#but!! It’s for my own good. I hate to have to mourn something that was no good

[xxplastic-cubexx]

if we're talking about weird ways the prequel movies handled raven and erik, i still can't really get over how they

- made a huge plot point of first class physical mutations

- erased erik's physical mutation (his white hair)

- made raven's opinion on her physical mutation that she doesn't wanna hide it

- then proceed to have her shapeshifted and hide it almost constantly

- then gave quicksilver and polaris their unnatural hair colors that they should have inherited from erik

it's just hilarious to me. i wanna see the talks that lead to these decisions.

i think At Most i can justify raven hiding her true form as a way to protect herself and/or because she's insecure: evidently a lot of people dont act kindly to blue scaled women (tho i did wish she showed her true form more while at the cia base with the other mutants) and it's fair to assume that even if she wants to be out and proud she has some apprehension about it because of Aforementioned safety/confidence issues

everything else tho yeah LOL whats all this then. wasnt in the budget i support- tho i stilllll so badly wish that they at least let erik's hair go white in apocalypse ..... that woulda been cool at least .....

[cryptiduni]

“white mourning.”

[rcmclachlan]

"You've got to be joking." Buck reaches up and swats at the yellow clouding the periphery of his vision, which yields the very satisfying sound of metal jangling and the less awesome feeling of whacking the side of his pinky against something with a sharp edge. 

"I've never joked about anything in my life," Tommy lies, then lifts the measuring tape to Buck's cheek. 

Buck pushes the stupid thing away again and cups his hand over his cheek. "Now that's funny."

"Shouldn't be. I just said I don't joke. Evan, put your hand down, don't touch it." 

Making a face, Buck bats at the measuring tape again. 

Tommy makes a face right back. "Stop trying to spread the plague for a second and hold still. That's an order, Buckley."

"That's not what you said last night," Buck snarks, but he obediently tilts his head up and is only a little huffy about it. He also tucks his hands between his knees so he doesn't give into the temptation of smacking the thing away again, or reaching out to twist one of Tommy's nipples through his shirt for the simple thrill of being a brat.

"But it is what I said on Monday night," Tommy muses. His tongue peeks out at the corner of his mouth as he brings his other hand—gloved, the big baby—to gently steady the tape just under the boil on Buck's face. 

Even as pain briefly flares at the suggestion of something touching whatever has taken residence on his cheek, heat blooms in Buck's belly at the memory of Monday night. Monday night was good. Really good. He glances down at his hands, still safely held between his knees, and mourns for the hundredth time that the red lines from the ropes have completely faded. Next time, he'll make sure Tommy ties them tight enough to leave a mark that lasts. 

"So? Are you planning to hang a picture or something? Do we need to get a stud finder?"

"I have no problem finding studs on my own, thanks," Tommy says, then pokes Buck's forehead with a grin. "Look, there's one."

He's so charming. Buck wants to hate it so much, but all he can do is laugh and try to smack him again. Tommy retreats to a safe distance a foot away and his smug little smile gives way to concern. Buck already doesn't like what he's about to say. 

"That thing is almost three inches wide."

"W-Wait, seriously? That's like the size of a frickin' giant weta!" Buck reaches up to touch the thing on his cheek, which pulls painfully just from talking. 

"I'll make sure to use the arthropodic unit of measurement from now on." This time it's Tommy who smacks his wrist. "Evan, I'm serious, don't touch it. Actually, go wash your hands right now. I'm calling Eddie."

Buck drops his head to the back of the couch with a groan. "There's no reason to call Eddie! It's not a huge deal, okay? I was lightly cursed. Josh says I just need to take a bath in hyssop, vetiver, and wormwood." 

There's a metaphysical supply store near Sunset Boulevard that has everything he needs in stock. The employee who answered the phone was very helpful, and they made a good case for buying something called moldavite. 

The look Tommy levels at him is so incredulous that Buck kind of wants to take a picture of him and see if it'll go viral as the next big reaction meme. 

"Evan." Oooh, that's not one of the good 'Evan's. "No offense to Josh, but those are soup ingredients. I'm getting a second opinion. From a medical professional."

As if to punctuate that, Tommy shucks his gloves and pulls out his phone. Buck glowers at him and calls upon the days of Trojans' football plays past, because his coach always said his offensive tackle was a thing of beauty. There is no way Eddie can know that the little red dot from yesterday has ballooned into a monster, and he has no qualms about getting physical to stop that call from going through. 

But something must give him away—maybe the way he plants his feet on the floor, or how he braces his shoulders a little—because Tommy straightens up to his full height, points right at Buck's chest like he's about to cast his own curse, and intones, "Don't make me call Hen."

Buck collapses back against the couch like he's been shot. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I'll even make sure Howie's on the call. Do not test me."

"See if I ever suck your dick again," Buck mutters, even though saying it just feels like he's punishing himself, because his skill level has finally risen to meet his love for giving head. He's reached his final form of a human Dyson. It's moments like this that he wants to kick his own ass for not realizing he was bisexual sooner. He could've been sucking cock for years. Thankfully Tommy's dick is so big that choking on it feels like Buck's making up for all that lost time.

He tries to get a good sneer going but all it does is pull painfully at his cheek. He sucks air through clenched teeth. 

Bringing the phone to his ear, Tommy gives the sage nod of someone who just had their point proven and gestures at Buck's face. "There isn't a lot I wouldn't do for that mouth, but right now? That's not the threat you think it is."

This is so unfair.

"Hey, Eddie, you busy?" Tommy glances at Buck and his mouth twists into a sympathetic smile, even as he clutches his phone a little tighter. "I need your expertise. Well, Evan does."

"Evan does not!" Buck shouts.

Tommy rolls his eyes and turns his back, curling around the phone like he's about to start sharing state secrets. "Did you get a good look at his face when you were on shift yesterday?"

As a matter of fact, Eddie had gotten a look at it and declared it nothing more than a blind pimple, maybe an ingrown hair. And sure, it had been roughly the size of a pin head at the time, but it's honestly not that bad. 

"Uh, you could say that." Tommy pauses for a moment, listening to whatever Eddie's saying, and then spares Buck a glance over his shoulder. "I'm not sure 'infected' does it justice. It looks like it's seconds away from gaining sentience."

Buck grabs the throw pillow he's been sitting on and chucks it at him. 

"I appreciate it, man. See you soon." Tommy clicks his phone off and pockets it, turning around with a big, fake-ass smile. He's still stupidly hot. Buck throws another pillow at him on principle, which Tommy easily dodges. "He's on his way. He's even picking up lunch."

With a grumble, Buck throws himself sideways onto the couch and curls into the back of it. 

"You're pouting."

"You can't even see that," Buck pouts. "This is stupid. All I need is, like, a warm compress and Josh's curse-breaking bath bomb. And moldavite, I guess?"

Tommy heaves a sigh, and Buck tugs his hood until it covers his burning face, mortified. He knows he's being stupid about this, and if this were anyone else he'd have knocked them out and tossed them through the doors of First Presbyterian without a second thought, but this is different. And he hates that he's dragged Tommy into this and completely ruined all the plans they had for their shared 48 off, which was a scheduling gift from the gods and was going to involve so much sex and short rib. 

"Evan."

"Don't," Buck snaps, even though his name sounded gentle and sincere coming from Tommy's mouth. "I made this bed, right? I deserve to lay in it."

"Evan, you did nothing wrong."

When Tommy says it, he can almost believe it, but at the end of the day, Buck was the one who disturbed the spirit of poor Derek Bradley, age 57, murder victim from 1982 by opening his coffin and displaying him for three hundred kids to gawk at. To add insult to injury, Derek wasn't even the main attraction; Buck stuck him in the back with the paper mache spiders he got last minute at Party City. It's only right that Buck suffer for the indignity of being deemed a second rate decoration. Boils and pestilence seem fair in the grand scheme of things.

"I mean, I personally wouldn't have gotten Halloween decor off Facebook Marketplace," Tommy teases, then his voice sobers into bare earnestness, "but that doesn't mean you deserve boils and pestilence. It was just a freak thing. One that a medical professional can definitely handle."

Something gently begins stroking Buck's arm, making long, sweet sweeps, and all the muscles bunched in his back begin relaxing one by one until he's sinking into the cushions. Even when Buck's a general plague area, Tommy still can't stop himself from reaching out to touch. 

Warm with something it's way too soon to put a name to, Buck smiles and rolls over. And freezes. And looks down at the box of Kleenex in Tommy's hand, which he'd clearly been using to stroke Buck with. 

Whatever Tommy sees on Buck's face makes him crack a sheepish grin. "Hey, just because you don't deserve boils and pestilence doesn't mean you don't, you know, still have them."

Buck stares at him for a long, long time, and then finally says, "Kiss me."

"No."

"Kiss me, Thomas." Buck sits up, pushes himself to his feet, and then moans hauntingly, "Kiss meeee."

Snickering, eyes wide, Tommy shakes his head and takes a step back. "Ain't no way, Buckley. I'm ready to start calling that thing Marla."

It's got to be some movie reference, but Buck ignores it and shuffles around the coffee table, arms out the way in front of him like he's in Scooby Doo, groaning so loud it might actually wake the dead. "Kiiiiiissssss meeeeee."

Tommy's almost not quick enough to dodge him, mostly because he's laughing too hard, but he manages to vault over the chair behind him and make a break for the kitchen.

The ensuing chase only ends because Eddie eventually shows up, arms full of takeout from Fat Sal's Deli, and shouts over their cackling, "Oh fuck no, I did not sit through traffic on Highland Ave so I could be part of whatever this is! Get your asses down here or I'm leaving both of you to die!"

[prettyfastcars]

Owned | Mob!Lando - part 2

Read part 1 here

Summary: Lando finally gets what he wants. Sure he had to use crooked ways to get it, but all’s fair when one is in love, isn’t it? 

Themes: dark!mob!lando, breeding kink, smut, fluff, explicit language

“Did you do it?” 

You asked as you were both in bed in your apartment, your head resting on his chest while his hand gently caressed your back. Your fingers mindlessly toyed with the chain around his neck. 

Lando had been here with you every single night ever since you’d learned about your ex boyfriend’s tragic accident which happened on the same night you decided to break things off with him. 

That night, you two had an argument and it was messy. After that he stepped out for a walk, then unfortunately got hit badly. The days following the accident were rough. You called Lando the morning after, crying as you told him what happened. He told you not to worry and that he was coming to take care of everything. 

The moment he got there at your doorstep, everything passed by in a blur. You barely even remember the funeral, the headstone at the cemetery, mourning with your ex’s family. All you remember is Lando was right there. 

And now that all of that was over, now that you had taken time to work through your emotions and feelings, and now that you had a taste of normality again, you couldn’t help but ask that question. 

Lando sighed, “What makes you say that, baby?” 

He had taken every precaution. His guys had even made sure there were no cameras around where the ‘accident’ happened. 

“Just wondering,” You murmured. You went to get up, to pull away from him and get out of bed but Lando stopped you by rolling on top of you before you did. The heat of his body, the feeling of his warm skin against yours, suddenly you didn’t want to get out of this bed. Ever. 

“You think I would lie to you about something like this? You think I would put you through all this on purpose?” His pretty eyes looked down at you. His soft lips, his messy hair, that chain hanging from his neck slightly brushing against your chest as he hovered above you. “Hmm?” 

Of course, Lando knew he could never tell you the truth. It was better this way. He hated lying to you, but this was for your own good. He saw the way guilt immediately filled your eyes at the sound of his question. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, reaching out to touch his face. “I think I need some more time to process everything.” 

As much as he hated the thought of you being engrossed in the thoughts of another man, he nodded, agreeing. 

He leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth softly, “The kids miss you.” 

You gave him a slight smile then. “I miss them too.” He had told you that he had hired a temporary nanny for them, until you were ready to come back to work. He also said how they didn’t really like the new nanny and asked about your whereabouts each morning and night. “I’ll be back soon.” You promised. 

He moved his mouth on top of yours and kissed you passionately, biting your lip before shoving his tongue past your lips and kissing you like he’s famished. 

He’d been doing that a lot lately. Whenever he found you too deep in your thoughts, he’d find a way to distract you and make you forget for a while. Most of the time, you both ended up in bed. 

Like right now. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back. You moaned and whimpered, your bare body squirming under his. Lando's mouth left your lips as he kissed his way down your body, pulling the covers away in the process until he settled in between your legs. His handsome face just inches away from your dripping core. 

“I miss having you in my home, you know that?” He whispered before he leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease. “I miss seeing your face when I get home from work.” 

Your body felt hotter and lighter as a pressing need to release formed deep inside you as you felt his tongue stroked your most sensitive parts. He looked up at you and found you with your eyes shut, head thrown back in pleasure. 

“Look at me.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble.

You opened your eyes and supported your upper body up, your elbows digging into the mattress. You watched how his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to him. He maintained eye contact as he licked in between your wet folds again, making you whine as he teased you. His touch was deliberately slow, and pleasurably agonising. 

“Come home with me.” He whispered before he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud until you came undone, thighs shaking as he kissed his way up your body again, hovering over you.  

“I will,” You answered. “Soon.”

“How soon?” He leaned in to kiss you on the lips. 

“Maybe in a couple of days.” 

“You’re torturing me.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Am I?” 

“Yes,” He insisted. “I miss you.” He repeated. “When you come back to me, I’m never letting you leave my bed.” 

You giggled again, running your fingers through his soft hair as he leaned in to kiss you again. His hand slipped in between your legs with ease, caressing your inner thighs again. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss given how sensitive you were. 

You squirmed under him, and Lando smirked through the kiss as he slid his cock easily into you, pulling your legs up to wrap them around his waist. You moaned out loud again as he filled you up entirely. 

He grabbed both your hands, laced your fingers together with his and pinned your interlaced hands down above your head, whispering as he fucked you slowly, “Gonna put a baby in you.” He gasped, “Then you’ll be mine forever.” He stared into your eyes, lips parted as he fucked you gently. 

His lips found yours again, swallowing your moans while he rolled his hips against yours. He pulled out and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you squirmed under him. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He mumbled breathlessly as he pushed deeper into you. “You’d be safe with me, just us and the kids. Huh, baby?” 

“Yes…” You whined. 

He bit your lips, kissed your open mouth, and shoved his tongue past your lips while he pounded into you. Your legs trembled around his waist, he thrust deeper into you fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. 

“I can see it already,” He whispered, “You, walking around with a baby bump, in your little dresses,” He pressed the palm of his hand against your lower abdomen while he kept pounding into you incessantly. “I can’t wait to spoil you rotten, baby. I’ll worship your body even more than I do now, I’ll buy you anything you wanted, fuck I’ll do anything for you.” 

“Oh… Lando, please,” You whimpered. 

You tightened around him as you felt him quicken his pace, pounding into you. You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

His hand toyed with your clit, making you tremble. “Come for me.” He murmured, his voice now deeper. “Take all that cum, it’s all yours, baby. All yours.” 

With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls. 

You couldn’t hold back anymore, and came with a loud moan.

Lando came right after you. He didn’t pull out, but remained buried inside you. Both of you catching your breaths and hearts racing in sync. You were a whimpering mess as he collapsed on top of you. 

“I fucking love you.” He whispered, breathless. 

- 

Lando left in the early hours of the morning. He hated leaving you, but his kids would need him. He left after giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” He murmured against your skin. 

On his way home, Lando got his phone out and immediately pulled up the camera footage. These past days, you’d been sleepier than usual so he had ample time to bring his guys in and have them install even more discreet cameras all over your home. 

He didn’t see it as invading your privacy. But he had to make sure you were alright at all times, right? 

So he watched you as you slept. Warm and safe under your blankets. “Everything’s gonna be okay, baby.” He whispered as he watched you shift around until you found a more comfy position. “I’ll take care of you.” 

—

He couldn’t have been happier the day you decided to come back to work. Neither could he keep his hands off of you the moment the kids were napping during the day or sleeping at night. 

“You’re moving in with me,” He growled into your ear one night, as he fucked you from behind while you were bent over his desk again. He grabbed you by the hips, pulling your body into him each time he thrust into you. “I don’t want you living in that apartment anymore. You hear me?” 

You whined, barely able to hold on to the desk as he pounded into you. “I can’t…” You gasped, “I can’t just move in, I–,” 

“Why?” He barked, “Why can’t you?” He leaned over you, his damp, warm chest pressing against your back. “Hmm?” 

You turned your head to the side, gasping in pleasure as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “I can’t just… ” You desperately tried to get the right words out. “Maybe later, in a year or two if we’re still–,” 

“Years?” He growled, fucking you harder. Your body crashed against the desk with each of his thrust, and you moaned at how his cock reached all the right places. “And if we’re still what?” 

You whimpered when he bit down on your shoulder before pounding into you harder than before. “Together." You answered. "What if–,” 

Lando pulled out, pulled you up from the desk and twisted you around so you faced him. He did it so quickly you barely processed any of it. One moment you were bent over his desk and the next you were facing him with his hand wrapped around your throat. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his eyes. You secretly loved this side of him. Unpredictable. Wild. Dark. 

“What did you just say to me?” He whispered, his voice surprisingly deeper than you’d ever heard. It made you shiver. “You think there’s even a slight possibility that you won’t end up being mine forever?” He leaned in just enough so his mouth brushed against yours. “You think this is a joke, baby? You think I’m just messing around with you?” 

You trembled as he sat you down on the edge of the desk and slid his cock inside you again. The room was dark, the only light came from the dim scones on the wall and the moonlight coming in from the wide windows. Lando looked angry. 

He tightened his grip around your throat just enough to make you whimper again as he resumed fucking you. “You’re mine.” He hissed. “There is no if,” He kept fucking into you even as you came, moaning and whimpering as you clenched around his cock, “You will be mine forever.” 

You were too far gone, high on the orgasm he’d just given you that you didn’t hear the dark promise dripping from his words as he came inside you. 

— 

A couple of days later, one night as you put the kids to sleep, you received a phone call from a panicked neighbour of yours. What she said over the phone made you rush to Lando, trying to keep yourself from freaking out. 

You found him in his bedroom and you couldn’t help the tears then. 

“What’s going on, baby?” He wrapped his arms around you and held you until you were able to speak again. "What happened?"

“My neighbour called and… they’re being evacuated because–,” You took a deep breath, “My building is on fire, it’s… it’s pretty bad.” You sobbed, hugging him tightly. “My apartment, it’s all gone.”

“Hey, hey,” He cupped your face in his large hands and said, “Calm down, I’m here. Okay? I’ll handle this, baby. Don’t you worry.” 

You buried your face into his chest, sniffling. 

He hugged you tighter, kissing your temple and rubbing your back to comfort you. He hated it, being the reason behind why you were crying. But this was necessary, wasn’t it? You refused to move in with him because you liked your apartment. So he got rid of the apartment. The whole building in fact. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He murmured against your skin as he repeatedly kissed your forehead while you cried on his shoulder. I had to do it. He thought. How else would we live under the same roof? 

—

You had no choice but to live with him after that incident. Apparently the authorities couldn’t find what started the fire, and any evidence was probably ash too. 

As much as you missed your cosy apartment, living with Lando was like being in a dream. 

You’d wake up in his arms, spend time with the kids, have breakfast like a family, then Lando would leave for ‘work’ and you’d kiss him goodbye at the door. You’d spend your entire day with the kids, reading, baking, playing in the yard. Then he’d come home and you’d spend the evening like a family again. 

After putting the kids to bed, Lando would always, always drag you straight to bed where you’d fuck until one of you passed out, then resume in the morning and repeat. 

Everything was perfect. 

And just weeks after moving in with him, you found out you were pregnant. When you broke the news to him, he was almost giddy with excitement. 

He refused to leave your side, to the point where he’d try to be home as much as possible and would only ever leave if something desperately needed his attention or intervention. 

Many times you’d find him in the kids’ playroom, talking to them about having a newborn baby around. They were all excited.

It had become impossible for him to keep his hands off you, especially once you started showing. “You’re too beautiful to resist.” He’d tell you. 

You would often wake up to find him wrapped around you, nuzzling your bump and kissing it. He would find you at random times during the day, and pull you into a room or drag you to his office or your shared bedroom and fuck you until you were both completely spent. 

“I can’t get enough of you.” He’d whisper each time. 

You noticed he would be extra careful with you. His touch was soft, he would always fuck you nice and slow, always looking at you to confirm he wasn’t hurting you and that you were enjoying it as much as he was. 

“You don’t have to be so careful all the time, you know?” You whispered to him one night, your hands running through his hair while he laid his head on your bump, kissing it occasionally. “I’m just pregnant, I’m not made of glass.” 

He left a kiss on your bump then lifted his head to look up at you. “Don’t wanna hurt you,” He whispered, “Or the baby.” 

You smiled at him, caressing his pretty face. “We’re okay. You worry too much.” 

He kissed his way up your body, his hips settling in between your legs again. You giggled as he slid inside you again. It was the third, or fourth, time tonight. 

“You never get tired these days, I see.” You whined, back arching off the bed slightly as his mouth latched on to your sensitive nipple while he moved in and out of you in a pace that made you lose your mind. He knew you were extra sensitive these days, and he took full advantage of that. 

–

Lando ended up hiring a helper to aid you in taking care of the kids. But the kind lady ended up doing all the work and you’d often find yourself with nothing but free time to do whatever you wanted. 

You went to Lando regarding this, and the moment you showed up in his office he pulled you onto his lap and helped you ride him instead. 

“This is a serious…” You gasped as he lifted your hips up before bringing you down his cock again, “...problem.” 

“Mhm,” He mumbled, lips wrapped around your nipple again. His hands held you by the hips and he slowly thrust up into you. “Is it?” 

“Yes,” You argued, placing your hands on his shoulders. You looked down and smiled at your growing bump, before you glared at him, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Told me she was just here to help when in fact you hired her to do my actual work.” 

He pulled his mouth away and smirked up at you. “You need rest, baby.” He thrust his hips up slightly harder, deeper each time until you were coming undone all over his cock again. It didn’t take much given how sensitive you were these days. When you both calmed down he said, “Now you have time to do all that you want.” 

“I’m gonna get lazy.” You mumbled as you cuddled up to his side, your bump always got in the way but Lando still got as close as he could to you, wrapping his arms securely around you. 

“You’re carrying our new baby, you’re allowed to be as lazy as you want.” He kissed you on the nose. 

“So what, I’m just gonna be here doing nothing all day? Just read, and bake and make babies for you?” 

“That’s not a bad idea.” He chuckled. 

"Whatever." You groaned, “I’m too tired to be angry at you.” 

He laughed. One of his hands reached out to caress your bump. “Let’s get you in bed.” He murmured against your forehead. “Okay, baby?” 

You nodded. 

–

By the time he got you cleaned up and in bed, you were already fast asleep. Lando checked on the kids one last time before climbing into bed with you. Pulling you close, he kissed you one more time. 

Everything was perfect, just as he intended. There were some secrets he would take to his grave with him, some he would never share with you. Some truths he would never let come out; mainly the accident, and the fire. 

But this right here was all that mattered, you and him together. 

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism: "If you die tomorrow, would you have any regrets?"

G/N. Jake, Goo, Gun, DG, Ryuhei, Sammy. Reminder that Gun is canonically a gamer lmao.

Jake looks up at you in surprise, the morbid question catching him off guard.

"Why?" he asks, tilting his head.

"It was just a question I read."

"Hmm," Jake rubs at his chin and gazes off somewhere in the distance, no doubt thinking about all that has happened in his life. "Yeah. Loads."

Oh. You weren't expecting that-

"A lot of things I've made my peace with," Jake shrugs and you know he means Sinu and Samuel and Big Deal.

The mess with Workers, the falling out with Samuel and end of the Golden Era, the arrest of so many of his crew. He knows his mom is disappointed that he is so much like his father, his time in juvie, and Jake thinks if he tried better in school instead of fighting then maybe things would have worked out a lot differently.

"But-" he tugs on your hand, pulling you off-balance and falling straight into his lap.

"I'd regret not spending more time with you. All the time trying to be a good boss rather than a good boyfriend."

You open your mouth to argue that he is a good boyfriend but he continues on-

"I'd regret leaving you on your own. Even though I know you'd find someone easily," And Jake manages a small wistful smile, "I'd regret not being there for you."

.

.

"Me?" Goo blinks, looking up from his manga.

"Yes, you. The only other person here."

"Just checking, Cupcake." Goo thinks briefly for a moment before making up his mind.

"I'll regret not seeing how this manga ends," then he narrows his eyes, stabbing angrily at the page, "And not going to Japan to hunt down this asshole for killing my fave off-screen."

"Goo!" Maybe this is on you for expecting a serious answer.

He gets up and makes his way to you, peppers kisses all over your face as you roll your eyes. "You're not planning on killing me are you, Sweetheart?"

"Yes. Tonight. There's a knife under my pillow."

"Make sure you don't wake me, do it quick," he grins mischievously then-

An unpleasant thought pops up and he pulls a face. "Once I'm dead, you better not fall in love with anyone else. My ghost will haunt you, y'know."

"Fine, I'll just be sad and alone and mourning over you forever."

"Perfect!"

But what would Goo actually regret?

What's the saying? You can't take it with you.

Goo has such fun plans once he retires from all this crew shit. Neither of you have to work another day again, you can just spend the rest of your lives terrorising the general public instead. Travelling the world, swimming in a pool of money together, sleeping on a bed of cash. All that fun stuff.

Goo doesn't regret the time amassing his fortune, his little safety net for the future. But if he was to die tomorrow, he would regret not having that future with you.

.

.

Gun pauses the video game at your question, then turns to you with a brow arched, "Why do you think I'm going to die?"

"It's hypothetical. Like in a fight or something."

An arrogant smile spreads, "And who's strong enough to kill me?"

You click your tongue in annoyance at his response although you hate to admit that damn, you find his attitude sexy as hell. There's just something about him being able to back up his confidence with his skills and talent.

"Just answer my question!"

"No I would not have any regrets," he says, already turning back and resuming his game.

Of course Gun doesn't. As if someone like him would have any regrets.

Eyes still on the screen and fingers clicking on the controller, Gun adds quietly. "But you will be taken care of."

Oh.

If Gun were to die tomorrow, he would regret not being able to take care of you. Being by your side. In his line of work, it is always a possibility no matter how strong he is. The least he could do, and has done, is make sure that at least no harm or hardships befalls you after he is gone.

Money, protection, freedom. If he can't have a future, then he will assure yours.

.

.

DG falters mid-stride, giving it the briefest of thoughts before coming to a conclusion.

"Nope," he says with a cocky smirk.

He has very little to regret. His life as DG is what most people dream of. Fame and fortune, power and influence.

As James Lee he has proven he's the strongest, he's the peak and untouchable.

There's very little left for him to accomplish. Why would he have any regrets?

But, he supposes, as he is later handled by the assistants and the stylists, then plasters on a fake smile for TV appearances before being ushered to some event full of schmoozers and fakers and having to make small talk as DG, the idol and CEO-

Is that maybe if he could do it again, he would choose something with more privacy. More freedom. That he could do what he wants, whenever he wants.

And most importantly-

That he can walk hand in hand with you down the street without rabid fans screaming and the paparazzi photos making headlines.

Without you being on the receiving end of death threats and unhinged letters, and his agent and company telling him that he needs to apologize for his relationship. Backtrack it. Single idols sells better, appeals to the public more.

If DG died tomorrow, he thinks that actually he would regret this. He regrets keeping you in the shadows.

.

.

Ryuhei doesn't hesitate and tells you he wishes you were his first. For everything.

Even hand holding. Even hugs.

You pull a face at that.

"That's... Sweet." You say, lying through your teeth as Ryuhei looks at you with concerned puppy eyes.

"You wish the same, right?"

"Sure," you agree because where's the harm in appeasing this goofball.

In truth, and Ryuhei hates thinking about it, is that he does desperately wish that he met you first. Before Mitsuki, before anyone else.

Nevermind that it's a completely futile, fanciful dream because everything that has happened has led him to you.

But he thinks it would have worked out better. He could have been a better person, a better boyfriend. If he met you before he had a chance to develop his sex pest tendencies and obsessive behaviour that you had to stamp out.

It's pointless though. Not even worth dwelling on. What has happened has happened and he could only try to be better now.

Ryuhei considers the question again with a sigh. If he dies tomorrow, what would he regret?

Oh yeah! He would absolutely regret this!

"I'd regret that we can't bang anymore!"

"Ryuhei!"

.

.

Samuel immediately feels defensive at your question.

He thinks about what he hasn't yet achieved. All his dreams of becoming King, being at the top, and yet he's no closer.

"Why?" he asks, eyes starting to narrow behind his glasses.

You hold up both palms, in a gesture to indicate you didn't mean anything by it and your face tells him to just chill.

"I dunno. I found it and thought it was an interesting question."

"It's not." Samuel says, effectively ending the conversation and eyes dipping back down to his phone.

But it doesn't just end.

Samuel spirals and doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day, his shortcomings haunting him instead.

He drinks and he smokes and he spends even more time at work, trying to dull the ache of his inferiority.

The mornings and nights pass by in a blur, a string of toxic behaviours and self sabotage, until eventually - he comes to.

His failures and faults pushed to the back of his mind, rather than a constant reminder.

Then like a fog clearing, he finds clarity again. He sees your face, the worry, the trepidation... The guilt for asking an innocent question.

And Samuel knows that his biggest regret of all if he dies tomorrow is that you deserved better and he hasn't been able to give that to you.

[leilanihours]

# SHE WAS CRYIN' ON MY SHOULDER, ALL I COULD DO WAS HOLD HER

pairing: paige bueckers x ex-gf!reader

word count: 851

warnings: arguing, crying, mentions of abandonment/past relationship

summary: you and paige both have things you need to get off your chests one year after you break up.

⭑ from lani: to that anon i told my next fic would be for kate im so sorry 😭 i was crying to this song earlier and i just needed to write paige to it - so heres my first ever angst fic i hope its not horrible 😛

masterlist !

"Y/N, YOU LEFT me, remember? you left!"

"you didn't even bother to stop me, to fight for me- for us!"

neither of you knew how this escalated so quickly. how a friendly reunion turned into a screaming match.

"it's not my job to pick up the pieces of the shit you broke! so i'm sorry if i didn't feel like working myself over for someone who had no issue leaving."

you know her apology is insincere, sarcastic. but for a split second when you hear her say "i'm sorry," your heart aches for the words you've spent the past year mourning.

"paige," you sigh, trying to calm down before you say something you don't mean, "i know it seems like it, but i did not want to leave the way i did. i didn't have a choice."

"bullshit-"

"can you just be quiet and let me talk?" you snap, immediately shutting her up, "last summer when i disappeared, it was because of my parents. they forced me to come home to them even after i told them i wanted to stay here in connecticut. i swear to you, paige, i fought for us. you didn't see it but i went through hell fighting. and i'm sorry for ending it the way i did but, paige...we were bound to end it at some point. we both knew that. i had to go home eventually."

you both had tears streaming down your faces at this point, chests heaving from not being able to breathe properly.

you stood in front of paige, slowly pacing back and forth as she sat with her arms crossed on the cold park bench absorbing your words.

the darkness of the night engulfed the atmosphere, contributing to the inevitable breaking of your once-intertwined hearts. the only light was dim from the far away lamp post, rusting away from its former beauty - similarly to how you and paige used to be a work of art together, but were now nothing more than a mess of spilled emotions and pent-up grudges.

"and i understand that, y/n, but i deserved an explanation- a goodbye, at the very least. or at least i thought i deserved that."

"don't do that," you challenge, referring to the way she degraded herself in front of you, "is that why you didn't try? to save us?"

"why else wouldn't i? i thought you hated me, i thought-" she pauses to catch her breath and wipe some of the tears that had fallen on her pink lips, "i thought you didn't care about us. as if that summer didn't mean shit to you."

"paige i-"

"no, now it's your turn to listen," she demands, pulling you to sit next to her on the bench, both of her cold hands holding yours, "i never felt so strongly about someone the way i felt about you. i couldn't imagine spending my time away from you, i mean, it literally hurt. so i took advantage of that summer, i took advantage of the little time we had together. and then when i found out you left without a word to me, it broke me. and i know you didn't see it but ask literally any of my friends. i didn't get out of bed for days in a row. i didn't eat, i didn't practice, nothing. it was like you stole the good parts of me, took it, and ran. i needed you, y/n, but you were on the other side of the country. what am i supposed to do with that?"

she's full on sobbing now, shoulders shaking as she doesn't even try to hold in her tears now. you swear you can hear cracks in your own heart and bones forming as she confesses what she went through.

you can't bear watching her suffer anymore, tightly wrapping your arms around her shaking frame. hugs like these were second nature, but this time was different. there was more meaning behind it.

your embrace acted as a shield against any future problems that were to be thrown onto your paths. your embrace acted as a glue repairing the broken pieces of your relationship that laid destroyed for the past how many days. your embrace acted as a genuine embrace.

"paige, i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry, baby, i never wanted to leave you, you have to know that. i'm so sorry," you whisper into her hair.

one of your hands stroke her head buried in your neck. you feel her tears drip onto your thin jacket, soaking you with guilt as it hits you how desperate you were to spend the rest of your life making it up to this girl.

it was clear to you that she actually did care, unlike how you thought last summer. and because of how she was crying on your shoulder, you needed to forget about that version of her you spent so long hating - the version that constantly haunted the back of your mind.

you needed to hold her. and hold her. and hold her. and never let go.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[courtneedsatoru]

when you meet satoru gojo for the first time, you can't bring yourself to look at those sharpened, piercing eyes of his. he's loud and vibrant and in your face... and well, you're not. at least not in front of the people who make you nervous. you're shirking away, because of the way those eyes make your stomach twist and turn.

if satoru gojo had to pick one person who wouldn't fall for him, he'd choose you. not that he thought you hated him, he assumed you simply didn't care. or about anything at all in the first place. he'd get three variations of a dry response from you: a shrug, a small nod, or a plain and quiet "no," all paired with that irritating downward gaze. boring, annoying, not my type at all. so he didn't try so hard to get to know you, and simply left it at that.

until satoru gojo sees you laugh for the first time with your friend haibara in the commons. a bright and warm laugh that lights up the entire room like an inviting fireplace. why hasn't he seen this before? why does his world look more colorful when you smile? just who are you?

satoru gojo makes it his goal to find out. he wants to know what makes you tick, what pisses you off, what quirks you have other than that annoying, stubborn refusal to look in his eyes. he wants to see them, your eyes when they light up, when they crinkle around the edges while he is the one making you smile. and, he secretly wants to see what you'd look like when you're falling in love (with him). little does he know that you already did.

when satoru gojo sees you in the hallway, the two of you brushing pass each other, he hopes that you'd take notice of him. but it seems like your eyes are glued to the floor more focused on trying not to trip and fall. (you would if you saw him.) he wants to say hi, but he wants to hear you say hi to him first, so he doesn't say anything. satoru internally groans. was the floor more notable than him? really?? he'll just have to take matters into his own hands

when satoru gojo manspreads on the couch, taking up a solid 66.67% of the limited space, he watches you fortifying your walls, the way your avert eyes away from him. this time around, he doesn't let you go. he follows your gaze down until it settles on his forearm. he flexes his arm making sure the juicy veins pop out because satoru gojo is an opportunistic man and a show off.

"like what you see?"

"um..."

"you scared? aw, don't be. do i make you nervous or something?"

you shake your head, but don't look up. you didn't have the tolerance to digest that teasing smirk with his signature dimple indenting the corner of that smug, no-good mouth. thank god he was blissfully unaware of how much you ached for him every time he said "hi" to you. it ached even more when he stopped saying hi, and you didn't know if you should feel relieved or mourn.

satoru gojo wants to tilt your chin up, wants to catch a glimpse of your eyes, wants you to finally look at him, but knows better than to trespass your boundaries. so instead, he drops to his knees and looks up at you, for you. The first time he sees those wide, drop-dead gorgeous eyes staring back at him and that flustered blush blooming across your oh-so-pinchable cheeks, he knows there's no going back.

a/n: satoru gojo may have the six eyes, but the only eyes he wants are yours ;)

[morganas-pendragons]

disbelief | elrond peredhel

gif by goodsirs

this is the hurt/comfort elrond fic I promised. enjoy!

summary: you and elrond mourn. Elrond asks something of you.

please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future elrond or celebrimbor fics! this one may get a part 2 because the ideas are FLOWING!

tagging: @celebrimbormylove

SPOILERS FOR 2x08

You know your place is not in the heat of battle. Your gifting has always been music, the lithe fingers of a violinist meant to create beauty within the confines of Lindon's hold. You have made your peace with that.

it does not get any easier when you find out that The High King is having Elrond lead the Elven army to Eregion. Eregion, which is under siege, with Lord Celebrimbor right at the center.

Your heart aches. Celebrimbor is one of Elrond's most beloved kin, and you dread what he may find upon arriving at Eregion.

"He is best suited for this role, and you know it," Gil-Galad remarks as he strides across his study, leaving you to linger by the door as you nervously fiddle with your hands. It is the first time you and Elrond will be apart since your confession of feelings. It is not surprising you are apprehensive to watch him leave. "I do not make promises idly. If I promise that I will return him to you. You do trust my word, do you not?"

"I do, High King."

There's little you can say to Elrond when you meet him at the gate at dawn, still dressed in your nightrobes and tugging messily on your loose hair. It is a nervous habit that you have kept for quite some time that Elrond has tried to break you of by offering to braid your hair every night before you sleep.

You let him. If anything, you are always going to let Elrond treat you with that gentle love he only reserves for you. With those tender touches that cradle you as if you are his most precious, with those eyes that always seek out your own as if he finds respite within your gaze.

As if he finds the ability to embrace the Half-Elven he has hated for so much of his life.

"Meleth nin." Elrond's voice breaks through your reverie as he approaches to cradle your hands in his own. Your aspect softens as you shift closer to press your forehead to his. "You did not need to come see me off. The sun has barely risen over the hills."

"I wish to say goodbye to my beloved," You reply quietly. Reaching into your robes, you produce a handkerchief with your initials pressed into the corner and curl his fingers around it. You'd carefully doused it in the perfume you often wear since your first date in the gardens. "And to tell you to come home to me."

Elrond lifts the handkerchief to his nose and inhales deeply. It is a pleasant scent. One that provokes intimate memories bathed in light.

It is more than enough to keep him fighting.

"I will come home to you." His words are a declaration, a promise written between you both that is sealed with a handkerchief and a kiss shadowed by twilight as you part. "Until then, namárië, my love."

You are left alone at Lindon's gates to watch him depart with the rest of the Elvish army and Gil-Galad. He has specifically asked you to tend to the others who remain while they are both gone, claiming that your ability to create beauty amid such darkness and death was commendable.

The Elves would need it if they were to survive Sauron.

***

The word reaches you through one of the couriers that stumble through Lindon's tree line, bloodied and bruised but carrying a hastily scribbled note from the High King.

Eregion lost. Celebrimbor slain. Return to us with whoever remains in Lindon to this location.. protected by the 3 Rings of Power.

You hold your breath as you scan through the rest of the note.

Elrond is alive.

Relief floods through your body as you scramble back through the gates and begin calling orders to the healers and remaining survivors who remained behind to begin packing their belongings to travel. The group you lead is few, but many of them are in good spirits and are ready to tend to the wounded who fought bravely on the front lines of battle against Sauron.

You're halfway to Gil-Galad's disclosed location when you realize that he's said Celebrimbor has been slain. "Oh, Celebrimbor," You whisper, running the backs of your hands across your eyes as tears blur your vision. You had great respect and a deep admiration for the Elven Smith. He was one of the only elves you'd ever come across who could really understand the depth of your passion for the arts. "Be peaceful, my friend."

Elrond was surely beside himself with grief. You had to find him, and you had to find him soon.

Your party ventured into the cliffs of Gil-Galad's newest sanctuary, guarded by what Elven royal guards remained who guided you toward the waterfall where a makeshift medical tent sat proudly against the rays of sun that fell upon it.

Galadriel is the first to greet you. "It is good to see you, old friend," She greeted, wincing as you pulled your hand away from her shoulder like you had been burned. "I apologize. I was wounded in battle with Sauron."

"You were what-"

She shakes her head and motions to the smaller tent behind the main one. "I know that you have little in the gift of healing, but Elrond could use your care. I had him moved to the secondary tent for more privacy. He is.." Galadriel bowed her head and exhaled quietly. It was only then in that moment that you remember how old she really is. "Wracked with grief over Lord Celebrimbor."

Ah.

"Will you communicate to the King that I have arrived with the remainder of the survivors and healers from Lindon?" You ask. Galadriel complies, murmuring her goodbyes under her breath as you remove your belongings just beside the medical tent and begin your trek up through the center aisle to enter the one Elrond occupies.

You're nearly knocked off your feet by the smell. You have been spared violence and despair for most of your life. To be witness to such devastation brought upon by the hands of Sauron, and to your Elven kin, stirs an anger deep in your belly that you've never felt before. It hurts. It aches.

He sees you before you see him.

"My love?"

Your eyes flicker through the gap in the tent to find a head of matted, bloodied curls and red-rimmed, sunken eyes staring back at you. Elrond looks exactly like Galadriel has described him to look. He looks like the picture of grief.

That ache in your heart festers at the sight of him as you rush forward, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling yourself up and into his embrace. Elrond grasps you with all the force of a man desperately trying to anchor himself to the world when he'd so easily rather disappear.

"Elrond," You whisper. It is your assurance to know that he is here by that whispered repetition of his name, by feeling the warmth of his skin and the press of metal against your body as he clings to you. "My love-"

"Celebrimbor. Sauron, he-" Elrond snarls quietly into your shoulder as you begin to fumble with removing his armor. You have done it enough times now that the practice is coming more easily. "He took Celebrimbor and killed him. My father said his life was supposed to be in my hands. I tried.. I tried so hard to save his works, but the Uruk burned it and Celebrimbor is dead-"

You can hear the shame he directs at himself as you remove his armor and set it to the side. Elrond has so often taken the weight of other people's responsibilities and expectations upon himself. He wants to be remembered for something other than being Elros' brother, for being the Half-Elven who resides in Lindon. Many of the full-blooded elves have held disdain and contempt against him for something completely out of his control.

He could not control this. Could not control Celebrimbor's decisions or Sauron's actions.

"I mourn Celebrimbor with you, Elrond." You said. You move to step away and grasp the rag and water basin beside you, but Elrond's grip on your body makes it difficult to move. You pause in your place and turn to face him once again, surprised to find his eyes hidden from you and face cast toward the floor. His fingers shake where they lay against your body. "Elrond?"

"His legacy went up in smoke. The Nine are gone, Feanör's statue desecrated, his prints and his works ashes. We don't even have a body to bury. How do we honor him?" His voice breaks as Elrond, for the first time in all the time you have known him, admits defeat. "How do I honor him when I failed?"

You manage to reach far enough to grasp the wet rag between your fingers and turn to face him as you drag it over the stained skin on his face. Elrond's silent tears track down clean, softened skin, and you wipe those away with your thumbs as they come.

"What if we have a funeral?" You suggest. "I will play at it, but I think you need to orchestrate and speak. Galadriel and the King would be grateful for it as well. We all loved Celebrimbor. As did I. He was one of few who could appreciate my artistry as I could his. Let his grave mark the new beginning we have here. Let that be the way to honor him."

Elrond doesn't break the silence for several minutes. He simply allows himself to bask in being alive, in you being alive here with him in this little tent far away from the war and from Sauron. You could build a life here. A home.

That is what he wants to do.

He does not dare speak until you are finished and washing the rag used to clean his arms and face. "I would very much like to do that with your assistance, nin mel. You are the only one I know who could create such beautiful things out of such darkness and travesty."

You playfully roll your eyes and tap the end of his nose with your finger. "You humor me, Commander." You muse. Elrond lets you go long enough to watch as you move his armor to the corner of the room and motion to the tub of hot water the healers had prepared while you were cleaning him. "Now humor me more and get in the bath. You smell foul."

Elrond's laughter is a balm to the ache in your heart. You too will miss Celebrimbor dearly, but you cannot afford the luxury of grief when he is so deeply engrossed in his own.

"Humor me. I have a request, aside from the funeral."

"That sounds more like a demand." You tease. "Go on."

"Remain here with me when the rest of Lindon's elves return home. Build our home here. With me. Build Imladris. Help me honor Celebrimbor."

The shock of his statement sends the objects in your arms clattering to the floor. He wants to do what?

[satanghulu]

THIS IS A GUIDE ON HOW TO FALL IN LOVE WITH A DEMON THAT YOU SUMMONED THROUGH YOUR ECONOMIC TEXTBOOK (NO CLICKBAIT AND 100% REAL!!)

✦ PAIRING: satan x g!n reader ✦ SUMMARY: Okay, you didn’t mean to summon a demon nor did you mean to throw a book at him but hey, it’s not like you expected the literal embodiment of Wrath to apparate in your apartment! Now, if only he could go back to where he came from… ✦ WARNING: sort of canon-compliant, Reader has a personality! college!au, mentions of violence, solomon calls you sunshine, made up my own magic system, reader is shorter than satan (mentioned in one scene), mention of alcohol, use of MC instead of Y/N, Hell and Devildom used interchangeably, suggestive at the end! ✦ WC: 14.8K

MAIN STORY | FIC MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

You were going to kill Solomon.

It’s a well-known fact that that guy was shady as hell, but seriously? Was he trying to give you an express pass straight to Death’s doorstep or something? Maybe he had always harboured a secret dislike for you because why on earth did the Economics textbook he lent you summon a--demon?!

“Human. Are you done staring at me?” The man--no, demon? brushes off the dust on the back of his pants. You mourn for the state of your flooring which now resembles the set of a Miley Cyrus hit song.

Wait, were those polka dots you see on his pants? What are those hideous things draped across his neck? And, what was with his disaster of a shirt? For a second, you thought you had teleported to an alternate Jojo Bizarre Adventure universe.

”Your outfit is ugly as hell.” You blurted out, hands delayed in flying up to cover your mouth when you realised the words had escaped you.

The man--no, the demon turns with flashing eyes, his tail swishing dangerously behind him. Oh my god, were those spikes embedded in them? Suddenly, you regret ever opening your mouth – this is why people always tell you to keep your mouth shut when you are in a sleep-deprived state. You could feel sweat beading at the side of your temple as you slowly backed away, edging to the bedroom door.

“Are you courting death, little lamb?” He hissed, taking a step closer. That tail of his had started going wild, destroying one of your night lamps in the process. You would hate to imagine the destruction it would cause to you.

You took furtive glances around the room, swallowing hard when you realised the only makeshift weapon you had was the Economics textbook that Solomon had lent you.

The demon’s eyes had narrowed into slits, breathing coming out hot and heavy as if he was poised to attack you at a moment’s notice. Your grip on the textbook tightened as he advanced nearer to you, now a couple of steps away.

“Answer me, human--” The demon mocked you again, arms stretching forward presumably to attack you as you--

You threw the textbook at him.

Thud!

The textbook bounced off his head with a loud thud as he just stared at you in disbelief. At least, you had managed to get a headshot – your only accomplishment in life alongside the stupidest thing you have ever done. And somehow, you had landed yourself in deeper trouble if the shaking with barely contained rage from the thing was any indication.

You silently sent a prayer to the deity above, hoping that whoever was watching you from above would grant you a peaceful death. Although you weren’t one to believe much in religion, this seemed like a good time to start. Maybe next, an angel would drop from the sky too.

“HAHAHAHA!”

The hands you had raised as a shield were being forcefully put down by the entity in front of you.

“HAHAHA, I didn’t know humans could be this interesting.” Oh. The shaking was from laughter, you noted dumbly. You stared blankly at him before taking another step back, trying to covertly loosen his grip around your wrist.

After struggling in his grip for a good minute, you gave up the fight and waited for his laughter to die down. “HAHAHAHA. I never thought the day would come when I would get bested by a human. HAHAHA.”

Great, it seemed like the “demon” was showing signs of being a maniac too.

The entity in front of you kept mumbling to himself with a crazed look in his eyes. Honestly, you were getting kind of worried for him too. There’s no way getting smacked by a book is as funny as he made it sound. 

After another minute, his laughter finally subsided and his hold on you had loosened enough for you to wiggle out tentatively. The thing stared at you before his mouth curled into an unsettling grin, giving you goosebumps all over your arm.

“So human, tell me why you summoned a demon.”

Well, at least you got your answer to the burning question plaguing you. However, it was not a confirmation you wanted to hear at the moment. It wasn’t reassuring, one bit at all.

“You have piqued my interest, little lamb. Tell me why a measly human like you summoned one of the seven Denizens of Hell. What could possibly be your deepest desires?” said demon asked, voice growly in a way that gave you butterflies in the stomach; but the butterflies were trying to tear its way out to escape.

It took you a few moments to register his sentence. The seven Denizens of Hell? You weren’t familiar with the concept but it seems to indicate that the demon standing before you holds a high rank which means you must be in deeper trouble than you had initially thought.

“Uh.” You started. “I didn’t summon you, I think?” You dragged out your words hesitantly, holding out both hands in front of you defensively. Immediately, his face pinched into a frown as he studied your expression.

“You’re not lying.” He concluded after a second. You wonder how he came to that answer. Are demons equipped with the ability to tell lies? It seemed like an overkill.

“Though, something must have happened for me to be summoned.” He sighed, finally moving out of your personal space to scan around your room – which had been trashed from the black void that had opened up in the middle of your room to teleport the demon.

As you quietly bemoaned the state of your living quarters, the demon strides towards the textbook lying innocently on the ground. “This is it.” He bent at the waist to lean down and studied the title of the cover. “An Introduction to Economics: 1st Edition.” He said stonily, fingers curled around the spine of the textbook.

“How did you know?” It was a curious sight to witness, a demon with actual horns completed with a barbed tail standing in the middle of the wreckage of your room as if he belonged there. You could hardly believe it but sadly, no matter how many times you rubbed your eyes, the scene remained the same.

“I felt the magic radiating off it.” He answered simply as if it was something you should have known too.

“Where did you get the book from?”

“My friend lent it to me because-- Oh fuck.” You suddenly froze, feeling the blood drain from your face. The demon stared at you inquisitively, prompting you to finish your sentence.

“I have an exam tomorrow.”

.

Despite your reluctance to let the demon stay, he had unfortunately made himself comfortable on the singular standing chair in the bedroom as you pore over the book that Solomon had lent you. He had insisted on staying with you, even going as far as to force you to take responsibility for summoning him.

Seeing as there were no alternatives for now, you decided to deal with him after your current pressing issue – The Econs Midterm.

“What are you doing?” The demon asked you curiously. He had somehow donned a human appearance and out of the goodness of your heart, you had lent him some clothes that thankfully fit him. If you didn’t know better, he could even come off as harmless.

In fact, without the scary appendages on him, and if you look at him from the right angle, he was honestly kind of cute.

His voice had also turned less menacing which soothened your heart. You pointed to the textbook in response, squirming in your seat as he leaned close to your face. Do demons not have any concept of personal space?

“Your answer for part (b) is wrong.”

With an intent look, he pulls back after examining your scribbles on the mock exam beside the book. “You should use a contractionary fiscal policy to combat inflation instead.”

Instead of spewing out the first thought in your head, you decided to carefully choose your words this time. “...You study?” 

Maybe, you should have thought through your words more.

Thankfully, the demon didn’t take any offense to it. “Yes. Why? Is it so surprising that a demon had gone through formal education?”

Huh. You didn’t know that demons studied human-world subjects, much less went through a similar educational system to the human world. It was a pretty pleasant surprise, though you would have thought their curriculum would consist of ways to manipulate, slaughter, or seduce humans.

“Kinda.” You muttered, turning back to your notes. You itched to continue the conversation, the urge to know more about the differences between both of your worlds weighing heavily on you, alas the evergrowing pressure from your textbook was calling your name.

Yet, the demon continued to stare at the back of your head from the corner of your eye. You don’t believe that a human head is much different from a demon but you kept your complaints down. For now.

 .

Your pen drummed impatiently on the table as you tried your best to focus on the words in front of you but the insistent staring was getting to your head.

“Is the back of my head so interesting to look at?”

Oh. The words escaped again. Instinctively, your hands flew up again blocking the sight of the demon beside you. You started your farewells to your family, your friends, the neighbourhood cats, wait, who’s going to feed them if you die--

“I’m going to tutor you.”

Maybe you heard him wrongly. Gingerly, you set your hands down demurely on your lap and nodded to yourself. It must have been your hearing that was at fault. There is no way that the demon you summoned just offered to tutor you in a human-world subject. Does he even know what Economics in the human world is?

“I’ve never seen anyone so horrendous in Economics before. I’m tutoring you.” The demon dragged the chair over, situating himself right beside you. This was when you realised this was not a dream or hallucination you had conjured up.

“It’s a disgrace to the subject that someone could be this awful at it.” With every syllabus, it felt like a stab to your heart. Hey, it wasn’t your fault that you were bad at this. You were practically forced to take the subject as one of your modules because you had lost in the bidding stage. And, it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t turn up for the majority of the lectures – You had your coursework to do and there was no mandatory attendance for this.

Okay, maybe it was your fault.

The demon didn’t wait for your answer as he bullied the textbook from your hands amidst your protests. “Do you at least know the basic concepts?”

He must have really thought you were an idiot to ask this. The demon squinted at your mock exam on the table, picking it up to observe it closer. “Is it tested up till Chapter 10?”

You nod.

“Okay, we will skip the basics. Let’s go straight into Chapter 5, Fiscal Policy. Tell me what you know about this.”

Although you were flabbergasted, you still went along with his instructions. And that was how you somehow ended up studying the night away with your new “roommate”.

.

For the first time since taking this module, you were positive you were going to pass. You can’t believe that Pretty Boy a.k.a the scary demon was actually terrific at tutoring. He should consider a career switch – though maybe the demon part might scare people off.

Speaking of which, this entire time you had been referring to the demon as… Demon. It could be your scatterbrainedness, but it was only polite to ask for his name after he did you such a huge favour — he had tutored you into the wee hours of the night, and you barely got three hours of sleep before heading into the examination hall.

“What was your answer for question 2, part (b)?” A familiar grating voice echoed behind you. You immediately spun to see Solomon, the bane of your current evil. His lips stretched into a grin as he opened his arms wide, clearly expecting a hug from you.

With measured steps, you walked over and landed a punch on his shoulder hard. 

“Ow--! What the hell, sunshine?”

Sadly, your punch did not land as hard of a hit as you would have liked but seeing the reaction elicited from Solomon granted you some satisfaction at least. You clicked your tongue loudly and grabbed him by the arm, determined to find a quiet place so that you could talk about your new ‘roommate’.

Yet, despite your resolve, Solomon still had not budged a step. He was pinning you with a stare that practically screamed is-there-a-screw-loose-in-your-head? and his free hand was now planted on his waist, reminiscent of your mother’s posture when she reprimands you.

“Sunshine, I can’t stay to chat with you today.” He started, face creasing into a pained grimace as your nails dug into the skin of his arm.

“Ow--ow! Why are you so violent!” He finally smacked your hands off, bringing his hands up to inspect the crescent-shaped wounds. “I really can’t stay today. I have an important meeting in the Devil-- Uh. Somewhere.” He sends you another wounded expression while backing away, as you brought your balled fists up threateningly again.

“Just shoot me a text. I’ll reply to you as soon as I can.” He made a quick escape, turning around with a flourish as his cape billowed behind him. You could only watch as Solomon made his grand getaway with his long legs. Well, it seemed like fate had made its choice in screwing you up for a little longer.

Begrudgingly, you trudged home.

.

“Human, you’re back.”

You stopped in the doorway while taking off your shoes. The demon was lounging on your sofa, feet kicked up as he flipped through the channels on your television. 

“Oh.” That was all you could muster out from your shock at seeing him in the living room. Well, you hadn’t laid down any ground rules nor forbade him from exploring the apartment but it was still an unusual sight to see when coming home.

On second thought, you would rather him stay in the living room than your bedroom. He didn’t seem like the kind to rummage through your belongings but it was better to be safe than sorry.

After kicking off your shoes, you set your backpack and laptop on the kitchen island before making your way over to him. The demon flashes you a quick once-over before returning to the object of interest – the Television.

For some reason, you felt like you were intruding on his space. Although, it was rightfully your apartment. (Your bedroom was still wrecked to hell and you couldn’t bear to think about the cost of repairing it.)

“How was it?”

Amidst the indistinct pleasant buzz from the television, the demon placed the remote down to face you. You blinked in mild amusement. Was learning how to navigate human world appliances a part of the curriculum too? Even you had difficulty figuring out the controls for this.

“Ah. I think I passed.” You replied, distracted by the film playing on the television. The demon had good taste in films, playing one of your favourites on the screen.

He reached forward, snapping his fingers in front of you. You instantly took notice of the nauseating shade of neon green painted on his nails. For his sake, you hope that the fashion in Hell was vastly different because this shade was assaulting your eyes. But for all you know, he could be one of the pioneers of fashion in his realm.

 “Now, let’s talk about your repayment.”

“Repayment?” You echoed, staring at him as if he had grown a third head. Since when had you owed a debt to him? All you remembered was him helping you with your exam; he couldn’t possibly be trying to claim interest from that.

He nodded.

“You summoned me, didn’t you?” He said calmly, folding his legs up to give you more space on your couch.

“I told you! I didn’t--“

“--But you did.” With his cutting remark, you curled in on yourself and pouted. You couldn’t refute him. You did summon him. Though, wholly by accident.

“Okay fine. I’ll hear you out.” With a flippant attitude, you gestured for him to go on. He raised an eyebrow before sighing.

“Usually, a sacrifice is needed for a summon.” He shot you a glare to keep you from jumping in before he was finished. “But somehow, you’ve managed to bypass that step. So all that’s left is to fulfill a transaction between you and me.”

Meekly, you raised your hand. “Uh. But I don’t need any favours from a demon.” 

“Wrong.” He breathed out another sigh, as though he was speaking to an insolent child. “I’ve already completed my part of the transaction. What’s left is for you to fulfill yours.”

It dawned on you.

“Oh. You smart little--“ His lips twisted downwards into a warning sneer.

“Demon. Haha. Oh, so that is why you helped me out with my exam.” You said with your voice sugary sweet. Internally, you were stabbing metaphorical forks at yourself for accepting help from a demon so easily. You knew you were gullible but you really should have known better.

“That’s right. I’m a demon.” He scoffed, shooting a look that was so smug that you wanted to smack him. You dropped your fake smile, bringing your hands up to faceplant your forehead.

“Urgh. What’s your name?”

“I’m Satan, the Avatar of Wrath.” He said, sitting tall on the couch. Was being a demon really something to be proud of?

“Okay, Satan, Avatar of Wrath.” You started, already feeling a headache thrum in the back of your head. “I swear I don’t have anything to my possessions that you would like. Could you pretty please forget this favour and go back to where you came from? I won’t tell anyone.”

“No, can do.” Satan mocked you, folding his arms across his chest with his head tilted down at you. It was a feat considering that both of you were at eye level.

“I just need to co-habitat with you for a while. Surely, that can’t be too difficult?” You could see the demon staring at you condescendingly from the opposite side of the sofa. 

Many questions ran through your head but you were too overwhelmed to even try and grapple one out.

A pause rang out. Satan for once, kept quiet even as his lips thinned out into a snarl. He looked ready to argue with you at the drop of a hat.

With the extended time given, you decided to weigh your choices in front of you.

Pro(s):

Satan had proven himself to be quite academic, if you could utilise your cards properly, you could probably rope him into being your full-time tutor while he was here.

Although it had only been one night, he wasn’t as fussy as the past roommates you had (which was already a huge plus to you.) and he seemed to keep to himself.

He was pretty nice to look at.

Con(s):

He’s a demon.

Without the fact of his heritage, you would be almost inclined to reward him with the title of the Best Roommate you ever had. (It wasn’t like there was much competition there to begin with, the people you had roomed with were demons in human bodies.)

The demon was also pretty snarky but you had met worse people in college. This was nothing you couldn’t take.

With a deep breath, you made up your mind. It wasn’t like you had much choice in this matter either way. The demon asking was just for formality’s sake — this gives you a little more confidence at least, it proves that Satan cared about politeness and most likely wouldn't murder you in your sleep.

 With a nod, you extended your hand clearly meant for him to shake. 

“What do you want, human?” He stares at your outreached hand, confused. You scooted over to him and grabbed his crossed arm to free one hand to link with yours. “This is a handshake. We shake hands to seal the deal.”

He dropped his gaze to the interlocked hands with a hum. After a few seconds, he pulled away and shook his hand as if getting rid of dirt.

“Great.”

As you pulled your hands away, a vague sense of unease settled within your heart. (It somehow also reminded you of the time you had been coerced to join an MLM by an old acquaintance.)

.

In hindsight, you probably should have asked more about the situation.

After your conversation with Satan, you had assigned him the couch in the living room as his sleeping place. Surprisingly, he was pretty happy with the arrangement, stating that at least his sleep wouldn’t be disturbed here leading you to wonder more about his bedroom in Hell.

You had then turned in for sleep.

Or well, you had tried to go into your room to sleep but there was a suspiciously familiar crevice opening up in the middle again alongside the temperature dropping to the sub-zeros.

“What the hell?” You shrieked, watching as a wisp of smoke danced around a shadowy figure – the silhouette only vaguely human. You somehow had an inkling that this matter involved the person who was currently scouring your bookshelf in the living room.

“Satan! Get your ass here!” 

You hear a groan from the direction of where you had come from before hearing footsteps approach from both ends. Warily, your head turned slowly to where the gap was – it was the same as the one Satan had emerged from.

“Yo.”

Suddenly shy, your gaze flicked away from the demon before you. You certainly weren’t expecting this much-exposed skin this late in the evening.

“You sure took your time getting here.” You muttered crossly under your breath when the other demon appeared in your line of sight. Satan still looked relaxed, hands tucked into his pockets. The only show of acknowledgment was his eyebrows knitted in a frown.

“Mammon? How did you find me?” The Avatar of Wrath questioned, standing in front of you. Your vision was blocked by the sight of Satan’s shoulders as he motioned you to move back. Quietly, you slid away, not wanting to get caught up in the demons’ conversation.

“Ey. Where do you think yer’ going?” The demon, which you had now identified as Mammon, called out. With a blush still high on your cheeks, you took a quick rake at him. The small black horns that protruded at the top of his head were the least eye-catching part of him – your eyes ran over the thin white stripes over his chest and back and with the black straps around his body, you almost want to question if he came knocking at the wrong house. He looked like he belonged in the middle of a BDSM exhibition.

 “Y-yes!” You squeaked, hiding behind Satan’s back which appeared to be more sturdy suddenly. Mammon had a scowl on, as he pointed accusingly at you. You were thankful that he at least had on a bolero even if it was much too extravagant for your taste. The bat-like wings behind him fluttered a little as he moved towards Satan and you.

“Satan, you bastard.” The white-haired demon hissed, as he took quick steps to end up in front of both of you. You clutched onto Satan’s arm like a lifeline, fully hiding yourself behind him. Satan sends you a glare, trying to pry your hands off but failing to do so. “Why do Lucifer gotta send me here for this, huh?”

“To bring me back?”

Mammon sneers at his remark. “What do you think, younger bro?” The blue in his eyes seemed more piercing under the light of your bedroom. You were starting to think if you should be concerned a fight was going to break out.

He let out a huff.

“Who’s that?” The demon leaned forward to peer at you, eyes rounded in morbid curiosity. Satan stretched out an arm to block him from coming too close to you. Your palms were starting to get sweaty, but you persisted in sticking to Satan’s side like a thorn.

“A human,” Satan says matter-of-factly. You almost want to punch him in the face. Even now, he’s still refusing to call you by your name. Though, you vastly prefer him calling you human rather than a lamb.

“We made a contract vow.”

When the other demon looked at you for confirmation, you nodded timidly. The white-haired demon blinked rapidly, whipping his head to look at the Avatar of Wrath in disbelief. Dimly, you noted that he also had manicured nails, white and short – was this part of the job scope to be a demon?

“Ya’ made a pact?!” He gripped Satan by the shoulder, nails digging into the meat of his shoulder. “With a human?” Somehow, you couldn’t help but feel offended by that statement. It wasn’t like you were a willing participant in this. In fact, you were pretty sure you had gotten scammed into this.

 “No, a vow.” Satan corrected him, frowning. “It's like a contract. We learned that in school last semester, Mammon.” The demon sheepishly scratched the back of his head, clearly having no idea of what Satan was talking about.

It seemed like you weren't the only one who didn't listen in class.

“Grr…” The demon in front of you scrunches his face, a pained expression on his face. “Lucifer would kill me if I don’t bring ya’ back.” A thoughtful expression crossed his face as he tapped his feet impatiently.

The next line that came out of his mouth made you shudder.

“How about I eat the human?” You straightened up with a yelp. “Then there will be no vow right?” 

“Don’t touch the human.” Satan’s voice has dropped an octave, and you can see the flicker of his demon form appearing. Obediently, you let go of his arm and stepped aside – in a fight between whales, the shrimp's back gets broken. You would hate to get caught up in their battle.

“Yo, relax.” Mammon scowled, flicking his hand once. He lowered his head to briefly examine your face and immediately started snickering loudly. “It was a joke, chill.”

Was he joking about your life right now? You were pissed but in the presence of two otherworldly entities, you kept your anger in check.

“I can’t go back now,” Satan says again, demon form nowhere to be found after confirming Mammon’s intentions. “It’s a binding contract.” He elaborated with a smug smile. “Lucifer can’t drag me back either unless he wants me to burn in the pits.”

What?

“Burn?” You spoke up loudly as both the demons turned to look at you with surprise as if forgetting you were there. “You didn’t tell me that before we made the vow.”

Satan just nodded in your direction.

Although you haven’t met him for long, it didn’t feel right if you got blood (ash?) on your hands for not upholding your side of the vow. Even if you had been conned into it.

“Ain’t there supposed to be a timeframe or something?” Mammon spoke, looking at you. You squirmed on the balls of your feet as you bravely held eye contact with him. You were pretty astonished that he suddenly seemed to know his stuff.

“Six months?” You offered hesitantly. Satan hadn’t specified anything earlier and you were much too tired to even think through the intricacies of the contract until now. From the corner of your eyes, you could see him give you a discontented look.

On the other hand, Mammon looked satisfied as he pulled back to wave at you.

“I’ll be back in six months then.”

Poof.

Another wisp of smoke materialised from the ground and sheathed the demon like a second skin. When you blinked again, the demon was no longer here.

.

The stupid bastard had stolen one of your jewellery.

After exchanging glances with Satan, you gestured for him to come into your bedroom so you could continue your talk. You had dragged the chair from your table over to your bed, only to realise that the brainless demon had swiped one of your necklaces from where it lay on the table.

“...”

You broke the silence after both of you had settled in your respective seats. “Okay, what’s the deal about burning in the pits of Hell?”

“It’s just a punishment for breaking the vow.”

“Isn’t that harsh?”

“Demons can’t die. We’ll just regenerate, though it may take me thousands of years if I sink to the bottom of the pit.”

You furrowed your eyebrow at his nonchalance. “Why did you make the vow with me?”

“I wanted to get away.” Satan paused. “I needed a fresh change of scenery.”

You still didn’t get it.

“But you didn’t have to enter into a vow, did you?”

“Drop it.” His tone had taken one that was more threatening and you could see him bristle. It seemed like it was a touchy subject.

You still weren’t satisfied with his answer but you decided to stop talking about it for today. You had gone through quite a fair bit of ordeal in the past few days and you could feel the onset of a headache.

“So… six months?” You offered.

The demon sighed, looking very much frustrated. “Since you have mentioned a time frame, the vow would have to abide by that.” 

There was no room for further conversation after that. Abruptly, Satan stood up to leave the room after wishing you a good night.

“Wait.”

He peers at you confusedly as you hover near the door hesitantly with a pinched expression.

“You need to pay me back for what Mammon stole.”

You closed the door in his face.

.

Living with Satan felt like living with a cat that has no regard for you.

He was almost entirely self-sufficient – you could always find him sprawling out on the couch in the living room with a book. (Satan has already gone through your entire collection and was demanding you to get more.) 

Living with another person took some adjustment but thankfully, Satan wasn’t as disgusting as your previous roommates. Though he had a habit of leaving his your books all over the living room. This wouldn’t be much of a bother if not for the fact that you now start your day by stubbing your toes on them.

With your new routine in place, you would like to say that you have been getting along well with Satan – although without your intervention, you were sure that the demon would be half close to death.

(“Do demons eat food?” You asked one day, curious. 

It’s been a couple of weeks since Satan had shown up in your flat and in that period, you hadn’t seen the blond-haired demon take a bite of food. Maybe demons had a different type of feed compared to humans.

You dearly hope it wasn’t human meat that he would need to feed on.

“Ah.” Satan looks up at you from the couch. “Right, I need to eat.” He said, ignoring your question as he slotted a bookmark into the page of the book he was reading.

“Do you have food?”

“Are there any preferences or allergies I would need to cater to?”

“Hell Black coffee.”

You waited for an elaboration that never came. Though, you can safely assume that it was a beverage exclusive to Hell.

“You can’t survive on just black coffee, Satan.”

“Add a Devil Zebra Bacon Sandwich then.”

“Satan, we don’t have that here.” You glance around your kitchen, before striding over to your refrigerator to check on the available ingredients.

“I’ll make a bacon sandwich and some coffee for you.”

The demon nodded at you before returning to his book.

“Do demons need to eat?” You reiterated your earlier question.

“Kind of.” Satan paused, looking as though he was thinking hard about your question. “We do have to eat to be at our peak condition but we won’t die if we don’t.”

You let out a low breath and stare at Satan who had the audacity to look confused.

Even if one doesn’t die by not eating, how could he still skip all of his meals?

“Okay.” You say, “I will be making food for us every day. I am not taking no for an answer.”

“I won’t die if I don’t eat.” The demon insisted, sitting up in confusion.

You shot him a glare and Satan’s response died down.

You then started looking for the ingredients for the sandwich before Satan decided to open his mouth and tell you more about his unhealthy habits.) 

.

You step into the living room, holding a box in your hands. You decided to be benevolent and finally gift Satan your old phone. You figured that it wouldn’t hurt for him to have a way to contact you.

“Is this a D.D.D?”

You've long gotten used to the random terminology that the demon would drop in the middle of your conversation.

“It’s a Samsung Galaxy A6.” With a deadpan voice, you dropped the box into Satan’s lap. The demon continued scrutinising the package, tilting it from side to side. “I’ve inputted my contact information inside. You can contact me if needed.”

“Thanks.” He uttered with absolutely no sense of thanks.

You were about to bicker back when a bzzt caught your attention. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you swiped on the notification as you sat on the couch beside Satan.

[03:15PM] Monnie: Just received ur text.

[03:15PM] Monnie: I’m outside right now. Please open the door.

Jumping up from your seat, you quickly opened the door not wanting to keep your classmate waiting.

“Where is he?”

For some reason, Solomon looked rigid as if he was brimming with barely contained anger. You had never seen him like this, face bland with no emotions and straightened to his full height. He looked different from your Solomon, who was always playful.

“W-who?” You stumbled over your words hurriedly, as he pushed past you and headed straight.

“Solomon?” The demon on the couch frowned, putting the secondhand phone down when he noticed the footsteps heading towards him. “What are you doing here?”

You noticed how Satan flinched at the sight of him. It seemed as if they had some sort of history together. Were they exes?

“You know him?”

“Yes, the Wise Sorcerer.”

 “The Avatar of Wrath, Satan.”

You exchanged brief glances with Satan before opening your mouth in exasperation. “Okay. What’s the deal with you too?”

 “I’m a sorcerer.”

You were starting to wonder if you had a penchant for attracting supernatural beings. Now everything made sense, the fact you had summoned Satan was no mere accident.

“Magic is real?”

“Very.” Solomon moved closer to stop right in front of the demon. “What did you do?” His voice was neutral, face painfully blank.

“We made a vow.” Satan scowls as he shifts in his seat awkwardly as he tilts his head in your direction. You could tell he didn’t like the accusing tone that Solomon was using. “I got summoned here by that human.”

“Summoned?” The sorcerer questioned, biting his inner cheek in thought. “Why did you respond to it?”

That was new information to you – Satan could have rejected your summon but he didn’t. For some reason, the possibility of not meeting him made you bitter. 

The demon lets out a measured breath as he shrugs, not sparing you a glance. “I was bored.” 

“The Devildom had called for an emergency meeting a while back.” Solomon continues, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling. “Mammon said that you were cozying up with a human. I didn’t think it was true.”

You observed the demon’s expression carefully, trying to read his thoughts – you want to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling right now.

“What about it?” Satan’s voice was far too even for your liking, face schooled into a placid smile.

“You made a vow, didn’t you?” Solomon’s lips were starting to curl up threateningly. Once again, it seemed like a fight was going to break out. You wonder if you should start leaving the room. 

“You do know that MC here doesn’t have any magic right?” 

Satan nods.

“What if MC gets injured? Will you take responsibility?”

“Hey--“ You tried to jump into the conversation, but none of them were paying you any attention, too focused on staring each other down.

“I will.”

“Hey-- Ay, what?”

“I’ll leave Sunshine in your hands then.” With widened eyes and raised eyebrows, Solomon takes a step back, patting you on the shoulder as he brushes past you to make a beeline to the kitchen.

“I haven’t eaten all day in a rush to get here, can I whip up something?” 

In a feat to not let the sorcerer destroy your kitchen, all thoughts about the earlier conversation flew out of your head as you ran ahead of him to block his entry.

.

Teaching a demon how to act human was no easy feat.

“I want a Shadow Hog Stir Fry in Demi-glace Sauce.”

The waitress stares at him, pen hovering above her notepad. You forced out a laugh, leaning over to hit Satan on the shoulder teasingly.

“He’s just joking.” You crinkle your eyes up, desperately wishing that the waitress didn’t think of you both as weirdos. At least, you hope that the waitress doesn’t group both of you together – this was one of your favourite dining places, and you would hate to get banned.

Satan narrowed his eyes into slits and was just about to open his mouth to argue. You quickly kicked him from where you were seated across the booth. Begrudgingly, he kept his mouth shut.

“Alright.” The waitress says, not entirely convinced. “What can I get started for both of you?”

“Can I get a Devil Coke?”

“You mean cola, sir?” The waitress's voice was perfectly courteous, even if you could see a glint of chagrin in her eyes.

“Yes, that and a cup of water.” With a loud voice, you cut in quickly. You could see the demon’s bottom lip jutting out in frustration as you tried to keep up the playful act. “You’re so funny today, Sa--“

“Sully.” You end awkwardly, voice strained.

“Right, okay.” The waitress thankfully just ignores your comment, as she flips the pages of the menu and points to the top of the page. “We would recommend the Classic Demi-glace Rice for your companion here. This dish over here is our best-seller too.”

You nodded in the direction of the waitress. “Great, we’ll get both.”

After scribbling down your orders on her notepad, she collected the menu and walked off. After making sure that no one else was in the vicinity, you leaned forward and hissed at him.

“You have to remember that we are in the human world.”

“They don’t have these here? Shadow Hog Stir Fry in Demi-glace Sauce and Devil Coke are everywhere in the Devildom.”

“Well, take a look at the menu. Is it written there?”

Satan rolled his eyes, pointing at the table.

“The waitress took it away. Anyways, why am I Sully?”

“It’s not like I can introduce you as Satan, can I?” You said sarcastically. “I’m not trying to get flagged as a cultist.”

“Why not? They’re a pretty fun bunch.”

“That’s beside the point!”

Satan’s gaze flew up to the ceiling as he ignored your statement. He muttered some insults under his breath, which you pointedly turned a deaf ear to.

Thankfully, you still had time to teach him about human customs –you were determined to drill him about human etiquette before he headed back to the underworld.

.

A week later, Satan somehow manages to coax you into bringing him onto campus. Actually, it wasn’t far-fetched to say that he guilt-tripped you into doing so.

(“I’m bored.” He says.

You raised an eyebrow at his figure by the doorway. You have finally fixed the crack in your bedroom and thankfully, it didn’t cost as much as you thought it would. Though, you hadn’t repurchased any of the furniture that was destroyed during the summoning.

“Hi bored, what do you want?” You snarked back, back still hurting from hunching over your coursework on the ground. The materials were spread all over – you had shifted to the floor when you realised that there wasn’t enough space on your table.

“Stop talking nonsense.” He walked over, leaning over by the waist to squint at your work. “Do you need to head back to school tomorrow to submit these?”

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” You paused your actions and looked at him suspiciously.

“You said that you were going to teach me how to be more human, right?” He started, squatting down to shift your papers aside to make a space for him to sit.

You nodded slowly, unable to see where he was going with this.

“Bring me on a tour of your campus.”

“What?”

“It’s been hard on me,” He says, suddenly slumping his shoulders. “I haven’t been cooped up in the same place for so long since the time Lucifer kept me in the cupboard.”

You couldn’t refute his logic. Satan had indeed been confined in your quarters, not because you didn’t trust him-- Actually yeah, it was because you didn’t trust him.

You hadn’t explicitly forbade him not to go out but the demon seemed to know that you hadn’t felt comfortable enough to let him roam free. The weather had turned chilly lately which further lowered your ambitions to head out – though Satan had seemed pretty immune to the temperature.

Are demons more resistant to the cold?

Satan waits for a bit, before reaching for your sleeve to tug on it. If you stared at him long enough, you could almost swear that you could see tears brimming in the corner of his eyes.

“Please?”

Pretty green eyes stare up at you, wide and pleading. You felt your resolve weaken.)

.

Which was exactly how you ended up in this situation.

The towering shelves seem to extend far beyond your vision, and the grand expanse of the library is filled with countless volumes, making it a scholar’s paradise. The demon stands in front of you, gaping at the sight.

With his love for knowledge, you had purposefully kept the library as your last destination on the tour.

“Please keep the books to a maximum of five.” You told Satan, urging him to go forth and explore the space. “My student ID only allows five to be checked out at a time.”

His eyes had widened into big shiny orbs, alight with curiosity. For once, he didn’t argue back and gently walked ahead to the ornate wooden shelves to start scanning through the books. For you though, you headed over to the table heaving your bag up on the surface.

You decide to get some work done while Satan explores the winding mess of bookshelves.

.

Deep in your work, you barely noticed the tap on your shoulder. Only the call of your name broke the haze of concentration you were in.

“Yuki?” Your eyes widened as you tried to keep your voice down, glancing around nervously at the other library-goers.

“Oh my god, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around!” Yuki beams at you, arms spaced out to hug you.

“Yeah, we haven’t seen each other since last semester.”

“How have you been doing?” 

Both of you continued to exchange polite pleasantries for a bit, as you pulled out the chair beside you for her to sit down.

“Oh right,” Yuki began, pulling out her phone from her purse. “There’s a party I’m organising coming up soon. Do you wanna come? I invited people from our class last semester.”

You hummed for a second.

It’s been a long while since you went to a party, and even longer since you entertained the thought of drinking. It hadn’t even occurred to you, especially after housing Satan who had occupied all of your time and thoughts.

“Sure, just text me the date when it’s confirmed.” You responded, typing in your contact information when she handed her phone over. It should be fine to leave the demon alone for one night – it wasn’t like he had much of a penchant for mischief.

A voice from behind called, “Which five should I check out?”

Both Yuki and you turn to look at the demon, carrying a stack of books so high that you were worried he was going to topple them on you. Your eyes widened as you quickly stood up to grab a couple of books from him, clearing up his vision.

“Uh.” You had almost forgotten about the third presence with you, too busy trying to direct Satan in the right direction of the table. “Is this, uh, your boyfriend?”

Awkwardly, your hands hover in the air as you reach for another book from the Avatar of Wrath’s arm. “No, uh, we’re roommates.”

Satan nods behind you. “Pleased to meet you. My name is Sa--“

You elbowed him in the stomach, plastering a smile on your face.

“Sully.”

Yuki laughs somewhat stiltedly, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. “I’m Yuki, It is a pleasure to meet you as well.”

Her eyes darted between the demon and you, before widening into a grin again. “Sully, do you want to come along to the party as well?”

You jerked your head to look at her with blown-out pupils. Well, this wasn’t the direction that you had expected the conversation to take. Curiously, you turn to look at Satan. You wonder what would be his response.

“Party?” Satan sounded out the syllabus in his mouth, arching an eyebrow. “Probably not, I have to get through these books as soon as possible.”

He points at the intimidating stack piled up on the table.

“However, thank you for the invite.” He tilts his head down slightly, thanking her.

Now, you were the one who raised an eyebrow. Since when had he learned how to be so polite? He always acted like a minx with you.

“Well, alright then. If you change your mind, you could always just tag along.” Yuki glances at her wrist for the time, letting out a small gasp. “Oh, I’ll have to get going first. See you around.”

She stood up, tugging up her bag onto her shoulder as she waved you goodbye with a smile. Satan and you watched as she walked off.

“Lovely seeing her.” You say.

“Help me choose now,” Satan demanded at the same time.

“Geez.” You muttered, “Where did that polite facade of yours disappear to?”

“Stop talking and start choosing.”

“Fine.”

.

A couple of days later, you decided to bring Satan on an outing around your neighbourhood. It was odd how the conversation from that day stayed in your head like a plague, and when you had seen him sprawling on the couch, you decided to put your plan into action.

“Get ready.”

“Can’t you see I’m reading?”

“I’m bringing you on a tour around the block.” You paused, shaking the bag you were holding in front of his face. “It’s also my turn to feed neighbourhood cats this week.”

You threw the scarf you had dug out from the back of your closet at him. Even if he was less affected by the cold, you still wanted him to be prepared against the weather. (You also wanted to see how he would look like all bundled up in winter wear.)

Suddenly, a hand clamped on your shoulder hard while you were lost in thoughts. 

“You should have started with that.”

Next, you know, Satan was ready by the door, impatiently pawing at your security system trying his best to unlock it. It’s been a couple of weeks since he had intruded into your house per se, but he still hadn’t gotten a hang of the electronic door system you had.

It was adorable watching him fumble around since he was always prim and proper. Well, it seemed like you still were learning new things about the demon every day.

.

“I didn’t know you liked cats this much.”

Amusedly, you handed the can of wet cat food to the blond – who was currently cooing at the tabby cat as it rubbed against his leg. It was admittedly, a cute sight to witness and an unexpected twist from what you would expect from a demon like him.

Would this be what they call gap moe?

“Of course I do.” Satan peers up at you confusedly, face practically screaming with incredulousness. “Cats are an integral part of life, one can never miss out on the joy of running their fingers through a cat’s fur.”

His eyes gleamed with a fiery passion as he continued ranting away. Sighing, you decided to also squat on the ground, grabbing the tabby’s attention as you dumped the wet cat food out on the plate while listening to the demon’s tirade.

“Do they have cats in the Devildom too?”

“Of course they do, human.” Fondly, you watched as his fingers found their place underneath the cat’s chin. His nose had also turned a bright shade of red, resembling Rudolph. “I’ll bring you to the Devildom on a trip to see them in the future.” 

Your heartbeat quickens and a warm feeling settles in the middle of your chest.

“O-oh?” You say.

“Yeah, you can consider this a repayment for letting me lay eyes on the most magnificent creatures in the three realms.”

There’s a moment of pause as you register his comment, somehow swallowing past the lump in the back of your throat. You lowered your gaze to the concrete ground, hands absentmindedly going through the motions through the cat’s fur.

So that’s what he meant.

Before you could get too over in your head, you decided to stand up, ready to move on to the next feeding location, missing the way Satan had looked at you.

“Sully?”

“Oh, I didn’t expect to meet you so soon again.”

You turned your head to the side, the bag of cat food left abandoned on the ground as you inspected the situation in front of you. Satan had also gotten up, giving the tabby one last pet, before he turned to the stranger.

“Ah, this is my roommate.”

Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed the demon nudging you to pay attention to the conversation. Bizarrely, he was still warm to the touch despite the red shade of his nose. You quickly put on a polite smile and introduced yourself.

“Ah, I’m Luna.” 

The girl in front of you was petite, with hair that was spun gold and the brightest smile you had ever seen in your life. You ended up speechless for a second, looking at the outreached hand.

Satan elbowed you again.

“Hi, yes.” You started after regaining your composure, reaching out to shake her hand. “Oh, I didn’t know Sully over here, had friends.”

It was a miracle that your voice came out all steady.

Luna raises a delicate hand to titter, eyes crinkled. You couldn’t help but find her adorable, even as something anxious sat in the pit of your stomach, the organ seemingly all twisted wrong.

“Oh, I met her at the library,” Satan says. For some reason, he paused to look at you before adding on. “She’s working at the library as a librarian. I enlisted her help to find some titles.”

The girl nods rapidly, somehow seeming to emit a brighter glow the longer you watch her.

“Are you guys feeding the cats?”

“Ah yes, my roommate is also bringing me on a tour around the neighbourhood since I’m new.”

You nod along, pressing the palms of your hand along your thigh to get rid of the sweat forming there. You couldn't understand why you were sweating despite the cold. “Do you want to come along?”

The demon turned his gaze to look at you, covering his mouth with a hand to mime coughing as he hiss a what-the-hell to you. Bewildered, you just tilted your head in response. 

Wouldn’t this be a good opportunity for Satan to make friends? You thought he would approve seeing as how he was complaining about being “cooped up” in his words.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to disturb you guys.”

“Ah yes, it’s fine!” You urged, grabbing onto her arm, and tugging her to walk ahead. Satan reluctantly picked up the bag of wet cat food and trailed after both of you.

.

“Why did you invite her?”

The door to your apartment hadn’t even been fully opened when the demon sprung the question on you. You continued walking in, taking off your shoes in the hallway as you stayed silent. Satan barged past you to stand in front of you, forcing you to look up at him.

It’s been a while since you had found the demon intimidating and the way he was looking at you now somehow reminded you of your first meeting with him, though it was now more of a fond memory.

“I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to make new friends.” You brushed past him, heading to put the empty bag and the takeaway containers on the kitchen island. “I didn’t know you would take offense to it.”

You could hear footsteps echoing behind you, following in your path.

“Take your shoes off. I just mopped it in the morning.”

“I didn’t want her to come along.”

The container of fried rice drops on the surface with a thud, thankfully not spilling open. You would hate to clean the mess up when you are covered in cat fur and tired from socialising.

Did you not like her? Is she not pretty enough? Why do you not like her? Why are you telling me this? 

Multiple questions swarmed in your head but none made it out of your mouth.

“I see.” You say, not knowing what else to reply.

Satan huffed a sigh out, taking out his shoes and placing them in the cabinet next to your door. The silence in the air felt long and stretched out. The only thing you could hear in the apartment was your own beating heart, which was pounding at a hundred miles per second. You had never felt uncomfortable in the presence of the demon before this. You hated it.

“Human, are you not going to ask me about it?” The demon demanded, wrestling the takeaway containers from you and grabbing the utensils from the drawers.

“Do you want me to?” You countered. You don't know why he was acting like this.

“Fine, so be it.” Satan runs a hand through his hair, slamming the container down on the table. You almost winced for the fate of your dinner.

"Continue to act like that.” He says, spinning around to leave the kitchen. Immediately, you regretted the words that came out of your mouth.

“Wait, no.” Your hands instinctively found their place around the edge of Satan's shirt. You twiddled your thumb around the fabric, blinking back your embarrassment. Your head hung low as you avoided his eyes, biting your lips nervously. “I’m sorry.”

You could feel the demon slowly turn around, but you stubbornly kept your gaze on the kitchen floor. You hadn’t fought with him before, the uneasiness of the situation making your insides squirm.

“I’m sorry for inviting her without asking you.”

“You-” Satan’s voice sounded pinched in discomfort. He lets out another deep exhale, hands gently placed on your shoulder.

“You don’t need to apologise. I should have been the one to say sorry.”

“No. I should have checked if you were okay with me inviting her.”

The demon just nods, placing a hand on the top of your head to mimic a pat. Somehow, you found the motion soothing and gained a deeper understanding of a cat's psyche.

Satan then turns back to the island to retrieve the containers again –you had gotten takeaway from a nearby Chinese restaurant because the demon had been craving for it.

“Okay, since both of us are certain that we are at fault. Let’s just forgive each other and move on?”

You head over to the living room first, settling down on the floor as Satan follows closely behind, holding the day’s dinner in his arms. Eating together had become an established norm in your apartment – you hadn’t noticed when both of you had become so close, so domestic, so soft. 

You made a conscious effort to not think about the earlier conversation but it still weighed heavily on your mind. 

What does it mean? Why does he want you to ask about it?

.

“Satan.” You set the bowl of cereal in front of him and then put yours beside his. “I’m heading out for the party later at night. I will be back late.”

He pours milk into your bowl and slides it across the table to you. “Don't you have class today?"

"Yeah until 6, but I'll be back for dinner before heading out for the party."

"Oh, is it the one your classmate invited you to?”

“Yes, wanna come along?”

“Not today. I’m aiming to finish this." He points to the book lying on the couch. "Also, I'm trying out this new recipe I read in this book for dinner.”

You squint at the book on top of the throw pillow, Satan’s favourite, with a picture of a kitten – it was worn out from use, an evident reminder of how the demon had integrated into your life so smoothly.

“Remind me to get a new pillow soon.”

“Sure. Be safe tonight.”

You were almost positive the cereal had gone down the wrong pipe. For a second, you wondered if you were starting to make things up. The demon pushes the cup of water to you, urging you to drink it. It was nearly comical how affected you were by a simple phrase.

“Thanks.”

Satan continues to nurse his cup of coffee. It was truly amazing how he could stand the taste of it. You had tried it once out of curiosity and almost spat it out due to how bitter it was.

(“Why would you do this to yourself?” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand after washing out your mouth with mouthwash.

Satan shrugged.

“It reminds me of Hell’s Coffee back in my realm,” He explains, taking a sip from the same coffee that you had tried. “The coffee would become bitter if the brewer has feelings for the one they are brewing for. It also changes depending on the magic content.”

“That’s interesting.” You say. “So is your coffee always bitter then?”

He smiles at you, swirling the liquid in the cup thoughtfully. “Sometimes. Though, I’ve never had anyone who tried my coffee say it’s bitter.”

That was… fascinating. You would have expected Satan to, maybe, have more experience.

“Oh.” You muster, still thinking about the implications of his statement.

“When you come to the Devildom, I’ll let you try my version of it.” The demon says before finishing the rest of his drink in one shot, face scrunching up at the acidity of it.

“Okay.” You say, nodding. “Okay, sure.”

Your face was heating up for some reason, and you felt like your brain had been dipped into a bathtub with the toaster plugged in.

You wonder if the coffee he makes for you would be bitter.)

.

You arrived at the party at midnight and amazingly, your host was already knocked out on the couch.

“Yuki.” You shook her once, only getting murmuring as a reply. It was obvious that she had ascended into the astral plane. You were planning to count on her to take care of you but that plan flew out of the window.

You straightened up, speaking to no one in particular. “What the hell? I’ve only just gotten here.”

“Unfortunate.” Someone says sympathetically beside you. You recognise her as one of your classmates from your previous semester, “Go and get yourself started with a drink from the kitchen.”

You winced.

“It’s still early.”

“It’s literally past midnight.” She says, staring at you with a deadpan expression. “That’s what you came here for right? To drink?”

You look in dismay as your classmate shoves you in the direction of the kitchen. Though, she was right. You had indeed come here intending to drink as much as you can.

The demon had been occupying your head as of late, and you were starting to get desperate for an excuse to get out of the house to clear your head.

She pushes a red solo cup into your hand, urging you to take it. “Here you go. Cheers.”

With your safety plan out of commission, you were determined to only drink enough to get tipsy. After all, you were at a college party. Though, you still needed to find a way to hitch a ride home after.

You would hate to worry Satan if you stayed at the house overnight, though you question if he would even expend the energy to be concerned for you. (You think he would, but you can't be sure.)

Your classmate hands another cup of jungle juice to you. You could already feel the buzz of the alcohol in your bloodstream. The concoction was stronger than expected.

“I can’t drink anymore.” You insist. “I don’t want to get too drunk.”

“Just get one of the sober monitors on duty to drive you back.” She pats you on the shoulder, pointing somewhere in the room. You barely register the touch, hanging onto her arm.

“Joshua!” She shouts, your ears ringing from the volume. The bass of the music was deep, drowning out her voice. Thankfully, the man in question turns to you. His facial features were oddly familiar but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

“Oh? It’s been a while.” Joshua smiles at you. You noted vaguely that he was holding a cup of water instead of the red solo cup filled with jungle juice. “We were in the same group last semester, weren’t we?”

Somehow, you were already on your third cup, and you could feel yourself swaying from the alcohol. You hadn’t even realise that your other classmate had already left to mingle around with the rest of the party-goers.

“Yes.” You weren’t sure about it, but it seemed plausible.

“Do you need me to drive you home?”

“Yes.” You said again, sounding very much like a broken record. “Please.”

“No worries.” He laughs again, ducking his head low to talk to you over the music. “Do you want to go now?”

You shake your head. You clearly weren’t drunk enough if thoughts about the blond-haired demon were still rattling around in your head. You hadn’t even noticed yourself metamorphosing his features into the guy before you.

 “You sure?”

You nod again, brushing off his concerns. The alcohol seemed to only amplify your emotions about the demon. You needed to get some fresh air to think. Vaguely, you remember seeing a backyard as you came in.

On your way out, you threw away the rest of your drink before toddling off into the direction of the backyard. You were surprised to find out that you were the only occupant so far – the trees were finally in bloom after the long cold days and you could feel a mild breeze on your skin.

The night air punctuates the day and you inhale, your lungs filling with fresh air as you take your phone out of your pocket, noticing a notification on the screen.

[02:42AM] You have one missed call from Satan

The steady thrum of the music couldn’t drown out the sound of your heartbeat suddenly quickening. The cool air was a god-given gift against your flushed skin as you hovered over the call button.

The phone rang once, twice and then a voice answered.

“Human?”

You kept silent. (You wonder after all these months, were you still just a human to him?)

“Hello? Are you okay?”

“Um yes.”

“Why did you call me? I thought you were at the party?”

You hesitated, looking at your phone again to check that you hadn’t seen it wrong. You have been standing out in the backyard for a while and have sobered up considerably.

“Weren’t you the one who called me?”

“Ah right, I forgot you were out tonight. I was worried that you were out so late.”

“Worried?” You breathed out, fingers suddenly trembling. The temperature outside wasn’t even cold enough to warrant an outerwear, but you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking.

“Yeah.”

All you could hear was his breathing on the other side of the call.

“Can you pick me up?” You blurted out suddenly. “No, I mean. Never min-” You cut yourself off in a panic, crouching to let your head hang between your knees.

This was out of character for you. He must think you were insane, suddenly putting in a request to pick him up. None of the buses or trains were running at this time. The only way possible was if he teleported. You don’t even know if he even had the ability to teleport, let alone even use it to come and find you.

“Just ignore what I sai–”

“I’m here, " the voice echoed in front of you. You refused to lift your head to check your surroundings, refusing to let yourself be disappointed. Your grip on your phone grew tighter, and you vaguely sensed that your stomach was churning.

The shadow cast in front of you suddenly shifts and you recognise the hands gently tugging your phone down.

“I’m here.” He repeats again, tapping on the screen to hang up the call from your phone. You still had your head hung low, staring at the haphazardly worn shoes. It was a mismatched pair of a matching set you had bought on sale – the cat pair had been given to the demon, while you had the matching duck set. You had never worn yours out, leaving it near your cabinet but Satan had utilised his well.

He had worn one side of the cat slipper, and the duck slipper, which were a size too small.

You let out a laugh, your chest heaving up and down. Once, twice, and then you broke out into a full fit of giggles. Your breath quickened, each inhale sharp and shallow. Clutching at your abdomen, you forced yourself to breathe.

“Human.”

“Y-you can teleport?” Your voice came out squeaky, high-pitched as if the air had been knocked out of your windpipes. “Why did you come?”

The demon tilts his head, leaning in close with squinted eyes. “Are you drunk?” He lifts a hand to touch your forehead, hand cool against yours.

“You’re red.” He remarked.

You stiffly nod. The cold wind had helped your heated skin to calm down but it was of no use against Satan. You could feel the full force of the blush burning high on your cheekbones.

“You’re a lightweight.”

“I drank,” Your mind was telling you to lean into the demon’s touch but you staunchly made yourself lean away instead. “I think four cups.”

“Only four?”

“You think you can do better?” You scoffed, inhibitions low enough for you to start running your mouth. “You have noodle arms, you’ll probably pass out after the first cup.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“I’m just saying.”

“You’re on.”

The demon stands up, dusting off his pants and grabbing your hand to drag you into the house. “This way?” You stumble along, your eyes locking on the way his hand fits in yours. He leads you to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of jungle juice – he didn’t let go of your hand, making what was originally a one-person job into two.

He hands you a cup, raising an eyebrow.

“Cheers.”

You muttered similarly, before throwing back the drink with a wince. You’ve never liked the taste of alcohol much, the liquid tasting like medicine and sliding down hot to your stomach. You hadn’t even realised you had squeezed your eyes shut.

“This is nothing,” Satan remarked, barking out a sharp laugh. “You get drunk off this? You’re so cute.” He laughs again, but you can see him sway, holding onto the edge of the counter to maintain his balance.

“That’s…” He trails off, blinking a few times at you. You didn’t know whether to be worried that the person you had called to pick you up was now drunk or find it amusing that he got drunk off one cup of alcohol.

“Bitter.” He finishes with a scrunched-up face.

You burst out into laughter, bending over at the waist to gasp for air. You tried to let go of his hand so that you could clutch at your abdomen but Satan refused, tightening his grip to the point where it was mildly painful.

“Are you actually drunk?” You ask, stifling your laughter with much effort. You couldn’t believe he was this much of a lightweight.

“I’m not, human. But no.”

He was starting to speak gibberish. This made you highly amused. You hadn’t seen Satan be this…openly vulnerable before. It was a far cry from the intimidating demon you first met in the winter.

“Human. Stop laughing.” 

Satan reaches forward, presumably to grab you by the shoulder but overshot, knocking both your foreheads together – both of you tumbling to the ground under his weight, his hands flying behind your head to cushion your fall.

“Urgh, get off.” You tried to push the demon off you but he was persistent on doing his best impression of a slug, sprawling out over you and refusing to move an inch. You would normally be nervous at his close proximity if not for the fact that you are currently having difficulty breathing under his weight.

 “Hey, woah–”

With as much effort as you can muster, you shifted into a better position and spotted Joshua standing in the doorway looking lost at your predicament.

“Please help.”

.

With his aid, you managed to fight coax Satan into the backseat of Joshua’s car.  You were initially planning to sit up front with your classmate to give directions but the demon had refused to let go of your arm, forcing you to stay in the backseat with him.

(“Is he from our school?” Joshua glances briefly at the demon clinging to your arm with an mirthful smile. You can feel the embarrassment burning hot at the tip of your ear.

“Oh, he’s actually my roommate.”

“I’m a demon.” The demon beside you slurred, head knocking back into the seat. For the sake of your reputation, you sincerely prayed that he wouldn't throw up the contents in his stomach.

"Haha, he's been into roleplaying lately." You spun up a lie quickly with an awkward smile. Looking at Satan's peaceful expression, you wonder if you should give him a good smack and call it a day.)

Within minutes, you had arrived at your apartment and Joshua was already opening the car door to help you lift Satan up.

“Only want my human,” The demon’s eyes were half-lidded as he murmured under his breath, all while resisting Joshua’s help to bury his head deeper into your lap.

“You smell nice.”

As much as you wanted to read into this, you couldn’t help but be conscious of the third presence watching both of you. You dearly hope that your classmate couldn’t hear the demon’s drunk mutterings.

“Why does he, uh, call you human?”

Well, there goes your reputation.

“He’s going through his second puberty.” You lied, “Eighth grader syndrome, am I right?” You forced out another polite laugh, before jabbing your fingers into Satan’s side hard.

The demon jolts up with a bolt, covering his mouth as he winced. Joshua took this opportunity to wrestle him out of the car, taking one of his arms to throw over his shoulder as you stationed yourself on the opposite side to do the same.

.

“Thank you for your help.”

Both of you had managed to deposit Satan on the couch and were now catching your breath, winded from the exercise. Thankfully, the lift was working today and you didn’t need to lug the demon up the flight of stairs.

“Do you want a drink before you leave?” You offered, straightening up and determined to play your part as a good host. Although you didn't know Joshua that well, he seemed like a nice guy and you also wanted to make up for Satan's actions.

“Sur–”

“Me first, human.” A voice loudly interjected into your conversation from the sofa, “Hell’s Coke.” The demon demanded, arranging himself into an upright position. He looked clear-headed as if he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol despite how he was slumped over a minute ago.

“Uh–” Joshua started again.

“Human, I said I wanted a drink.”

You looked at Joshua apologetically, walking quickly into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water as you gently ushered him out to the hallway. Your patience was getting low and you no longer wanted him to witness any more of the demon’s tomfoolery.

“Wait!” As you prepared to close the door on him, Joshua paused to look at you expectantly – it felt as if you had withheld a toy from a puppy and they were now expecting you to play fetch. “Can I expect to see you around again?”

You paused, thinking through your answer before opening your mouth to reply–

“--No, bye.”

Satan had shut the door in his face.

.

“...”

The demon’s face was flushed again as he leaned against the door, one hand raised above your head. You tried to even your breathing, closing your eyes to meditate.

“Don’t you think you were being rude?”

“Was I? I’m sorry.”

His face showed no remorse, as he peered at your facial expression closely, his sea-green eyes much brighter than usual. You had the burning urge to shy away from his gaze but you insisted on keeping your grouchy expression.

“You don’t sound sorry.”

“He was trying to hit on you.”

You looked at him, trying to control your emotions that were threatening to spill over. You could feel your eyebrow twitching, and all you wanted to do now was take a long, hot bath and turn in for the night.

“He drove us home safely so the least you could do was to thank him. And why does it matter to you?” You spat out, feeling the words form awkwardly through your gritted teeth. 

Satan had you backed against the door, forcing you to crane your neck just to look up at him. Your thoughts were in disarray; heart puzzled by the sudden affection from him. You wanted a clear explanation from him.

He stayed silent, brows thoughtfully knitted together.

Oh.

The silence gave you your answer. You are left with the residual realisation washing over and you are powerless in the face of it, unable to do anything but exhale deeply with a slow breath – you ducked under his arm to leave the suffocating situation. 

“I think I was jealous.”

You swirled around, eyes wide. Your gaze glosses to the right, unable to meet his eyes. You thought you had heard him wrongly, but the demon stood there, looking as though he had made up his mind.

“You think?”

Had Satan, the Avatar of Wrath, just confessed to being jealous? 

“No, I was jealous.” He corrected with a frown, folding his arms over his chest. “I wanted to cut open his throat for having the impudence to talk to you.”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry.

He took a step closer, face set in icy determination. Something about his demeanour reminded you of a predator and you were his prey, waiting to be devoured. Your ears ring a steady buzz, spiraling you into rapid confusion.

“I want my jealousy to be justified, MC.”

His words were no louder than a mere whisper but each syllabus tugged on your heartstrings as he grabbed at your forearm, pulling you in close to him. This was the first time Satan had ever addressed you by name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be happy; disoriented at the conflicting feelings within you.

“I like you so much, I don’t even know what to say.”

I’ve never felt this greedy in my life before. Was I fated to meet you? I don’t know but the only thing I know is this,” He briefly looks at the clock hanging in the living room and clears his throat, “I want you to remember this moment, at 3 AM on the 20th of April, this is the time I have utterly fallen for you.”

.

Satan sits on the couch, a respectful distance away. You swear you could still feel his touch on you, a lingering sensation sizzling on your bare skin. His stare bores into you, reverberating through your body from your toes to the crown of your head.

You feel seen. Even now, the demon was giving in to you – you know it must be eating him up to wait but he was letting you take things at your pace.

“I’m confused.” You admit in a small voice, trying to gauge his expression. “I can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs.” 

He waits for you to continue.

“No matter what, you’re a demon and I’m a human.” The mood took a sharp left turn at your words, hanging heavy in the air. “Will there ever be a happy ending for us?”

Satan calls your name, eyes gentle as he scoots nearer to you. “You won’t know if you don’t try.”

“But what if we try and it doesn’t work?”

“Then I’ll kill myself and find you in my next life.” He says simply.

The comment was so sudden that you let out a huff of laughter, wiping at the corner of your eyes in disbelief.

“Do demons even believe in reincarnation?”

“We don’t but I’ll make it work.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“This is your only chance to say it now.” He stares at you with earnest eyes, grabbing your hand and holding it up to his face to nuzzle at you affectionately. “Are you willing to take the risk?”

“Okay.” You say, or at least that’s what you think you say, your voice suddenly distant over your rapid heartbeat and the room increasingly getting smaller. “Okay.” You blurted out again because up against a demon like Satan, what can one do except give their whole being?

Before you knew it, you were already climbing onto his lap, and with a gentle motion, you were kissing him – his lips part for you beautifully as you tilt your head gaining more access.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of his steady heartbeat mixed with yours, a delightful symphony to your ears. Deliriously, you wonder if you could crawl inside and make yourself home.

.

Cold.

The flitting freezing temperature dragged you back to the land of the living – the abnormal heat that the demon beside you was producing was not enough to starve off the chill of the night. 

“Satan.” You garbled, words slurring together as the hands around your waist pulled you in closer. “Close the damn window, it’s so cold.”

“The window is closed.”

The unfamiliar voice should have been the first sign to inform you something was wrong. Unfortunately, you were frankly too worn out from the day’s event to care. Stretching, you turn your head to nuzzle into Satan’s bare chest.

“Satan, Avatar of Wrath.”

You feel the demon beside you tense.

“Lucifer, what are you doing here?”

The call of the name rings a bell in your head. Was this the older brother that Satan had mentioned to you before? You didn't have the best impression of him, especially after what the blond-haired demon had told you.

“This situation has gone on long enough.” Honestly, you were pretty astonished that the demon standing in the middle of your room was nonchalant enough to simply avert his eyes from Satan’s half-naked form.

“How long are you planning to act like a child? You’re even dragging humans into your mess.”

Yikes.

You lifted the blanket higher, making sure to cover your entire self as you blearily blinked the sleep away from your eyes. Once your vision focused, you could vaguely make out the silhouette of the demon – he was at least more decently dressed than the last one, though you wondered about the practicality behind the number of wings.

Somehow it seemed like breaking and entering into humans’ houses were part of the Devildom curriculum because this was already the third demon to enter your house without an invitation.

“Don’t talk to me like I am a child.” The demon behind you spat out all while gently rubbing his hands over yours in a comforting action. Slowly, he lifted the blanket up to get out of bed, stretching as he did so.

“I’ll stop when you stop behaving like one.”

You winced. The tension in the room seemed to thicken and the once sub-zero temperature had disappeared giving way to the rising heat from their words. You shuffled awkwardly under the blanket – maybe if you acted like everything was normal, the other demon in the room would ignore your presence.

Wrong.

“You’re MC, correct?”

“Yes.” You squeaked out, startled by the sudden spotlight on you.

“I apologise for my younger brother’s behaviour. Thank you for tolerating him for the past six months. He will be going back with me now.”

“Wai–”

“Who says I’m going back?” Satan interrupts you, hands placed protectively in front of you. The glint in his eyes darkened and you could tell this didn’t please the older demon one bit.

“Avatar of Wrath, what do you mean by that?”

“I said what I said. I’m not going back.”

You cringed at the use of the title. Even you knew that meant serious business. The inky smooth wings behind Lucifer fanned out, expanding to their full width, a beautiful yet menacing sight. You could practically use a knife to cut the tension in the room. 

Oh no.

“Wait!” You shout desperately, yelping when red piercing eyes turn to look at you. The embedded jewel in the middle of his forehead catches a glint of moonlight from the window beside him, somehow making him look even more terrifying.

“Human, do not interrupt our–”

“Do not talk to my human like that–”

“Hey, I said wait!” You panicked, making a move to get off the bed when a flash of blond hair blocked your sight, a displeased frown on Satan's face as he pulled up the blanket higher to cover you. You had completely forgotten your state of undress in your alarm to deescalate the fight.

“Don’t move just yet. I’ll settle this with him, okay?” He spat out the syllabus, before reaching down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Satan.” You start, reaching out to hold his face. The demon nods, immediately squatting and attentive to your every word. You shake him from side to side, stroking the side of his face delicately. “I think you should go back too.”

“Wha–”

He look struck by your words, dismay written all over his face as clear as day.

“No.” You cut him off firmly before he could rebut back. “You promised Mammon, remember? Half a year had already passed, meaning we both had fulfilled our part.”

Satan still looked betrayed, his eyes round and wide. His lower lip trembled slightly and it was visible that he abhorred the very idea of leaving you.

“Listen, can’t you come to find me whenever you want anyways?” You huffed again, racking your brain for another solution to convince him.

“Or I can just make Solomon summon you every time I miss you. Distance isn’t that big of an issue for us right, honey?” 

You knew you had chosen the right argument when a blush sits high on his cheek. You couldn’t believe it. Does he like the nickname? You take note of the information and store it at the back of your head.

He coughs, hiding his flush behind one hand as he turns around. Standing up, he turns to face Lucifer.

Huh. The more you know, you suppose. 

“Okay, I’ll go back with you.”

The other demon, understandably looks disorientated at the change of heart. He blinked once, then twice as he shifted to a more intimidating stance. “Who said that I approved of your relationship?”

Maybe you shouldn’t have counted your chicken before it hatched. And was it just you? You get the feeling the demon named Lucifer seemed to be very overprotective over his siblings, somewhat like a mother hen. Or maybe this was a Devildom custom, demons needing their older siblings to approve of their relationship. However, with what you have witnessed so far, you get the idea that he was just the demon version of an overbearing tiger mum.

Before you could speak, a voice cut in. You couldn’t help but admire how the muscles on his back flexed as he spoke, “Isn't Lord Diavolo planning a human exchange program in the near future?"

Your demon cleared his throat before continuing, "I believe Lord Diavolo would be happy to find out that I am furthering relations with a human, or would you want to take this away from him?”

The red-eyed demon stays silent, his wings fluttering in agitation. For a long second, you held your breath waiting for a retort that never came.

“Fine,” Lucifer said, tone resembling that of a grumble. Though, you could tell that even he knew he had lost the battle of words. “I’ll report this back to Lord Diavolo first.”

“Though, I expect you to be back in the Devildom by sunrise. You have missed out far too much at RAD and I need you to be able to catch up with all of the work within a week.”

“Understood.”

Satan just nods. Your mouth hangs open, unhinged at the jaw. It was an unreasonable request that the older demon had put in but you couldn't bring yourself to feel too bad for your boyfriend (?) since it was a situation that he had created in the first place.

.

You couldn’t believe that worked.

Honestly, you were almost certain that a fight would have broken out. But somehow one way or another, your apartment lives to see another day.

Satan sits beside you on the bed, tugging you in for a hug. Tilting your head, you place a chaste kiss on his lip which the demon tries to further deepen. With a chuckle, you pull away, watching in delight as he chases after you.

After the whole fiasco, you only had one question on your mind.

“Are we together?” You ask, feeling your face go hot. Even if both of you had confessed your feelings earlier and you were fairly sure that both of you were on the same page, you still wanted verbal confirmation from him.

Satan interlocks your hands with him, humming playfully. You could feel his smile against your neck, as he nuzzled affectionately at you. “I’ll be yours if you will be mine.”

You wiggle away with a pout when he nibbles at the crook of your neck. Though you soon broke out into a smile, unable to stay mad at him for long.

“Guess we should get Solomon a gift for letting us meet, huh?”

“Probably.”

“And you’d still be failing Economics if I hadn’t tutored you.”

“Probably.”

"You know I'm surprised my landlord never found out I was housing another person here."

"Oh."

"Wait a minute, that 'oh' sounded suspicious."

"I didn't do anything bad, just that I may have made him think that the apartment was originally for two people."

"Satan!"

Maybe in some alternate reality out there, you would have been the human exchange student sent to the Devildom for cultural exchange. Or maybe in another reality, you may never even get the chance to meet him, after all, demons are as rare as a sunflower in a desert. But no matter what, you had him in your arms right now and that was all that mattered.

You guess one of the perks of being bad at Economics was getting to meet and fall in love with Satan, as sappy as that sounded. Which reminded you...

“Honey, I have my final exam coming up soon. Would you still tutor me?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I have much of a choice if I don’t want you to fail, love.”

a/n ▸ yippee! i wrote this piece over the expanse of a month and I am glad to finish this lol. i still have a lot of scenes that didn't make it to the main story but will be posting as a side story hehe, I hope you guys love this story as much as I did <3

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Twelve

I managed to get through another chapter of this fic hehe. This is just a cute lil chapter because we all need the fluff in our lives, especially myself. <3

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: Y/n has her realization about what's happening now, and has a talk with Jongho about his actions. wc: 2.8k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: playflighting, yelling, referencing last chapter's events without much detail, jokes about being hurt, mentions of discrimation and hate against omegas, self-doubt, crying, I think that's it? masterlist

Wooyoung’s laugh broke the silence that followed y/n’s realization. He couldn’t believe that it took y/n this long to realize what they had said back in the conference room. His laughter provoked the others into joining, to which they got yelled at by the subject of their laughter.

“HEY! Don’t laugh at me, there’s been a lot going on, okay? You try being in my shoes today and having this all happen to you and see how you react, huh?” She argued, only to make them laugh even further.

You- You really didn’t realize until now?” Wooyoung questioned her, his words being interrupted by his laughter.

“Obviously not, idiot.” She fired back at the idol, who jokingly reached over to try and grab her.

Seonghwa gripped the back of Wooyoung’s top, stopping the younger idol from reaching her. “No fighting. We just left a fight, we’re not starting another one.”

The restrained idol pouted and whined at Seonghwa. “It’s not like it’s a real fight, I was just gonna play around a bit.”

“And I think we’ve had enough excitement for the day, Youngie.” Seonghwa reasoned, and the other man continued to pout, and instead turned to tackle the pack omega, starting a little omega fight while they others watched.

Eventually the other younger members joined in, while Yunho and Hongjoong had moved a bit farther away to discuss something, leaving Jongho and y/n the only two left to their own devices. Y/n decided that this was a great time to get to know the fellow ‘00 liner better. They really hadn’t talked much since she arrived here, as she had been pulled this way and that by the other members. She scooted a bit closer to the maknae, leaving a bit of distance still, so that he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

Jongho turned to look at her, “Hi,” he greeted her, “I hope this day hasn’t been too much on you.”

“It could have been worse, y’know. I could have gotten hurt, but I didn’t,” y/n tried to joke, but it fell flat when Jongho didn’t find her words funny.

“You found out that the one person you trusted in that group, was out to hurt you. I think that counts as getting hurt.” Jongho stated, looking decidedly unamused at her attempts to joke. “You know it’s okay to feel hurt about it, and to mourn the loss of a friendship, right?”

“I know. I’m still processing it now, and I’ll come to terms with it.” The omega explained, looking down at her lap.

“Good. Otherwise, it was a bit of a waste to tackle him.” Jongho commented.

That made her think for a minute. Why exactly did Jongho decide to tackle Aaron? All he would have had to do was get the attention of the others, not tackle the man. She fell silent for a moment, and the silence worried the singer next to her.

“Why did you tackle him?” She asked him, breaking the silence.

“What?” Jongho said, not expecting the question.

“Why did you tackle Aaron? How did you even hear what he said over the yelling? We’ve barely interacted, why would you potentially get yourself hurt, over someone like him?” She queried, curious as to how he would answer.

Jongho didn’t think, answering right away. “He was being an absolute asshole, and I had to protect you from that, from him. I’ve seen how other subgenders’ treat omegas, and I’ve seen firsthand the effects of it. Seonghwa and Wooyoung-hyung have dealt with more than their fair share of discrimination and hate, simply for being omegas. I may not know you that well yet, but it seems that the rest of my pack is set on you, and so I think it’s time we get to know each other better. It may be an interesting way to start off a friendship, but I wouldn’t change my actions. His words and actions were despicable. And they’re not acceptable in today’s society, let alone in Ateez.”

Y/n’s eyes started to water as she listened to the maknae’s words, not expecting this answer. She didn’t realize that while getting lost in the idol’s words that her scent was getting stronger, the scent of fresh flowers fading into something much more subtle. One that could almost be described as wilting flowers, if they had a scent.

“What do you all see in me? I’m just me. I’m someone that none of you wanted in your group, and I’ve barely interacted with most of you besides Wooyoung and maybe Seonghwa and Hongjoong.” She asked him, unknowingly garnering the attention of the others, having heard their names.

“I see someone who doesn’t give up when they struggle. Someone who enjoys dancing and performing, just like we do.” Yunho chimed in, making y/n realize she had caught the attention of the others.

“Yunho’s right. You’re talented y/n. I may not have heard you sing yet, but on performance alone, you strive to get better and perform to the best of your ability. Sure, you need to work on stamina and a few other things, but Yunho and I have seen how determined you are. Y’know, Yunho commented that he sees me in you, in how you look after finishing a run through.” San further cemented his fellow dancer’s words.

She looked up at the two of them, who both smiled kindly back down at her, which made her tear up further. To hear those words from idols she’s admired and watched for so long, it made her efforts feel worth it. She felt like she could die happy in that moment, and she was so grateful to be here and have these experiences with the men surrounding her.

“You have such a kind heart, y/n. Your personality is what I see in you. Sure, talent and the ability to be an idol is important, but it’s also important to be sure of who you are, and to be kind. Fans can sense when we’re not being truthful, and I know that you have been nothing but honest around us and the others. So I think you’d fit in well as a member of Ateez.” Seonghwa stated, smiling softly down at her, before he moved to sit in front of her.

“Everyone is right, you know,” Hongjoong said, moving to sit behind Seonghwa, as he looked at her, “You’re an amazing person, and you’re a great singer. I trust our dancers to know where you’re at dancing skill wise, and based on what I just heard, that’s basically glowing praise from those two. You have been nothing but graceful and kind, and I find myself drawn to you, and I know Seonghwa and Wooyoung would be very unhappy if I let you go. So, will you trust our judgement and become the ninth member of Ateez?”

Y/n looked up at him, so many emotions clearly showing on her face. A tear trailed down her face as she processed all of their answers, and she could see her vision blur as tears welled up in her eyes. San came to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around the omega’s shoulders but loose enough if she wanted to pull away if it was too much for her. The comfort was welcomed as the younger omega leaned into the beta’s side, looking around at the seven members who had moved to sit in front and to the side of her, gentle smiles from each of them directed at her.

“You all really want me to be a member of Ateez?” She asked, her voice soft with an undertone of disbelief.

“Of course.” Seonghwa reassured her.

Y/n looked at Hongjoong, and nodded, “Then yes, I’ll trust your judgement and become your ninth member.” She said simply.

The room burst into a cacophony of noise at her words, and San pulls her closer in a side hug before Wooyoung swoops in on her other side, pushing Jongho away so he could sit right next to her. “Baby omega~,” Wooyoung crooned, “You’re really gonna be one of us!” He shouted, almost directly into her ear as she cringed away from him and into San, who scolded his fellow ‘99 liner for how loud he was being.

Someone reached out and grabbed her hands, and when she looked to see who it was, she found two people instead. Mingi and Yunho had both grabbed one of her hands, and she found herself smiling at them, and lightly squeezing their hands in silent thanks for everything they had done. Yunho had been a great help while perfecting their choreography, and while in the moment she had protested it, she was very thankful for Mingi’s help the previous day.

“Thank you both, so much.” She said, her voice so soft that the two had to strain their ears to hear her.

“You never need to thank us. We’ll always be by your side, and if you get better, then Ateez gets better, hmm?” Mingi told her, chuckling at the end, as Yunho nodded in agreement to his best friend and packmate’s words.

Y/n pulled out of Woosan’s hold to launch herself at the taller men, who caught her and hugged her as she struggled to hug them both at the same time. As the three hugged, she realized that holy fuck she would be spending however long Ateez existed with these men, and how that didn’t feel real, but she knew it had to be because she could feel the two bodies surrounding her. She felt so happy and the others smiled as her scent changed to reflect her feelings as Yeosang moved in to ruffle her hair as she let out a whine at the alpha messing up her hair. 

“Don’t do that!” She whined as she pulled a hand away from hugging the duo in front of her to rearrange her hair back to how it was before.

She heard her name called and she looked to find that it was Jongho who had called out to her. When he saw that she was looking at him, he nodded his head and smiled, before pointing to something to the other side of her. She smiled back at him before looking to find Seonghwa and Hongjoong watching all of them with big smiles on their faces and looks of fondness for the six men surrounding her. She moved out of Yunho and Mingi’s hold and got up, heading over to the two eldest and leaders of the Ateez pack.

“Why are you two over here by yourselves?” She asked them.

“Does there have to be a reason?” Seonghwa asked her in return.

“Of course there does.” She fired back.

“Can’t we just observe our members having fun and enjoying themselves?” Hongjoong interrupted.

“No, because you two need to join in too.” She said, getting a bit fired up at the two not joining in on the happy moment.

“Someone is a bit insistent, aren’t you?” Seonghwa said, chuckling.

Y/n gave up on trying to convince them to join the other six, grabbing the pair’s hands and tugging the two behind her as they let themselves be pulled along, not minding in the least. She made the two sit down before she would sit down, eventually being pulled down herself to sit in between the two. 

“So now we can have trios!” Wooyoung broke the silence, making the others laugh.

“Yes Wooyoung-ah, we can have trios. Not that we wouldn’t have had them already, in the upcoming album.” Hongjoong pointed out to the younger man, who pouted at being reminded of that fact.

“Trios?” The newest member questioned, looking at the captain.

“Wooyoung, San and Yeosang are doing a trio for their unit song in the upcoming album, which we need to get you on, but that’s a discussion for tomorrow. Today we’ll just celebrate you becoming our newest member.” Hongjoong explained.

“Yes! We’re celebrating you today! Our newest member and my baby omega!” Wooyoung shouted, getting slapped on both shoulders by San and Jongho, who had gotten the lion’s share of his shouting. This made the omega pout, and then was promptly tackled by San. The others laughed at their shenanigans, and it made y/n feel right at home here with them as she laughed along with them.

“Are you ready to deal with this craziness every day?” She heard, looking to find that Hongjoong was the source of the question. Before she could answer, Seonghwa moved away from the duo to police the roughhousing that had started.

“Probably not, but I don’t think I have a choice now, do I?” She replied, to which he shook his head.

“No, you don’t,” He said, pausing for a moment before speaking again, “Thank you for giving me a second chance after what I did that first day.”

“Of course, Hongjoong-oppa. You meant your apology, so I had no reason not to give you another chance. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now. And I should be thanking you for giving me a chance, for taking me in as part of your group.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. Your actions last night helped cement that you fit in with us, in a way that makes me think that you were meant for Ateez.” Hongjoong said, looking down at her with more emotions in his eyes than y/n could discern. She could see that adoration that he usually reserved for his members, and it was hard for her to reconcile the idea that he’d look at her this way too, because she was one of his members now. But she knew she’d come to terms with all of this, though it might take a while.

Hongjoong saw the wonder in her eyes and disbelief, which he understood, and he wouldn’t fault her for feeling that way, when he’s felt the same way before. He reached out to wrap an arm around her shoulders, like San had done not long before, as he felt her do the same, albeit her arm was around his waist instead. Checking to see that no one was looking, he leaned his head on hers, and out of instinct with his two omegas, kissed the top of her head without thinking about it, leaving y/n to be surprised and feel her cheeks heating up at his actions.

“You two are getting cozy together again,” Seonghwa commented, his voice soft, as he sat back down next to the two.

Hongjoong pulled away from her, glaring halfheartedly at his pack omega. The omega only chuckled in response, not deeming there to be a need to respond verbally. The arm that was around her shoulders reached over to lightly shove the omega sitting next to her, making her giggle.

“So, sweetheart, what do you want to do today? It’s your decision.” Seonghwa asked, turning himself to look at her.

She hummed, not exactly sure what she wanted to do, plus the fact that she hadn’t exactly gotten a chance to go out and explore Seoul, so she didn’t know what there was to do, besides the obvious things.

“I don’t know?” She replied to the older man, “I haven’t gotten a chance to explore Seoul, as I think you might be aware of? So I don’t really know what there is to do around here?” She answered, her voice uncertain.

“We can always pick a few of our favorite things to show you? Would that be something you’d be interested in doing?” Yunho butted into the conversation, making the three look over to find that he had abandoned the other’s play fighting.

“That would be good. It makes it a little easier on me, than trying to figure out what there is to do, and I can get to know each of you a bit better that way too.” She said, nodding and smiling at the third-eldest.

“Then we’ll do that.” Hongjoong decided as he pulled away from y/n, who let out an almost inaudible whine in response to the alpha leaving her side, before being embarrassed at her reaction.

While Hongjoong went to corral the others, Seonghwa and Yunho discussed their favorite places and activities with y/n, providing her some options on what to do today. It was a little overwhelming, but she knew that they wouldn’t push her into doing too many things.

Once everyone was corralled over to where y/n and the others were sitting, they immediately launched into a discussion. Some were more enthusiastic than others, but in the end, they had created a list that featured almost one place or activity from every member. They had decided to start with whatever was farthest from KQ and work their way back to the company. This was also all done without the permission of their managers or the company, but they could care less about that.

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[rrxnjun]

where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him. 

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude. 

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all. 

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would. 

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe. 

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…” 

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier. 

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose. 

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one. 

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence. 

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–” 

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now–  as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does. 

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?” 

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help. 

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice. 

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car. 

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack. 

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this? 

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening. 

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place. 

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind. 

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain. 

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different. 

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike. 

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest. 

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about. 

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning. 

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now. 

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body. 

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface. 

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft. 

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?” 

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you. 

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more. 

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough. 

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed? 

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him. 

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time. 

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair. 

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him. 

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again. 

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else. 

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge. 

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression. 

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?” 

“Hm?” 

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence.  “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

[terriblyrenderedenigma]

On Transformers and Human soulmate tropes...

(i do personally attack starscream at the end, i'm sorry starscream lovers, i love him too, but he's just a sad, devious little guy.)

Just a little thought here, so, I love soulmate tropes. Depending on the plot, they can be really fun and take so many interesting paths as a medium used within storytelling, whether romantic or platonic.

But what i want to talk about specifically is Transformer x Human soulmate tropes. Like, you have this super sweet side to it where the bot can be like 'I have waited my entire life to find you, finally, I can hold you in my arms and we never have to part again'. Depending on the character/story/type of SM (soulmate, shortening it because I'm not gonna keep writing it out) trope of course.

Can I just say how...instrumentally fucked this is though? So you have this race of robots who live for, what is essentially millennia out in the wild unless they catch the smoke. Their soulmate ends up being this little creature that lives for 80, maybe 100 years tops before dying. -Unless we're going for some kind of mind switch body type thing, but we all know how that went with spike in g1.

Our beloved robo blorbos will eventually have to cope with the fact that their soulmate, the person or creature they're MEANT to be with via laws of the universe, will die a LOT sooner than they will.

This especially hits hard with the decepticons who, depending on continuity -- hate humanity already. Bots who've gone through so much, losing their home, friends, and their dignities; have to learn to put up with and accept this creature as their fated mate/spouse/conjux endura, whatever you want to call it- SOULMATE.

Then the decepticons just have to deal with the fact that they're going to lose this person too, just like they've already lost everything else and oh GOD. Maybe they choose to forget about them and move on, stay alone and mourn what could have been if the universe hadn't had such a fucked sense of humor. Maybe they choose to accept it, but never let their SM too close because they know they'll just be hurt so much more hurt when the inevitable comes.

Then you have to think about decepticons having to possibly protect their SM from other cons! From being taken and 'saved' by the autobots.

Imagine some bots or cons just flying off the handle, going crazy just to try and keep their human alive in any way they possibly can, afraid of running out of time.

(Starscream lovers forgive me for the angst)

And Starscream especially, Maybe he'd try. He'd have a great time, take a chance, and give it a go. But what if he's actually terrified? Maybe he'd also self sabotage a little, knowing the relationship will never last too long anyways; not in the short blink of time it would be next to his life. Maybe, he doesn't actually know what to do with himself in a positive relationship after being, i dunno, consistently dogged on by megatron and he freezes.

There's something actually good for him, and since he isn't sure how to receive or accept that fact, he's gone. And maybe he'll come back, but the cycle could repeat.

(Im sorry, unless you put a tracker on him and call his ass and really give him some therapy. get him some god damn therapy.)

But yeah. All around, the angst potential is immense for this stuff and it makes me sad to think about so I thought i would share it instead of just write about it in an actual fic because my character analysis and ability to comprehend my own thoughts is so shit.

Okay, CIAOOOOOO~

[hannahhook7744]

Why Franklin and Maryann Portman are the Worst™ (Part 1)!;

I want to preface this by saying that I know that by no means Franklin and Maryann Portman are the actual worst parents in fiction or in this series even. 

Of course they aren't. 

But that doesn't mean that I can't still refer to them as the worst™ for them being shitty. Even if I do believe that on some leave that they do care about/love their son. 

I also wanna point out that it's been awhile since I read the books so I'm going off my memory and the wiki for this. So I may forget some context of why this or that happens, and if I do that, feel free to comment it down below respectfully. And if I forget something that you find shitty that they did, also feel free to reblog or comment it down below because I would love to talk about these characters and fandom more.

Am I saying that Abe Portman is 100% perfect and did nothing wrong whatsoever? No, that would go against how his character is betrayed in the books—as a flawed traumatized man who did his best to be there for his family and keep them and himself (as well as others) safe and went about some things the wrong way. 

 Now that that's out of the way…

According to the wiki:

“Jacob was born on Halloween, and up until he was eight years old was convinced by his parents that trick-or-treating candy was birthday presents (something apparently revealed in Hollow City).” 

These people are rich. 

R-I-C-H. 

Rich enough that Jacob’s dad can study birds and volunteer and write mine books that he never publishes without the worry of them not having anything to eat. 

R-I-C-H enough that Jacob comments that “I did love her, of course, but mostly because loving your mom is mandatory, not because she was someone I think I'd like very much if I met her walking down the street. Which she wouldn't be, anyway; walking is for poor people.” And rich enough that they gave their kid their four year old sundan so that they could get a brand new car. 

And for eight years, they had their son believing that candy was a birthday present. 

1. Now, look. I get it. Birthday shopping is hard, especially for a little itty bitty kid but not actually having the money to buy your only kid gifts and choosing not to because people are handing out candy on that day anyway? That's not a very nice thing to do for that long. 

They let him go through three years of school thinking that and we never learned how he found out that was a lie. That's not even including the fact that the rest of their extended family let this lie continue (assuming they knew). 

Can you imagine if Jacob found out because he mentioned this to his classmates or a teacher? Maybe a teacher or family member could salvage the situation but little kids can be brutal, especially towards other little kids who they think are wrong and considering we know that in that same year, Jacob was pants-ed causing him to stop believing anything Abe said…. It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility tl believe that one of Jacob's classmates got in a fight with him over it and caused some kind of embarrassing, painful memory. 

Though I guess it's a good thing they didn't get Jacob birthday presents that early on considering my second point. 

2. The birthday scene. 

Look at his birthday scene. 

This scene? Shouldn't really exist. 

Not because I hate birthday scenes but because Jacob literally told his parents he didn't want a party which under normal circumstances is a reasonable ask within itself. But these? These aren't even normal circumstances. 

Jacob doesn't want a party because the one person he'd actually want there, in his own words, is his grandpa. His grandpa who died in his arms nine months before and who Jacob has been viciously mourning for said nine months. His grandpa whose death caused Jacob's ‘mental breakdown’. 

Whose house they had also cleaned out recently, doing shit all for the now sixteen year old’s mental health and grief. 

But what do his parents do? 

Throw him a surprise party.

A surprise party.

For their jumpy traumatized son who found his grandpa bleeding out in the dark after getting attacked by a monster (or ‘rabid dogs’) and who has been sleeping in the fucking laundry room. 

Why on earth would going against his wishes be good for him? He said he didn't want a party and under these circumstances, it's even more understandable. If you really want your son to socialize or to celebrate, then get him a cake or some food he likes and invite his friend over. Talk to him. 

Don't throw him a party he doesn't want and don't throw the kid who's been having non-stop nightmares about the monsters who killed his grandfather a fucking surprise party. 

To make matters, in this party:

One of his uncles he’s not close to tries to spring a summer trip to his house on him, listing shit that he likely knows Jacob doesn't like with no previous warning to the kid himself (his parents were just planning to ship him off, whether he wanted it or not). 

They're calling Jacob's apparent disorder ‘his thing’. 

And nobody is actually getting him anything he wants. Just shit they've been gifted and are trying to get rid of. 

Gifts like CD's of country Christmas music or subscriptions to Field and Stream (because his Uncle Les thinks he's outdoorsy, this one I can understand slightly since Jacob did want to be an adventurer but still). 

The only exceptions being:

 1. The key to the family four-year-old sedan, which Jacob is embarrassed to be receiving in front of Ricky (who Jacob hasn't talked to in a long while after a fight they had). 

And 

2. A camera Jacob had been wanting for ages (since last summer) from his parents….who likely only gifted it to him because of his dad's new book.

Which leads to his mom drunkeningly making front of her husband at her sixteen year old’s birthday party…. Real classy. 

Oh and 3. A book that belonged to Abe that Jacob's parental Aunt Susie snagged trom the house when they were cleaning it out. A book titled “The Selected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson”. 

She gave this to him, saying it was from Abe because he'd written Jacob's name in it. 

Thoughtful right? 

Well everyone else doesn't think so because they go quiet. Jacob's mom, Maryann even while drunk, tries to say it was thoughtful and that she didn't know Abe was a reader.

Meanwhile Jacob's dad, Franklin, is barely hiding how pissed he is. 

Like dude. 

Dude. 

Do you really hate your own dad so much that you don't want your grieving son to have even just a book of poems that the only member of the family who he was close to left for him? Are you still, even after that disastrous day where you cleaned out the fucking house with him there and fought with him, refusing to let him have any ties left?

To be fair, you can say that this is because of his own history with Abe and that it's because Jacob is in a worrying state. But that doesn't really hold up considering that they let Abe babysit Jacob often and fill his head up with stories they thought he embellished  due to his own trauma and because they thought that Jacob was well enough to handle trashing and donating all of his dead grandpa’s stuff. 

Sure, they don't take the book from him but the fact Franklin can't even hide how pissed he is is shitty. 

That's not even considering this little tidbit here:

“My mother leaned toward me and in a tense whisper asked if I needed a drink of water, which was mom-speak for keep it together, people are staring.”

….

Do I even need to say anything?

The fact that Jacob thinks this probably means that his parents—or even just Maryann—have said this to him before. Frequently so, even. To the point where he's trying to escape the room, feeling like he might cry, and instead of thinking that his parents (or anyone in this family) might be able to potentially comfort him in this hard moment, this is what he's thinking. 

It's infuriating.

But not as infuriating as my last point for now!

3. Franklin sent his then fifteen year old son to deal with what he thought was his dementia ridden, war world 2 veteran father having a PTSD attack/episode. 

Franklin gets called when he's volunteering at a bird rescue in what is either early afternoon or night by his worried fifteen year old said who tells him that Abe called him ‘flipping out’. 

He asks if he's taken his pills today and Jacob tells him Abe wouldn't tell him. 

At this point, any reasonable adult would go and help their poor ailing father who may be having an episode or PTSD attack about the war, what happened to his family. The monsters. 

At this point, any reasonable adult would send their son home out of danger and call up a friend or sibling or in-law to go deal with the situation. 

What does Franklin do?

He sends his fifteen year old, who is at his job, to go check on Abe. Who again, Franklin thinks is having an episode. 

Now, even if there was a chance that Abe would still recognize Jacob and wouldn't be a danger to him, who would risk sending their son to check on an ailing relative by himself when there's every chance that when Jacob gets there he'll be having flashbacks to the horrors he witnessed. I mean, it's understandable if you or another adult is there and need help calming the man for you to maybe have your teenage son there. Especially if he may be caring for him one day out of choice.

But sending your fifteen year old there by himself to handle the situation when he probably won't know what to do and when he probably hasn't seen one before?

And doing that when you know that your dad was in a war and still has a sea of weapons hidden away behind lock and key (a key which you have) because you can't be half assed to tell the shelter your volunteering at that there's a family emergency?

Franklin literally sent Jacob into a traumatizing situation that could turn dangerous (for Abe or Jacob, if Abe didn't recognize his grandson) under the assumption that all of his paranoid dad's weapons are stored away. 

And what did Abe die with in his hand?

A box cutter. 

Which just proves that Abe had things lying around that he could use as a weapon if needed. Things he could improvise with. 

Just think for a moment about what could have wrong if Abe wasn't actually in danger from a wight but something he was actually imagining—a memory from his past. Imagine what could have happened to Jacob if Abe had mistaken him for a burglar or a wight or what Franklin thought he was imagining.

Jacob can't fight. 

It's dark. 

Things could easily go wrong.

And what would happen if they did?

Jacob would be hurt and traumatized or dead and Abe would likely be in a horrible place if he wasn't, all because Franklin didn't care enough about his dad to go check on him himself. Hell you can he didn't even care about Jacob enough here, because he didn't care about what Jacob could possibly see if he sent him to deal with his grandfather.

Like, not only is he being incredibly shitty to his son but to his own ailing father who was at the very least convinced he was in danger and who was actually in danger (for all Franklin knew his dad could have actually heard someone breaking in but he didn't even take the time to think about it). 

That's all I have time to write for today but there's several other things that they do that are pretty crappy where their son is involved that I will happily discuss.

Hope this doesn't disappoint, @kallmeweirdhprroe .

[castielsprostate]

uhm anyway this is my official script outline proposal for venom vs spiderfriend / spiderman 4 / venom 4 !

cockroach!venom is travelling to new york all by himself (the the barman is there too because it's just really funny) while we follow eddie having thee worst day he's ever had. he stubs his toe getting out of bed in the morning, his coffee order is wrong and spills on his shirt, he drops his laptop on the concrete, he loses every lead he had on an investigation, a bird shits on his shoulder, it starts to rain and he doesn't have an umbrella, he gets hit by a street puddle a cab drives through, a fling he's "trying" breaks everything off over text message (gender ambiguous), and then when he's crossing the street he gets fucking BODIED by a truck. he gets rushed to the hospital, barely alive, major trauma, broken bones, brain bleed, cardiac arrest, and before he goes he says, "see you soon, buddy," whilst clutching his lady liberty keychain in his hands

cut to spiderman, doing spideythings on earth 616, swinging through the city of new york,

meanwhile, cock!venom is vroaching it up on the other side of the city, going from alley to alley, dodging cars and pedestrians, barely evading death, looking into windows searching for something, making tiny, whiny little alien sounds. he finds a tasty little treat (rat brains) in between and as he's about to munch spiderman's ass squashes him from falling through a marvel sparkles universe hole. venom attaches himself to spiderman and they are an absolute hate at first sight. by GOD does venom hate peter and does peter try to get rid of venom any and all opportunities! "YOU" "what me?" "YOU ARE THE RED BLUE MAN FROM TV" "well... yeah? i'm spiderman? can you get out of my body please??" venom does not, in fact, get out of his body, but they fight some alley bad guys, one calls spiderman an "uptight fruity" and venom goes ballistic. they fight together, badly, because neither of them is strong enough to control the other and then they fight each other before realising it's pointless. venom ends saying "don't let guys like that get you down, bug, sing your own song, dance to your own beat, it's what we do" to peter when they're done fighting and peter just goes ???

eddie is still dying in the hospital, medically induced coma, anne arrives with dan, they mourn him, getting told there's no chance of survival anymore. they're keeping him alive for mrs chen to say her goodbyes, and unhooking his life support in two days. capcut dream montage where he's raising a family together with venom, eddie says, "this is a life i like better,". that's normal behaviour

spideyvenom is being followed by some woodchippers, venom explains NOTHING to the spider man because they doesn't like the spider man. they have a day where they try to find out whats going on, barely working together, but good enough to find out some information. they have an alleycat fight and venom reveals that he's looking for someone "special to us" after coming all the way from nevada, and peter goes "ah.. mr venom, she must be important to you for you to travel all this way, huh?" "yes, insect... he is important to us" and spiderman goes O.O and then tries to help but no one's heard of an "eddie brock". the city, in the meantime, becomes jittery and weird, and something big is coming. something big and wrong. they go on a venom bender and meet the barman in an underground (gay) club in nyc and have a fun (for venom. terrible for spidey and the barman) night out

eddie is dying, slowly, in the hospital, unresponsive to everyone and everything. mrs chen says a tearful goodbye, leaving a bar of chocolate on his bedside table, anne stays with eddie whilst dan goes with mrs chen to get some food. she holds his hand, cries, maybe. she says, through tears,"i wish he could've protected you longer"

spideyvenom are doing what they can to protect people (venom eats a few of them), swinging through the city when more marvel sparkles appear. by god. that's a lot of fucking marvel sparkles. that's. that's too many marvel sparkles. the sky opens up, there really isn't a lot of time left, the something big, something wrong is here.

swinging through new york, spideyman is listing off everything that's going very, very wrong, trying to evacuate as many people, when venom spots eddie, barely, through a top floor hospital window. in reality he actually spots anne, throwing everything on a hail mary, and decides to crash them into the hospital window. anne ducks to protect eddie, spiderman takes off his mask in anger, "mr venom what the hell??? we HAVE to go, NOW,". venom rejects himself from spiderman, launching him out of the window, and jumping onto eddie, trying to be absorbed, "eddie?... eddie... eddie.. eddie. eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie!! eddie!!! eddie!!!! eddie!!!!! eddie!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!!!!! EDDIE!!!!!!!!!!!!,"

venom goes to anne, looking at eddie, "why isn't our other waking up? what is wrong with our eddie, anne?". "venom, i'm so sorry."

so venom, without thinking, without any hold back, makes anne perform cpr, just enough to flow into eddie. just. barely. enough. and he brings eddie back again, slamming him back into life, waking up another codex in the process, but he doesn't care. because their eddie is back, and eddie is waking up.

eddie says, whilst reaching up to his chest, "hey buddy, i just had the-," "weirdest dream, eddie,"

silence, for a moment, the camera is only focused on them sitting in eddie's glass covered hospital bed before,

"am i dead? are we dead? is this it?" "no, eddie, we are alive," and eddie presses their foreheads together, gently, with no urgency. just relief. eddie gripping the back of venom's goop, entangling his fingers, wanting to feel venom engulf him again. the moment is cut short by spiderman jumping through ANOTHER window "what in the hell are you doing mr. venom??? we have to clear the city, now, we don't have any time for this"

freaked out, a little soggy, eddie says, "venom, that's th-the-the peter guy from tv from the the purple man universe" "yes eddie, we do not like him," "why is the peter guy from tv in here, why does he know who we are,"

spiderman goes ???, eddie braces himself for a fight, gripping venom tighter, he isn't going to lose him again so soon, "listen sweetie, we aren't going anywhere," whilst gesturing to him and venom, "what is going on here?"

something rumbles the ground, anne yelps, spiderman is up and out another window, "no time, gotta swing, we need to evacuate the city,"

eddie is up, getting anne to safety, she says "don't let him go, venom," before venom is filling him in on everything that happened and being shot into battle in his hospital gown. they full body, venom seeps into every part of eddie, impossibly further than any time before, and eddie lets him in

"we have a new tattoo, eddie?" "got it a while back, it's the," "codex?" "codex,"

they save a few people on their way down, venom eats a few bad guys, "you got a new tattoo, too, huh bud?" "it looks cool on us" they find spiderman and, despite their mutual dislike, team up and [epic battle here]. cool co-ops with veddie launching spiderman, spiderman webbing bad guys like a little burrito for venom to eat, eddie does a few kickflips and gets launched by spiderman to get some up-top threats. and the threat isn't clear, it's not knull, it's not more xenophages, it's something neither of them has seen before, and it just keeps coming... until the sky clears up in an instant. like it was snapped away, and spiderman is marvel sparkled back before any of them know what's happening, "mr venom??" "insect! see you never"

half of the city is destroyed (in true marvel hero style), venom and eddie have to get out of there quickly before anyone gets a too good look.

the final scene of venom and eddie is them sitting in central park, debris magically cleaned up, venom safely tucked in eddie's shirt saying some venom-y nonsense and alien purring, two new chickens who they named roan and gaga pecking away by their feet, looking off into the sunset. eddie whispers, "but i like any life with us best," and venom intertwines their hands

spiderman gets marvelsparkled back into the mcu, having the wildest story to tell, and having so so so many questions, with having none answered because it's Doom's Day.

[snowsinterlude]

˚ ᜔ ࣪ ✿ ࣭ ۟ bathtub.

(corioanus snow x reader)

summary: stressed about that time of the month, your boyfriend watched you bathe in awe of the red water.

c.w: period sex, sensitivity, fertile period, p in v, oral sex (f. recieving), blood, biting, praising, overstimulation, dacryphilia, petnames (doll, princess, angel), bathtub sex, blood kink, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, making reader taste herself.

a/n: i watched saltburn . need to get a bit out of my system . also i'm kinda of sleepy and shaky so there's probably a bunch of mistakes here

you hated being on your period. it always came when you wanted the nastiest things possible.

now, mourning for the loss of a contact you couldn't have now, you were deep into the bathtub, only your face was capable of beig seen inside of the bathtub alongside with the red water and bubbles.

your boyfriend was kneeling by your side, washing your hair with the upmost kindness as his fingers rubbed your scalp. god, you were crazy about him- you wanted him to fuck you, wanted him inside you, taking your pain away.

but you thought it was gross. and even if you adored vampires, you didn't want to see your boyfriend's pretty face being dirty and stick because of your blood.

"i still don't know why you don't wanna do it." he said, kissing your shoulder, massaging them.

"it's gross, coryo. you don't have to do it." you said, feeling shivers down your body. specially when his fingers travelled down to your breasts- gosh, you were so sensitive. your nipples seemed to wake up immediatly. "s..stop. stop, i'm not gonna let you fuck me while i'm like this."

"but it would help ease up the pain." he said, changing his pose to kiss your cleavage. now, he was at the side of the bathtub, your hair was wet, beautiful, some shampoo bubbles were dripping on the floor.

"coryo.." you pouted. you were almost giving in, he could see that, from your tear pooled eyes to your thighs rubbing together; you wanted this as much as he did.

"c'mon, doll. don't hold up. i know you want this just as much as i do." he said, taking off his shirt, getting into the bathtub with you, engulfing your nipple into his hungry mouth.

finally, he earned a moan out of you, your legs instantly spreading to him, his fingers didn't even had a hard time finding your bloody slick, you moaned while holding his hair, his fingers finding your velvet core and entering it easily.

there was something on the sounds of his fingers thrusting your bloody pussy so eagerly, something hungry on the way he mouthed your boob aggressively, biting it on his teeth as if it was a gummy bear, and still being so eagerly sweet in those bites, in those thrusts.

"cory!" you cried, hips bucking up to his fingers, breath hitching, and almost cumming. he could feel it in the way your cunt was clenching around him, that's why he pulled his fingers out of you. "hey.." you pouted.

for your surprise, his fingers were on your mouth now. the metallic, bittersweet taste of your blood was hot on your tongue, and even if you were humming on his fingers, unbelieving of what he was doing, you still sucked on his fingers, swallowing the taste of your own blood.

"coryo!" you called, brows knitted together while he smiled at you. "that was gross! ugh, for god's sake!"

"you swallowed it." he said, grinning darkly. you gulped down your saliva. "i didn't even told you to, you just did."

"i..."

"what a good girl." he chuckled, drowning into the water. the weight of both bodies made the water overflow, it flow off the bathtub, and even if you were surprised, your boyfriend drained the bathtub, and he had the nerve to pull your legs and place them on each side of his head.

you panicked, eyes wide open as you spoke "c-coryo, don't- it is a mess there, didn't you notice i'm on my period?!"

"i don't see how it affects me, princess" he said, kissing your inner thigh, stained with blood. "and, lucky for me, i'm a vampire"

he smiled devilishly. and although you found it was gross, he still managed to manipulate you into allowing it, and so, when his tongue pressed against your sensitive clit in the most delicious manner, you couldn't do anything other than squirm, moan and hold his hair.

but of course, he didn’t leave it at that. of course he had to finger you again, teasing you, passing his fingers through your slick, painting you with your blood; messily painting your blood on your cleavage, on your neck, on your boobs. like a white canvas, you slowly began gaining color.

and with his tongue tasting you, thrusting, licking, torturing you, your back arched perfectly as you held onto the bathtub, mewling his name. "c-cory! coryo!!!" you cried. "'m gonna- oh fuck!"

"i know, doll. i got you." and you came undone quickly, hands shaking, legs shaking, mouth held agape and still, your eyes shone when you saw him on top of you, blood on his chin, on his adam's apple, on his fingers. somehow, it was the prettiest sight you've ever seen. "but do you got me?"

you nodded, grinding so desperately on the bulge of his pants, so sensitive for him, throbbing and clenching, missing the bare contact you had with him. "yes, yes, i do."

this was enough of an answer for him to unbuckle his pants, wet from the way he drowned himself on that bathtub, his dick slapping at your clit, making you mewl at the sudden violence against your most sensitive parts; the way his tip teased your core was getting you to cry.

when he finally penetrated you, you felt like the pain, alongside with your ovulation, were getting into a fight; one seeing who was stronger than the other and for your own pleasure, it was your ovulation who won against the pain of the cramps.

"fuck- look at you, you're so wet" he moaned, taking your waist on his hands, holding you in your place before starting to pound inside you and god, you were so sensitible. it didn't matter anymore, when he licked your tears and kissed your lips, your legs trembled around his waist, you could feel every inch of his dick inside you, and even the slowest thrusts were making you mewl and moan around him. "god, angel, are you tighter than before?"

and you nodded. the side effect of your period was that you always felt tighter, hornier, more sensitive, more emotional; and you couldn't help but suck on his thumb as he thrusted a bit more faster and deeper inside you, kissing your temple and your lips while taking his thumb out of your lips to rub your swollen clit.

"you're so good, look at you. you're just perfect around me." he chuckled, biting your neck and squeezing your boob on his hand.

"coryo, s-slow it down, please. don't wanna c-cum yet!" you pleaded, crying from the overstimulation. you already came, a mild orgasm when he fingered you, another orgasm when he eat you out, and now that you had the sight of him on top of you, fucking you like that, you felt like you would cum just from the sight of it, specially when you looked down to see how it looked- his cock entering you so fast and yet slow, deep and good inside you.

and god! there was blood on his dick! and he didn’t even seem to care- it was like he knew about it, like he wanted more.

"i know, babe. you can cum how many times you want." he said, and you were genuinely crying from pleasure. on the other side, there was a coriolanus who thought that period sex was the prettiest form of bonding. like it was a spiritual thing-

and even when you came, being accompanied by him after a feel thrusts, cum and blood mixing together, he bathed you both and at night, he still managed to fuck you again.

he did it many times before, fucked you on your period as if it was his prize, like there was nothing better than it.

with that being said, now, he had his face buried in between your legs, sucking on your blood while you tried to work on the assignment the teachers gave you both. well, his part was done. now, his job was other;

pleasuring you and sucking the blood off you.

[miraculan-draws]

I will never shut up about how dirty Da2 was to Justice like. Justice is ROMANTIC, in Awakening! He was awestruck by a sunrise. Hes in a brand new world, terrified and alone, and took comfort in how lovely the sunrise was. He lets his companions put flowers in his armor, because he cannot smell that he is piloting a corpse (bc it is a corpse and cannot smell). He literally sounded on the verge of tears when he unintentionally upset the wife of his host, of whom he remembered, distantly, as if she were his own wife. How much did it mean to the warden, particularly the "bad" wardens, ruthless blood mages or criminal dusters who spit venom, that Justice Itself said "you seem like a good sort. I will follow you"??

Vengeance has always been part of Justice, he mentions even in his recruitment that fighting with the wardens is the least he can do to AVENGE Kristoff. Vengeance is not a demon, just a facet of Justice. And the fear of becoming something else has always been with Justice too—when Anders wants to know the difference, his prodding upsets Justice, and Anders apologized. Said "I hope you never learn why then." And Justice said "As do I."

LETS TALK JUSTICE AND ANDERS MORE

Justice sounds. SO. Empathetic. When he says "I hear you struggle with your oppression, mage." When we met him in the Fade, he was armored, not wearing the chantrys symbol but shaped like a templar, maybe molded by the villagers trapped by the Baroness. They needed a wicked mage defeated, so they conjured what they thought would win. But Justice IMMEDIATELY, in the physical world, turns his sympathies to Anders, pointing out that Anders is in a very unique position to aid other mages.

And something about that sticks with Anders, even when he brushed it off at the time. And in game, they seem less than friendly, but we also know that Justice was WITH Anders when he took the sword from the templar. Justice must have thought he needed the protection, and was right. I don't think they hate each other, I don't think they're constantly at odds like the second narrative leads us to believe.

WHICH BRINGS ME RIGHT BACK. TO ROMANCE.

There is no way that if ANDERS loves Hawke, that Justice doesn't.

He feels what his host feels!! He remembers what they remember, as if it were him!! He mourned Karl too. He is just as reluctantly charmed by Isabela as he was with Sigrun—who made a game of stealing his knickknacks just to prove she could. If Hawke is an ally to the mages cause, there is no way in my mind that Justice disapproves. And if Anders falls in love, I think Justice does too.

If there is any wariness at ALL, I could see maybe Justice remembering the way Anders hurt when Karl was killed, and worried of a repeat performance—especially with mage Hawke. But I don't think he hates Hawke at all.