers with his as he bites down, just enough to take you breath away as he fucks you open. The ache is soft as soon as his teeth pull back. The blood pools in his mouth, and spills over onto his chin. “Just a little more.”

[pearlescentparade]

Hi!! here for a request for Noob X killer! reader (forsaken) fluff headcanons

yung kai - blue lyrics.

OMG NOOB..... let's hope i can get them right

🔰noob x killer! reader fluff headcanons 💝💞

noob walks right up to you when the round starts, blissfully unaware of your status as a killer. they believe you're just another friendly face that they can stick with in this scary new environment

you consider making a bloodbath of them, until they offer to share their snacks with you. automatically, you assume it's a peace offering or a plead for mercy. though you can't eat, you enjoy the sacrificial offerings regardless

they like to set up picnics with you during the round. they'll put out all of their food, sit down, and just chat about whatever comes to mind. you usually only listen and rarely chime in, but noob appreciates the company anyway. it helps them regain a sense of normalcy, and feel like they're living their old life before they were taken here. and while you've never known a life outside of this world (or at least, the spectre makes sure you don't remember it), you think you would've liked it to be something like this too

adding on, noob likes to play a game with you where they describe things in the 'real world' that they think you would have liked. even if you've never seen or heard of these concepts, you trust their judgement

it's always nighttime in the realm. so on your picnic dates, noob likes to stargaze with you. they don't know any constellations, so they make up their own

"that small star is me, and that big one next to it is you!"

"..how will we be able to tell them apart from the other stars?"

"they're really close together. like us!"

they trail you through every round, clinging onto your back like a lost puppy. when you encounter another survivor, you instruct noob to hide and close their eyes so they don't see you completely mutilating their friends. they are always the sole survivor

they are very jumpy. any sudden spooky noises in the ambience will make them latch onto you and cower. they've jumped into your arms before, and the embarrassment helped them forget all about their fear

the spectre blocks you from reciprocating any actions of love. even so, that doesn't deter noob from displaying his affection. they will hug, kiss, and compliment you like it's nobody's deal! they assure you that even if you physically can't do anything back, your presence is more than enough

often, you'll sneak up on survivors while they're doing a generator. all of them run in fear, except noob, of course. they sit there, still attempting to solve the puzzle on the generator. you'll hover over them, instructing them where to put what wire and what not. the accomplished smile that explodes on their face when they finish it invokes a feeling in you that even the spectre struggles to suppress

if anyone tries to give noob a hard time for lacking knowledge on how to do things, you target them heavily. and when you catch them, you ensure their death is gory and painful

sometimes, you bring their head to noob as a trophy and symbol of your love (since it's the closest thing you can do to show it). you even make sure to clean it and cauterize the wound where you severed their head from their neck so there's no blood at all, just for them!

"look, little fledgling. i've damned your enemy. now they won't bother you."

"AGH- that's- oh my goodness- uh.. i appreciate it, really-! i.. i just... i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"...apologies. i thought you would've liked to see it. it felt more romantic in my head."

"it's- it's okay, i'm- ough...- i'm fine with what you usually do.. it's the thought that counts..!"

they like to attempt to scare you by reappearing after eating their ghostburger. it never works, but you think it's cute. you'll even pretend your roles are switched, and you'll run from them as they act like the big bad killer chasing you

since noob had opened up to you about their drinking addiction, you've put a limit on how much bloxy cola they drink per round. if they've already reached it and try to go for another, you'll snatch it away and crush it in your hands. they protest about the waste of food, but can you really call the highly sugary processed drink 'food'?

because of your increased speed as a killer, noob likes to ride on your shoulders and pretend they're in a cart ride. you'll even go up and down slopes in the map and move in zigzag patterns to simulate the winding track, like how noob describes them

the other survivors use noob as bait, sending them out to find you first before you get to anyone else so that they can minimize the casualties. it's not in a mean-spirited way, it's a practical strategy because noob is able to distract you for the entire round and prevent you from killing anyone as long as long as the others stay out of your sight. noob doesn't mind, they'll happily assist their friends in anyway they can, considering they don't have any team-support abilities

(parade postscript: i tried to incorporate some of the song lyrics into the hcs, especially with the stargazing one! though i didnt know if i did it well LOL the song's meaning and lyrics kind of made me feel sad bc it felt very angsty with the themes of yearning and unrequited love, but i tried to focus on the sweet parts of it for the hcs :'])

[goquokka00]

SKZ vs Shark Week (Bangchan ver.)

How would each member of Stray Kids handle you while you're on your period?

BANGCHAN | MINHO | CHANGBIN | HYUNJIN JISUNG | FELIX | SEUNGMIN | JEONGIN

WARNING: This is a female reader going through their period. If the topic of a period/anything that has to do with a period makes you uncomfortable, then don't read it. Just remember that there's nothing wrong with a woman's period. It's a perfectly healthy body function :)

THE MOODS Bangchan never fails to notice how your mood always changes whenever you're a few days out from your period. He's an observant man of 7 children, he WILL notice when something is off with you. Specifically when you get more depressed than you usually are.

You don't eat as much, you bed rot more, you never feel like going out, and you constantly look like you're two seconds away from crying. You also wear the same clothes for a few days at a time, because you don't have it in you to change out of them. And so, Bangchan takes it upon himself to love up on you more.

The more depressed you get, the more cuddly he gets in return. He'll hold you, give you kisses, compliment you over and over, all to make sure that you're okay. If his princess is feeling down, then he'll do everything in his power to lift her spirits back up. And nothing...NOTHING will stop him.

THE BLOOD Simply put, your flow actually isn't that bad. Yeah, you bleed for a few days, but it's nothing horrible. The part that's horrible (more so for Bangchan than you) is that you don't wanna cuddle when you're bleeding. While it's not heavy and it's manageable, you don't want to potentially leak on him. It'd be beyond embarrassing.

But Bangchan? He gets pouty and mopey when you tell him that you aren't gonna sit on his lap while he works. He knows it's because you don't want to accidentally leak, but come on! So what if you get blood on him, he'll happily risk the cleanliness of his pants if it means he can have you on his lap. But he also respects your wishes. He respects it with a grain of salt, but...he respects it.

THE PAIN Through your period, you do end up getting a few cramps, but it's nothing horrible. They aren't as bad as some horror stories you've heard of, but they're bad enough to where you're never really comfortable. Sitting or standing or laying down in one position for too long gets to be seriously uncomfortable, and you have to change. The horrible thing is the tender breasts. They just feel so heavy and sore, it's horrible.

That's where Bangchan comes in. He knows that you go through this, and so he pretty much makes it his soul mission to take care of you however you need. You need pain killers? Done. You want him to rub your stomach? Say no more. You need the heated blanket for your chest. He's on it.

There are even times where he'll go out and get you some treats for being such a trooper for dealing with this week of uncomfortableness. And of course, each treat comes with a shower of kisses and "I love you's."

THE PRODUCT Not once has Bangchan ever complained about running to the store to get you pads or tampons or whatever you might need. Why would he? You going through your period means two things; you're healthy, and you're not pregnant. And right now, both are good things.

Also, he has a sister. So of course he's used to the products that came with periods. He doesn't cringe when he sees the used wrappers and wrapped waste for the week. He's used to it.

For you, he's buying the best of the best. The first time you asked him to get you some pads, he had asked an employee about which product was the best, and got you that. Along with a new heated pad, a big heated blanket you could both cuddle under, your favorite snacks and drinks, and chocolate. He isn't skimping for you. He knows that your period is your least favorite time of the month, so he'll do whatever he possibly can to spoil you so you don't suffer as much.

Anything for you.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d

[navybrat817]

Happy valentines day in advance my dear Navy😘

I saw these dark prompts you shared

“It makes my blood boil every time I see you talking to him/her/them.”

“Go ahead, lock your doors, change your phone number. I’ll still find you.”

“I would never ever hurt you.”

And I thought they would go amazingly with our favorite sheriff Lee Bodecker OR with Boxer!Curtis Everett👀 I hope this inspires something ✨❤️

My beautiful Carrot! Someone else asked for Lee and “Go ahead, lock your doors, change your phone number. I’ll still find you.”, so I went with Curtis. Hope you like it!

Cold as Ice

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Boxer!Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Summary: The newest boxer at the gym sets his sights on you.

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Possessive and overbearing behavior, dark vibes, talk of violence (not against reader), Curtis Everett (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tapped your finger against the keyboard as you looked over the schedule. You needed a vacation, and you luckily had some time, and a bit of money saved up. It was just a matter of how soon you could take it because you needed the break. Somewhere warm, and far away.

It wasn't that you didn't want to be at the gym. You really loved working there. It had its perks like free workouts and being close to some of your favorite spots. But it was getting to be more and more stressful going into work each day. All thanks to Curtis Everett.

The boxer with a mean right hook, buzzed hair and a beard as dark as coal, and eyes as cold as ice. For whatever reason set his sights on you the second he joined the gym. Maybe because you smiled at him. You really didn’t know. But it didn't take long for his workout schedule to conveniently match the days you were working. If he had a question or issue, you were the only one who could help him. Even if you were busy helping someone else, he’d wait. Your boss didn’t seem to care when you made a comment in passing one day since he was a “customer” and it was expected of you to provide the best service.

Curtis seemed to always be where you were, too, which wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so imposing. If you were in a certain area, cleaning machines or setting anything up, he was suddenly there like a shadow casting darkness over you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with him so close. He even left when you did some nights, keeping only a small distance while you went to your car and not walking on until you got in safely. You always locked the door quickly just to be on the safe side.

Some days he didn't say much to you. Just grunted or stared, or glared at anyone who spoke to you. The last guy who tried to flirt with you ended up with a broken jaw when Curtis offered to do a practice round with him. And while the guy was on the ground in pain, Curtis looked over at you. The expression “blood ran cold” was a real thing because you immediately trembled under his gaze.

It was just getting to be too much.

“Have a good night,” Steve said when he walked by.

You looked away from the computer and nodded. Steve Rogers was one of the best boxers around, and one of the kindest. He was also good looking. The entire package. “You, too, Steve.”

He stopped, his brows pinching when he took in your expression. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. “Steve was a good guy. If you said someone was bothering you, he would've stepped in and helped. You couldn't ask that of him. This was your problem to deal with. “Thanks.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything,” he said, flashing that kind smile of his.

“I appreciate it,” you smiled back. Your shoulders slumped when he walked out. He was one of the last guys to leave. Oh, god. That meant the only person left was-

“It makes my blood boil every time I see you talking to him.”

The bass of Curtis’s voice made you jump. You hated how easily he scared you. “Curtis, you shouldn’t be behind the counter,” you chastised, closing out the schedule.

“And you shouldn’t be flirting with Rogers, but here we are,” he said, gripping your shoulder and spinning you around to face him. His nostrils flared as he towered over you, and you feared he might strike you. Your eyes rounded at the thought, your back hitting the counter when you backed up. “Were you smiling that sweet smile that should only be for me?”

“I-I wasn’t,” you promised, shaking when he brought a calloused hand to your cheek. He wouldn’t try anything, right? Not out there in the open. And it wasn’t like the security cameras would catch anything. Your boss said they went out recently and he had to get them fixed. “Curtis, please.”

“You think I’m going to hurt you?” The ice in his eyes melted only a little as he closed the distance, his lips ghosting yours. “I would never, ever hurt you.”

You trembled, wanting so badly to believe him. “What do you want from me?” you asked, hating how small your voice sounded.

“I want you to finish up work and tell me where you’re planning to go on your trip,” he answered, chuckling at your expression. “You think I didn’t know? Of course I knew. And I’m going with you.”

He might as well have punched you with how winded you suddenly felt. “Go with me? But-”

“And Rogers might not go down as easily as that other prick, but I’ll wreck him if I catch you flirting with him again and I’ll give him a lot worse than a broken jaw. That’s a promise,” he said, brushing his nose against yours before he pulled away. You had to reach behind you and grab the counter to keep from falling. “Let’s go. We need to figure out the details for our trip.”

Tears blurred your vision. “Curtis-”

“Just nowhere cold,” he interrupted, his icy blue eyes on you like always. “I hate the cold.”

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[alluramiura]

“𝒾𝓃 ℴ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝒶 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁ℯ𝓇 𝓉ℴ 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓉ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊” ｜se-mi x reader

summary: you save se-mi during lights out.

word count: 1.6k words

warnings: lowercase intended, death description, 124 dies, se-mi lives, mentions of youngmi’s death (💔), reader is an implied foreigner

authors note: i was going to post something abt hyunju but i remembered how se-mi died and i got mad all over again. minsu you’re a fucking coward. enjoy.

you met se-mi after the first game, before six-legged pentathlon. you talked a few times, the first time being when you two agreed to team up. after the agreement, she proposed the idea to split up and search for more teammates.

a few minutes later, you found two players willing to join you; hyunju and youngmi. when you found her again, she had found four other players.

before you could say anything, one of the men behind her spoke up.

“who’s this, se-mi? the limit is five. we have all of our members.” he says, so quietly you almost can’t hear him. he was standing the closest to se-mi, and you notice his number is 125.

your eyes flicker to his for a second before flickering back to se-mi, who looks like she was about to give you an apology before another one of the men speaks, quite loudly.

“who’s this chick?” a man with purple hair—“thanos“— steps forward to address you directly.

“oooh, i see what’s happening. you want to join the amazing thanos’ team, huh? we are sadly out of room, señorita. but come to me next round, yeah?”

you stare at him blankly before turning back to se-mi. “it’s okay. i found a few people. you can stay with your group.”

she nods hesitantly, and you give her a faint smile before turning to return to the two players you found, who have now found two more players.

after the second game, you spoke again, a little before voting.

you opened up about your situation, how you were still relatively new to life in seoul, and how it’s been rougher than you imagined it would be, especially with the whole death game thing.

she sat and listened, nodding softly as you explained the last few months of your life to her.

she spoke about her situation a little as well. she didn’t say much, just that going back to her life was as good as staying here would be.

hearing that, you shouldn’t have felt as shocked, almost betrayed as you did when you saw her with the small “O” patched onto her jacket.

you knew you really had no right to be upset—everyone was here for a reason, some reasons being worse than the others, and her singular vote would have changed nothing regardless—but you couldn’t help but think of how the majority of players would choose money over fellow human life, her being one of them.

you try not to let her see how much the thought bothers you, but she seems to catch on almost immediately.

“are you upset that i chose to continue?” she asked, a bit suddenly, after noticing you’ve barely said anything and had been avoiding her gaze.

“…i’m not upset at you directly. i just…wanted to go home really bad.” you mutter softly, fidgeting with your necklace.

she hums in acknowledgement, and what seems like understanding.

“i wish i felt the same way.”

the next time you talk to her after that was during the third game.

mingle was probably the most stressful for you. you stayed with youngmi and the rest of your designated group for the most part.

that is, until youngmi died.

seeing her lifeless body covered in blood changed something within you.

when the farris wheel stopped spinning once more, you almost didn’t move. however, you suddenly felt the strong urge to make it out of here alive, if not for yourself, then for the friends, family you found here that might not make it along the way.

when you saw se-mi again, she was alone, looking around frantically for another person after the number two was called out.

you first noticed that she wasn’t with her team, but you pushed that thought away as you rushed towards her, grabbing her arm and sprinting to an empty room.

once you were in the room with the door shut, you pressed your back against the wall, catching your breath.

after a few seconds of silence and heavy breathing, se-mi speaks up, her voice hoarse and breathy.

“thank you.”

hearing that, you look up at her before nodding, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the wall.

“you’re welcome.”

when you left the room, you noticed she stayed near you and your group instead of with the people she was with before.

you didn’t mind.

the final time you talked to her before lights out was after the second vote.

when you saw she voted “X”, you were almost as shocked as you were seeing her vote the first time.

you didn’t ask what changed her mind, however. instead, you asked her what happened with her team.

“they…they’re assholes. i should’ve known from the start.” she mumbles, sighing softly.

you two spoke a little more, and you told her about your newfound motivation to make it out no matter what, after witnessing the death of your friend.

you shed a few tears thinking of youngmi. you didn’t know her for long, but like many other people you met here, you formed a bond you knew you’d never have with anyone else you’d ever meet.

se-mi gently put a hand on your shoulder as you cried silently, her expression grim.

you stayed with her for the remainder of the time before lights out.

now, as everyone’s killing one another and the scent of copper fills the air, you run around frantically looking for a place to hide.

you were climbing to the top of one of the bunk beds when you heard a familiar voice.

a shriek.

you look behind you, and a few feet away stood player 124, standing over se-mi with a bloodied fork in hand, looking like he was ready to attack.

that same feeling you got seeing youngmi die suddenly came back full force, and before you even realized it, you had hopped off the latter and began running towards the two.

as you approached, you locked eyes with se-mi as she struggled to fight him off.

suddenly, a glass bottle shatters, causing you to step back, and namgyu to pause his murderous actions, looking up to find the person who threw it.

while he’s distracted, you grab a shard of the glass and jab it into his his shoulder from behind.

namgyu lets out a pained cry as the glass pierces his shoulder. in an instant, he swivels around, backhanding you in the face.

you hit the ground pretty hard, feeling blood trickle down your nose. your vision was slightly blurred and you were disarrayed, your hand pressing against your temple where you initially hit the ground.

se-mi’s eyes widen, a strangled gasp leaving her lips as she watches you fall to the ground. adrenaline fuels her as she takes the opportunity to scramble to her feet, kicking namgyu in his side.

he doubles over slightly, but quickly recovers as he takes another step towards se-mi.

to her surprise, you get back on your feet, gripping the shard of glass so hard that blood runs down your wrist as you charge at namgyu again.

her heart racing, she joins fray in a flurry of limbs and desperation, punching and kicking wherever she could. namgyu was strong, however, and he managed to dodge all of your messily aimed attempts at stabbing him, his own adrenaline surging.

he suddenly grabs se-mi’s wrist forcefully, slamming her against the wall and raising his fork over his head, preparing to stab se-mi in the neck.

“no!” you shriek, balancing yourself and locking your blurry vision onto namgyu before charging at him a final time, stabbing him in the back harshly.

you don’t stop after the first stab, continuing to drill the glass into his back repeatedly, his blood splattering all over your shirt and skin.

he screams out in pain, staggering as his strength slowly leaves his body.

it’s only when he hits the ground, choking on his own blood as it pools around him when you realize what you’ve done, your hands shaking as you look down at the blood covering your hands.

you almost feel sick knowing it’s not just your own.

if someone told you a week ago that you’d become a murderer trying to protect yourself and your loved ones in a death game you’d blindly signed up for, you’d call a psychiatrist.

you drop the glass, trembling as you slowly look up at se-mi, tears beginning to stream down your face.

se-mi quickly runs over to you, her heart pounding in her chest. she grabs your face, holding it in her hands as she checks for any fatal injuries.

when she sees that you don’t have any major wounds, she pulls you into a tight hug.

you wrap your arms around se-mi as you bury your face into her neck, sobbing as the reality sinks in of what you’ve just done.

she kept her arms caged around you protectively, as she looks around to make sure no one else tries to attack you two.

“it’s okay. you’re okay. i got you.” she whispers, her own voice wavering as she rubs your back, attempting to comfort you for the second time that day, only under completely different circumstances.

“i-it all happened so fast…” you cry out, clinging onto se-mi like a lifeline. “h-he was trying to kill you, se-mi…i had to…i had to.”

“shhh…it’s alright. you saved me.” she murmurs, slowly guiding you to a nearby corner, hidden in the shadows from the chaos. she doesn’t once let you go, her eyes scanning the room for any immediate danger as the lights flicker.

after a while, she pulls back, gently tilting your head up so you could look at her. her thumb brushes away the tears streaming down your face, her touch tender.

"you're safe now. it's over."

[meritski]

will wait 'til i wilt • wanderer x gn!reader

warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood, hurt no comfort

You didn’t know what was so special about him. (That’s a lie, I am afraid.)

His tongue was sharp, on second thought, it wasn’t only that. His eyes, his expressions— everything about him and he, himself, was like a blade; often resulting in a cut wound in a delicate heart. (Not his heart though, he possessed no such thing.)

He didn’t like others, building a wall between everyone and him, except for the Dendro Archon— Lesser Lord Kusanali. Certainly an odd dynamic, well, who are you to judge? 

He was also not around much. It should have been a good thing, considering the bad traits he had— which were a lot.

It wasn’t, not for you. 

Because you didn’t think he was that bad in the first place. Okay, maybe he did say hurtful things or rolled his eyes at you with such offense that you cried a lot that night but there were things that made up for it. Moments where his words softened. Moments where his looks softened. Moments where he softened, even just a little bit. 

The moments you held so dear. The moments that were so special about him.

That was why your gaze always sought him out. Your voice got a little bit louder when he was near— begging to be noticed even for a mere second. When paired on a project together, you read his part twice— maybe thrice. Wanting to understand the words he chose more than others, wanting to understand him more than others. 

You wanted to be special to him, just as he was to you. You wouldn’t mind even if you gave more than you received— As long as the feelings you had for him were reciprocated.

It wasn’t.

Your breath hitched, and a lump settled into its place on your throat where the garden of love was placed. Looking at the petals, all bloody and torn, you let the statement sink in. 

It wasn’t, it seems like his love was not meant for you.

The metallic taste of blood and the freshness of flowers. Ah, was that what longing tasted like? The smell was melancholic yet fragrant. A sweet and cruel contradiction. 

Were they wiltering from the love you had for a certain wanderer?

Maybe they were.

Not like you were any different.

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ notes!

☆ just a thought that came to my mind at 3 am pt.2

☆ this was on my drafts for a while, hehe 2 days, and my original plan was to make it longer (i failed </3) so yes, you guessed it right, it might also get rewritten!

☆ i like hanahaki related works so much, this was an attempt to write something about it so i hope i didn't disappoint much AGJDJHDH

[luvfae]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a female reader x Thanos.

What about reader and thanos we’re close before the games both harbouring feelings maybe, but they both have mental health struggles and she is someone who dose things with out thinking of the consequences because she doesn’t care so anyway when they find each other in the games thanos is aware of her tendencies and is like kind of babysitting her.

Like in the first game she makes zero move once she finds out you die and he literally drags her across, and maybe the second game she is always his first choice but she just lays there depressed and cynical and makes sarcastic comments while him and nah gy go around finding team mates or in mingle she makes no move but ofc he always saves her ass, until one night he gives her a rude awakening a harsh pep talk feeling confessing etc. u can put your own spin on it ofc ofc!!

I DON’T CARE

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: swearing, mention of drugs and alcohol, mental health issues, death, blood, typical squid game stuff

You and Thanos had always been a little fucked up.

That’s what made you close.

You met him at a party two years ago—one of those loud, suffocating nights where everyone was either high, drunk, or trying to be. He was leaning against a balcony, smoking, watching the chaos unfold like it was a movie he’d seen a hundred times before.

You had walked up, grabbed the cigarette from his lips, and took a drag without asking.

He had let you.

“You look like you want to jump,” you had said, staring down at the city lights.

He had snorted. “You look like you wouldn’t care if I did.”

That was the start of it.

You weren’t exactly good for each other, but you understood each other. The reckless, self-destructive tendencies. The numbness that came in waves. You never had to explain why you did the things you did—skipping work for days at a time, getting blackout drunk just to feel something, making choices that could ruin you without thinking twice. Because he got it.

And maybe that was why, despite all the tension, all the times you nearly crossed the line from friends to something else, you never did. Because you knew the second you let him have you, you wouldn’t be able to stop.

Then he disappeared.

You heard the rumors—he got into drugs, got into trouble, owed money to the wrong people. You had reached out once, maybe twice, but you never pushed. And eventually, you stopped trying.

Until now.

Until you saw him again.

Your head was pounding. Your body ached. You barely remembered how you got here, only that you had woken up in this fucking tracksuit with the number 067 on your chest and some masked freak telling you to follow the others.

And then—

“No fucking way.”

Your stomach twisted at the sound of his voice.

You turned.

And there he was.

Thanos.

He looked like hell—bruised knuckles, tired eyes, the same cocky smirk that always made you want to punch him in the face.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flickered over you, as if making sure you were real.

You swallowed. “Yeah. Same.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then he snorted. “I should’ve known you’d end up in some fucked-up shit like this.”

You crossed your arms. “Takes one to know one.”

He huffed a laugh, but there was something behind it. Something tight. Something that made your chest ache.

“How bad?” you asked, voice quieter.

His jaw tensed. “Bad.”

You nodded.

He nodded back.

You didn’t need to say more.

Because he knew what you were asking. And you knew what he wasn’t saying.

And when the sirens blared, when you were herded outside for the first game, when the blood started spilling and the bodies started dropping, you froze.

Gunshots rang out. Bodies collapsed. Screams filled the air, and yet you just stood there, frozen.

You weren’t scared. No, fear would mean you actually cared about living. You simply didn’t see the point. What was the point?

You stood there, staring at the massive doll, blinking slowly as the words “Green Light” echoed in the cold air.

Around you, people were rushing forward, sprinting, their eyes wide with desperation. The tension was palpable, the sound of rapid heartbeats almost deafening as they tried to make it to the end before the next “Red Light.”

You weren’t scared. You weren’t anything. Just numb.

You could hear it—the gasps of fear, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, and then—gunshots.

Someone screamed.

But still, you didn’t move.

The moment it hit you, like a wave crashing over a brittle shore, was that you weren’t just standing still because you were numb. You were standing still because it didn’t matter. If you died here, it wouldn’t matter. If you made it out, what would it change?

Nothing. Everything was pointless.

And that’s when you felt it—Thanos’s hand, strong and relentless, grabbing your wrist, yanking you forward.

“The fuck are you doing?” His voice was a low hiss, filled with fury, but his grip on you didn’t loosen.

Your feet stumbled as you were dragged, fighting for balance. Your mind was foggy, distant, numb to the fear that gripped everyone else. The bloodshed, the screams, the flashing lights—it was like you were standing outside of it all, watching it happen to someone else.

“Move!” Thanos barked, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tried to jerk away, feeling the weight of his grip only tightening.

“I—” You blinked, but your voice felt hollow. “I don’t care.”

The next whistle blew.

Your body jerked with the momentum of his tug, and for a moment, you didn’t feel the ground under your feet. Thanos’s arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you, pulling you through the crowd of bodies that were tumbling and falling like leaves in a storm.

Gunshots rang out in the background. You could see it now—people, falling. Bodies collapsing like ragdolls.

But you didn’t care.

“You wanna die?” Thanos’s voice was harsh, just an inch from your ear, filled with raw anger.

You blinked slowly. “I don’t care,” you repeated, though the words felt strange in your mouth. Almost like a lie you’d told yourself for so long that you’d forgotten what it really meant.

Thanos’s grip tightened. He wasn’t listening, not to your words. He wasn’t letting you slip into that void again. His eyes were wide, jaw clenched, the muscle in his neck pulsing with barely contained frustration. The whistle blew again.

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, lifting you off your feet entirely now, dragging you forward like you weighed nothing.

He didn’t give you a choice. He didn’t care that you didn’t care. He was going to keep you alive, even if it meant forcing you to fight against the numbness that consumed you.

By the time the countdown ended, you were nearly at the finish line. Your heart thudded in your chest—not from fear, not from adrenaline, but because of the strange, foreign sensation of being pulled back from the edge.

Thanos pushed you across the line. He was breathless, chest heaving from the physical strain of pulling you. His grip on your waist loosened only when the game ended, and the crowd’s screams faded.

When it was over, when the air cleared, you leaned back against the cold wall, your body sliding down to the ground, exhaustion settling in.

Thanos stood there, staring at you, chest heaving in rhythm with yours. His eyes narrowed with something dangerous, something you hadn’t seen before. Something deeper than anger.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he spat, but it lacked the usual humor.

You didn’t answer. You just sat there, staring at the floor. The adrenaline was leaving your system, and all you had left was the heaviness of everything—the gunshots, the blood, the screams.

“I don’t care,” you whispered, almost to yourself.

Thanos crouched in front of you, eyes intense, searching your face for something he didn’t know how to find. Something that he needed to fix.

“No,” he snapped, his hand reaching out to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. “We’re not doing this. Not anymore.”

His fingers dug into your skin, the intensity in his gaze so powerful that you couldn’t look away, even though part of you wanted to. His voice softened, but there was no less fire in it. “I won’t let you throw yourself away.”

Your chest tightened. Something deep inside of you stirred, but it was fleeting. You felt vulnerable, stripped bare in front of him.

“I won’t let you die,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his thumb gently brushing over your skin like it could erase everything you were running from.

You felt the ache in your chest then, the crack that began to form from the pressure of his words. The weight of his care.

And for a second, just a second, it felt like you were actually seen.

—

The next day when the guards announced the next game, you didn’t bother to move. You just sat there, your arms resting on your knees, watching the other players scramble to form teams, trying to sort out the chaos of who was going to be their partner. You could hear the shuffling of feet, the anxious whispers, the desperation in every movement. But none of it touched you. You were past it.

“Get up.”

Thanos’s voice cut through the haze of indifference surrounding you. He was standing over you, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you tilted your head back, staring at the high ceiling above, your mind drifting. He could wait.

“I’m not asking, sweetheart.” His voice was firm now, sharp like a warning. “Get up.”

You sighed, the weight of the world pressing on your chest. This wasn’t even the worst of it. You glanced at him briefly, and for a second, something flickered in your chest—a feeling, a pulse of something that made you almost want to smile. Almost.

You dragged yourself up from the floor with exaggerated slowness, not bothering to hide the way your limbs felt heavy, as if your body didn’t belong to you anymore. The sound of the other players forming teams, their voices blending into the background, became distant.

Thanos didn’t wait for you to make a move. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, pulling you with him toward the group that was gathering to select their partners.

“You’re with me,” he said, without asking, without giving you any say in it. His words weren’t a request—they were a demand.

You raised an eyebrow, raising your free hand to smooth your hair back. “Thanos, you need five people, not just one. Go find your three others.”

He didn’t even look at you as he grunted. “Get up. We’re doing this.”

You weren’t sure why it annoyed you. Maybe it was the way he thought he could just make decisions for you like that, or maybe it was the fact that you didn’t want to give a shit about anything anymore. But instead of arguing, you flopped back against the wall, letting out a deep sigh. “You’re so bossy.”

“I swear, if you don’t—”

“You’ll what?” you asked lazily, watching the other players scramble like rats. “Let me die?”

He stared at you, jaw clenched, clearly fighting the urge to snap at you. You saw the anger flaring in his eyes, the protective instinct swirling beneath the surface. But he said nothing. He didn’t yell at you. He just turned and walked away, a look of frustration flashing across his face.

It was strange. Normally, you’d see that and feel some sick satisfaction. But today, it left you empty, like the familiar edge of tension between you and him had dulled.

After a few moments, he came back. You didn’t look up from where you were sprawled on the floor, your legs stretched out in front of you.

Thanos took the spot next to you. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, silent, his eyes scanning the group. You could tell he was waiting for you to make a move, to show some sign that you were still capable of caring about something.

But you didn’t. You didn’t move.

And maybe that was why, when he spoke again, his voice was softer, quieter. “Come on. We’ve got to find one more person.”

You didn’t answer him. You just kept staring ahead, your eyes unfocused.

Thanos cursed under his breath. “Fine. Stay here. I don’t give a shit. But we’re playing this fucking game.”

When you didn’t react, he stood up, dragging a reluctant Nam-Gyu over to form the rest of the team. You could hear them talking quietly for a moment, but it barely registered in your head.

You hadn’t realized how much it hurt, how much the detachment had taken a toll on you, until you felt him next to you again, the weight of his presence a reminder that something—someone—still cared.

It was just a fleeting moment, but it stung.

“You with me or what?”

You finally looked up at him. The frustration in his eyes hadn’t faded, but there was something else there, something deeper, almost like he was begging you to show up.

You stood without a word, dusting yourself off as you followed him to the designated area.

Thanos didn’t say anything else as the game began. He just watched you, his eyes never leaving you as you moved through the tasks. His hands were steady, precise, but every time you stumbled, he was there to catch you. His grip on your arm was always firm, as if he were trying to anchor you to this world, to this moment where you were still alive.

Every time you fell behind, he didn’t yell. He didn’t berate you. He just pulled you up and kept you going.

And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel like you were fighting the game. You weren’t fighting him either.

You were fighting with him.

And as the game stretched on, the realization hit you: this wasn’t just about survival anymore. Thanos wasn’t just keeping you alive because of some unspoken duty or because he had no other choice.

He was doing it because he wanted to.

You couldn’t quite understand it, but you didn’t mind it. Not anymore.

—

The next game felt like a cruel joke.

You stood at the edge of the group, your mind numb to the urgency that seemed to swallow the others whole. The guards had explained the rules—nothing complicated, just survival—yet your body remained unmoving, despite the chaos unfolding around you.

Most of the players immediately scrambled, eyes wide, feet shuffling as they sought safety. You could hear the hurried breaths of your fellow players, the scrape of shoes against the concrete floor, the soft sounds of bodies rushing and tumbling in all directions. Yet, you just… didn’t care.

Everyone else seemed like they were fighting for their lives, but you?

You were waiting for it all to end.

And then, just like that, you felt the heat of a body next to yours. His scent—leather, sweat, something familiar—struck you before you even saw him.

“Nope,” Thanos muttered under his breath as his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist before you could even process what was happening.

You blinked, the numbness in your mind finally starting to fade as he yanked you toward him, pulling you into his space like he’d done countless times before. “Not today,” he said firmly, his voice low with that undercurrent of protectiveness that you had come to know so well.

You didn’t fight him. Not this time. His grip was strong, secure, and for once, you allowed yourself to lean into it. You didn’t want to make the effort to run or find a spot of safety. So you didn’t.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you muttered, looking up at him, your voice quieter than you intended.

Thanos glanced down at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes, I fucking did,” he replied, his tone hard, his grip never faltering.

You stayed quiet as he pulled you into an empty room, positioning you closer to the wall, where the guards couldn’t reach as easily if for some reason they decided to kill you. But it was more than that—he was keeping you close, making sure no one else could get too near, too close.

You hated how much it comforted you.

The minutes ticked by, the guards’ voices harsh in the background, and still, you stood there, pressed against him. His body was warm, solid, like a shield. You didn’t think about how strange it felt to have him act like this—to be the one protecting you. No, you just let him, because for once, it felt like you had a reason to stay.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but it was enough for the panic to begin to settle. Enough for you to breathe again. You weren’t entirely safe, not yet. But for the first time in days, you weren’t just surviving; you were simply existing.

And it felt like an eternity before the sirens sounded, signaling the end of the game. The crowd around you began to move, restless and relieved.

Thanos released his hold on you just slightly, but he didn’t step away. His fingers lingered for a moment before dropping to his side.

“Think you can make it on your own?” His voice was quieter now, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, suddenly aware of how close the two of you still were, the heat between you both suddenly charging the air in a way that made your chest tighten.

“Maybe,” you muttered, looking away. “But you’re not exactly a bad guy to have around.”

Thanos snorted, a dark humor creeping into his voice. “Don’t get used to it.”

But you could feel his eyes on you, and despite everything—despite the absurdity of it all—you felt something inside shift. The games weren’t over, but something between you and Thanos had already changed.

And you weren’t sure if you could go back.

—

That night, Thanos snapped.

“I can’t keep babysitting you,” he growled, pacing in front of you.

You sat on the floor, arms wrapped around your knees, staring ahead blankly. “I never asked you to.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? Then what, I should’ve let you fucking die?”

You didn’t answer.

That only pissed him off more.

“You act like nothing matters. Like you don’t give a shit if you live or die. But guess what, sweetheart?” He crouched in front of you, gripping your chin, forcing your eyes on him.

“I give a shit.”

Your breath caught.

He shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck happened to you. I don’t know why you’re like this. But you do not get to throw yourself away.” His voice dropped lower. “Not when I—”

His grip faltered. His expression twisted.

Not when I care about you.

The words never came, but you felt them.

Something deep inside you cracked.

You swallowed hard. Your throat burned. Your chest ached. The weight of his words, of everything you’d been avoiding, came crashing down on you all at once.

For the first time in days, you felt something.

And you weren’t sure if that terrified you more than the games themselves.

But one thing was clear.

For Thanos, you’d try.

Even if you didn’t know how.

Something had changed.

It was subtle, but it was there.

Thanos didn’t say anything after that night—no more lectures, no more scolding. He just sat with you in the dark, his shoulder pressed against yours, and let the silence stretch between you.

But you could feel it. The weight of his words. The rawness in his voice when he said, I give a shit.

And maybe, just maybe, you had started to give a shit too.

Because the next morning, when the guards announced the next game, you didn’t drag your feet. You stood up. You followed. You let Thanos find you in the crowd without him having to pull you by the wrist.

You saw the way he looked at you—like he noticed the change, like he was waiting for you to slip back into that numb, hollow state again.

You didn’t.

Not yet.

[strawberry-nugget]

Co-parenting with Kirishima is so messy

You loathe this time of the week. The anxiety that paces to your nervous system, the blood rushing to your veins when your phone rings and a certain name pops up and you wish it wasn't your typical Wednesday night. You, somehow, wish you were in your hometown, every single time, far away from all this madness that's called co-parenting. It's draining, to say the least, to have to always be there, to have to rely on someone who isn't even there most of the time, because you're forced to do so, by law.

For your daughter it's different.

Your phone ringing means one thing and one thing only; daddys here. That alone as a fact makes her scream with absolute joy; oftentimes it makes her run around like she's mad, because even at four years old she knows exactly what it means. Daddy is coming to pick her up. and as much as you'd like to share the same joy with her as you once would, you don't want to see his face. Ever. Yet you have to, twice a week.

Her bags are already packed even before he arrives. He’s always late, always always, always late for hours to no end and youve considered letting your lawyer know, in case you get full custody, but you know you can't do this to her, take her father away from her or take care of her on your own. The fact that he's even participating in all of this amazes you. Plus you just don't wanna get on his bad side in this ordeal. 

So you compromise. The very thing you'll always do. 

Today, much like every other week you experience the excruciating thing that is your anxiety

Kirishima rarely parks the car outside; he says it's not easy to find a parking spot, that he can't be bothered with it -he is picking amira up after work- claiming he wants to get home as soon as possible. He's tired, that's all, and you're happy you don't have to interact with him face to face. 

Unfortunately today is one of those days that he takes that extra mile and parks his car, rings your doorbell and probably hears your daughters scream of joy at it, and gets up to your apartment. 

"It's me" He says when you ask, in an almost -almost- disgusted tone coating your voice, 'who is it'. 

"Yeah give me a second"

You wish he'd forgotten your floor, or the doorbell to your house, but he hasn't, and it's not even a minute later when he lets you know he's there. He knocks the door before he enters, even though you've left it slightly open the second you opened the downstairs door for him. 

A sign he's welcome in. Barely. 

Amira screams when he enters. You on the other hand, roll your eyes. He pouts his lips and raises his eyebrow in response. You want to punch him, the way he still makes you so nervous is almost unbearable… does he perhaps want to punch you too? Is it unbearable for him too? Probably not, you think and swallow your pride before mastering the courage to utter a greeting. 

"Hello" 

"Ayeee girl"

You don't have enough time to consider how awkward it is to just stand there and look at each other because your daughter pours herself into his arms -as you turn to look away- it's only then he utters more than one actual word. 

"How's my baby doing?"

"I'm good daddy" Amira replies as her father  puts her down and drops to a squat in front of her. He's too gentle, too nice, it's almost making you forget how you've struggled, at one point, to get him to be in her life. 

He brushes the stand of hair that's strayed away from her middle part and sticks to her forehead, so nicely, so tenderly, but her lower lip is quivering as shes looking at him with big bug eyes -they're slowly watering too- and you know your baby is about to burst into tears. 

Which she does, as you expected, only a minute later. It's a common phenomenon; whining when her dad visits, crying because she's missed him, because she doesn't understand why she can't see him every single day. You loathe that. This feeling you know too well, missing him, wanting to see him more but not being to. You hate it with all your might that your daughter has to feel that way about him too. It feels like a never ending circle if misery, and you wonder, way too often, how much you're to blame. There's a heavy weight of responsibility that you carry on your back when you think about that. 

Unexpectedly, you're snapped to reality when she runs to you for comfort. Not him. She's up in your embrace in no time and Kirishima kisses his teethteeth, annoyed. 

"Why are you crying baby?" She doesn't reply to you, only burries her head into your shoulder further "daddys not going away, you're going to stay with him for a few days as always"

She sniffles more and hangs tight onto you when she feels Kirishima's hands wrap around her so he can snatch her from your arms. She's never denied him like that. 

"Did she wake up with a tantrutm?"

"No she was too happy before you came in"

"And why she's acting like this now?"

"She's a child"

He can't argue with that. Amira is known to be whiny and sad when she has no other way of expressing her emotions. No matter how hard you try to help her communicate her feelings, she ends up coming back to it- just like you. You wish she hadn't gotten that part of your character, but oh to all that's unfortunate, she did. 

"Are you crying because you missed daddy baby?" You ask her voice softer than a feather against her tiny ear 

"Mhhhm" She sniffles

"Do you want to hug him?"  She nods yes into your shoulder but her hands linger their grip on you for more than a second when Kirishima takes her in his embrace. 

From then on, she's happy. She finds her smile again when Kirishima plops onto the couch with her and they tickle each other. It feels like you're watching two puppies play fight but you don't smile, you only feel bitter. At least, Amira, will be enjoying her self until-

"Sunday morning, is it good?"

Kirishima looks at you, dumbfounded "is what good?"

"I'll come pick her up on Sunday with my dad. It's quite a few days. So I'm asking. Do you have anything to do?" There so much hesitance in your voice, you're surprised you're not stuttering. 

"I don't. Do you?"

"Yes she does!" Amira replies before you can even open your mouth 

"Really?"

"Yes daddy! She's going on a date and she bought a pretty dre-"

"Okay you bigmouth", you laugh it off "That's not any of daddy's business"

"Oh because he doesnt love you. Right?"

"Ah, yes?" 

You avoid looking at him, utterly embarrassed. You should have listened to your mother when she said that kids do repeat what they hear, even if you tell them not to. Now you're left with Kirishima looking at you like you've committed a crime while sighing. 

"So who are you going on a date with"

You feel your throat tighten. A breath catches in your chest, and your first instinct is to deflect, to dodge, to act like the words never left Amira’s tiny, traitorous mouth. But Kirishima is staring at you, waiting, his expression unreadable—half amused for the better part of it.

“None of your business,” you say quickly, to shut this whole thing away, but your daughter doesn’t seem to be done at all.

“Mommy was on the phone all night,” she adds, turning to her father with wide, doe eyes. “She was smiling a lot too!”

Kirishima raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching as if he’s about to smirk but stops himself. He leans back on the couch, stretching his legs out, his arms still loosely around Amira. You hate it— that they so loosely resemble each other at a part in your house. You hate him and mini him can’t keep their mouths closed ever.

But Amira is just a child.

“Oh?” Kirishima hums, tilting his head at you like he’s waiting for more.

You roll your eyes so hard you might sprain something. “Amira, baby, did you get your favorite teddy? You almost forgot it last time.”

She gasps like you just reminded her of the most important thing in the world, scrambling off the couch, away from her fathers hands and disappearing into her room. The second she’s gone, Kirishima’s smirk fully blooms with mischief.

“A date, huh?”

“Drop it,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. Kirishima stares and you see it; his eyes linger at your chest and you know what he’s thinking of.

But he’s not going to ruin this for you.

“Why?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying you like you’re something to figure out. “I’m just curious.”

You scoff. “Since when do you care?”

His jaw tenses for half a second. “I don’t. Just didn’t think you were the dating type anymore. Being celibate and all…”

Your fingers curl into your palms, nails pressing into your skin. You hate how easily he gets under it, how easily he pulls reactions from you without even trying. You want to jab at him — with something across the lines of ‘And I didn’t think you were the fathering type, being a pro hero and all’. But you settle for something milder, a comment on his dating life as well.

“I thought you were dating left and right though?”

“Yes but Amira never finds out” he argues “why would she know that you’re going on a date?”

Furiously you lean over to him, you hate him,M so bad, you could just…. Pour all that poisonous speech you’ve been suppressing over him. He does not tell you how to parent Amira, especially when he

“Ditched me and her to go be with your new girlfriend! I had to beg to get you to do this regularly! I’d rather she had a regular father! I wanna give that to her since you can’t!”

The words slip out before you can stop them. They’re harsher than you meant.

His face shifts—just slightly. A flicker of something behind his eyes. Annoyance? Guilt? You don’t know. He exhales through his nose, looking away for a moment before shaking his head.

“Low blow,” he mutters.

You don’t say anything for a while and it’s truly better— you’d rather avoid seeing him any time that you can.

So the silence is alright. It’s fine. Daunty!

Then Amira’s tiny footsteps come pattering back into the room, her teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms. She jumps onto Kirishima’s lap again like she belongs there, grinning up at him. “Got it, Daddy!”

And just like that, the moment of silence and intense awkward staring is gone.

You clear your throat, strolling around the kitchen to grab Amira’s things. Ever so reluctantly you hand them to Kirishima, who’s already up from the couch with your daughter in his arms. Like he’s scared to overstay his welcome now. 

Good.

“She’s got everything. Don’t be late on Sunday.”

Kirishima nods, adjusting Amira in his arms as he marches towards you. His expression is unreadable again, but there’s something about the way he glances at you before heading toward the door—like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.

“Bye Mommy” Amira says and you scooch over, to place a wet kiss on her cheek. 

“Bye baby, love you.” You wave “Bye Eijiro”

“S’yahhhh”

Only Amira keeps waving her hands enthusiastically. He doesn’t look at you. 

You don’t watch them leave. You just close the door behind them, press your forehead against it, and let out a slow, shaky breath.

You hear Kirishima’s footsteps fade down the hallway, followed by the soft jingle of Amira’s fuzzy keychain for her backpack. You don’t move from the door until you hear the front door to your apartment building shut.

[luvyeni]

CELIBATE ♱. ── ( 정성찬 )

𝓲𝓿 ⦂ after a horrible terrible breakup with your ex; you swore off men, you were gonna be celibate for the foreseeable future … then here comes sungchan with a terrible first impression …

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 chapter seventeen. basketball .ᐟ

“if he comes in and starts something, jimin you kick him the shin and i’ll hit him in the head with my platform shoe.”

the three of you turned to julie; watching her fix her makeup. “it’s was just a suggestion.” you scoffed. “one that will get us all put in a cell.” the four of you were sitting in the stands waiting for the other team to get ready. “hopefully he’ll just play the game and leave.” you knew that wasn’t gonna happen — because you knew geonu and you knew sungchan. “yeah , hopefully.”

just as you said that you heard a group of rowdy hoots and hollers. “here we go.” your eyes automatically went to sungchan , who was already staring at you. he waved excitedly, making you laugh , waving back. “jesus girl , he is obsessed, he didn’t even notice the other team was here.” you rolled your eyes. “it’s cute.” you said , you had to admit , the boy really did grow on you. “he’s cute.” you could hear the gagging of your friends from beside you. “yeah she forsure not surviving our 3 months of celibacy.”

you couldn’t smile for long; because your smile immediately dropped as both the teams walked on to the court , geonu stood right in front of sungchan and you could see sungchan stop smiling. “oh no.” wonbin said. “he’s gonna taunt him the entire game.” you sighed , sungchan looked for you in the crowd. “there she is.” he heard the irritating voice in front of him. “sitting pretty as she always is.” he could feel his blood began to boil. “you know after we kick your teams ass , maybe i should ask her to come back to my place.”

before sungchan could react , shotaro pulled him to the other side. “get your head out of your ass for a second and ignore him.” the older boy whispered. “do what you have to do after we win this.” he nodded , looking at you once more , before the referee blew the whistle; signaling the game was beginning.

you still didn’t know what was going on in the game , but you could tell it wasn’t going well for sungchan and his team; the number on the scoreboard confirming. “they have no chance if sungchan doesn’t make this shot.” wonbin said. “let’s hope he really isn’t as bad at free throws like eunseok said.” you huffed , biting your lip in anxiety. “please make it.”

“just shoot it , don’t think about.” eunseok said. “think about how im gonna kick your ass if you don’t.” followed up. “just do it.” seunghan said , he huffed , the ball in his hand , raising it about his head , and shooting it — and he made it. “fuck yeah!” they all slapped his back in a congratulatory. “we just need three more points and we can still win this thing.”

he let out a sigh of relief; noticing your anxious eyes in the crowd , doing a smile gesture towards , mouthing the word. he was suddenly shoved , making him bump into anton who caught him. “fucking play the game.” geonu huffed , walking by frustrated. “hey.” anton stopped him by grabbing his shoulders. “don’t let him get to you.”

“sungchan is about to beat the shit out of him,” jimin said. “and i fully support him.” so ready for the game to just be over so they can go. “there’s a minute left, all one of them has to do is shoot a three pointer and we can finally go.” wonbin reassured. “no bruises or blood , we’re almost there.”

sungchan was pissed off; he had been pushed and shoved by the boy too many times for his liking and was one shove away from being disqualified. “pass it to sungchan, he's good at three pointers.” shotaro said. “just make the basket and we can go home winners.” everyone agreed as the referee blew the whistle. “let’s do it.”

it happened so fast , you could’ve missed it. one second he was shooting the ball — and it went in. the gym erupting into cheers as the score changed , signaling their win. “they won!” you shot up , clapping as hard as you could. “didn’t understand it , but they won!” the four of you cheered. “let’s go down.” you grabbed wonbins hands , dragging him down the steps down on to the court. “channie!”

he felt you before he turned around , your body crashing into his. “you won!” he felt you jumping in his arms. “you’re more excited than i am right now , you hugging me is more exciting.” he smiled. “shut up.” he wrapped his arms around you again , holding you tightly. “okay , wrap this up , you need to go shower.” you said. “why you finally letting me over?” you rolled your eyes. “go , before wonbin drags shotaro in there , don’t underestimate him and a sweaty man.” you said , watching your friend eye the man. “so that’s a yes?” he smirked. “it’s a— yn.”

you were interrupted by an irritating voice. “seriously.” sungchans stepping in front of you. “you already lost , just go.” he said , geonu laughed. “you won by a landslide.” julie picking up on what was going on. “yn , come on , we’re going out to eat.” you turned to sungchan. “i’ll be fine.” you nodded , walking towards your friend. “you yn if that offer still stands from a few days ago.” geonu started , grabbing your wrist. “I’m down for whatever you were saying.”

you tried to pull away but he had a grip on your wrist. “let me fucking go.” the gym finally catching on to what was happening. sungchan was confused; what was he talking about? and most importantly why was he touching you? he felt all of his anger from being pushed and shoved from this man finally boiling over , before any of the guys could pull him away he was already punching him in the face , you stepped back in shock as the man fell to the floor.

his adrenaline was still high; because right after doing that , he didn’t even bother trying to explain himself to the referee, he turned to you , grabbing both of cheeks , pulling you into a kiss; making sure geonu saw it , before pulling away , but the look in his eyes was anger. he was angry; at you? geonu? who knew because shotaro was dragging him away and jimin and karina were already dragging you out of the gym wonbin following behind , leaving a bleeding geonu on the gym floor.

🍃. taglist … @dollechan @thisrandombitch @daegale @shimochibun @gacktsa @jungwonsstrawberry @hanninova @nlewst @pxnklover @secretiny @sunflowers1610 @jvngw0nlvr @valentinebby @kittykyuuu @mmjh1998 @saranghoeforanton @chwesuh-imnida @yuyita-rosier @niniissus @17ericas @i03jae @kookieswithjung @ethelia @dorritoni @nickiminajleftasscheek @xcosmi

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 previous. celibate masterlist. next. .ᐟ

©️LUVYENI

[in-som-niyah]

hiii i hope you’re having a good day/night!!!

saw your inbox was open, may i ask hurt comfort w jason with lines like “you know i would die for you” “but i want you to live for me” or something like that (u can ignore the lines if you like)

love your works ♥︎

a/n: we're gonna ignore the fact that this was requested a yr ago ok thanks

Your phone has been left in your purse of the past 3 days and you refuse to touch it until it rings the specific ringtone attributed to Jason's number.

The last you heard of him was when you fought for the millionth time over him coming home fractured and barely together. You're grateful he told you that he's Red Hood and he comes to you when he needs to be put back together, but every bruise on Jason's body would chip away at your resolve. Every bleeding gash a reminder that someone is out to hurt him, and he barely got away.

It came to a head when he promised, he promised, he wouldn't overdo it anymore, he'll walk away when the reward is no longer worth the fight. His boots collided with your floor and he stumbled into your bathroom. Blood seeping through the hand holding his side, a harsh groan and whimper as he collapsed onto your desk chair. Blood was everywhere. He couldn't even hold a breath long enough to apologize for it.

Of course you patched him up; you grabbed the gauze and antiseptic and needles and all of that. You cleaned, stitched him and did everything you're supposed to do. You did what you're supposed to do and still. Still he's almost dying in your room.

It ended in yelling, biting comebacks and clothes thrown into bags. Neither of you are sure how it happened, or what was said. All you know is that it hurts. It hurts so much. You've learned to lean on each other when things got heavy, but soft hands have sharp teeth it seems.

You know he would die for you, but you don't want a funeral; why can't he understand that his beating heart means more to you than a casket?

---

Three days.

Three days of nothing.

You haven't seen or heard from him. You were worried for your relationship of course, but also for his health; he has a tendency to be more risky when emotionally volatile.

Is he bleeding out somewhere?

Is he scared?

Is he as distraught as you are?

Too many thoughts for a mind too far into exhaustion. You needed to pull yourself together. Work had to carry on. You're a nurse, helping people is what you do. Get a fucking grip.

It took 6 nights for Jason to show up again. You never gave him permission to come into your shitty apartment in the first place, he never asked anyway.

This time he was standing upright, bandages still on, but the wounds were no longer bleeding. His eyes delayed meeting yours, favouring instead to look behind you and into our apartment, looking as if he'll find someone else lounging in his place.

You looked at him, but really his injuries and lingering bruises. Jason stood in your doorway helmetless, coming to you as a person rather than a character. You appreciated this, but stunned at the intrusion.

"Look at me." Jason starts.

His voice is low, gentle. Nothing like it was a week ago. It carries concern, consideration and fondness. Nothing like it was a week ago.

You dare not look at him. Under no circumstances will you tell him how bad the past six days were for you. You will not tell him how your cell phone is still in your bag. You will not tell him how you can't pick it up for any other ringtone other than his.

"Please"

Jason sounds like he's choking. He sounds like you're strangling him and sucking the air from his lungs. He sounds like the world is in limbo.

A small droplet falls to your feet. You instinctually look up, and regret it instantly. Puffy eyes weighed down by eye bags collected from restless nights met your gaze. Looking at Jason was a gut punch, a twisting, winding, gut punch.

You didn't notice your own tears, but you managed to close the door behind you before you were pulled into his arms. Injuries be damned, he would rip a thousand stitches before he deprived himself of how you felt against him. The smell of your deep conditioner, the feeling of your soft curls against his shoulder, the tenderness of your body, the warmth of your skin. He remembers now.

Jason remembers why he loves likes you. He remembers why he broke through your window the first couple nights. He needs you, and he's a fucking idiot if he continues to put flinging himself into danger over you.

Jason ends up sitting in your doorway, arms around you, fists curled in your clothes. He held you as if you would disappear. He held you as if you would draw all his breath from him if you pulled away. He would never, never make that mistake again. Nothing on this godforsaken planet, in this shitty city is ever worth more than you.

Just as quickly as they came, Jason's convictions to his lifestyle came crumbling down. If any of his enemies were to hold a gun to his head, right here right now, he would go without a fight.

Though words evaded him, he was an idiot if he didn't at least try.

"I'm so sorry" you sob.

"I love you too."

---

a/n pt2: so this came out so much more angsty than i thought so im sorry for that!! im finally on a roll where i feel motivated so i'm gonna keep writing hopefully <3 thank you so much for ur patience and such a great ask <3

also im an idiot and just ran with this and just realized that you wanted quotes instead of just a general concept AFTER the fact that i wrote this so... yeah 🙂, this is going well 🙂

Also, i think this fits intot he fem!black!nurse!reader AU that i may or may not have made official so theres that <3

[thatoneautisticshark]

I'M BACK AGAIN

Okay so in response to you saying "Simon thinking he was being sooooooo flirty, but it's shit" it made me think about his flirting in general.

Simon's sense of humor is already something that most people wouldn't get and the rest groan at and try to hide that they find it funny.

I think Simon would 100000000% just SUCK BALLLLLS when it comes to flirting like he's so fucjing bad at it. He either says smth and they think he's being kinda creepy ("You used a different shampoo today, it smells nice") or dropping morbid scary facts (totally not projecting)("the epidermis layer of the skin isn't attached to any blood major blood vessels. If you skin someone alive carefully enough, they'll die of dehydration before they do of blood loss" trying to seem cool and smart) or maybe he says smth more normal but he's got that dead face and those intense eyes that make it look like he's glaring and the monotone voice and people think he's gonna kill them.

But Johnny fuckin MacTavish. That little freak!!!!!! It works. Of course Simon's God awful flirting would work! Johnny's a freak! I like to think he's a lil pyrophiliac or smth sometimes, he's kinky! But also, he just understands what Simon's trying to get across bc he knows Simon better than anyone else! People always say they can never tell what Ghost is thinking but Ghost just has to send one look Soap's way and Soap already knows that Ghost wants a specific brand of tea and a fucking biscuit or smth else ridiculously specific.

And it baffles the rest of 141 the way Soap reads Ghost so easily and how Soap blushes at Ghost's weird ass flirting. Bc what do you mean Soap is getting all hot and bothered over Ghost talking about how long it takes to strange someone to death or smth like that 😭🤣

Ghost doesn't even have to say anything he just walks into a room and Soap already knows. Call Soap the Ghost Whisperer from now on!!! It comes in real handy anytime Ghost goes nonverbal bc he's stressed out the wazoo

This is Ghost lookikg at Soap and Soap knowing that Ghost is craving *insert the most ungodly specific and random thing here* more than oxygen itself.

yes. Yup. Cannon now because I say so. Not quite sure how to make it into a fic,so you get more like little prices of it.

Soap genuinely believed Ghost was mute for the first three weeks, then He randomly spoke, and Soap was like. Okay then.

After mission, Ghost is obviously stressed and not doing well and non of the team knows what to do. Ghost just stares at Soap for five seconds, and Soap grabs his keys. "I'm going to get Simon banana milk brainwaves and KFC Fry's, anyone want anything?" And the team is going... What the fuck?

On their one month anniversary Ghost gifted soap a giant plushie spider that Soap keeps above his bed and it terrifies Gaz.

Ghosts flirting is facts. Like he tells soap about how, female hyenas have a pseudo penis, and it rips during birth. And Soap just goes. Good for them mate.

Ghost is either rambling or mute and soap loves him either way.

His observations of little things is so endearing to Soap. "You washed your hair". "your shoes are polished" "That's a new toothpaste." It also comes in useful when soap is injured because Ghost spots in a millisecond.

Freaky under the cut. Also TW Murder

The first time they fuck is in a storage cupboard on a mission, because Soap seeing Ghost slit a clean line down someone's throat to their dick got him going. (He is fucked up okay)

Soap blows up a base, and ghost is giving him bedroom eyes.

Soap has a much shorter mohawk for a while, because while palying with fire in the bedroom they set it on fire.

On days they are both horny, but Ghost isn't up for touch, Soap has sucked off ghosts gun, with the saftey off.