#but i have nothing to cling to rly and no way of getting it and!!!! idk what im even saying im so overwhelmed and sad

[arolesbianism]

I'm feeling absolutely insane abt the staliens again. There's smth so deeply wrong with all of them <3

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 7

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes!, there’s some slight smut…  but nothing too graphic (ion rly write smut haha), angst and comfort, this chapter’s brought to you by: a bunch of sad songs on repeat! A/N: 7k+ words what the fuck!!  (this might actually be one of my favorite chapters. :’))

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

“You don’t have a favorite color.”

“I… don’t, no.”

“But you’re quite partial to green.”

“I guess so—?”

“You’ve worn the same green shirt to bed thrice this week,” he notes lightly, pertaining to your Loki: Master of Mischief tee. The corners of his mouth pull into a faint, knowing smile. “It suits you, by the way.”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you glance at him, narrowing your eyes in slight embarrassment. “It’s a perfectly comfy shirt,” you reply, a defensive edge to your tone. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing at all,” he agrees reassuringly. “Just making an observation.”

“What, are you keeping a dossier on me now?”

Sylus gives a noncommittal hum, but offers nothing more in response. He keeps watch on you from his usual spot in the corner between the monitor and the CPU box, chin resting on an open palm. His gaze betrays hints of smugness to it.

You eye him weirdly. With a huff, you turn back to your typing.

–

You’re cooking dinner—with Sylus supervising the entire thing like your very own personal sous chef. Something that has now been the norm for you two, since your–banging!–success with the tofu dish. 

And for tonight’s menu: Butter noodles. Simple, foolproof, straightforward. 

"Simple" is… well, it’s not entirely inaccurate. But the way that the boiling water hisses angrily through the small lid hole wavers the already shaky foundation of your developing culinary confidence. 

(Just a little bit! You’re sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.) 

A faint burning scent clings to the air; you forgot to stir the garlic early on, and now it looks dangerously close to a char. You rescue it just in time, cursing under your breath. Your sous chef, of course, catches everything. Even your nervousness.

“You know,” Sylus chimes in, watching the wooden spatula tremble in your hand. “This is quite the step up from your usual instant noodle packets. You should be proud of yourself, sweetie.”

“Gee, thanks. Really complex work for an extra half-hour of cooking time,” Your words are snide, but he doesn’t miss the way your grip on the spatula tightens ever-so-slightly. Steadies. 

The smell stabilizes. You add half a stick of butter, squashing it to a melt, and he lets the subject drop—for now.

“Do you have siblings?”

“I have an older sister,” you answer distractedly, stirring the sauce and trying to scrape the edges of the sauté pan without having it splatter from the inside.

“How much older?”

“Uh—six years,” you reply, reaching for a pinch of salt. “She's got a family. Two kids. Another on the way.”

“Hm. You two are close?”

You pause, the question landing softly in the haze of rising steam. “I mean. S’ alright, I guess. We catch up over the phone sometimes.”

“Ah. Good.”

“... Yeah.” 

You catch a glance of his expression in your peripheral, looking thoughtful. 

_

It’s a recent development, his curiosity. Sporadic at first, like light rain on a windshield—little questions scattered here and there, easy to brush off. But over the past week, it’s grown into something more unrelenting. It’s almost as if you two were playing a round of twenty questions, only it’s just you in the hot seat being interrogated. 

There’s also that habit of his to take it one step further. Hedging his questions strategically, acting like he already knows the little factoid he wanted to ask and just needs you to confirm it. 

You don’t really get the logic behind it, but hey, who are you to judge? Everybody has their quirks. Even someone of his caliber, apparently.

… God forbid he gets blindsided by something he’s genuinely surprised to know about you, though. 

“You know how to play the violin.”

You pause the video you’re watching on your laptop at its five minute mark to stare at Sylus through your phone screen. He sounds… terse? Like you’d intentionally kept this a secret from him.

“Wha—yes, I know how to play the violin,” you huff, incredulous by the show of attitude. “What’s up with all these weird questions?”

“You’ve given me explicit permission to ask them. Level the playing field,” he reminds you, eyes slightly accusatory. “What else are you keeping from me?”

You groan, collapsing onto your back on the couch. “Ugh, I don’t know,” you say sarcastically. “Do you wanna know my time of birth too?”

“Born at exactly twelve twenty-eight PM,” Sylus recites without missing a beat, his voice bored and unimpressed. “I saw it on your Co-Star app, sweetie.”

You freeze.

“…”

“That’s creepy,” you tell him, tone disapproving, giving him a scolding poke on the nose. 

“Call it thorough research,” he counters smoothly, rolling his eyes at your feeble attack. “After all, a stubborn kitten’s been slacking on her side of the deal.”

_

The questions are, for the most part, harmless in nature. Anchored firmly in the mundane. He doesn’t stray too far from what’s comfortable, or what he deems safe to ask. And yet you can sense it beneath the surface: the burning curiosity. To know more of you, to take what he could—piece by piece, until he’s unraveled the puzzle of you entirely. 

And you don’t get it. His world—filled with endless adventure, lore, and literal fucking superpowers—surely has to be more exciting than anything you’ve got to offer. What’s your life compared to that? 

You said as much to him, mostly as an offhand comment. Although it did feel slightly more earnest when you put it into words, compared to how it sounded in your head. 

“Honestly, Sy-Sy. Life here’s really not that interesting compared to all the stuff going on over there,” you told him matter-of-factly, in the middle of collecting your daily rewards. “You don’t have to keep this up, you know.”

Sylus didn’t speak for a moment. The easy nonchalance he wore so well shifted into something more reserved, almost somber. He didn’t challenge what you said, nor did he affirm anything—you're met with silence, loaded with thoughts unspoken. 

“Don’t presume things on your own, little dove,” he said after a while, his voice low, a gentle reprimand. 

Before you could even process what he meant by that, he smoothly changed the subject, his tone reverting back to his usual effortless calm as if to ease the weight of your words. “Now then, let’s circle back—what were you saying earlier? You almost drowned in a lake when you were eight? Because of a dare you made with your sister?”

And that was the end of it.

You tell yourself it’s exhausting—the way he keeps digging, prodding, asking questions like you’re worth the level of fascination he’s making you out to be. But there’s also the truth, hidden and tucked beneath your half-hearted protests, slowly unfurling. A part of you—cautiously hopeful, dreadfully fragile—that preens under the weight of his scrutiny. 

So you let him press further; let him sift through twenty plus years of tiny, unremarkable fragments of your life like a beachcomber seeking treasures amongst the tide. And in return, he gives you his full attention, undivided and unyielding, as if your answers are the only ones that matter.

––––

He tells you there’s a new tête-à-tête feature in the game, so you check it out—not without giving him a slightly suspicious look. 

“A microphone feature?” You snort, leveling him with a half-amused glare. “You already hear me talk all the time.”

Sylus blinks at you, his face a guilefully-crafted mask of innocence. “I’m just giving you the option, sweetie. You know, in case you’d like to put our conversations ‘on record.’”

“Treat you like some kind of… quasi-therapist or something? An online confessional?” You give him the stink eye. “Is that what you’re angling for now?”

He shrugs. “If it helps.”

_

You had no intention of using the tête-à-tête “feature” you’ve been so graciously offered, quickly dismissing it as just another one of his tactics to show off his capacity to manipulate the game’s code, or something along those lines. 

It’s not the first time he’s done it. 

But then, midnight comes on a deceptively ordinary Friday, and it’s suffused with an all-too familiar feeling of utter emptiness that drowns you. You’re crumpled on the toilet seat like chewed-up gum, knees pulled to your chest—the day’s wounds still festering. It's not anything new, but it leaves you feeling like shit all the same. 

Yet another overtime shift. Yet another argument with your mom, over fuck all you know that you’re too damn old for, but still, still, finds its way to cut deep. Over and over, and over again. 

Your phone’s blank screen stares back at you, just as mute and useless as the rest of the night. And you—

“Sweetie?” 

You can’t speak. Not yet. But you don’t have to. One look at the exhaustion on your face is enough for Sylus to know exactly what you need.

Your mouth trembles open, then shuts again. He doesn’t say anything else, just waiting for you to make the first move. To start whenever you’re ready. 

After a long moment, you finally exhale a shaky breath. That’s when you catch his gaze; fixed, patient, almost... encouraging. It’s a subtle invitation, urging you to take the plunge, to make use of him to an extent only he can provide–the only one he could offer to you at this time–

So, you talk. Tentatively at first, the words slipping out like droplets from your leaking sink faucet. But once the dam breaks, you can't stop. 

It spills out. Every frustration, every ache, every moment that feels too much to carry for one person, especially for someone like you, and he… he just—

listens. 

-

-

-

You feel drained. Every ounce of energy wrung out of you after unloading the day’s weight to your unexpected confidant.

“That helped, didn’t it?”

If it were anyone else—or if you didn’t know Sylus the way you do now—you’d only catch the smug notes in his voice. The teasing lilt and the airy pretense of someone trying to ease the heaviness out of the room.

But you do hear it. Beneath the surface, woven so subtly into the words… something vulnerable. 

You hear the unspoken question behind it: he’s genuinely asking if it helped. If his presence, however small or inconsequential it might seem, was enough to pull you back ashore.

I helped.

Tell me I did.

“You did, Sy.” Your grin is tired, grateful, and a little lopsided. But it’s real. “Thank you.”

For a moment—just a split of a second—the red in his eyes betrays something achingly raw.

“Anytime, darling,” he says, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, like it’s carrying more than the words themselves. “I mean it.”

And like a beacon of light slicing through the storm-tossed seas of your mind, you realize that he truly does.

____

You start giving Sylus the reins to select the music, trusting his taste enough to let him DJ for you. He picks the soundtrack for everything—cooking, errands, long rides—filling the silence with something that he knows the both of you would like. 

The playlists grow. From one, to two, to almost an entire collection of carefully curated tracks to suit the mood and vibe of the day. He takes it seriously—so seriously that you can’t resist sneaking in a Megan Thee Stallion track onto his precious “Slow Evenings” playlist.

He finds it hilarious. Hilarious enough to loop Kitty Kat for all sixty-five minutes of your commute back home.

You laugh despite yourself. It’s exactly the type of shit you know he’d pull as petty retribution, already intimately familiar with his brand of humor. And if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine him beside you, sharing an earbud, smirking as he revels in your exasperation.

____

One night, you notice a weariness in his eyes. It’s an odd enough thing to see that it leads to a discussion on what he’s been up to as the shadowy leader of a notorious faction, deep in a lawless part of his universe.

“Just an operative gone wrong, sweetie,” he says with a sigh, rubbing a temple as though trying to physically push the stress away. “It happens.”

You press him on the details of the botched deal—and maybe, just maybe, a small part of you is excited to live vicariously through the tale. But it’s not about you this time, you remind yourself. So you listen as Sylus indulges every question you throw at him, giving you the play-by-play: what the deal was for (special, hard-to-get protocores), where the trade-off occurred (west of Charon), and how it all went sideways (he knew it was a set-up the moment he walked into the venue).

You don’t really know how to comfort him in a situation like this, but you want to try.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you joke, “Can you imagine clumsy, ol’ me there? I’d be dead before I even make it inside.”

Sylus freezes, his expression going still. Unreadable.

“No, you won’t.” He says in response to the second part of what you just said, his tone brooking no doubt. He says it with such intense conviction that you almost believe this exact hypothetical has already crossed his mind—more than once.

I won’t let you.

Before you can even think of what to say, he adds, quieter this time, but no less convinced: “And yes—I can.”

It’s a direct answer to your question, and it makes the words die in your throat. His voice is softer now too, but there’s no mistaking his tone. It has the same conviction from before, and it hits you that he’s had time to ruminate on this thought—more times than he’d care to admit.

And I do. You have no idea.

____

There’s another shift in the dynamic of your, well, relationship.

“Did you hear what I said, poppet?”

You snap back to meet his inquiring gaze, unwavering as always.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” You ask, the apology clear in your eyes.

He huffs, shaking his head in amusement—always patient, never annoyed—at your inattentiveness. “What’s on your mind, my sweet?”

Well. That.

Lately, Sylus has gotten into the habit of using possessive pronouns like they’re nothing. There’s also a notable increase on the variation of pet names too, each one more layered than the last.

It’s a little excessive, honestly. Like he’s trying to compensate for something—or maybe he sees it as just another natural step in whatever’s going on between you two. You’re still not sure what exactly goes in his head. He’s always been an enigma to you.

And yet, you never put a stop to it. How could you?

Little dove. Sweet girl. My darling.

When it comes off his lips like sunkist honey—each one brings a jolt straight to your heart. 

You're quite partial to one in particular. 

My love.

____

“Oh, my love,” Sylus tuts, feigning concern. “You’ve snoozed that alarm five times already.”

You groan, hitting the snooze button again—number six now—burying your face in your arms on the desk. 

____

You’re attending a despedida party for a friend who’s flying abroad to study (For a PhD in Biomedical Science! You couldn’t be more proud.) and the venue’s going to be at The Penthouse, somewhere fancy up north. It even has an infinity pool on deck, something the celebrant dropped into the group chat with far too much enthusiasm.

So, earlier today, you’d ventured out to buy something nice for yourself. Nicer than what you have in the closet, which isn’t much of a stretch. Something different than your usual rotation of plaids and band shirts—not that there’s anything wrong with them. They’re just… you. Comfortable. Predictable. Not exactly the dress code for a rooftop soirée.

Now, you’re back home from a successful (!) trip to the mall, bags in hand: a small gift for your friend on one arm and a much larger shopping bag on the other. 

You set the gift gently on the coffee table. Then, you head to the bathroom, the grosgrain ribbon of a paper tote held tight in your fist. 

The pretty fabric caught your eye almost immediately, the moment you saw the garment; its sheen almost like woven liquid in the light. It felt like a risk, even on the rack. But under the unforgiving glare of your bathroom bulb? 

Well, now, it’s looking less of a “bold choice,” and more along the lines of: “damn, what were you thinking?”

It’s not that big of a deal or anything. You like feeling pretty. But at the same time, you haven’t deluded yourself into thinking that you’re anything above average to look at, even on the nicest occasions. 

It’s something you’ve grown used to, a definitive truth ingrained deep in your bones. You know this—like you know gravity tethers you to the ground, even when you’d rather be carried by the wind. You’ve gone through more than a decade to accept it as just another fact of life, to make peace with the reflection staring back at you from the bathroom mirror. 

Even if it means you’ll never be on the receiving end of ‘interested’ glances from strangers on the street. Or that you’ve never known the feeling of someone doing a double take when they see you at your best, all dolled-up. More than once, you’ve sat across from dates whose eyes wandered—toward some other, someone better-looking, in restaurants, at parks, even outside the movies. Everywhere past your direction. 

But that’s okay. You’re used to it, the same way you’ve grown used to everything else.

And still, there’s that impulse—a sudden need for someone else’s opinion. Someone close. Someone that matters. 

There’s a pang of fear you can’t quite shake. You hear the small voice from the deep recesses of your mind, whispering to you that it’s one of your worse ideas. That you’ll fall short of any and all expectations, and that it’ll hurt more this time around. You’ll hear the polite, “you look nice” and you’re gonna have to live with the quiet certainty that you don’t, not really, and that you’ll never quite measure up to what he’s used to seeing. To her—

You swallow hard. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not outwardly, at least.

And if he did… Well.

“I bought something,” you say as an opener, the words tumbling out in a rush as soon as you get a glimpse of his form on the screen. You’re rocking back on your heel, a little awkward as you stand there in front of your small vanity table even with your phone laid flat, front camera pointing upwards. “You remember the going-away party I’ll be attending two days from now, right?”

“Of course, the one for your secondary school batchmate.” Sylus replies easily, voice reverberating through the tinny speakers. Even at an angle, you can see the confused tilt of his head. “Is it on the ceiling, sweetie? What am I looking at, exactly?”

“No, smartass. I—” You press your lips together, eyes flitting upward, as if courage might be dangling from the ceiling in question.

Fuck, this is a bad idea. I can’t do this.

“It’s–I bought something for myself. I mean, I bought her a gift too, obviously. But I also bought an outfit. For the party.” 

There. 

He blinks, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. Realization dawns on his face, a knowing smile beginning to form. His voice dips, a teasing edge to it as he purrs, “Oh? Well then, save me from the suspense, sweetheart.”

“I–I’m getting to it, okay?” It comes out a little snappier than you intend, nerves flaring hot. You sigh, feeling your shoulders drop. “I’m just… Don’t be—ugh, just don’t make a big deal out of this, alright?” 

You keep your eyes off the screen, unable to face him directly.

But when he speaks, his tone carries only a quiet understanding of your struggle.

Of course he understands. He always does.

He speaks; and it’s slow and measured—as if he’s coaxing a terrified, cornered animal out of hiding. 

“Show me.” Trust me.

And so with a heavy exhale through the nose, you flip the front camera towards your direction, revealing the bare expanse of gooseflesh skin—

… And the flimsy one-piece that clings to your body like wet plastic. 

It dips low between the valley of your breasts and stops short just halfway up your thigh. The material is a gauzy organza; see-through and light, in seafoam green. Barely leaving anything to the imagination as it reveals the dusky coral swimsuit from underneath the fabric and the hot flush that spreads across your chest like wildfire. Your fists clench and unclench behind your back – hiding the physical manifestation of your rising anxiety – while you shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

There's a deafening silence. 

The knots in your stomach grow tighter, creeping its way past your lungs. Your fingers tremble as cold sweat breaks out across your skin, chilling you from the inside. You feel horribly exposed. So exposed it’s almost unbearable. 

And you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Your thoughts stumble, desperate to cling to anything solid, and a faint memory surfaces—a passage from an org pamphlet you’ve skimmed through back in college, something that has to do with “self-perception.”

The flesh does not define you. 

Your body is but a facet of who you are. You are as inconsequential as the earth beneath your feet, and as important as stardust in the universe.

A low, guttural sound cuts through the stillness, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

You—

“Look at me.”

A searing heat laces the cadence of his voice. It sounds restless—like a flame unchecked, rapidly growing into a raging inferno. Stifling in the way it pulls the air from your lungs, like a suckerpunch to the gut.

Your primordial instinct is to flee. But right at that very moment, you're no different from a paralyzed insect caught in an inescapable web with the way you’re stood frozen in place. Every instinct to run is smothered by the mere inflection in his voice. 

—are all. And that is all there is to be. 

“My sweet little dove,” it’s almost a croon, the way the words curl around you like wisps of smoke. Sickly saccharine… downright serpentine. “Won’t you look at me when I talk to you?”

And like a marionette on a string, you obey. 

-

Time seems to stop to a standstill the moment your eyes meet his. 

Sylus’ gaze sinks into you. Loaded. Heavy. A crazed glint, almost—to it. Even to someone like you who's embarrassingly clueless about the nuances of attraction and wholly inexperienced in its depths can see it as plain as day.

Carnal desire. In its purest form. 

Sylus looks at you as though you’re something to be coveted. Devoured. 

A small, fearful noise slips past your lips, and the twin crimson flames burn brighter.

“You’d like to know what I think?”

Yes.

No?

He sees the war in your eyes, and a throaty chuckle escapes him—raw and breathy. “Maybe so?”

You give him the tiniest nod, and the grin on his face sharpens into something wanton, something far more licentious. It slinks in like a fever, stirring something deep within you. Something as old as time.

Sylus opens his mouth. 

You brace yourself for the inevitable.

-

-

-

A ring slices through the room like a hot knife. Just like that, you can breathe again. 

____

Your saving grace comes in the form of a phone call that grounds you back to reality.

It’s a friend, one of the party guests, asking for directions to the venue. You’re listening with one ear on the receiver, answering each question robotically—your voice a controlled calm on the surface, a stark contrast to the thoughts running amok inside your head. 

The words blur into background noise, muffled and distant, like a TV commercial playing on low volume in another room.

The moment you hang up, a suffocating hush swallows the room whole. You’re left alone with nothing but heat kindling low in your gut. The ghost of the heavy exchange from earlier stays with you, thrumming beneath your skin, hot and pulsating. 

You don’t know what to do with yourself. The abrupt suddenness of it all gnaws at you, its weight driving you toward an early retreat—maybe a long night’s rest will do wonders and help you get your shit together, who knows. 

You slip between the sheets... but not before retrieving your, ah, trusty little companion from its hiding spot in the bedside drawer.

You didn’t want to assume… You don’t want to expect anything from him, but you have needs. 

God, but you do.

Your body feels like flint struck against steel, sparked ablaze by just a handful of words. Words weaved into a vivid imagery from the mouth of your… friend?? 

(Something more?) 

The uncertainty wrecks you, every nerve alight with tension. And yet it’s the same uncertainty that roots you there. Hesitating. 

So. You lie back, pushing the sheets away from your fevered skin, and just—lay there. Staring at the ceiling. The plaster cracks form maps you trace with your eyes, as if searching for answers in their tangled routes. You count your breaths, one after the other, as though the repetition could calm your racing heartbeat. 

It feels ridiculous, almost. You’re a grown adult, acting like a teenager with a demented crush. It’s more than that, though—it’s deeper, messier, and completely illogical. 

But it’s not something you can figure out tonight, not in this state. So you stop trying. 

Instead, you switch on your little toy, open an incognito browser, and let yourself succumb to what your body’s been screaming at you for the past fucking hour. 

You feel… You feel weird about using anything Sylus-related to get yourself off. That’s not to say you haven’t, before, back when he was just another eye candy from a measly mobile game. When it was just another infatuation. 

But now? Now it feels all levels of wrong, like you’re toeing some invisible line. Worse, it feels like you’re exploiting something fragile, testing the limits of a bond already stretched thin.

So, any content related to that man stays off the fap fodder. You’re not that far gone. You think. 

Instead, you scroll through your bookmarks tab, a shaky sigh leaves your lips as you let the hard vibrations of your trusty rabbit glide from inside your thighs, up… up to your warm center, in between the juncture of your legs.

You pause on a Toji smut fic—one amongst, uhh, dozens in your folder. It’s not the same, you know this, but you’re settling for the next best thing in your current circumstance. 

Since what you really want, who you’d rather much have, isn’t—

…

Your phone glitches. 

The Chrome app crashes.

And what do you think you’re doing?

Your heart stutters a beat, and you stop breathing. 

You can’t answer. The words don’t come. But he doesn’t wait for you to try.

Put on your headphones.

You’re done with that. Tonight, tomorrow, any other night. Do you understand me?

The uncharacteristic curtness of the message sends a jolt through you, and a blush overtakes your entire body. You hesitate, just for a second.

Now.

You scramble to obey, fumbling for your earbuds, slipping them on with shaking hands. 

The moment the bluetooth connects, the game boots up on its own—straight to an irate Sylus, looking royally pissed-off. 

“Sy-Sy—” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t—”

"Oh, so back to Sy-Sy now, are we?"

The mocking lilt in his voice cuts sharper than the glare he fixes on your dimly lit face. Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you entirely. 

You want to explain, to defend yourself. To…

“I see what you read. What you watch,” he begins, voice cutting and mean. “In the dead of night, when you think you’re alone. When you think it’s safe. That no one hears the sweet moans spill so sinfully from your lips.”

His words pierce through the air like an arrow; you feel his overwhelming presence take over, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, every exhale grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.

“Oh, but I do,” he murmurs, the ambiguity in his tone somehow making it worse. “I hear everything. I know everything about you, kitten.”

A shiver races down your spine, your body betraying you as he speaks.

“What makes you tick,” he continues, his voice a sinister caress. “What leaves you writhing, desperate for more. The way your breathing quickens… the way your body trembles under the weight of your own pleasure.”

You’re struggling now—each breath harder to catch than the last.

“And the way that pretty little mouth of yours falls open in a silent gasp, right after you come undone.”

His words are a noose, tightening with every syllable. Your head spins as the air seems to grow heavier, saturated with the tension between you.

“But it’s never for me, is it?”

“I—I’m sorry… I don’t want to assume—”

“Assume?” His voice darkens, any hint of softness replaced with something colder, harsher. “Again with your presumptions.”

He leans closer, his tone dropping to a command that leaves no room for doubt. “From now on, the only thing you’ll need to believe is when I tell you you’re mine.”

You blink at him dumbly. His grin turns into something wicked—caustic and biting—as he cocks his head. Derisive.  

“Do you understand?”

Your head bobs in a weak, reflexive nod.

“Words, poppet.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good.” His tone shifts, smooth like languid amber, yet no less imposing. “Now, my love,” he coos, savoring the way your eyes tear up with desperation, “show me how you touch yourself.”

____

“Shi–iit,” he hisses. “This wet already?” 

You attempt to close your legs, shame rising like a tide, but freeze halfway when Sylus lets out a low, warning growl.

“Try that, and we’ll stop,” he warns. “I won’t repeat myself twice, pet.”

The weight of his words pins you in place, and you let out a helpless whimper.

“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his tone gentler—coaxing. “It’s just me.”

His gaze burns into you, relentless, but something tender bleeds into it. 

The glow of the screen casts shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, the upward tick of his mouth a dangerous contradiction—part teasing, part command. His sanguine eyes gleam with a mix of hunger and control, a look that leaves no room for hesitation.

You give in.

Your body relaxes under the weight of his stare, the fight draining from your limbs. It’s not submission—it’s surrender, pure and unfiltered, the kind that leaves you bare and vulnerable.

Sylus watches you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Not soft, not kind, but triumphant—like a predator relishing the moment its prey stops running.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping from his tongue like honey. “That’s better.”

____

Sade’s Smooth Operator starts to play in the background as you catch your breath.

You let out a tired giggle, swiping a hand down your sweat-drenched face, earbuds still in place. “Ugh—don’t piss me off.”

You hear a resounding chuckle. 

Gently, he asks, “Alright, little dove?” There’s a beat of hesitation before he adds, quieter now, “Did I go too far?”

You curl onto your side, phone clutched in your hand like a prayer. Sylus’ gaze peers back at you through the screen, a dangerously soft expression on his face that you don’t want to identify. 

“It's perfect, Sy,” you say, your grin tender and bittersweet, heart full of something you won't name.

____

It’s one in the morning. The dim glow of your laptop screen flickers across your face, spilling into the darkened room, casting shadows along the wall. You lean back against it, the end credits of Everything Everywhere All At Once rolling quietly in the background.

 

Silence settles between you and Sylus like a warm blanket.

“Do you think it’s… like that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unwilling to shatter the stillness of the moment. “All versions of ourselves colliding and coexisting at the same time?”

The question hangs there; he doesn’t rush an answer, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s choosing not to. 

When he finally speaks, it’s with the same quiet restraint, his voice threading softly through the air. 

“I’d like to think that in this vast expanse of the universe, there’s something for you and me.”

There’s a trace of something dreadfully optimistic in his voice, and it makes your chest tighten. You blink a few times, glancing upwards. 

The moment lingers, delicate in its quietness, until you instinctively reach for your phone. A quick swipe reveals a new addition to your shared playlist.

This Is A Life by Son Lux and Mitski.

A small, genuine smile tugs at your lips as you press play. The haunting strains of the song pour into the room, filling the spaces words can’t seem to touch.

“Sneaky,” you murmur, your gaze sliding back to Sylus’ face on the screen. His expression is unreadable, save for the faintest twitch of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile.

“Thought it fit the mood,” he says simply.

And it does. The music sweeps over you, soft and wistful, like the moment itself.

____

The balcony feels like a lifeboat drifting away from the chaos inside. The music, the chatter, the endless parade of tequila shots—it all fades to a dull hum as you step into the cool night air. 

Out here, the world feels wider, the sky a little darker, and you can breathe without choking on the weight of the party.

She’s already there, of course. The friend of a friend. An acquaintance by definition, but someone who feels more of a comrade in these fleeting moments away from the crowd. You’ve seen her like this most times—leaning on the railing, a cigarette perched between her fingers, its faint ember glowing against the night. You don’t need an invitation to approach her.

“You mind if I bum one?”

She shrugs, silently offering the box to you. You take one.

“Fun party, huh?” you comment after two puffs, the lit end of the stick briefly catching the glow of the skyline. Your voice is loaded with the kind of irony only shared by those watching the world from the outside in.

“It always is with them around,” she snorts, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. Her voice carries the warmth of familiarity, from an observation you’ve both shared before. 

You exhale a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over the low hum of the city below.

The silence that follows isn’t just companionable—it’s necessary. A pause to recalibrate, to let the noise, and the lights, and the weight of too many people melt away. Neither of you feels the need to fill it. Words would only dilute the reprieve.

And then, unexpectedly:

“You look happy.”

The words land like a stone dropping into still water, rippling through the quiet. You glance at her, startled by the way her eyes narrow slightly, the way her tone suggests she’s already drawn her own conclusions.  

“You ‘ave someone?”

You weren’t ready for that. You blink at her, surprised she’s noticed anything about you—surprised, too, that it’s written plainly enough for anyone to notice.

“...Yeah,” you mumble, looking away. The admission feels strange in its simplicity. “Yeah, I do.”

She smiles at that—easy but genuine, as if your happiness has spilled over and warmed her, too. “That’s good.” 

There’s sincerity in her voice, unfiltered and direct, as she adds, “You look happier.”

You don’t reply, but her words settle somewhere deep, in the quiet places you thought were hidden. 

And for once, you don’t mind being seen.

____

The party has left you drunker than you’ve been in ages. 

As soon as the celebrant spots the two of you in the corner looking like a sad pair of eyesores, she quickly remedies it with copious amounts of Stone-Cold Stingers. You try to protest, but in the end, it’s futile against the cacophony of cheers and the face of societal peer pressure. 

So now you stagger inside the condo building, looking every bit like a drowned rat dragged in from the storm. A weary guard from reception following closely behind, his patience visibly fraying as you giggle your way toward the elevator.

“‘m fine!” you insist, words slurring together as you attempt to shoo him off with a lazy wave. To emphasize your point, you pinch your fingers together, holding them inches apart. “Just this much to drink, see?”

He doesn’t respond, his expression coming across resigned and frustrated. You can almost hear the thought running through his mind: I don’t get paid enough for this. 

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally relents, letting you totter into the elevator alone.

UG… P… 4…. 5…… Oh! Here you are. 

Rivulets of water drip down from your rain-soaked hair, trailing icy paths down your neck as you stagger down the narrow hallway. Your vision blurs, making everything double—no, triple—as you fumble your way to the left, stopping in front of the door of 601—wait, no, 603. 

You squint hard at the numbers, your head throbbing with the effort, but the stinging in your eyes and the stubborn clumping of your lashes make it way harder for you to make sense of it all. 

Your waterlogged clutch feels heavier than it should, and your trembling fingers struggle to find the zipper pull that’s somehow become the bane of your existence. You huff, muttering incoherently to yourself, your throat tight and raw as a burning lump starts to rise. An annoyingly persistent buzzing from inside your bag adds to your mounting frustration.

With an angry yank, you finally manage to tear the bag open, water splashing off it in tiny droplets. 

“Aha!” you exclaim, though the triumph is short-lived as your hands shake even harder when you pull out your phone. It’s the source of the buzzing apparently, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 

You try to unlock it—once, twice, three times—nearly getting locked out before the numbers finally click.

The notifications hit you like the mars lights of a freight train. Texts. Lots of them. You scroll through clumsily, the device slipping slightly from your grip as you snort gracelessly.

Sylus. Of course.

The words on the screen blur and twist, but you don’t need clarity to know the progression of each message—ranging from mild curiosity, to slight worry, to exasperatedly concerned. 

The syllables of his pet name echo faintly in your muddled head, a small, fleeting comfort against the weight pressing down on your chest. Sy-Sy. Sy-Sy. Sy-Syyyyy—

Synchronous with your erratic breathing, you dig through your bag with a heavy hand, each failed attempt sends you spiraling lower.

Another ping jolts you from your drunken haze: 

How are you feeling? Did you just get back?

“I can’t—I can’t find my damn keys!” 

The words slips out as a frustrated cry.

Inner pocket, left side. Answer me, sweetheart.

His words flash across the screen just as your fumbling fingers find the keys exactly where he said they’d be. 

A tear burns a path down your cheek as you let out a half-hearted chuckle, mumbling, “Can I even function without you?” 

How long has it been since you could manage something like this on your own? Has he become an extension of your mind?

The door’s stubborn resistance only adds to your unraveling. After several failed attempts—your fingers too wound up to grip the key properly—you finally twist the lock and push it open, stumbling inside, into the darkness. 

“I’m a mess, Sylus,” you whisper, voice thick with tears as your head spins, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

The world feels heavy and muffled, like you’re trapped behind a fogged window. You know you’re a sight to behold—shoeless, drunk, drenched like some stray that wandered too far into the rain.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his voice warm and steady, cutting through the quiet void of the room. It takes a second for the words to sink in, for your scattered mind to piece together that, somehow, you’ve already opened the game in the middle of all your fumbling. Automatic. Like second nature.

You stare at him, trembling and pitiful, like a kid lost in a crowd. Your bottom lip quivers, and you hate how small you feel under his gaze.

You see concern pooling in the depths of Sylus’ eyes. That and something… desperate.

You sniff, rubbing at your wet cheeks with pruning fingers, clinging to humor like a lifeline. "Don’t you do anything else?” you mumble, your voice fraying at the edges. “Like... live your own life or something? You spend so much time with me...” You force out a weak laugh, bitter and jagged. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Your laugh cracks halfway through, more like a sob than anything. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic. 

And yet, you can’t stop. Even if it stings your throat.

Sylus’ response comes, and his voice is solid—unwavering. He doesn’t flinch like you do. “I don’t get sick of you, sweetheart. Not in the slightest.”

Something in you cracks, spilling over. “I really like you,” you murmur, voice steeped with emotion. “You’re the brightest light in my life. You’re… you’re everything.”

A flash of lightning cuts through the room, illuminating your tear-stained face.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Sylus calls out your name.

It’s quiet, reverent, and it feels like a tether pulling you back from the brink.

You crumple down the floor, clutching your phone like it’s the only thing holding you together. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and the quiet hum of his presence on the other end of the line.

“I’m here,” he tells you softly. “I’ve got you.”

____

This is a life

(Every possibility)

Free from destiny 

(I choose you, and you choose me) 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @nicora04 @blueberrysquire @love-anteros @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie (i spend so much time cross-checking the tags this is tiring lmao)

[earlysunshines]

drive me crazy!

pham hanni x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: hanni can bear physical touch—unless it’s from you and is oblivious to why that is, oblivious to only her.

warnings: sixth!member reader ; cute and FLUFFY YAAYYY!!!! ; my girl... pls why r u stupid my cute little idiot ; a lil angsty ; idk anything else i didn't mention ; oh um... rly jdashfasd iffy on how the pacing is plus the pining and like everything... was supposed to be short and cute but then i made it more LOL ; not proofread (i don't like reading if u couldn't tell)

a/n: short, silly, cute, lovely, adorable (so hanni) anyways HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! to gf!! also now all the members i write for have a sixth!member reader fic LOL

hanni has always been fine with physical touch, she kind of has to be considering she’s friends with danielle and hyein.

she lets them drag her by the arm, cling onto her, and whatever else that they desire because that’s just how they are. hanni is fine with this, she’s fine with anything the members do.

but you? you’re a whole different story and she has no clue why.

the slightest amount of physical contact from you sends her spiralling, she can’t think right the moment your shoulders graze or fingers brush against one another. her palms go sweaty, her breath gets short, and her face warms up; hanni tends to be more distant when it comes to you.

maybe it's the way you do it so effortlessly, plus that little smirk on your face that renders her dumber than she already is. maybe it's because your hands are always so warm that it makes her flinch away, or maybe it's something more. but this could mean nothing, right?

--

exhibit a:

hanni wasn’t always wary of your touch. there was a point in time where she’d give you hugs without thinking, let you lean on her shoulder or lean on yours, even intertwine fingers during livestreams or just spontaneously because why not?

one night, while in spain during your time recording for the new ep, you two had been put into a room together. there had been two beds, but you wanted to hangout near hanni while you doom scrolled and texted your friends. hanni let you linger there, neither of you had made any physical contact during the time until you mindlessly put your leg over hers, linking it.

while you went on your phone hanni would glance at you, she didn’t know why. you caught her in the midst of it, interrupted her while she traced the curve of your lips and she could only blush.

“is there something on my face?”

hanni still stares, not answering for a bit until a few seconds pass.

“no, i just zoned out.”

“okay...?” you ignore it with a chuckle, returning to your phone.

after hours of scrolling, you yawn, your phone falling somewhere on the bed as the hours of recording and singing throughout that day had caught up to you.

you fell asleep first, your breathing soft and steady, while hanni lay beside you, wide awake. she didn’t mind though. you hadn't moved to your bed, and hanni isn't strong enough to carry you (she's smaller and shorter, that's quite given; you tease her endlessly for it). she couldn’t bring herself to wake you up, watching the peaceful way you drifted off. she felt warm next to you, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be here, sharing this moment. eventually, she let her eyes close too, not bothering to move. she liked the closeness.

the two of you fell asleep beside each other on your backs, your hands barely touching and a leg tangled with the other.

when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was how you were wrapped around her. your arm was draped over her waist, your body molded against hers, and for a moment, you were too comfortable to move. it was similar to the feeling of cuddling your pillow at night in the dorms, but instead with hanni. you really liked the feeling of her in your arms, weirdly enough.

hanni was awake now too, but she hadn’t shifted yet. instead, she lay still, her heart beating faster as she became hyperaware of the closeness between you two. she could feel your warmth, every breath, every slight movement, and it made her feel bubbly and panicked.

hanni wasn’t used to feeling this way, like her entire body was on edge, but in the best way possible. being this close to you—it made everything feel different, more intense. physical touch isn't new to her in the slightest, considering all the members are a little touchy (danielle is a whole different story), but she's never felt this way with you or any of the other members. her thoughts were running a mile a minute, and she couldn’t help but steal glances at your face, admiring how soft and peaceful you looked in the morning light. her nerves kicked in when she realized how close your lips were to her shoulder, how intimate this all suddenly felt.

fuck, hanni thought. everything felt so perfect, but this only made her more wary.

and then you stirred, slowly waking up again, your eyes fluttering open. when your gaze landed on her, your lips curved into the softest, sleepiest smile, and it made her heart skip a beat.

“morning han,” you mumble, your voice raspy with sleep as you reach up to gently caress her face. your thumb brushes her cheek, and she can’t help but lean into your touch, her skin tingling from the simple gesture.

hanni can't breathe. her lips part, and then she closes her mouth to tense her jaw.

“you’re so pretty in the morning,” you say, still groggy but sincere. "how are you real?"

hanni’s face flushes immediately, her heart doing flips as she stares at you, wide-eyed. “you can’t just say things like that,” she murmurs, trying to suppress a smile, feeling shy all of a sudden.

you chuckle softly, your hand still resting on her cheek, not wanting to pull away. “why not? it’s true.”

hanni wants to pull away, it's too much. she feels like her heart might just escape from her chest.

the way you look at her, sleepy but affectionate, makes her feel weirdly nervous in the best way. the closeness, the intimacy—it’s overwhelming, but in a way that makes her want to stay right there, wrapped up in you.

but she can't, the pit in her stomach doesn't let her.

she shifts away, turning and groaning playfully as she stretches. she checks her phone, the time saving her from this situation.

"shit, we should be getting up soon."

you frown, hand resting on hanni's waist still until she sits up and rubs her eyes. "do we have to?" you ask, wanting to stay in bed a little longer with her in your arms. something about being so close to her and her specifically makes you really content.

"we have to get to the location, eat, get ready, recording—you know, all that."

you pout, rolling away from her and finding a pillow to replace her warmth.

"five more minutes?"

"fine..." hanni huffs, looking at you fondly. she can't tell if she's fond of the weird rush you give her either.

—

exhibit b

hanni is in the middle of vlogging, setting up her phone on the counter as she stirs something on the stove. her voice is light, a little bubbly, as she explains what she’s making for dinner, though she’s focused on keeping everything smooth for the video.

the phone drops and she groans, biting her lip subtly as she sets it back up, returning to her little commentary.

“so, i’m just letting this simmer for a bit,” she says, leaning closer to the pot, “and then i’ll—”

before she can finish, you come up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist. she gasps, then freezes for a second, her whole body stiffening as your head gently rests on her shoulder. she can feel your warmth instantly, she can smell your signature sweet perfume, and the sudden contact makes her heart jump into her throat.

your arms pull her close, and her cheeks heat up as if the stove’s flames were warming her directly. she knows she’s still on camera, but for a moment, she can barely remember what she was even talking about.

“hey,” you mumble softly, voice low and a bit tired, but sweet. “what are you making?”

hanni’s grip on the spoon tightens, and she laughs awkwardly, trying to play it cool. “uh, j-just… dinner,” she manages, her voice a little higher than usual. her brief stutter earns a punch to herself (mentally of course) and she cringes internally. her brain is short-circuiting from the feel of you pressed against her back, your head so close to hers. she swears her face is probably bright red by now. there is no way this is getting cut out, especially not with the popularity you two have as a duo.

you lift your head from her shoulder, standing beside her but still lingering close, your arm brushing against hers. hanni tries her best to focus on the camera, forcing herself to talk about the food again, but it’s so difficult with you right there, looking effortlessly adorable after coming back from your shoot. you’re in casual clothes, but there’s something about the way you look—tired but still glowing—that makes her even more flustered.

“you look cute,” she hears you say softly, just loud enough for her to hear but not for the camera, and it completely throws her off. you look her dead in the eye, your gaze dropping to her lips and then back up as you smile. she almost drops the spoon, quickly looking at the camera and then back at the food, trying to regain her composure. her mind is a mess. how is she supposed to vlog when you’re like this?

“uh—thank you,” hanni stammers, her cheeks fully tinted pink now. she tries to laugh it off, stirring the pot with more focus than necessary, but the tension in her shoulders gives her away.

you chuckle softly, leaning a little closer to check what she’s making. “need help?”

hanni shakes her head quickly, eyes wide as she glances at you, then back at the camera. “n-no! i’m good, totally fine,” she insists, though her flustered state says otherwise.

“okay,” you hum, stepping back but still watching her with a teasing grin. "but if you need me to cut anymore veggies or meat i can! just ring me up! bunnies, did you know that i'm actually a wonnnnnnderful cook? i used to cook a lot with my parents-"

hanni lets you ramble, she loves hearing you ramble. she can't help but smile everytime you do, your voice is like music to her ears, it’s a symphony.

when you're finished with your ramble, you bring the attention back to hanni. "now back to our show!"

hanni lets out a quiet breath of relief, trying her best to wrap up the vlog—or at least this segment. “so, yeah! um, this just needs a few more minutes, and then dinner will be ready.” her voice wavers slightly, but she manages to end the video, turning off the camera with shaky hands.

as soon as the camera’s off, she turns to you, her face still red, and you can’t help but laugh softly at how flustered she is.

“you’re impossible,” she mutters, playfully swatting at you, but there’s a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“what?” you ask, oblivious to everything going on.

"i--" hanni pauses, shaking her head before flicking you in the forehead. "go change, dinner will be ready by then."

…

@/dailyyn on twitter:

“hanni and y/n crumbs! look how good y/n looks after the shoot… imagine being her gf and she greets you like this… id kill to be hanni”

the clip shows you surprising hanni, making her blush with your subtle antics and sharing the cute moment on camera. fans go a little insane partially because of your look, and also the chemistry between the two of you.

↪️@/tokkijeans: is it just me or are they really close? like.. suspiciously close

↪️@/ynslover: replying to @/tokkijeansi wouldn’t be surprised if they. were dating… i’ve never seen hanni so shy

↪️@/hanynenjoyer: this video is so cute! they’re my everything…

—

exhibit c

the studio was lively, filled with activity as the photobook shoot progressed. bright lights flashed intermittently, casting soft shadows over the set as you and hanni stood close, posing for the camera.

you two were in arguably casual clothing, but obviously topped off with some extra details because it was for a photoshoot. you couldn't stop staring at hanni, stealing glances whenever you could. she looked gorgeous, that wasn't debatable. her hair was styled in a way that made it a little wavy and a small clip pinned the hair that would frame her face back.

in return, hanni was doing her absolute best to keep her cool. the light makeup made your features stand out subtly, especially your lips (which hanni couldn't stop stealing a peek at), making you look stunning. you'd probably go trending on twitter later, hanni knows you like to upload selcas after things like this, and each one never fails to gain lots of attention.

(not just from the fans, but from your fellow member too.)

the photographers suggested subtle intimacy—small, delicate touches, heads leaning together, eyes locking in moments that felt almost too real. they had convinced you two it would fit the concept: domestic, casual, and comfortable. for you, it was easy to comply, maybe even natural, to slip into those roles. especially when it was hanni by your side.

your hand brushed against hers as you adjusted your stance, smiling to yourself when you caught her glancing at you. hanni was trying to keep her cool, you could tell—but why? her usual ease seemed strained, her body a little tense despite the casual poses. but you? you were just happy to be this close to her, to feel her warmth as you both leaned into the moment.

the photographer directed a few more shots, asking you to sit beside hanni and lean your head against her shoulder. you did so with ease, resting your cheek carefully on her shoulder. you could feel her freeze slightly under your touch, her body rigid against yours. you bring your hand over and place it over hers, rubbing your fingers gently against her skin to coax her back into relaxation—miraculously, it works.

you didn’t think too much the whole thing; after all, these shoots always required some closeness. but with hanni, it was different. your heart felt lighter being near her, warmer in a way that you didn’t feel with anyone else. you smiled softly as you shifted into the next pose, letting her lean against you this time, her back pressing against your shoulders.

she smelled sweet, like the faintest hint of citrus, and you found yourself wanting to linger there a little longer.

"you smell good." you mumble softly as the photographer readjusts his settings. "like really good."

hanni doesnt answer, she opts for pinching you playfully instead, earning a chuckle.

"what? you look really good too."

"shut up." hanni says, mostly for the sake of her sanity. "you're so... ugh."

the moment ended when the photographer had caught both of your attention again. you two stop bickering (if you could even call it that) and focus once more.

the camera flashes one final time, and the photographer calls it a wrap. as the crew began to clear the set, hanni quickly stepped away, her cool facade returning as she busied herself with adjusting her outfit, avoiding your gaze. your heart sank a little at her sudden distance.

you stood there for a second, watching her, a growing pit of uncertainty forming in your stomach. it wasn’t the first time this had happened. hanni had a way of pulling back whenever you got too close, a way of putting space between you that made you second-guess everything. you were touchy with everyone—that was just who you were—but with hanni, it was different. she made you happier, made your heart feel full in a way that was hard to describe. she was so adorable, so easy to be around, and sometimes you couldn’t help but think of being close to her all the time.

but now, watching her act distant again, you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset. was it something you did? were you pushing too far? but she's completely fine with dani dragging her around, haerin randomly leaning against her, and even she initiates the phsyical contact with minji. not to mention hyein, who's always clinging onto everyone — but that's hyein, she's like a younger sister to you all.

your thoughts spiraled as you bit your lip, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling.

hanni finally glanced your way, catching your gaze for a split second before quickly looking away, her face unreadable. you frowned, taking a step toward her. “hanni… are we good?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the hint of worry bled through.

she hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “yeah, of course. why wouldn’t we be?”

“i don’t know. it just—” you paused, struggling to find the right words. “sometimes, it feels like you’re… distant. like you’re pulling away. was the shoot too much? was i too much?"

hanni blinked, her expression softening just slightly, but she still didn’t meet your eyes. “no, no— and i’m not pulling away,” she said quietly, but the uncertainty in her voice didn’t do much to reassure you.

you narrow your eyes at her, trying to believe her. you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “okay. if you say so.”

the air between you felt thick, tense, and it was hard to shake the disappointment that clung to you as you watched her pack up her things. you wanted to be close to her, wanted to feel that warmth again, but right now, it felt like she was slipping through your fingers.

this left you spiraling even more, trying to figure out what went wrong. hanni walks over to watch the others, letting danielle cling onto her and not visibly getting nervous or anything like that. was it you? it had to be.

—

soobin was like the big brother you never had, and you were forever grateful for that accidental meeting while you were a trainee and he was a rookie—when he’d spilled his coffee all over you. it had been embarrassing then, but now? it was the reason you had biweekly catch-up sessions—usually over facetime, since no one in the industry liked to see a girl group member breathing the same air as a boy group member.

but today was different. today, the two of you were in one of the company lounge areas, sharing snacks from the convenience store and sipping on the flavored milk soobin had brought. he watched you quietly, eyes filled with concern as you sank into your chair, picking at your fruit gummies without much enthusiasm.

“have things been rough? are they pushing you too hard?” he asked, his voice soft.

you shook your head, your lips pressing into a thin line. “i think my coworker hates me.”

“as in… a member?”

“yeah.” you sighed, popping an orange gummy into your mouth and chewing it slowly.

“may i pry?” soobin asks, stealing a gummy from your pack.

you nodded. “yeah, go ahead.”

“who is it?” he questions, chewing his stolen gummy.

“hanni.”

soobin froze mid-chew, his brows furrowing. “wait, hanni? but— the internet’s always talking about you two. i mean, i know you can’t trust everything online, but i’ve seen it too. you guys seem close.”

“yeah, well, i think she hates it. all the physical stuff, everything i do…” you trailed off, sinking deeper into your seat. “am i terrible?”

the hood of your sweatshirt slipped over your head as you slouched, messing up your hair. soobin couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, tilting his head as he looked at you. “you’re not terrible, y/n,” he assured you, his voice steady. “maybe she’s just—”

“i think i’m in love with her.” you blurted out, groaning as you covered your face with your hands. “i’m in love with her, i think. no, fuck that, i know.”

soobin stared at you, wide-eyed. “you what?”

“i’m in love with her,” you mumbled again, sinking even lower into your seat, hands covering your face. “god, i realized it last night while i was sulking in bed at midnight. and now, everything makes sense. i want to be close to her all the time because i want something more. and i feel like a creep because—am i weird? am i… am i a predator for being so touchy with her? what if she hates me for it?”

he watched as your expression shifted from miserable to horrified, your body practically sliding off the chair now. his deep voice cut through your spiral, calm and steady as ever. “you’re not a predator. trust me. the fact that you’re aware of how your actions might affect her shows that. you’re self-aware, and you care enough to try and make things better.”

“but… this could ruin everything.” your voice was small, defeated.

“it won’t,” soobin says firmly. “i know you.”

“do you know her?”

he shrugged, smiling softly. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you. you always get things done, y/n. you always work it out. remember when we had those dating rumors? you handled that pretty well.”

you groaned at the memory, but it did lift your spirits just a bit. the whole two-week ‘scandal’ had been absurd. someone had noticed that you and soobin both had the same roblox sticker on your phone cases in your selcas, posted just two days apart. it blew up online, spiraling into dating rumors that, frankly, neither of you could believe.

the whole thing was based on a sticker. a roblox sticker. beomgyu had given soobin the sticker, and soobin, thinking it was dumb and funny, gave you one too. somehow, the internet made it a conspiracy.

you had to lie, saying you barely knew soobin, and that you found the sticker on the floor of the hybe building, thinking it was funny. it was the only way to get the fans to calm down. soobin had to pretend he barely knew you as well, but the two of you had giggled over facetime because of it—which was great for your mental state while you noticed the forced hate towards you.

“ugh, that was so weird,” you mutter. “if only they knew we’re—”

“completely off the radar,” soobin finished for you, chuckling. “like some future lavender marriage if the media doesn’t get off our asses.”

you snorted at that, “gross,” but your smile quickly faded as the weight of your current situation settled in again.

he shrugged, his smile gentle. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you to be sure of this. you’re the kind of person who works through things. you always have, and you always will. you’ve told me how close you two were during your trainee days—there’s no way she’d want to throw that all away. besides, isn’t it better to have her in your life, even if you’re in love with her, than to lose her altogether?”

for someone so stupid, he’s equally as wise.

you bite your lip, a sense of helplessness settling in your chest. “i don’t know,” you say, voice soft. “sometimes, i just want to pull away, distance myself so i don’t screw it all up, but… but then i’m around her, and she’s just so... so hanni. she’s adorable and funny and makes me feel so warm inside. and then i'm close to her, and it’s like this weird feeling that makes me want more, but… i don’t want to scare her off. i don’t want her to think i’m weird.”

you could feel tears of frustration prickling at the corners of your eyes, your hands trembling as you spoke. admitting your feelings out loud made them feel so much more real, and that terrified you.

soobin leaned over, placing a hand on your shoulder, his deep voice a steadying force amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

“you’re not weird,” he repeated gently. “you just care. and that’s a good thing. but you need to trust yourself, y/n. you’re good at this—at reading people, at figuring things out. if hanni ever felt concerningly uncomfortable, you’d notice. just... be careful. take your time. you’ll figure it out. i know you will.”

you stared down at your hands, twisting the edge of your hoodie in your fingers. the weight of your confession hung heavily between you and soobin, but there was also a strange sense of relief in having said it out loud—like you had finally let go of something you’d been holding onto for far too long.

“yeah,” you said softly, nodding. “i guess so.”

—

two days after spilling your alleged unrequited love to your wonderful, amazing, stupid, and very gay bestfriend you had gotten dating rumors with—you're sent to a prada show.

being one of the faces for the brand meant being sent to fashion weeks, shows, and various other schedules that had you showing off the designer brand. and each time this happened, you went viral, because prada never fails to impress, especially when it's you.

you’re set for a photoshoot, this time for the cover of vogue. the weight of it feels significant, but not overwhelming. you’re wearing a prada crop top that shows off your toned abdomen, the result of months of dedication and hard work. the black blazer and slacks, perfectly tailored, give you an oversized yet effortlessly chic look, striking that balance between casual and captivating. everything fits like a glove, intentional but laid-back.

you admire yourself in the mirror, your eyes tracing the sharp angles of your makeup. the subtle eyeshadow that makes a statement, the clean lines, the way it accentuates your features—you can’t help but praise the makeup artist, murmuring compliments as you run a hand through your messy, artfully tousled hair. it’s wild but controlled, you snap a picture quickly for your fans.

when it’s time, you step onto the set, the bold red backdrop making you stand out even more. the lights hit just right, casting shadows that emphasize your figure, and for a moment, as you strike the first pose, you think to yourself: wow, this is for the girls.

after shooting is done, you monitor your pictures and are caught off guard from how great they look. you weren't that confident about oyu rvisuals back then, singing and dancing you could od well, but visuals got to your head. you've learned to love yourself more the more your members and the internet praised you, but mostly because hanni used to compliment you a lot even with your bare face, you wish she still did it.

"woah," you say, snapping pictures of the monitoring screen to post to bubble later.

...

hanni is sitting at the dinner table, a snack in hand as she absentmindedly scrolls through her phone. the dorm is quiet, most of the members tucked away in their rooms, and hyein isn’t around tonight since she's with her family. it’s been a long day, but she finds some comfort in texting her sister, filling the silence with their usual banter. she's distracted enough that she almost doesn’t notice the notification from the official newjeans account.

her thumb hesitates before clicking on it, already assuming it’s something from your vogue shoot. everyone knew you were out for the day, busy with your big shoot, so it seemed natural. but what she didn’t expect was how stunning you’d look.

the first picture stops her cold. you’re lounging on some plush couch, leaning back with that casual confidence she’s only ever seen in person—half smirk, half knowing gaze. hanni’s heart stumbles in her chest. you look beyond good. you’re breathtaking. the makeup, perfectly done but not too much, the messy hair that somehow looks effortlessly styled—it’s too much. she gulps without even realizing, eyes locked on the screen as she stares for longer than she cares to admit.

thirty seconds go by, maybe more, before she hesitantly swipes to the next slide. each new picture draws her in further, and it’s not getting any easier to look away. you’re a vision in every shot, and her chest tightens with each one. she knows she’s been trying to distance herself, trying to get her feelings under control, but how is she supposed to do that when just seeing you on her screen makes her lose her cool like this?

“you’ve been staring at that for a while, haven’t you?” danielle’s voice cuts through her thoughts, light and teasing. hanni jumps in her seat, turning to see danielle settling in next to her. she leans over, her eyes landing on the picture of you still displayed on hanni’s phone. “she looks pretty.” danielle adds.

“um, yeah,” hanni mutters, hurriedly swiping out of instagram, but the heat in her cheeks is unmistakable. she sets her phone down as if that’ll somehow help her case.

danielle smirks, raising an eyebrow as she gives her a sidelong glance. “you seemed to like that post, huh?”

“i was just… zoning out,” hanni tries, but the uncertainty in her voice betrays her. it sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.

“seemed like more than that to me.” danielle’s voice is light, playful, but there’s a glint in her eye that says she knows exactly what’s going on.

hanni lets out a forced laugh, trying to brush it off. “what are you even saying?”

“i’m saying,” danielle starts, leaning in just a bit closer, “that it’s quite odd of you to stare so hard at her. not just at her on the cover of vogue, but in general.”

hanni swallows hard, trying to play it cool, but the flutter in her chest tells her otherwise. danielle’s right, and the worst part is, she can’t even deny it.

danielle’s eyes linger on hanni, clearly not buying her act. hanni feels the pressure building, but she stays silent, forcing a simple shrug as if nothing’s wrong. she knows danielle is waiting for her to crack, but she’s not ready to let everything spill. not yet.

"so…" danielle starts, her voice teasing but gentle, “you’re really gonna act like that wasn’t you staring at y/n’s photos for, what, five minutes?”

hanni scoffs, though it sounds forced. “it wasn’t five minutes, and i wasn’t staring like that.”

danielle crosses her arms, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “right. sure you weren’t. you only jumped like i caught you doing something illegal.”

“i was just… scrolling,” hanni mutters, turning her attention back to her phone, trying to seem unbothered. she swipes through random apps, but danielle’s quiet presence next to her makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“scrolling, huh? that’s what you’re going with?”

“yep.”

“uh-huh. so if i ask again why you were so focused on y/n, you’re gonna say… what?”

hanni huffs, leaning back in her chair. “danielle, it’s not a big deal. i just zoned out, okay? she’s my friend. we work together. seeing her on my feed isn’t weird.” her tone is defensive, too defensive for her liking.

danielle raises her eyebrow, unrelenting. “zoning out on the same picture for thirty seconds? then the next one? and the one after that? you sure it’s nothing?”

hanni’s lips press into a thin line, irritation bubbling up, though it’s more with herself than with danielle. why is this so hard? why can’t she just brush it off? but danielle is looking at her with that piercing, curious gaze, and hanni knows she’s not letting it go. plus, it's danielle.

“you’re imagining things,” hanni tries, though her voice wavers.

“am i?” danielle leans forward slightly, her tone is soft but persistent. “because i know what i saw. and this isn’t the first time you’ve been weird about y/n.”

hanni blinks, her guard starting to slip. “what do you mean ‘weird’?”

“you’ve been acting strange around her for a while now,” danielle points out. “you avoid her, then get all flustered when she’s near. and now you’re sitting here, staring at her photos like you’re in a trance. come on, hanni. something’s up.”

hanni clenches her jaw, trying to hold onto the last bits of defense she has. “it’s… it’s not like that. she’s just—”

“just what?” danielle cuts in, her voice more patient than accusing. “you can tell me. whatever it is, i’m not judging.”

hanni sighs, her resolve beginning to crumble under danielle’s persistent questions. she opens her mouth, but no words come out, her mind racing to come up with some kind of excuse, something that’ll make danielle drop it. but there’s nothing, and hanni knows it.

danielle’s watching her closely now, not pushing too hard but clearly waiting for hanni to finally let it out. “hanni, it’s okay. i’m not gonna force you to talk if you don’t want to. but i’m just saying, i’m here if you need to get something off your chest.”

hanni bites her lip, her heart pounding in her chest. she can feel the words bubbling up, the truth she’s been trying so hard to suppress. but how can she admit it? how can she explain that being near you makes her feel like her heart is about to burst, that every touch and smile from you sends her into a spiral? she's beyond fucked.

“danielle, it’s not… it’s not what you think,” hanni starts, but even she knows how weak it sounds. she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting away from danielle’s.

danielle lets out a soft sigh, her tone turning gentle. “hanni, it’s okay to feel something for her. you don’t have to keep it all inside.”

“i don’t—” hanni stops herself, the words catching in her throat. “it’s not… ugh, i don’t even know how to explain it.”

danielle stays quiet, waiting for her to continue.

hanni rubs her face, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “i don’t… i don’t know what to do. she’s just—she’s everywhere, danielle. i can’t even breathe when she’s around. she’s always so close, always so touchy, and it’s driving me insane. i can’t handle it.”

danielle’s expression softens further, nodding slowly as if to encourage her to keep going.

“and it’s not like i don’t like her or anything,” hanni continues, her voice wavering. “that’s the problem. i like her too much. and i don’t know how to deal with it, so i’ve been pushing her away. and now she probably thinks i’m a complete jerk, but… i don’t know what else to do.”

danielle raises her eyebrows. “you’ve been pushing her away because you like her?”

hanni groans, slumping down in her seat. “yeah. because every time she's close to me i feel like i’m gonna explode. she’s so—ugh. she makes me feel things, and i hate it. i don’t know how to be around her without freaking out.”

“so you’re in love with her,” danielle says simply, no judgment in her tone.

hanni freezes, her heart skipping a beat at the words. in love. she opens her mouth to protest, but the truth is already sitting heavy in her chest. she exhales shakily, realizing there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“yeah,” hanni mutters, almost too quietly for danielle to hear. “i think i am.”

danielle leans back, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “well, that’s a start. at least now you’ve admitted it.”

hanni buries her face in her hands again, feeling the weight of the confession settle over her. “what am i supposed to do? i’ve been acting so weird around her, and she probably thinks i hate her now.”

danielle shakes her head. “hanni, i don’t think y/n could ever think that. if anything, she’s probably wondering why you’re avoiding her. you should talk to her.”

hanni groans again. “but what if she doesn’t feel the same way? what if i ruin everything?”

“you won’t,” danielle says confidently. “you’re both close. i don’t think y/n would throw away your friendship over this. but you’ll never know how she feels if you don’t talk to her.”

hanni knows danielle is right, but the thought of confronting her feelings—and you—feels terrifying.

"and if it makes you feel better..." danielle continues, "i don't think the chances of her not returning the feelings are high. she cares for you a lot and she's not nearly as touchy or close with any of us—just you han."

"oh."

hanni bites her lip, fighting every worry in her head. as she does so, the root of her crisis returns home.

both her and danielle look up to see you sighing as you close the door, waving at them tiredly as you walk towards where your room is. danielle tilts her head, looking at you closely: your shoulders are sinking a bit, your hair is messier than before, and you look exhausted.

"how was everything?" danielle asks you, ignoring hanni beside her who's trying to recover from her feelings taking over. "your makeup is still intact."

"i fear." you say tiredly, rubbing your eyes. "it was cool, but they made me do a lot of promo and interviews. it's over now at least."

you glance at hanni, who's failing to meet your gaze.

"well," you start, "i'm going to go wash up and pass out. night guys."

"night!" danielle beams, smiling.

you look at hanni, waiting for a response. she finally looks you in the eye, then seemingly scans your face and hesitating before she also says, "night y/n, rest up okay?"

"yeah, of course han." you smile softly, waving to them once more before disappearing into the hallway.

danielle looks at hanni immediately after you're out of their sight, and speaks as soon as she hears the door close.

hanni just groans, hiding her face in her hands as she mumbles, "she looks too good i can't possibly--"

"don't be like that." danielle scolds, "it'll be fine."

hanni can barely look at you these days, the fact that she has to face you while knowing everything she feels is real and inescapable—hanni might be on her deathbed soon.

—

the room is warm, sunlight streaming through the thin curtains and casting a soft glow over the space. your blanket is tangled around you, your loose pajamas wrinkled as you lay sprawled across your bed. hanni stands quietly in the doorway, staring at your still form with a soft sigh. she knows she should wake you up; you've overslept, and the rest of the members have already started their day. but as she stands there, watching the rise and fall of your chest, something holds her back.

your hair’s a mess, sticking up in all directions, and you’re wearing that loose t-shirt she gave you months ago. it’s oversized, slipping off your shoulder, and the sight of you like this—so comfortable, so unguarded—makes her heart skip a beat. there’s something about how peaceful you look that makes hanni want to crawl into bed with you, to be close, but she knows she shouldn’t.

she swallows, shaking off the thought, reminding herself why she’s here. she’s supposed to wake you up, not… whatever it is her mind keeps drifting to. taking a deep breath, she walks closer and kneels by the edge of your bed.

"y/n," she whispers, poking your cheek gently. "you’re gonna be late if you don’t get up."

you don’t move, still lost in whatever dream you’re having and turning away. hanni shifts awkwardly, not sure what to do. she leans down and lightly pokes your cheek again. "come on, y/n, wake up."

nothing.

with a tiny huff, she pokes you again, this time a bit harder. "seriously, you can’t just sleep all day. you’re going to be late!" she whisper-yells. 

you still don’t stir, and hanni finds herself smiling despite her frustration. you look so... soft like this. relaxed. carefree. she’s really tempted to lay down beside you now, more than before. she wants to pull the blanket over herself and close her eyes, pretending for just a moment that things are the way they used to be—before all this weirdness between you two. she could pretend there’s nothing on the schedule, she quite literally has free will, she could do it and nothing would stop her. 

but she can’t. she knows she can’t.

instead, she pokes your cheek one more time. "y/n," she whispers, leaning closer. "please get up."

without warning, you move, but instead of waking up, you grab hanni’s wrist and pull her closer, dragging her halfway onto your bed. she yelps, startled, but you don’t seem to notice. you just snuggle into her, wrapping your arm around her waist as if she’s your pillow, your face pressed against her stomach.

hanni freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. you’re still half-asleep, clearly not realizing what you’re doing, but that doesn’t stop the warmth from rushing to her cheeks. she feels like she’s on fire, caught between wanting to escape and wanting to stay right where she is. your warmth, your scent, the way your body feels against hers—it’s overwhelming.

"hanni?" you mumble groggily, eyes still closed. "what are you… doing?"

"uh," hanni stammers, trying to keep her voice steady. "you need to get up. you’re gonna be late."

but you don’t move, just hum in response, your hand moves to loosely hold hers. hanni swallows hard, her whole body tense as she tries to ignore the warmth of your skin, the soft feel of your fingers intertwined with hers.

this is too much.

"hanni?" you mumble again, voice thick with sleep, your hand instinctively pulling her a little closer. "just five more minutes."

hanni can barely breathe, her mind scrambling for some kind of excuse to get out of this without completely losing it. she manages to slip out of your hold, her heart pounding as she sits on the edge of your bed, trying to compose herself. "you need to get up now, y/n," she says, a little firmer this time.

you finally stir, blinking up at her with bleary eyes, confused by the sight of hanni sitting at the edge of your bed. "hanni? what are you… what are you doing here?"

she shifts awkwardly, trying to keep her tone casual. "you were sleeping in, and i came to wake you up. the others are already in the dining room."

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you look at her. something feels off between you two, a tension that wasn’t there before, something bigger than before. you can feel it too, even in your groggy state. the silence hangs heavy in the air, the unspoken distance between you making everything feel… strange.

"hey," you mumble, running a hand through your messy hair, "we, uh… haven’t really talked much lately, have we?"

hanni glances down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. "yeah," she mutters, her voice soft. "i guess we’ve both been kind of... distant."

you nod, still trying to shake off the sleep. "i don’t know why it’s been like that," you say, your voice quiet. "feels like something changed, and i don’t really get it. i’ve been wanting to talk to you, to be honest.”

hanni’s heart tightens at your words. she knows why she’s been distant—because you make her nervous, because she’s terrified of her feelings, because she doesn’t know how to act around you anymore. but she can’t say all that. not now. not like this.

"i’m sorry," hanni finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. "i didn’t mean to pull away. i just… i didn’t know how to handle things."

you look at her, a faint frown creasing your forehead. "handle what?"

hanni shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "just… everything. i guess i got overwhelmed, and instead of talking to you about it, i kind of shut you out. i didn’t mean to."

you’re quiet for a moment, processing her words. it doesn’t really make sense, but it’s something. "i thought you were mad at me," you admit softly. "i didn’t know what i did wrong."

hanni’s heart aches at that. "you didn’t do anything wrong," she says quickly, shaking her head. "it’s not you, y/n. it’s me. i’m sorry for making you feel that way."

the two of you sit in silence for a while, the tension slowly easing as you both realize how much you’ve missed each other. there’s still so much left unsaid, so many things neither of you are ready to admit yet, but this… this is a start.

"i missed you," you finally say, your voice quiet but sincere.

hanni looks up, her heart swelling at your words. "i missed you too."

the weight of the past few weeks lingers in the air, but for the first time in a while, it feels like things might be okay again. even if neither of you is ready to fully address the feelings you’re both clearly harboring, at least you’re talking. at least you’re trying.

and for now, that’s enough.

—

hanni and danielle sit side by side on the couch in the waiting room, both scrolling through their phones. it’s a quiet break, the kind they savor between the chaotic schedules, but their attention keeps drifting to where you’re seated, getting your makeup done. you’re chatting softly on the phone, smiling as you talk to your parents, completely at ease in the chair.

hanni, however, can’t seem to focus on anything else. her eyes flicker over to you every few seconds, as if drawn by some invisible force. she watches how you laugh quietly, the way the stylist’s brush glides over your face, how you seem so naturally pretty even in this hectic setting. her mind is still spinning from your recent talk, even though it was brief. it lingers with all the things unsaid, all the questions still hanging in the air.

next to her, danielle finally breaks the silence.

"so," she starts, her voice casual but curious, "did you and y/n talk?"

hanni’s fingers freeze mid-scroll, and she glances at danielle, unsure of how to answer. after a moment, she sighs. "yeah, we talked… sort of."

danielle raises an eyebrow. "sort of?"

hanni shifts in her seat, picking at the edge of her sleeve. "we addressed the distance. like, we apologized for being weird with each other, but… i don’t really know where to go from there. it’s like, we acknowledged it, but it didn’t fix everything. i still feel…" she trails off, struggling to find the right words. "i don’t know. confused, maybe?"

danielle watches her closely, nodding slowly in understanding. "well, that’s a start, right? at least you talked about it."

"yeah," hanni mutters, but there’s a tinge of uncertainty in her voice. she glances back at you, still on the phone, still pulling her attention without even trying. "but it doesn’t really feel settled, you know? like, we just put a band-aid over it."

danielle sighs softly, leaning back against the couch. "stuff like that is complicated," she says, almost as if she’s speaking from experience. then, after a moment of silence, she turns to hanni with a teasing smile. "by the way, you’ve been staring at y/n this entire time. i can’t believe she doesn’t know that you… you know,"

hanni’s face flushes, and she quickly looks away, crossing her arms defensively. "i was not."

danielle laughs, clearly not buying it. "uh-huh, sure. i’ve been watching you. every time she moves, your eyes follow. it’s like you’re in a drama, and she’s the lead you can’t get over."

"i’m just… i’m just making sure she’s okay," hanni tries to defend herself, though the heat rising in her cheeks betrays her. "she’s on the phone with her parents. what if something’s wrong?"

"oh, please," danielle says, her smirk growing. "you’re just using that as an excuse to admire her. you’ve been acting like this for weeks, hanni. just admit it. remember her prada post?"

hanni opens her mouth to argue, but the words die in her throat. she knows danielle’s right, and that makes it worse. instead of responding, she just sinks further into the couch, burying her face in her hands.

danielle pats her on the back with a chuckle. "don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. for now."

hanni groans, peeking through her fingers at you again. you’re still deep in conversation, oblivious to the way she’s been spiraling.

"you’ve got it bad," danielle teases softly, her tone more understanding now. "but it’s okay. maybe just… give it time. you two are good together, even if you don’t know where to go from here yet."

hanni nods, grateful for danielle’s support, but her eyes drift back to you. she can’t help it—there’s something about you that keeps pulling her in, no matter how hard she tries to resist.

—

it’s late, and the dorm is quiet. hanni sits on her bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen. she’s been thinking about you all week (she’s always thinking about you), the tension that had built between you two finally dissipating after your brief talk. things have felt… fine, normal even, but it’s almost too normal. like the distance you both addressed had just been covered up with another flimsy bandaid, never fully resolved. 

the problem is, she can’t stop thinking about you. and danielle, who’s oddly observant, keeps urging her to clear the air.

"just talk to her," danielle had said earlier, as they watched you laugh with the others during practice. "y/n wouldn’t let this mess up your friendship, you know that."

and now, as hanni sits there, her fingers hover over her phone screen, wondering if she should actually text you. she taps out a simple message before she can second guess herself:

hanni: you up?

the reply comes almost instantly: 

y/n: yeah, what's up?

hanni: can’t sleep

y/n: aw me neither i was calling my mom earlier and after that i couldn’t close my eyes for more than a minute

hanni: :-(  sorry to hear

hanni doesn’t know what else to say, but you beat her to the chase.

y/n: come over?

her heart races for no reason, and before she knows it, she’s standing in front of your room. she hesitates for a moment, then knocks softly before opening the door.

you’re sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. you’re worried that you scared her off again after being left on read. thankfully there’s a knock at your door a minute later, and when you see her, you offer a small smile. "hey."

"h-hey," hanni says, feeling a little awkward as she steps inside and sits on the edge of your bed. there’s a brief silence, the kind where you can both feel the unsaid words hanging in the air. she picks at her fingernails, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. you’re still in your pajamas, hair a little messy, looking so comfortable that it’s hard to look away.

after a beat, you exhale, breaking the tension. "fuck this," you mutter, shifting to lay down on the bed, patting the space next to you. "come on."

hanni blinks, then, after a moment’s hesitation, lies down beside you. the bed feels small with both of you so close, but she’s trying to act normal, like her heart isn’t doing backflips just from being near you. you both stare up at the ceiling for a moment before you start talking, and to hanni’s relief, it feels natural.

you talk about everything—the group, your recent worries about the new routines, the photoshoots you’ve got lined up, how excited you are about the new choreography. hanni listens, nodding along, occasionally chiming in about her own thoughts. it feels comfortable, almost like it used to be, like there’s nothing between you but shared conversation.

"i’m really liking the new choreo," you say, turning your head slightly to look at her. "it’s intense, but it’s fun, right?"

hanni nods, her voice soft. "yeah, i love it. i think it’s one of our best routines."

there’s a pause, the kind that feels more like a breath than an interruption. she glances at you, and for a moment, everything feels lighter. like maybe this is enough—just talking, just being close like this.

"you’ve been doing great, by the way," you add quietly, eyes meeting hers, and suddenly both of you are all too hyperaware of how close and physical this is. "i know things have been weird, but i’m glad we’re good."

hanni swallows, her throat feeling tight as she stares at you. for a moment, she considers saying more, opening up about everything she’s been feeling. about how she’s been avoiding you because being close makes her too nervous, how danielle’s been pushing her to be honest, how she’s been daydreaming about you too much for her own good; she considers dropping the fact that she’s in love with you. but instead, she just gives you a small, appreciative smile.

"yeah," she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. "i’m glad too."

maybe it’s because it’s late and you’re too tired to keep pretending, sick of shrinking into some shell. maybe it’s because hanni is right there, looking like a dream, even more than that. maybe you’re young, stupid, and undeniably in love with her. the tension has been building all night, and before you can stop yourself, the words leave your lips, making your chest feel impossibly tight.

“i need to be honest with you,” you murmur, picking at your fingers beneath the blanket. “and you can pull away and leave after i say it.”

hanni frowns, sitting up slightly. “what?”

you swallow hard, the weight of your confession heavy in your throat. you sit up and put your face in your hands. “hanni, i like you. i like you the way people do in love songs. i like you like people yearn for each other in half the songs on your playlist. i don’t know any other way to say it, i’m—i’m sorry.”

there’s a beat of silence, a long, agonizing pause where you feel your heart shrinking into itself. hanni stares at you, her brows twitching, mouth slightly open, and all you can do is pray that this isn’t the moment everything falls apart.

“are you serious?”

you flinch. “i’m sorry—”

“no, no.” hanni shakes her head, turning away to stare up at the ceiling, hands covering her face. "i need a minute."

your heart shatters, the weight of rejection sinking deep. “hanni, i’m so sor—”

“don’t be.” she lifts her hands just enough to show her forehead, a wide smile breaking across her face. "oh my god. i like you too. i’ve been trying to tell you, i didn’t know how. danielle has been telling me to confess for weeks, but i was so scared."

your breath catches. "wait—seriously?"

hanni nods, still grinning, and suddenly everything shifts. the tension that had been suffocating you both breaks, leaving the air light and giddy. you both can’t look at each other for a moment, the sheer happiness boiling up inside making you fidget, trying to contain the laughter threatening to spill out. it’s a nice contrast from the (what seemed like) years of pining.

your hearts are pounding, faces flushed, and the awkward energy between you only makes it all the more real. now you’re both sitting next to each other like two middle schoolers in love—something like that—giddy, flustered, and shocked.

hanni glances at you through her lashes, then covers her face again, laughing softly. “i can’t believe this.”

“i can’t believe it either,” you admit, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

for a second, neither of you move. then, on a whim, you reach out and take her hand, the touch sending a rush of warmth through your body. hanni turns to you, her eyes meeting yours with that same mix of nervous excitement. it feels like time slows down, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. and before either of you can talk yourselves out of it, you lean in, your lips meeting hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

the world stops for a moment.

when you pull back, both of you are breathless, grinning like losers.

"oh my god," hanni says, eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper. “was that too quick? did we rush it?”

you laugh softly. "probably. but i think i would like, die if we hadn’t… yeah.”

without saying anything else, you both lay back down, facing each other on the bed, your fingers still intertwined. it feels easy now, like a weight has lifted, and the giddiness that lingers makes it impossible to stop smiling.

eventually, the talking fades, and you both drift off, tangled together, feeling a sense of peace that neither of you had realized you were missing.

everything feels right for the first time in weeks---hanni in your arms, your arms wrapped around hanni, being close to hanni, hanni close to you---and there's nothing that makes you happier in the moment.

[frmisnow]

MERLOT !

summary. nothing scarier then confronting past memories and being vulnerable!

notes. well! tbh i find it rly fascinating what events from their childhood make ppl act the way they do in relationships so i thought it would be intresting to dive into oc a lil further! hope y'all enjoy ˚⋆.✧˚

warnings /includes. ( 1.8 k / angst, fluff) comforting! 'let me take care of u'! ceo! jungkook x non specified! reader, hints at domestic abuse and daddy issues, angst, rly bad ex :/ , comfort!

the plane was once again quiet.

he doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't talk. you knew this would happen, you change people for the worse, that's what your father used to say. he became violent, blamed it on you and your 'reckless' behavior.

that's what happened to your ex as well; you used to like the innocence he asserted to you. embraced it, bathed in it because you finally felt like you learnt how to earn love. changed yourself for love.

but it was never enough, everything you offered at some point wasn't fulfilling to him. he changed too, not for good.

you don't want to ruin jungkook.

jungkook rarely even looked at you, didn't talk to you either besides business. and you are so scared that you had already worn onto him, that he was beginning to change as well.

not long after the plane landed, you're outside, wandering aimlessly through the city streets. the cold night air bites at your skin, but it doesn’t help to clear your mind.

you want to drown it out, drown him out. and it hurt because that was exactly what prompted you to meet him in the first place, you had wanted to drown your ex out. now the circle repeated itself.

why did life have to be so fucking unfair?

you push open the wooden door, it felt way to heavy, it was just a random bar you spotted while walking.

greeted an older bartender, ordered an whiskey. you happened to take a look at the bottle label: it was one of the ones jungkook had on his display. you were sure that your own life was actively playing a cruel joke on you.

but the pain is stubborn it doesn't go away with just a sip, clinges onto you, harder. you take another sip, bigger, it's another attempt — it was no use.

you want to go back to milan, at exactly 1:37am, walking around with him. but sadly, time doesn't cooperate so you motion for another drink, that's really all that you could do.

"drinking are we?" you hear a voice just as you settle the empty second glass on the table and you freeze momentarly. you don't have to turn around to see who it was, you knew the sharp and disapproving tone.

and suddenly the pain gets replaced with deep disgusting fear. earlier you had thought that you would rather feel anything else then the strong ache but you had been wrong. the misary had been better then this new emotion.

you give him the silence treatment, don't turn around, don't talk. in reality you were way to scared to look back in the first place.

"you're just like your father"

his words shouldn't get to you because deep down you knew he was wrong. you were nothing like the man he compared you to, could never be like him. but it still got to you, it stung.

it reopened wounds that you had worked tightly on wrapping and you frantically try to work on closing them again as he spat out more of his anger. the more he spoke, the more did your vision blurry and it made it impossible to tie them back properly.

he reaches his hand forward to touch your shoulder and you scream, tears coating your face. you think it would be a sight that would push him away, he hated seeing you a true mess, it wasn't the clean version he liked of you. yet he trys again, a smirk on his face.

you burry yourself behind the bartender's counter as the security drags him away, tears continue streaming down your face as you dial jungkooks number.

you don't remember what you tell him, you don't even quite understand yourself through the sobs but you do remember jungkook asking you if you were safe right now, that you should stay right there and that he'd be there in ten.

he makes it in seven.

jungkook holds your hand tightly while he leads you to his car, it was pouring. you wondered how he managed to be so fast without getting into an accident. he doesn't start the engine instead continues holding both of your hands calmly as you cry, doesn't ask any questions either.

he gives you a few more minutes, kisses your palms, tells you to breathe, tells you you're safe. you lean back against the seat, feeling the car’s warmth gradually ease the chill from your bones while he starts driving.

eventually, you make it to his house. you hadn't been able to fully register it back when you were drunk, but it was big, expensive, maybe a bit depressing with it's minimalist structure.

jungkook doesn't pressure you to talk inside too, wraps you in a fluffy blanket, prepares tea with a concentration that was admirable like he was perfecting it just for you as you watch him from your designated spot on the coach.

he sits beside you and brings your legs across his lap, handing you the warm cup full of tea. he watches you carefully as you blow on it gently before taking a tentative sip while he rubs your ankle comfortingly.

you take another sip from the tea, it's something cherry-flavored, burning hot. you rest your head against the familar coach, looking at him. you don't want to talk, don't want to disrupt the peace you felt right now, with the things your ex had done and said.

words full of anger and spite have no space and no use near jungkook, not now, not today.

he brings his hands to cup the back of your neck softly, "i can run you a hot bath, get you some clothes"

you close your eyes momentarly at his touch and your vocie cracks, "i'm sorry" you're sorry that you couldn't get over yourself and tell him what happened, sorry that the words of the man who hurt you so much still have so much effect over you, sorry that you hurted jungkook by ignoring him for the past few days.

jungkook shakes his head, "no, don’t apologize. you don't have to tell me what happened if you're not ready,” he pauses, “but i was really scared. when you called. i just-"

jungkook takes a deep breath. he runs his fingers over your shoulders before speaking again, “i just want you to be happy. just want you to be safe.”

you take a pause because those were beautiful words. but that's the thing with words, somebody says something beautiful, you want to remember but then you slowly start to forget. you wanted jungkook to tell you that everyday, so you'd never.

"i want you to be happy too," i'm just sure you wouldn't be happy with me. is the part you leave out, not wanting to ruin the moment.

his eyes soften as he watches over you, fingers brushing over your features, "i want to take care of you"

after you're finished with your tea, he guides you to the bathroom gently. helps you get out of your clothes, places light kisses on your back, makes sure the water is just warm enough.

he kisses the spot right below your ear while he begins slowly shampooing your hair, “do you want to talk about it now?” he asks quietly.

it's hard to get your tongue to speak but you feel jungkooks reassuring hands, it's the same hand which pull the words out gently. so you tell him about your ex, tell him about how he used to like you, tell him what he said, how he tried to touch you.

tell him about your father. not everything because some memories your brain simply locked for your own safety.

and he listens, doesn't interrupt a single time, kissing your shoulders as you talk about your childhood. "you deserve to be loved," jungkook says, so sincerely, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

the precious words sink into the sea of your heart, calm down the strom, fill you with inner warmth.

"i'm scared," you look down at your hands in the water, "i don't want to become him, i don't want to hurt you."

"you're not him and will never be," he says softly, as if he's stating a simple fact, "you're strong, kind and you care, so much more then anybody would"

there’s no hesitation in his gaze, no flicker of uncertainty — only a steady conviction that makes you want to believe him.

“you’ve been hurt, so much more than anyone should have to bear,” jungkook continues, his hands sliding down to hold yours under the water. “but that doesn’t mean you’re doomed to repeat the past. it doesn’t mean you’re destined to hurt anyone.”

his gaze wanders of to your intertwined hands shortly until he looks back at you, "you have the power to chose differently, to be better. and you already have chosen."

"and you deserve somebody who cares for you, loves you, cherishes you, i want to be that person for you."

you're still scared. the possibilties of you hurting somebody as precious as jungkook were deeply engraved into your mind but you ignore them, nodding slowly to brush them away. to be selfish for once. "i want to be that for you too"

jungkook smiles in response, wiping away the water droplets from your face, “let’s finish up so we can get you into bed, pretty.”

he helps you stand up, envelopes you in a towel, asks you if you can sit down for him so he can dry your hair. tenderly makes sure to not leave out a single wet strand until every bit of water was gone.

all that can be heard was the rain that was now a lot softer then it was a few hours ago, tapping against the window. you can smell jungkooks scent on the clothes he gave you earlier, you could feel his arms around you, the expensive sheets quality below.

he shifts slightly, his lips pressing little kisses over your jawline and cheeks, asking muffled, "what do you want?" as he continues his services, "i'll give you everything"

you think about it for a few seconds, "a kitten"

growing up, you couldn't afford to have a cat in your house due to the violence. there was no way that such a fragile little animal would've been safe in that enviornment. but you had always loved kittys.

he hums as you turn to look at his face, intertwining your hands together, "that's cute, we can name her cheonsa, you know what that means?"

you shake your head lightly, mouthing a 'what?'

"something that reminds me of you, i won't tell you"

the room is filled with comfortable silence for a few minutes while you listen to him breathe, "we should go back to milan, no business" “then we’ll go back to milan,” he whispers against your skin. “and we’ll come back home to a kitten. do you want that?”

🍓 tag list — @chansloverr , @marimarvelfan , @bxcndd , @1-in-abillion , @ahgasegotarmy116 , @copycat-namjesus , @malkaimoon , @geminiml95 , @taiwan0618 , @jungkookfics , @rrosiitas , @stuti2904 , @spiderlilyserendipity , @m00njinnie , @ririkookiemonster , @emptynessclub

[lemonandlime22]

I LOVE your bitey child series!!!

Please I NEED bitey child yuu calling Malleus, Jack, Rook, and Sebek big brother💖😭💖

Malleus, Jack, Rook, and Sebek's reaction to bitey child!Yuu's calling them big brother

Warning(s):

A/N: Omg!!! this is so cute!!! tysm for requesting I hope you like it!

[Bitey child!Yuu Masterlist]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malleus

Mal and Lilia were having a nice conversation in the Diasomnia lounge abt whatever they talk abt

then you just waltzed in, tugged at Malleus's coat, and said,

"Come with me big brother, i needa' show you somethin'..."

He was in shock but followed you anyway

leaving Lilia behind to almost have a heart attack from how cute that was

You two ended up in the backyard of Ramshackle where there was a small patch of dirt lined with many rocks that all very in size

you had shown him your very own garden that Ruggie and Deuce helped you start

nothing had grown yet but you were still quite proud and puffed your chest as you awaited Mal's response.

Malleus chuckled in amusement,

you had come all the way to Diasomnia just to show him your garden

it warmed his heart, especially since he knew how much you hated going through the mirror gates alone

yet you still did just to come to get him

you must truly see him as your big brother then...

He patted your head and said,

"This is very impressive, little sibling. Please do tell me about all of what you are growing."

Jack

Jack was just minding his own business, happily eating his lunch

when you came out of nowhere and clung onto his tail with no warning

this was far from the first time though

so he just sighed and continued eating

and you, still with your arms locked around his tail, plopped onto the empty bench area next to him

"*sigh* what are you doing Yuu?"

you just inaudibly mumbled into his tail with a yawn and curled onto yourself, using his fluff as a makeshift pillow

"Really Yuu? Common, you shouldn't be taking naps in the middle of-"

he was cut off by more of your mumbling, but this time he caught on to a certain sentence

"Noooo, big brotheerrrr, lemmee sleeep"

Jack instantly stopped in his tracks

he got hit with a massive wave of nostalgia from when his little sibling called him that for the first time while they were learning to talk.

He didn't have the heart because it was now a pile of mush to stop you and ended up being late for his next class

its rly hard to carry a child thats clinging onto your tail.

Rook

You were once again trying to steal Rook's hat

he was hunting a certain eel when you just popped out of nowhere a took his hat

he found it quite amusing

and was very proud that you had managed to sneak up on him.

He playfully chased you all throughout the campus

which lead to you climbing up a rather tall tree

and Rook knew almost instantly something bad was going to happen

and just as he was going to warn you, you slipped and ended up falling

Rook was quick to catch you

and you clung onto him while crying with your face shoved into his shoulder

he was sat under the tree while rubbing you back and reassuring you everything was ok now

when you had mostly calmed down you looked up at him and said,

"*sniff* Thank you, big brother..."

"Hehe, it was my pleasure, dear little trickster!"

Rook stood up, picked up his hat that landed a little ways away, placed it on your little head,

and took you to Pomefiore to get you cleaned up.

He's quite pleased with the nickname you gave him, though he is interested to see who else you refer to that as, there must be many.

Sebek

Sebek had been dragged to yet another sleepover at Ramshackle by the rest of the first years

they do this at least once a month.

Rn, he was pouting on the couch while everyone was just talking and hanging out a lil ways away

you had gotten board so you grabbed a chair to prop up behind the couch

Sebek was already well aware of your plan, you had done this hundreds of times and were never able to stay too quiet abt it

you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and yelled,

"Sneak attack!"

ok- its not rly yelling but its loud for you.

and Sebek stood up, with you still hanging on, and took your little arms to propel you forward as he shot down

you were thrown onto the couch with Sebek still holding your arms waiting for you to tap out.

You loved trying to wrestle with him when you were hyper, it's where you learned this cool barrel roll trick.

When you didn't tap out just kept trying to do said barrel roll, so Sebek opted to tickle you

which worked, after a minute you just started trying to tap out while saying

"Ok-Ok-Ok!! You win big brother! You win!!"

He just huffed and sat back down with a victory smile

It wasn't until 3 days later that he realized what you had called him while he was recounting the incident to Lilia

and he had no clue what to feel.

And Lilia had another heart attack

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[heich0e]

bounty - vash/f!reader/wolfwood (trigun stampede) 1.4k, poly!au, wild west!au even tho it's hard to tell in a fic this short lol, bounty hunters, this is an equilateral triangle of a relationship, fluff but suggestive, wolfwood calls reader 'kid' as a petname, i may expand on this but rly who's to say

BOUND - poly!au masterlist

the mattress dips beside you, rousing you from sleep.

you don’t open your eyes, nor do you feel any panic. instead, you find yourself reaching out towards the form that’s curled up into your side; familiar and warm to the touch.

“welcome home,” you whisper quietly, slumber still clinging to your throat and making your words rasp a little more than usual. “good morning.”

“it’s not morning yet,” vash whispers in reply with a laugh creeping into his voice. he presses a kiss against your temple, nosing into your hair. “you should go back to sleep.”

he sounds tired as he clings to you tightly, and you open your eyes to meet his sleepy gaze. he smiles, even through his exhaustion, and you watch fondly as his eyes crinkle at the corners in the dim light of the oil lamp at your bedside. 

you shift a little closer to him in your bed, craning up to press a kiss to the little mark below his eye. he sighs contently as your lips brush against his skin, his body slackening into yours as though he's finally allowing his weariness to catch up to him. finally allowing himself to rest.

you pull away, brushing a few strands of blonde hair back from his face.

he has a bruise at the edge of his jaw, and dark rings of shadow that are deepest at the inner corner of his eyes. his skin looks sallow, and his lips dry.

you wonder how rough these past few weeks have been.

“where’s nico?” you ask gently, cradling his face in your hands. the question has been at the back of your mind since your bed dipped only on one side.

vash averts his eyes from yours guiltily.

“vash?” you press, a sudden knot of anxiety winding in the pit of your stomach. you sit up in bed, your quilt pooling in your lap as it slips from your body and reveals the cotton of your gauzy nightdress.

“he’s outside,” the man beside you murmurs, pink blooming high across his cheeks as his head rests against his pillow. he pouts a little, finally peeking back up at you through his lashes with a wounded gaze. “he’s mad at me.”

“oh?” you ask, fighting back a laugh at how sheepish and petulant the man below you looks. “and why is that?” 

vash purses his lips even further.

“the guy we were after…” 

“the wanted man whose bounty you were hunting,” you correct vash lightly, a lilt of playfulness in your tone.

“yeah, him,” vash nods, and then grimaces, “he sort of… got away.”

you let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“vash, that’s…”

“the third one in a row, i know. i know.” vash wraps his arms around your waist and pulls his head into your lap. you card your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles into you for comfort.

“did you let this one get away again?” you ask quietly, but not in an accusatory way.

vash says nothing, but that’s an admission in and of itself.

you sigh, your fingers stilling as they trace through the strands of blonde, the locks curling around your knuckles. you shift towards the edge of the bed, and vash tries to keep you where you are by tightening his hold around your waist.

“i’m just gonna go check on him,” you assure him when he looks up at you with wide eyes. you dip down and press a kiss to his lips—the ones you’ve been missing so much for the fortnight he and nicholas had been away. he whines as you pull away, and you smile against his mouth. you kiss him again, more chaste this time. “i’ll be back.”

nicholas is on the front porch, staring out into the sea of sand that surrounds the little ranch you call home. his beloved boots have been kicked off beside the door, and his shirt is unbuttoned to reveal the undershirt he wears beneath. the tails of the shirt are still tucked into his trousers but he’s unfastened their button at his waist too, and his suspenders are the only thing keeping them on as he reclines back onto his elbows against the wooden slats of the porch deck.

you know he hears the screen door open to let you out, and you're even more certain that he hears the sound of it shutting behind you once you've stepped outside. the smell of tobacco clings to the edge of the night wind. it’s familiar, comforting. reminds you that he’s home. you draw in a long breath to savour it.

“you should be in bed, kid,” nicholas rasps, tapping the ash off the end of his sad, vaguely mangled cigarette. 

“i’m not allowed to come and welcome you home?” you kneel behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. it feels nice to have him in your arms again. feels right.

“not when you’ve got a crybaby to coddle in there,” he grunts, but you still feel him lean back into your embrace. you hide your pleased smile against the crown of his head.

“he’s probably already asleep,” you murmur into the top nicholas’s hair, swaying him gently. “he feels bad. he thinks you’re mad at him.”

“i am mad at him,” nicholas snaps, but you see through the sharpness of his tone. he’s tired, probably hungry, but not sincerely angry. “he fucked up another job for us.” 

“guess that’s what you get taking in a fugitive as a partner, mister bounty hunter,” you tease him, pressing a kiss to his throat. his skin tastes of salt and desert sand, like days spent in the sun and labour. you feel how he shivers at the gentle brush of your mouth against his pulse. "and a bleeding hearted one at that."

“you’re the one who took him in like a stray,” nicholas complains, “i’m only putting up with him for your sake.”

it’s a lie, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s just as attached to the blonde presently curled up in your bed, the one too big for just him, as you are. it's the reason nicholas wears a thin gold band that he takes impossibly good care of, just like the two of you do, on his left ring finger.

nicholas tips his head back so he can finally look at you, his cigarette still dangling from his lips. the corner of his mouth quirks slightly as he draws a breath in, the cherry burning red in the night. you pluck the cigarette from his lips as he lets the smoke slip out on his exhale, his dark eyes still fixed to your face as he appraises you.

you observe him similarly, scanning over him as though taking inventory of the state he's fallen into since he's been away. he’s in the same shape as vash, from what you can tell. you spot some bruises mottling his skin, some rough stubble coming in at the edge of his jaw. there’s a blood stain on the collar of his shirt, and you aren’t sure if it’s his own or someone else’s, but you know it will be a pain to wash out. 

but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

“if he’s a stray, what does that make you?” you ask him with a little laugh, his cigarette still pinched between your thumb and forefinger.

he quirks a brow. “if i say ‘the luckiest guy in the world’ are you gonna think i’m just trying to take you to bed?” 

you snort, stamping the stub of the cigarette out onto the wooden porch and then flicking the butt away into the sand. you dip down until you’re nose to nose with him.

“of course I am,” you reply to him, your lips brushing against his as you speak the words. you can taste the tobacco that clings to his mouth from this close, but you don't mind it when it tastes like home. “and it’s our bed, nicholas. so take me to it whenever you’d like.”

(read part 2 here!)

[heartsoji]

falling in love with your roommate, suna rintaro

roommates to lovers

a/n: i haven't read the manga so i don't rly know anything abt rin's fam situation - sorry if any info is incorrect loll also this is more of like a college au?? idk if rin went to college but here it is

a/n pt. 2: i kinda switch between using rin and suna sorry

"rintaro!"

"what?"

"aren't you tired of living in my home, still? you're 21! i'm sure all of your friends have moved out already, right? most of them probably moved out at 18, but you haven't budged an inch!" mrs. suna scolded.

"yeah, yeah, pipe down, mom. i'll move out soon, i promise."

"no! it was fine that you stayed home for your freshman year of college, and i thought that you'd start being independent for your sophomore year, but you're still completely dependent on us! you don't cook, buy groceries, clean, or do any work around here! what are you going to do when you've graduated and you don't know how to run a washing machine?"

"yes, yes, i'm sorry."

"and i was very understanding of the fact that you didn't want to move into a dorm, but aren't you tired of commuting hours away when you could just get a closer apartment?"

"mhm, mhm."

she sighed. "rintaro, you know im only saying this because i care about you. i want you to be independent and strong, you know?"

"yep. i just booked an apartment tour via online."

"and i- huh?"

yeah.

soon after he decided the apartment was in good enough condition to be living in, he rented it out and moved in.

on his moving day, he met you.

"hi! you're.. suna rintaro, right? sorry i wasn't there on your tour day. i'm your new roommate, l/n! nice to meet you." you said, a friendly smile on your features.

stoically, suna replied, "good to meet you."

at first, you and suna kinda kept to yourselves. you were polite to each other, of course, but there wasn't much talking, only coexisting.

that is, until you discovered his grocery bills.

"$18... you've been surviving on $18?!" you looked at him in shock.

"yeah. is that weird?"

"damn right it is! what are you even buying?"

"well.. i don't know how to cook anything, so i mostly order door dash. my grocery bill is from instant ramen, chuppets, eggs, and milk."

you stare at him blankly.

"you've been eating nothing but door dash, instant ramen, candy, eggs, and milk for the past 2 months?"

"yeah."

this guy.

he just stands there awkwardly at you laugh at him.

from then on, you two become closer.

you taught him basic recipes to make using groceries you taught him to buy, (imagine his shock when his bill came out to be like $60.. and you were like "bro that's normal") you taught him how to use a washing machine, ("oh, so you put the detergent in this compartment..") etc. just basic household chores, but he was so impressed.

eventually, you two stopped being friendly roommates and just became friends.

he was a good listener. you'd rant to him about your problems, no matter how insignificant, and he'd listen to you carefully, and you never felt like your problems were stupid whenever you talked to him.

you two started hanging out a lot. you'd study together at cafes, go to amusement parks on weekends, and just chill at home together.

and as much as you hated to admit it, you had started developing feelings for your roomie.

i mean, how could you not? he was tall, handsome, kind, funny, cheeky, and it certainly helped that you got to see him all tired in the mornings.

you didn't really know if he felt the same way, but if he did, he was a real bitch, because at some point, your relationship became kind of flirty, and he'd give you butterflies on a daily basis.

you two would watch scary movies and he'd let you cling to him, giving your terrified features a teasey smile every now and then.

he'd walk around the apartment with his toned abs out, and his sweats dangerously low on his hips.

when you guys went on walks, he'd give you his hoodie if it got cold.

whenever you'd go on long rants, he'd just stare at your face with love in his eyes. "and then i-what is it, rin?" "nothing, pretty."

like sir you can't just do that. you're too handsome to do that without risk of heart explosion.

then, one day, unexpectedly, he popped the question.

you two were watching a cheesy romcom for the 5th time, sharing a pot of instant ramen, and at the same moment that the male lead said to the female lead, "i like you. a lot. i have for a while now," rin did too.

it wasn't grand.

it wasn't loud.

it wasn't annoying.

you weren't even sure if he meant it.

but when you saw him looking at you, nervous, awaiting a response, you knew he did.

so, at the same time the female lead said, "me too," you did too.

then, with the cheesy romantic music playing in the back, you guys gave each other cheesy smiles, and he planted a cheesy peck on your cheek.

it was subtle.

it was sweet.

it was cheesy.

it was familiar.

it was uncharacteristically romantic and sentimental.

it was just like how your future relationship with your roomie and best friend, suna rintaro, was going to be.

[cloveroctobers]

SAFE & SOUND — ARMAN MORALES X READER X ANGEL REYES: [Spring Prompts]

A/N: it’s going to be tough getting through the cleaning lady this season but it’s always the work that lives on that continues to inspires us. Just from the premiere also sparked this little thing + I also assumed I’d stop writing for Angel once Mayans MC ended but after a name drop in TCL here I am lol! That angel was handsome too IJS. Bet you thought you could get rid of me huh!? Hope y’all enjoy my first spring prompt of the year!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using:  “Spring is so boring there aren’t any good holidays.” “Have you forgotten Easter, St patty’s day, Mother’s Day, April fools-” “I get it, I get it!”

FIRST GIF WAS FOUND THROUGH PINTEREST SO IT BELONGS TO IT’s RIGHTFUL OWNER + THE SECOND BELONGS TO: @dailymayans !

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The Vegas heat was doing what it does best, roasting down on you despite residing in a mountain area. You’re used to it, being from this state and living here all these years; although it was the fresh start of April, the eighty degree heat demanded to be felt. You’re out on the balcony, leaning over it, one arm exposed to the sun while the other went to work fanning yourself with your silk handheld folding fan staring out into the view.

Your bathing suit is somewhat dry still clinging to you although you, Angel, and Mavy got out of the community pool (over a half hour ago) as soon as it started to get over crowded with your fellow neighbors. Your body was slouched over the balcony, mindlessly fanning yourself as you sank into your boredom.

Angel chuckled at you from behind, leaving the balcony door open just a crack behind him with a beer in one hand. He briefly touched your lower back in greeting before moving to dramatically copy your movements but instead with the back of his hand resting on his forehead. “What you doin’ out here querida?”

“Oh you know, just losing my mind. Nothing too serious.” You replied while Angel snorted at you.

He sips at his cold beer before saying, “I asked you if you wanted go cruising this weekend and maybe end up in the city for a night but you weren’t feeling it. So…I’m guessing you didn’t enjoy your time at the pool?”

“With my two favorite boys…of course I did.” You weren’t sarcastic this time, “it’s just that I’m imagining spring break to be a real drag.”

Angel furrows his brows, not even knowing when that was coming up but still said, “so what are you saying? You wanna live out your college dreams again, head down to Miami to get wild or something?”

It was your turn to laugh as you tug on his shorts waistband, “Why would I need to relive Miami when I got my hoochie daddy right here?”

“Ah, Fuck outta here,” Angel laughed as he playfully smacked your hand away from him while you winked.

Pressing your temple into your balled up hand you sighed after awhile, “what im getting at is: Spring is so boring there aren’t any good holidays.” 

Angel raised his brows at this, not entirely believing that you found the season to be boring since you just went out the way last weekend to go shopping for spring decor. He was glad he had to work that weekend because he just knew you would have him in those stores for hours like you commonly did, he just felt bad for maverick in the end though.

“…Have you forgotten Easter, St. patty’s day, Mother’s Day, April fools-” he ticks off with his fingers while you roll your eyes.

You interject, “I get it, I get it!”

It’s not like angel cared much about those holidays either…(he wasn’t the best at remembering dates) well maybe the last one he found the most interest in but now he was trying to do something different in life for Maverick and since he met you (who did care for holidays) after the big move here. That sweet baby boy changed the trajectory of the way angel looked at life now and he wanted his kid to experience nothing but greatness and if he could provide that he would. He also liked watching you interact with Maverick and you both seemed to have a good time on Easter, doing kids activities like: painting eggs, going Easter egg hunting, and even getting a picture with a weird looking Easter bunny that now sat on the mantle in the living room.

Angel was even going to church now when he felt up to it and knew his mother would probably be proud of the way he turned his life around. How life was so different from what it could have been. He could be the one in the ground with his family but Angel knew he was meant to be right here, no matter how painful it got to be here.

He reshaped his life and was glad to say that he did it.

“You know, there’s plenty of things we can get into now that Mav’s down for his nap. I can be your source of entertainment.” Angel hints, slipping an arm underneath your cover up and tugging you to him.

You smirk as you meet his dark eyes, fanning yourself with one hand while the other grips his tatted arm. “Is that right?”

“Uh huh,” Angel hums pressing into you as he bites his bottom lip before pecking yours.

It wouldn’t be the first time out here on this balcony but you wouldn’t make it a repeat since it was too hot for all that. And you didn’t need to hear angel’s complaints of his ass being scorched thanks to the material of the balcony! However with the way the both of you ended up, tongues battling, hands roaming and squeezing with Angel’s back against the balcony now, it was becoming difficult trying to get the words out.

His hand’s are full of kneading your backside and he lets you breathe while he’s attacking your neck now, just the way you like it underneath your ear, his facial hair tickling your skin as he does so. Your fan and his beer are both out of your grasps now as you’re scratching at his back, which is just enough indication for Angel to lift you by the waist and up against his hips. He buries his face back to your skin, loving the way you smell as you hold onto him.

Your eyes peek open, breathing still ragged as you hold on but soon your eyes focus out towards the fence that blocks the condo’s from the main highway, spotting a figure who has their attention solely on you. At first you expect it to be some sort of creep watching you be intimate with your boyfriend but a palm goes up into the air before they remove their sunglasses.

Your breathing stops and Angel instantly notices you go still against him. He pulls back to glance at you, “you alright?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly place your legs down and Angel steadies you, still keeping a hand across your hips before he follows your stare. Angel’s eyes are in slits now, craning his neck and he’s on defense mode now, “fuck are you doing here?!”

You slap Angel’s arm to ease him while the man slowly steps closer to the building and both of your eyesight’s.

He says your name in greeting, “…hey, can we talk?”

Angel’s against it once he spots your hesitance but once you move, he’s not far behind you. You’re waiting at the front door, eyes to the right as you await for the man to make his way up the steps. He jogs up the last few steps, quickly making his way over to you while holding his sunglasses.

You’re still holding your breath as you take in his appearance, and it’s still the same man that you had the chance to spend your childhood with. The both of you don’t say anything, just staring and tracing over each others features with your eyes and Angel doesn’t like the feeling that sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

“You’re Armando right? You don’t look like any of the pictures.” Angel breaks the silence from behind you, arms crossed.

Arman flicks his eyes to your boyfriend, he takes in Angel’s appearance for a second before turning back to you, “Please, call me Arman…and Pictures?”

You exhale, “oh…yeah just two. The one from Costa Rica and your personal favorite: The selfie you took with my digital camera, the one you stole to impress that girl in photography class who already had a boyfriend—

“Did she though? I don’t recall.” Arman smirks and you scoff with a roll of your eyes, “but yeah I think I remember that one. It was the week after we finished junior year, Back when you were working at the skeeball section and Alicja Bosko purposely threw the ball at your shoulder to show off to her jackass boyfriend.”

You nodded remembering that huge bruise you received later that night, “Steven Jefferson. He was actually one of the nicest on the basketball team, if not the only one.”

“That’s because he was in love with you.” It was Arman’s turn to roll his brown eyes while you shook your head.

“No he wasn’t,” you crinkled your nose, “he was too far up Alicja’s ass.”

Arman argued, “yeah well maybe he should have been in theater instead of his brother because he wasn’t fooling me.”

You shrugged your shoulders with a small smile at the little walk down memory lane but knew to agree to disagree. It’s not like it wasn’t possible since you and Steven shared a few classes together, worked on a project or two because you sat near or next to each other but it didn’t cross your mind then. And you also weren’t aware that Steven questioned Arman once, after school when you went home early if the two of you were some secret couple. That was just the clean version of what Steven really said, which landed Arman on a three day suspension and Steven missing out on the next two games.

“���but the picture? It had to be of you having Alicja by the throat in the background while I had the most mischievous smile on my face…I can’t believe I forgot how much of a little shit I was.” Arman chuckled to himself while you nodded at him in amusement before he turned back to Angel, “plus it would make sense that I look different as a teen to present day right? Being a grown successful man does that to you, huh?”

He playfully slapped Angel on his shoulder before he squeezed himself by, taking in your home.

‘Now who the fuck did this guy think he is?’ Was exactly what Angel was thinking.

You squeezed Angel’s wrist as he sent you a look before kicking the door shut behind you.

“Feels much better in here and I see you’re doing well for yourself too.” Arman stood in the middle of the home.

Although he resided in the same state as you but at a great distance, Arman was still aware of your professions of once being a PI but now worked for a cybersecurity company as an intelligence analyst. He was proud to see that you were still driven but ultimately knew that wouldn’t change.

Angel muttered, “I bet it does when you’re not dressed like fucken blade in Vegas.”

“What was that?” Arman’s got his hands on his hips, bringing his attention back to the tatted man.

“Angel’s just wondering what you would like to drink.” Smiling hard at your boyfriend, he sucked his teeth with a roll of his head and rushed by you two.

He went around the corner by the dining area to the left where the closed off kitchen was. Once he pulled the fridge open, he missed out on you and Arman reaching out for each other to give each other a squeeze but not long enough to the point it would bring tears.

Arman couldn’t take tears from you, never could.

“Angel’s also wondering what brings you here and why you felt the need to stalk his girlfriend from the bushes.” He inquired, appearing just as you’re motioning for Arman to have a seat on the couch.

Angel slides a Gatorade on the coffee table (this Arman character wasn’t getting any of Angel’s good beer. By the looks of Arman, Angel had a feeling he probably wouldn’t drink it anyway.) and plops down on the sitting chair on Arman’s left.

Arman awkwardly laughs, “right…didn’t mean to intrude on you two…” he sends a knowing smile at you while you shrugged with a flick of your hair, “and I know that probably looked insane so I do apologize for that. I just had to make sure I had the right place.”

You suggest, “Next time maybe a phone call would be better?”

“Can’t exactly trust that lately.” Arman admits which makes Angel sit up, sending you a glance before Angel is pressing his elbows into his knees while Arman continues, “Look…I’m not here to cause any trouble but I had to see you…just in case.”

Angel wasn’t sure what that means but he had a feeling and he didn’t like being out of the loop of what was going on. He left Santo Padre for a reason and he found something special with you…yet someone from your past just shows up out the blue—that you haven’t seen in who knows how long, with a nice cut on his lip, brow, and cheek! and who knows where else! Arman didn’t seem to be walking normally if you asked Angel and this guy was saying things like he was preparing for the worse! In conclusion: sounded like a red flag to Angel.

“Before you expand on that…there’s just a few things that I do need to get off my chest.” Angel interrupts the intense eye contact you were sharing with another man.

Arman blinks over at Angel, “okay…”

“How long has it been since you two last saw each other?”

Arman looks to you again and you round off, “it’s been years, maybe fifteen? but the postcards and little figurines made it seem like less.”

Angel wasn’t aware of any of that but it’s not like you kept your friendship with Arman much of a secret. There wasn’t anything to hide in the first place. You always spoke highly of him and Angel couldn’t really grasp the idea of a man and a woman being just friends if they weren’t family. Yes that was his projection but he’s never seen anything like this that wasn’t romantic.

He rubs at his face in thought while Arman smiles softly at you, lightly shoving your knee and in that moment Angel was thankful he did the honors of tying your coverup before you opened the front door. Sorry not sorry.

Angel just comes right out with it, “so…were you two ever a thing? Serious or just foolin’ around?”

Your eyes go wide and Arman laughs at this, which irritates Angel.

“No.” Arman clearly states, “We maybe soulmates but not in a romantic sense, which makes this friendship so much more easy to have, no matter how many years pass us by. I love your girlfriend but you don’t have to worry about me falling in love with her because that’s your job, right?” He stares hard at the bearded man, almost daring Angel to say the wrong thing.

Angel immediately nods his head, feeling the tension ease somewhat from his jaw although he can feel your heated stare on him also. You already told him what it was with Arman when he asked you about your love for him once before and didn’t particularly like that he was bringing it up again to Arman. However Angel wanted to make sure that this wasn’t one sided and he had no shame in that.

“Good!” Arman claps, “then we have nothing to worry about. As long as you’re good to her, then we won’t have an issue.”

“…we’re good to each other.” You tell, wanting Angel’s eyes to settle on you, which they do before he sits back with a crooked smile.

Satisfied.

You shake your head at him and turn back to Arman who’s watching the exchange. You place your hand on Arman’s which is now thrown along the top of the couch, “And I’m glad I have all of my boys back underneath one roof. Except one of them doesn’t work my nerves as much.”

Arman scowls as he looks at Angel, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Fuck does that mean?” Angel feels his lip curl while Arman holds his hands up in surrender with a smile as Angel says, “she’s not talking about me but you don’t have to assume shit with that smug smile on your face, man.”

‘Lookin’ like the damn monopoly man and shit.’ Angel thinks to himself but he was trying to keep things cordial.

Arman tilts his head at this, “…there’s another guy that loves to take up your time? Don’t tell me—

“Relax,” you soothe, “I didn’t biologically have Maverick but I love him like he’s my own.”

“And I can’t thank you enough.” Angel tells you with a glint in his eye, “you have any kids, Armando?”

Arman slowly shakes his head putting the pieces together silently after spying a picture above the fireplace before he thinks of his own situation, “no but I too know a kid that I’ll always protect.”

“Aw, look at you having the parenting bug.” You wiggle the man’s shoulder.

Arman sighs trying to fight back a smile, “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face did.”

“She’s right.” Angel agreed.

Arman attempts to whisper, “Don’t say that too much or her head will explode.”

You pinch the back of the skin on Arman’s hand who hisses before yanking his hand away. Angel laughs at you two, finding that this Arman guy might be alright in his book.

“I’ve missed you, you know? Even when you still do that pinching shit.” He shakes his hand about before rubbing it.

“I know and so have I, Armani-man.”

He chuckles, “haven’t heard that in awhile.”

“What?” You gasp as you mention, “Don’t tell me Nadia hasn’t hit you with annoying spins on your government?”

Yes you were also aware that Arman found his Mrs. Morales out there in the world. At first you felt a way about it since he simply sent over a picture and a brief letter to your mailbox during your late twenties and not an invitation to the wedding. Which he later explained in the attached letter that it was a spur of the moment ceremony out of the country. You only knew bits and pieces of what Nadia was like and what she looked like. However there seemed to be a shift in Arman at the mention of his wife.

As soon as you noticed it, it was gone, leaving the guarded man to exhale, “…only when she wants something.”

“You too, huh?” Angel cracks open the Gatorade before taking a sip, “ever get hit with a ‘hoochie daddy?’”

Arman blinks before oddly staring back and forth at you two, “A what?”

“Never mind my boyfriend,” you fan your hand, “you said you came here to visit me just in case of what exactly…”

Arman dips his head and clears his throat. When he starts cracking his fingers with one hand, you notice it’s still something he does when there’s a lot on his mind even with the both of you settling into your own adulthoods. That alone makes you scoot closer to him, balling your legs to the side of you as you rest your head back against his arm.

“I’m here. Always.”

This he knew.

He never imagined plopping back into your life like this, on the run and keeping it all away from the two women he’s in love with but it was a fact that you knew the start. And if that’s what he had to go back to, then so be it. Part of him felt like he should feel guilty bringing you back into this, while at the same time he knew the levels of your relationship and that you would always look out for him too.

The both of you grew up together and then separately because arman sought out for more that his father didn’t approve of and the connection between you two was just as strong then as it is now. It wasn’t conditional on your part, which is why the both of you still had a friendship. That was evident with the way you two moved around each other and Angel felt like he should be jealous.

Oh but he was! especially with the bits of affection he witnessed, that was something he didn’t want to get used to but maybe he was starting to understand? Angel would grasp it more if he saw how Arman was around this Nadia person and had a feeling he probably would the longer Arman stayed or came around. However both you and Arman knew it wouldn’t be a long span of time. It’s just not the way he operated.

He was always on the move.

“Do I need to give you two the room?” Angel places his hand on his chest, “I really don’t want to in fear that I’ll start smoking again but my heart, yeah I got that, is saying I prolly should.”

You peek up at Arman, the both of you sharing a laugh before Arman nudged his head and you’re patting the empty spot next to you. “Get over here.”

“I dunno…the way you two look at each other gives off more than just friends.” Angel cautiously makes his way over, while you toss your legs right over his lap, leaving him to caress your bare ankle.

Arman shakes his head as he meets Angel’s eyes, “you’ve never loved a best friend so much that you’ll do anything for?”

“Well yeah…” Angel starts with a lift of his shoulders, “but I never had stars in my eyes when I looked at coco’s crazy ass. And he wouldn’t be walking up in my house like he owns the place. I’ll tell you that much. Actually—he’d probably find a way in here without us knowing.”

You’ve heard stories about Coco—Johnny plenty times before and wished you would have had the chance to meet him. With the way Angel spoke of him and the one’s he once called his brothers, made it seem like you already have.

You snort, “might as well have stars with how much you speak on him and Ezekiel.”

Angel blows out a breath at how much he missed those guys through it all, “I guess I get it too. But i do have to say, if this turns out to be more harm than good to us…you may see a side of me you don’t like and that can get ugly.”

That was aimed more at Arman than you, you were sure but as good as you knew the man to your left, he didn’t take threats lightly yet he could respect it since you chose Angel.

“Well at least you’re honest about your lack of looks…but we can both agree every side is my good side.” Arman jokes as he pinches his chin, caressing his facial hair with a grin.

Angel huffs, “get a load of this fucken guy! First you waltz in here and now this? You’re something else, man. But I guess…you’re alright for now.”

Arman leans over you as Angel goes to give him a fist while Arman was ready to give his hand a shake. Angel stares at Arman’s hand, not budging before Arman huffs and decides to bump fists instead with a shake of his head in disbelief.

“Yay, my bestie and my boyfriend getting along!”You grip Arman’s shoulder to place a kiss on his cheek before flopping your body against Angel who squeezes your shoulder, kissing the corner of your eye as you say “Love to see it…maybe spring break won’t be so bad after all.”

Arman and Angel both share a knowing glance, being aware that this probably wouldn’t be some simple visit of a friend coming to town—although you were no stranger to Arman’s lifestyle—but for both of their sakes they’ll relish in your happiness.

That’s mainly what both men wanted for you.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

Continue along with my spring anthology prompts here.

[cactusringed]

honestly i dont rly agree with the wider idea that the life series has diminished in value since last life -- i think nothing will ever be like third life because you can't recreate third life without erasing their memories, and anyway i don't want third life 2. i want my fav CCs to do what they think is fun and personally I enjoy the different gimmicks they bring in. I think a lot of people don't realise how stale and repetitive the series would actually get without them.

Gamers, especially the ones playing in the life series, have a bad habit of wanting to optimise everything, to the point they optimise the fun out of everything, too. Whether its game mechanics, strategies -- it'll happen eventually no matter how much THEY try to fight it, too. The only way to combat this instinct -- the one to find the best strategy and stick to it to win -- is to fundamentally change the rules of the game each time, to keep everyone on their toes. It's basic game design.

I think clinging as much to third/last life as we, as a fandom, do is detrimental to any further development of the life series and its storylines. each season has its values but maybe it's because I'm a loser whose brain was rewired by limlife and who also loved how much fun everyone seemed to have during secret life

[ca-suffit]

I really want to know why book fans get mad and up in arms when people don’t like Marius…a canonical pedophile. When I read the books I didn’t really like him at all so why would I get excited for his AMC debut? Sorry but not all of us fold on sight just because the predator happens to be a pretty white man with yellow hair.

This insistent defense squad for him feels very strange. Especially because they all seem to know what he’s hated for and yet whenever someone expresses any kind of contempt for him they run in to protect him and usually talk down to others like he’s some misunderstood teenager who we’re too stupid to understand. I noticed many Book fans tend to have Anne’s arrogant, know-it-all, “I can never be wrong because I read words” attitude as well which usually hinders any proper discussion or response. No one wants to talk to an arrogant stranger that is heavily implying that they’re stupid. But these fans continue to take that approach and then act superior when they’re not responded to.

(It’s also weird racist that from their perspective book!Louis and even movie!Louis are victims of Lestat but AMC!Louis? Well he deserved it because he was mean, ungrateful and stopped putting out. Never thought I would see people claim that because Louis made empty threats towards Lestat that they were mutually abusive to one another and yet these are common stances that I’ve seen an alarming amount of people accept with no questions or forethought attached. but that’s an issue for an entirely different rant.)

even if ppl want to remove the pedo thing from marius with whatever excuse they have, his personality is ass anyway. I think a lot of ppl who read the books started off thinking he's gonna be likeable and wise and then he's just....some dickhead.

a lot of these ppl are not ppl who can stand critical thinking or have looked at maybe their own trauma in regards to how they perceive these characters (and at what ages they read the books too). a lot of ppl in this fandom have linked characters to themselves somehow, so there's no way to talk about a character without personally insulting ppl. it's rly tiring. that's not unique to this fandom either but the level of harassment u will receive kinda is, cuz it's based on anne rice's behavior (as u noted).

a lot of this racism too stems from the same ppl who can't hear criticisms about characters like marius bcuz the whole book series is nothing but promoting white supremacy. I don't think it's something she did consciously but it's so fucking blatant (the vampires literally get whiter as they get more powerful, for one?????) and shouldn't even be controversial for adults to say out loud. so many ppl bonded to this shit at young ages tho that it's "fun" nostalgia to them and fuck anyone who tries to say otherwise. that's how we're here. ppl cling hard to this notion that something has to be "pure" to be enjoyed or else ur a bad person for liking it. idk how that's become a thing bcuz u can still like things but be critical of them, that's how most things work???

[bluenightcomedies]

uuuugh i keep procrastinating cuz i wanna make new refs n' arts n' all for us all but art slow so fuggit placeholder pinned abt the system better pinned with comm details, other accs, etc later :3 will reopen for commissions once arty verifies me! as a whole we're legally deaf and disabled! we can all draw but have diff styles/preferences :3 body is 30 (eugh i don't like admitting that) so am adult BUT we don't wanna be involved in nsfw art so pls respect that⭐ We can't get a formal diagnosis due to various real life issues, so we're not going to claim any particular diagnosis, but we can't exactly ignore the symptoms and stay masked forever. We're going to stay out of syscourse as much as possible, of course. 🌙 each alter has an assigned emoji so ppl can tell us apart easier if needed, use em as our tags too (when we remember) note- using they/them for any of us fine too!⭐

(doesn't include alters that rarely or never front) ⭐star emoji = Blue! she/her pls~ guess i'm the honorary host cuz i front most. uhhh... nothing rly too fancy i can say abt myself, i'm p affectionate and love y2k art and hanging out, i try to be as nice as i can >w< my art's usually sketchbooky, with thin lines and soft colors/shading!

💠this blue gem/flower emoji is Azure! she/her, she's kinda new to the system. looks n' acts a lot like me but uh... more childish i guess? very silly, very 'cringe culture is dead'. loves to rp, say silly things, n' cling to people. hyperfixates on Dot Hack (RIP) her art looks like mspaint x3 🌙 (Writing for myself since I'm available.) The name's Lune, hence moon emoji, and I use she/her pronouns as well. Formerly "Starry" but people kept confusing me with Blue due to her star symbolism. Used to be the designated mask, I'm glad I don't have to do that anymore... Sometimes I re-mask out of habit so if something sounds like me but wasn't marked as an alter, it probably is me. I have a flat tone and chronic paranoid anxiety so uh... Let me know if I come across as rude, I usually don't mean to. I enjoy doing research and organizing information, so I'm often the one to fact-check things or find guides and how-to's for the system. My art's very bold and colorful, and friends describe it as 'angular'. Clashes with my personality, huh? 🗝️key emoji = Sylverwynd! he uses he/him! he's super laid back and chill, i've never seen him upset or anything, but he's rly long-winded talks... kinda poet-y? he loves reading and talking abt lore and myths so he'll pop in if ur talking abt something he likes or if he has trivia 2 share! fave genres r horror n' fantasy he's still experimenting w/ style but likes drawing rly soft

❌cross emoji= Laceburner! it/its or they/them pronouns! tbh i'm not used to it/its pronouns but Lace wanted em; it's very uh... emotionally empty i guess? aroace, agender, can't socialize or empathize v well. it usually fronts when the rest of us are tired or in pain cuz it just ignores all that. likes 2000's scenemo aesthetics though which is surprising but ye idk how to describe its style, but it's trying to mimic emo art n' likes bright colored lines with dark bg/colors 🗡️the dagger is Kal! he/him pronouns, he gets angry and stressed abt things really easy but he gets too hostile abt it so he tries to not front too much; need to find him a way to de-stress n' chill out... when he's not mad at smth he's a good sympathetic listener imo, still swears and talks all rough tho hasn't drawn much yet but does rly harsh lines and fast/messy sketches when he does (and gets riled up by mistakes =w=;)

❤️heart is Weiss! genderfluid, goes by any pronouns, usually uses whatever they like at the time x3 has a hard time fronting but tries to. flirty, loves dumb jokes, overly confident... (we worry they'd get us in trouble sometimes cuz the shit they want to say) loves demon and monster-related stuff! still experimental style but uses bold colors and thick rough lines a lot, may get suggestive (forbidden from outright nsfw, don't ask >:c) btw ur always welcome to direct asks @ someone specific >w< we just might take a while to respond

[proxythe]

fave akishinji hcs? i just love those guys!!!!!

oh my word … the hc question always stumpsme…

off rip i have to mention the way i view their bodies bc it’s something ive been thinking a lot about lately… generally i view shinji as a tall towering kinda guy bc i think ppls first impression of him would be that hes scary and intimidating and whatnot & him being giant makes it even “scarier”, but then u get to know him and hes just some grumpy guy who likes dogs and cooking

my brain lives in a “a few years later” post canon world (where shinji is alive ofc) so i am also a huge huge fan of him gaining weight the more content he becomes with his life. instead of being super skinny or super muscular, hes just eating great and living his life. a big guy. + im lowkey shit at describing how bodies look for some reason so stay with me… but i think aki is lean i suppose. in terms of older akihiko designs, i prefer trinity soul, so i dont rly go the route of making him wider like p4au, but i do like to draw his arms visibly muscular & bigger instead of keeping them so thin like they are in p3 and trinity soul 😭

next.. erm… i mentioned this another time but shinji being clingy is something i love & think is a little funny bc i imagine hes just always seeking warmth one way or another and akihiko is a warm human being so the clinging just naturally happens. they’re cuddlers…

lastly, i speak for everyone when i say the most important akishinji hc is them adopting ken (& koromaru) … a perfect hc… flawless… nothing could ever top it … basically canon at this point. i don’t think i’ve ever glimpsed a world where anyone else becomes ken’s parents …

[not-alien-girl-v]

hey babes!! ur works is just 🤤. george is so hot could you please write a valentines day thing with him 🙏

warning: language, TW matty healy

note: they/them pronouns for Y/N and this is almost angsty but still fluffy also Matty is like bitchy but is still Y/N’s bestie idk they’re frenemies cuz that happened in a dream once. might continue writing more george stuff cuz i rly like it.

Complete silence is swallowing them whole, alongside a few other sounds keeping them company in the early hours of the morning.

There is an open window somewhere on the spacious tour bus, and the winged creatures singing in the outside world inform Y/N that the daylight has come to greet them all once again this morning. Though they wish the birds would just shut the fuck up, honestly.

They are loud, cawing and chirping and essentially screaming as if it isn't 7 am in the fucking morning and Y/N doesn't have a pounding headache. Last night was a bit wild for the gang, once the post-show drinks started making their way through the already mildly intoxicated band members, it was clear that none would have any memory of the rest of the evening.

And despite all the drunken tomfoolery, Y/N had not consumed a single ounce of alcohol. Not a drop. Yet their head throbbed as if they had. Being the designated driver, the designated sober friend takes it's toll on a person, especially when your entire group is filled with professional dumbasses, it's like they've been trained in all the ways to be annoying while drunk. Having to deal with all of them until 3 in the morning mixed with the lack of sleep and water Y/N is currently experiencing make the perfect recipe for a vile headache.

George had no problem with sleep last night, fortunate for him. He got the most shitfaced, and coincidentally, was the most irritating amongst the hoard of drunks, with his need to cling to Y/N like a lost puppy, stroking their hair, placing sloppy wet kisses all over their face when all Y/N wanted was to get them all safely in the car. At least as a drunk, George was clingy and lovey rather than mean and aggressive.

They had no idea what happened to the rest of the boys once they all retired for the night, as once Y/N succeeded in getting everyone safely in the bus, they allowed them all to fuck off for the night, with the exception of George who would not settle down enough to go to bed unless Y/N committed to a 5 minute cuddle in his bunk. Soon enough, a 5 minute cuddle turned to 10 minutes, which turned to an hour, and Y/N fell asleep before they could continue counting the hours G’s arm wrapped tightly over them prevented their escape.

So here they are, same position they fell asleep in with George's arm securing them to the bunk like they might slip away at any moment. They keep their gaze on him, his hair sticking flat to his forehead from hours of being pressed into a pillow. They consider reaching out, tenderly brushing some away from his sleeping face but decide not to, not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber.

With a sigh, they pull out their phone, and like they suspected, it's 7:18 am, February 14. February 14... shit. It's Valentine's day. It's Valentine's day and George probably has something super fucking romantic planned as a surprise and Y/N has nothing. They gently peel his arm off of their middle and slip out of the bunk.

With the stress of the situation, they decide to trifle through G's jacket pockets, hoping to find his pack of cigs Y/N has come to know that he always keeps with him. When they're met with an empty container, a plan devises in their head.

Cigarette's can be a great gift, right? They're quick to find their shoes and lace them up, putting on George's jacket as an afterthought to conceal them from the frigid San Francisco morning air, seeing as it's still winter.

Before their hand touches the door, however, a voice speaks up from a figure on the couch that somehow Y/N hadn't noticed in their hurry.

"Where are you off to?" It's Matty, of course it is, because Y/N can't do anything without the mild tease and torment from that man.

"Drugstore."

"I'll tag along."

"I didn't ask you to."

"You don't have to. 'S the beauty of friendship, isn't it?"

A tired scowl appears on their face but Matty is already behind them, so fortunately, he misses it.

In their stress, Y/N kept quiet during the walk, resulting in a lack of snide commentary from Matty which they were secretly very grateful for, though they’d never admit it out loud.

They walk side by side into the automatic sliding doors of the drugstore and the immediate warmth of the interior of the building grasps their features. They make a beeline for the candy aisle, and an intrigued Matty follows closely behind.

“Oh fuck, it’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?” Matty comments like it was a necessary observation, not a glaringly obvious and rather stupid and oblivious thing to say at such a moment. Maybe Y/N needed breakfast, hanger is not a good look on them.

They hum in response. “He’s been talking about his plans for months. He even- actually, I shouldn’t be telling you. Surprise, or something like that. But it’s romantic as shit.” Matty paces the aisle, not paying attention to the icky stress sweat appearing on the other person occupying the aisle. Does this guy not know how to shut his mouth?

“He’ll like this, right?” Their hand grabs a heart shaped box of chocolates, assorted flavors. Matty gives them a look. “What? What’s with that face?”

“What face? This is just my face, can’t blame me for having a face.”

“No, you were making a face at me. What is it? Will he not like it?”

Matty’s eyebrows raise childishly and Y/N wishes they could slap them clean off, watch them inch away like lowly caterpillars on the ground below.

“It’s just, I don’t know, he’s more of a fruity candy kind of guy. Doesn’t fancy chocolate all that much,” they could see in his eyes he strained so hard to refrain from making a pun about his own song, but by some power above, he didn’t.

“Okay, okay. I’ll do… some Red Vines. He likes those, right?” Grabbing a pack of red candy, it is waved in front of Matty’s face.

“Do you even need to ask me that?”

“I don’t even know why he loves these things so much. This is like old person candy. He’s only twenty…” They trail off.

“Three?”

“Right, twenty-three. I knew that.” Y/N makes their exit from the candy aisle, grabbing a few cans of tea from the drink section.

“You should get a snack for yourself. You seem a little out of it this morning.”

“Only because you and your bitchass friends got drunk as skunks last night and I had to round you all up,” they huff and turn to face him, meeting his now rolling eyes.

“Fine. I’ll pay for your snack. Will that fix this?”

“Certainly won’t hurt!” They smile and pace to the front of the store, hoping they don’t forget the cigarettes, the sole purpose they went to the store for. That would be just like them, forgetting like that.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

The click of an opening tour bus door alerts George, who was scrolling through his phone on the couch. He woke up easily, however, wondering where his lover had gone so early. He sleeps like the dead, so whenever they slip out during the rare nights they get to sleep in the same bed, he hardly is disturbed by it in his peaceful slumber.

Sometimes he swears they always leave his bed before he wakes up to avoid his compressing cuddles in the morning. He can’t help it, he’s a sucker for being all over the ones he loves.

Matty is the first to walk in, and George almost goes back to looking at his phone in sheer disappointment until Y/N walks in. Suddenly, a lazy smile makes itself known on his sleepy face and his mood is elevated.

“Hey darling, where were you?” He queries as Matty busies himself with a laptop at the back of the bus.

His voice is extra deep in the morning, it’s always deep, but something about hearing it in the morning is something so personal and special to them. It’s like a promise to more days like this, spent in the knowledge of their lover, the knowledge that George exists and is in love with them.

“Stopped by the store for some things,” they plop down onto the cushion next to the one George is taking residency on, placing the plastic bag between them to dig through it.

“Is that my jacket?”

“You want it back?”

He grins, trying not to show how lovestruck he is and seriously failing. “No, no, keep it, if you’re cold. Looks better on you.”

“Oh, you old charmer,” they giggle, chucking the Red Vines into his lap, followed by the cigarettes, then gently placing down the can of tea at his side as to not injure him with the 24 ounces.

“All of this for me?” George places a dramatic hand over his heart while his lover digs into the snack Matty bought for them. “Aren’t I the luckiest girl in the world.”

The two spend a few moments in a famished haze, pile-driving the snacks in their grasps but once he slows down with his red candy, he sneaks a few looks at the person beside them.

The person who, even lost in thought, looked more beautiful than ever, who George had the privilege of sleeping next to when he sweet talked them enough, who George prayed he could sleep next to every night for the rest of his life, if they’d have him.

He tosses the empty bag separating him and his love onto the ground and scoots closer to them. Ignoring the odd stare he is given at the invasion of personal space, he wraps his arms around them and pushes them back into a laying position, propped up by the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing?” They ask with a small smile.

Voice muffled, face buried in their chest, “loving you.”

“You could have just said thank you for the candy. Don’t have to do all this to show your appreciation.”

“Maybe I just enjoying doing this, being close to you. Ever thought about that, numbskull?”

Their hand brushes up and down his built back, slow and gentle, like coaxing a baby to sleep and not a full grown man. “Watch your language, mister.”

He picks his head up to face them, chin resting on their sternum. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

Trying to make light of the furious blush creeping onto their cheeks, “do you ever keep count of all the names you call me in a day. Like affectionate or not. So far you’ve got ‘darling’ and ‘numbskull’, ‘my love.’”

“Well, somebody’s gotta be the sweet one in this relationship. Most of the time, you act like you don’t even like me.”

“I do not.”

“He’s got a point!” A mumbly British voice from the back of the bus.

“Butt out!” Y/N scolds, turning attention back to the man who’s made his place on top of them, settling enough to rest his full body weight. This is the typical type of cuddle to be expected from George. There’s not many other ways he knows to cuddle.

“I do too like you, what are you talking about?”

“It’s okay, I get it, you show your love and affection in your own special way, and I love that about you, but I’ve gotta say, sometimes people who don’t know us think we’re just friends.”

“Look, it’s not like I can be all over you all the time, it’s impractical.”

“I know, love, that’s why I use pet names, it’s the easiest way I know to show my love for you. Especially since you won’t let me buy you things even though I constantly offer.”

“Ok, I’ll let you buy me things.”

“That’s not the point, baby. The point is, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Their words seem to turn him to absolute mush. It’s something Y/N has always had a hard time speaking out loud to him, every time the three words make it out, they’re incredibly special to George.

“Thanks. For saying that, I mean. Thank you. I mean it.”

“Anytime.”

“Can I add to the relationship contract that you have to say that to me at least once a day? Can I do that?” George seems half joking but they don’t care.

“If that’s what you want, babe.”

“Good. Cuz I do want that. And I’m taking you out to dinner tonight. We leave at 6. Dress nice. And I’m paying, because you said I could.”

They nod their head at his demands, waiting for him to drop his head back onto their chest before circling both arms fully around his back, giving him a tight squeeze before holding him gently.

[feekins]

ok so I was sick but now I'm not so much, so ONWARD! here are my thoughts and things and whatever translation weirdness I find as I re-read ch 3 of Trigun Maximum vol 4!

(NOTE: I'm reading the Dark Horse [physical] and the Overhaul [online] translations side-by-side)

(Dark Horse on top, Overhaul on bottom)

this bit's always confused me. I used to think that Meryl was referring to getting Vash and Wolfwood hospitalized (no thanks to Dark Horse's random vague-ness)? but now I think maybe she's referring to things in general what with being back on Vash's trail.

yeah. once again, I prefer the Overhaul on this one - "you're small and powerless" VS "you're small and that could put you in danger".

also I remember someone commenting on Dad Stryfe's headphones and speculating that he was into radio broadcast? I think? anyway, looking at how flashback Meryl's dressed, I wonder if maybe her path to Bernardelli started with helping her dad? idk. just a thought. how sweet would that be, though? 😊

I think...here, we see Vash trying to distance himself? OR he's reacting the way Wolfwood would - bc based on the next page, that's the way Wolfwood seems to think about Milly and Meryl (or at least, that's what he says).

...idk why I only just registered this as Vash seeing right through Wolfwood again. also, Wolfwood rly does read like a cynical teenager in trimax imo - cynical with a soft core, and he's always struggling to reconcile those two sides of himself...

Dark Horse confusing. Overhaul not.

unrelated: I like the continuity of how like...Wolfwood keeps pressing Vash on these difficult conversations.

Dark Horse...weird and vague. Overhaul much more straightforward. what a weird way to translate it..."peaceful relations" VS "like-minded colleagues" 🤨

(Dark Horse on left, Overhaul on right)

the Overhaul makes it clear here - usefulness has nothing to do with it. to Knives, at the end of the day, the GHGs are just another swarm of pests in need of extermination.

also...Hoppered's motive being revealed as revenge comes so abruptly the way Dark Horse translates it, and then Midvalley's reaction to it is so vague. in the Overhaul, we can see how Midvalley's zeroed in on Hoppered's intent to get revenge on Vash, and he's like "y'know what deep shit that'll put you in, right?"

it's weird how Dark Horse clings to that "usefulness" bit. their translation spins it to be about "bleh, I don't want to keep working for Knives" rather than "working for Knives is just a means to an end for me".

it makes me.......rly feel for both Hoppered and Midvalley here. 😞

oh, and after Midvalley and Hoppered's conversation, we have an interesting translation discrepancy in Zazie's first lines! Dark Horse has "Such weakness. I don't understand it. In short...use 'it' to get to his comrades..." while the Overhaul has "Hmm...a weakness. I do not understand it. But it will work. I shall use it to get this woman." I used to think, with Dark Horse's translation, Zazie was talking about Hoppered and Midvalley? But perhaps the 'weakness' they're referring back to is what they overheard Vash and Wolfwood talking about...? idk, the 'it's are confusing me 😵‍💫

aaaaaand one more interesting translation discrepancy.

and I am SO MAD AT MYSELF for not remembering Zazie KIDNAPPING MERYL in the manga - now I see the tristamp parallel with Zazie taking Meryl and Roberto to July to lure Vash out!

[amisoma]

a great detective never dies(bsd ranpoe ff from my notes app that i wrote at 3am)

*Cling cling cling cling* it was raining the rain's droplets making a clinging noise as it hit my window still Yokohama's pink skyline that filled me with joy hope and looked childlike seemed to have crumbled like a teenager who just saw the world for the first I hadn't seen rain like this since I was a child in america trying to convince himself he hadn't killed a man * the rain was not the type lovers embraced after being seperated by war. not the type where children went out and made paper boats to celebrate peace just nothing I've never been one of religion but if I were would I say the heavens weeped with me that day but now the heaven weeps for the enemy it can't be any other way right? Why would they take anyone who who hasn't done anything wrong or despicable

*Cling cling cling cling * it was a odd cling not of my typewriter but of my partner in crime my partner in crime of hope her usual bossy attitude and pitter patter didn't suit it .

I wonder for how long we looked into the rain not a single word said but a thousand exchanged it was over the war was over they had defeated the enemy they are coming home yet i couldn't understand why did she look so gloom

If ranpo we're here he would call me stupid for being afraid of asking her that and ask her that to her face for me . If ranpo were here we'd have a laugh over it then I'll make some sweets if ranpo was here id scold him for being so rash if ranpo was here that's when it hit me

We had won They had won But no one could come home anymore

I looked at lucy as fast as I could my vision becoming hazy it all made sense now why she wasn't laughing or being bossy my partner in hope she was lost to the rain her eyes as soaked as the winners estate and as the losers mother "lucy"

She looked over at me her green eyes they reminded me of him so much "no no u can't be serious " her eyes reminded me so much of the day he showed up on my doorstep a wanted man for he known as a terrorist now

I still remember the relief I felt that day it felt like I was in paradise i remember clinching his blood torn coat his soaking hair Till I could memorise each strand "i rly thought u were done for" "Are u stupid Ed do u think a great detective such as me dies this easy"

-

i clenched her hand as we entered the building where once my beloved stood remebaring its scent as times we're good when it smelled of sweet vanilla and air freshner

The agency building was nothing like the sweet vanilla it smelled of before or the air freshner just bitter dreams and hopes i wanted to comfort the girl holding my hand so badly

What could i tell her? All I could do was breath i wanted to tell her how it would get better or how they were in peace now but it hurt every time i thought of him it felt as if heaven had struck me by itself killing my soul over and over again but never letting it die was what i did wrong? If I were in the battlefield would he have lived or would we both perish

I wish I could say ranpo wouldn't want me to be like or he would be with me but to be Frank how can I sum a person as extraordinary as him in just a few words . i squeezed Lucy's hand "A great detective never dies" "Why are u telling me this" " How can a great detective die when ur thinking of one with ur every breath " I looked at lucy knowing who she was thinking of the kind white haired boy from the agency ranpo often joked abt him being his horse "a great detective never die's" Even for a little I think I saw a glimpse of her past self before the war the hopeful lad who once dreamed of her beloved whom she could never tell the right words to

i inhaled as i looked at the bare office repeating the words i knew weren't true "a great detective never dies"

[ganondoodle]

so for all that dont know the newest news about twitter, mr.manbaby mc dumbo is shutting down any "microservice" of twitter that he deems irrelevant with his oh so superior way of thinking which has lead to ..

.. 2FA not working properly anymore, meaning alot of people are getting locked out of their accounts completely.