#chai is lobe

[maintohthakgayibhaishaab]

bhai ive never been more embarrassed in my life 💀💀

[natkhat-sa-shyam]

healing hooling me ku6 nahi rkha, chai piyo sab thik ho jayega🥳

[thewinter-eden]

Blink Twice if You Need Help

images are mine (except middle CB pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 3 of the skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Seo Changbin x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: stalker!Changbin has been following you for weeks. He’s looking for his next target, and he’s obsessed with you. While he’s watching you, however, he learns the secret you keep—you’re being routinely robbed by your addict brother. After watching this cycle of abuse end with you crying almost every night, Changbin takes pity.

warnings: Familial abuse, drug addict brother, satirical but definitive death of character, physical abuse, stalking, nonconsensual photographs, creepiness, fear, breakup, blood and injury, strangulation (brief, no death), automotive-related death, please for the love of god don’t take this seriously, Changbin’s kinda icky (I’m sorry babes I swear I love you), chai lattes

word count: 6k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info PART 2 INFO

You’re radiant.

You always are, have been since the moment you first stepped foot in his café.

But today, you’re radiant in blue. It’s a sweater he’s seen a dozen times, but now as you tiptoe up to the counter, pushing your sleeves up to your elbows and baring half a dozen clinking bracelets of various metals and stones, he thinks he’s never seen anything so perfect.

He responds to your chirped good morning and waits for the next notes of your voice to tell him what you’re ordering, and he can’t help but trace the lines of your face with his eyes as you glance over the menu.

Startled out of his admiring trance by your sharp gaze pinning him with a smile, he forces his stare to stay above your lips as you give a half laugh and request, “A chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves, please.”

You never try anything new.

Today it’s yellow.

The bell above the door rings an announcement of your arrival, and there you are; wearing a warm yellow dress with thick black tights that keep the chill off, your cheeks flushed from the cold.

He can’t say your smile lights up a room, because from his perspective, your smile blacks the room out. Everyone else disappears. No one and nothing exists except for you, right before his eyes, your windswept hair a halo around your brow.

He hands off the drink he’s just finished making for another regular customer, sending them out the door with a kind smile, and then turns to you just as your fingertips touch down on his counter top.

It’s almost procedural, the way he anticipates each move you make just before you make it. You slide your fingertips towards the register before laying your palms flat, cocking your hip against the counter as though you have to lean closer to see the menu.

Your eyes trace the words and pictures for a few long seconds, gifting him with the view of your throat curving up towards your jaw, and the contemplative bow of your lips. And then, finally, you’ll drop your eyes to his, smile like you’ve never been more excited to order a cup of coffee, and then you place your order.

Always a chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves.

“Good morning,” He greets you when you appear in a pink jumpsuit. His eyes follow the sounds of your bracelets jingling, up to the clink of the two necklaces you always wear, up to the cheeky swish of the earrings that ornate all three of your lobe piercings.

Your eyes fall from the menu to his face like they’ve been physically pushed, surprised by his friendly voice, and he doesn’t think he imagines the sudden rush of heat that crawls up your throat with a wash of color. “Oh.”

He’s caught you off-guard; he knows, because you’ve never given him that upward tilt of your voice before.

“Good morning!” You sing back, that smile pulling your lips back.

“Chai latte with oatmilk?” He recalls, already lifting a cup and holding his marker at the ready.

“With extra cloves.” You confirm, slightly in awe that he’s remembered.

Of course he remembers.

He flashes you a wink just before he turns around to start on your drink, and sees you in his peripheral moving towards the pickup counter. You’re smiling down at the rings that clutter your fingers, and he can’t help the swarm in his chest that floods in as a result of the fact that this time, you’re the one flustered over him.

The day that you arrive at the café to find that your latte is already made and ready for you, you’re missing one of your earrings. He catches your eye as you enter, his gaze flickering over that blue sweater again as you approach the register.

Before you can order, he’s pushing your full, steaming cup towards you and the screen is already flashing your total. His eyes flick from yours to the empty piercing on your left lobe. “Good morning,” He says.

You’re staring down at the cup with a sort of delighted, half-confusion, before your gaze snaps back up to him. “Is this—”

“Chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves.” He confirms with a grin. Then he falters, tilting his head at you. “Unless you want something different today?”

Your hands bring the cup closer to you, possessively. “No, this is perfect.” You argue, and then you’re digging for your billfold. “Thank you…” You drift off, eyebrows lifting hopefully as you hint around for his name.

“Changbin.” A pink tint covers his cheeks as his grin softens. “And you?”

You give him your name, and your money, and leave the café with butterflies in your stomach.

When he finds the missing earring a few feet from the entrance to his café, accidentally dropped on the sidewalk, he scoops it up and tucks it in his pocket with care.

On an unseasonably warm day, you appear at his register in a shorter black skirt and a slouchy gray sweater that hangs off all the protruding points of your body with teasing subtlety. He passes you your drink, with the addition of a new flavor of muffin that his baker is trying out in the form of mini pastries, and notices that your skirt is well above your knees, fluttering around your mid-thigh in a way that has his gut clenching.

The tights don’t distract at all from the musculature of your legs and the curve of your ass that suddenly seems dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“Good morning, Changbin,” You greet cheerfully, and the sound of his name in your mouth brings his attention back to your bright features.

He makes sure no one follows you home. Your sweater is too flirty with your curves, your skirt too short, for him to rely on the strength and decency of lesser men.

You make it home, safe and sound, to your modest and tasteful townhouse. You live on the ground floor, surrounded by windows and bathed in soft fluorescent lighting.

You listen to pop music in the mornings, and early 2000s grunge rock in the afternoons. He takes note of the artists you listen to the most, and, soon enough, when you walk into the café in the mornings, there’s familiar music playing through the speakers.

He lives for the way it makes you smile when you notice.

As you get ready every morning, you put the same TV show on in the background, so he finds the station. It takes a few days for you to realize that he has it on one of the TVs mounted in the corners of his café, but when you do, you start lingering for a few extra moments every day to catch a couple seconds with fondness on your face.

He’s never watched an episode of the show in his life, but if it gets him two more sentences out of you every morning, consider him obsessed. He watches it all the time.

All of your snacks and meals are high protein and low sugar, because you go to the gym for two hours every other day and your one self indulgent treat is the sugary chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves that he makes for you.

This fact warms him from the inside out, because he resonates with this lifestyle choice. Your gym is near his, and it’s almost as large, almost as nice. You’re a hard worker, your beautiful curves the product of self discipline and dedication. He stops offering you his baker’s pastries and starts giving you the rich and smoky cheesy egg bites instead, and starts to realize that the guilty smile you once accepted your freebies with is now replaced by weightless excitement.

There’s not a single inch of you that needs less sugar, of course. He’d give you every muffin in his shop if he thought that was what you wanted. But he understands the yen for the feeling of progress in the gym, and the burden of cheating yourself through bad nutrition, so if he can help you feel like you’re getting stronger, he will. Hell, he’d start serving steak in his café if he thought you had an iron deficiency.

“Changbin!” You keen one morning as you flounce to the register in a flattering red blouse that he watched you pick out this morning. You lean against the counter with a great heave, and past the rush of excitement he feels for the very deliberate interaction you’re giving him, he notices a trace of greenish blue wrapping around your throat.

Then you turn your head and the light shifts the shadows on your skin, and he’s not sure.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” He greets casually, despite the pink tinge to his cheeks. “What’s going on?”

You scrub your nails over your scalp with exasperation and then set your enormous pleading eyes on him. “Binnie…”

His gut swirls.

That’s a new nickname.

It’s in his head now, locked into his brain, the way your tongue forms the sweet sound of his name like that.

“Changbin,” you say again. “Changbinnie.”

Despite the absolute earthquake happening in his chest, he gives you the flattest expression of suspicion that he can manage, and hopes his skin tone isn’t currently tomato. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.” It’s a lie.

A bald faced lie. He loves the sound of this. He wants you to keep repeating his name like that until it’s all he can hear.

Your bottom lip juts out in a pout, and he has to physically turn away to clean the milk steamer before he loses control in his place of business.

“Tell me you haven’t made my latte yet?” You plead, leaning further on the counter.

When he glances over his shoulder, he sees the way you’ve inadvertently showcased your breasts for him, and he spins around again, pinching his eyes shut. As though his apartment walls aren’t disappearing more and more by the day behind pictures of you.

As though he doesn’t know every single color in your underwear drawer.

“No, not yet. Why?” Another lie. The latte is sitting by his left hand, still steaming, just waiting for your manicured hands and perfectly lined lips.

“My blender broke this morning.” You whine, and dig in your purse for something. “I know you have smoothies on your menu, but I was wondering if you would add my protein powder to one? Is that legal, to take an ingredient from a customer?” You flap an admittedly suspicious looking ziplock bag at him. “I have a protein smoothie every morning for breakfast, and at this point it’s more of a crutch than my latte and I’ll just spiral for the rest of the day if I don’t start it with a strawberry shake, so please, Binnie—”

He cuts you off with one hand covering the one of yours that holds the ziplock, and the other pushing your latte towards you. “I have protein powder. You want vanilla or strawberry for your strawberry smoothie?”

Your mouth makes a beautiful “O” shape as your free hand cups the hot latte. “I thought you hadn’t made it?”

Changbin tosses a wink over his shoulder, already grabbing the vanilla protein powder. He already knows it’ll be vanilla. He already knows you want the whey powder and not the plant-based. He already knew about the blender.

Your morning may have started with an unexpected hiccup, but his is going exactly according to plan.

“Pull up a chair and drink while I make your smoothie. The latte is on the house.”

You immediately protest, but he won’t hear of it. He basks in your company as you sip down every bit of your comfort beverage, and then offers idle chatter between the scenes of your TV show as you spend ten minutes more than usual in his café, drinking your protein smoothie.

He got a full thirty minutes with you this morning, and it’s worth every second.

The morning that you wake up with another man steals the smile from his face. You must have brought him home with you last night, invited him to stay over, and are now foregoing your sacred protein smoothie in your new blender for a more traditional breakfast of eggs and toast, for the sake of your half-naked guest.

Changbin’s heels haven’t cooled even by the time you make it into the café for your latte, and he’s especially somber when you order an additional drink, a reeking pumpkin cappuccino that he’s forgotten to erase from the menu from a month ago.

He notices the extra warmth in your smile; your excitement is diminished, replaced with a satisfied contentment that makes his shoulders tense.

You’re falling in love with this new man, blushing down at your phone and walking home with your chin high, waking up in the mornings with a smile on your lips.

Changbin serves you every morning, your rich and creamy oatmilk chai latte with extra cloves, and the nauseating pumpkin cappuccino for your bedfellow. He doesn’t know why this man doesn’t come to the coffee shop with you, if he sends money or if he makes you pay for both of your drinks, if he even likes the autumn atrocity that Changbin makes with shaking hands every day.

The fire in his throat only heats when your drink order abruptly changes to two hot green teas. He watches you turn down his readily prepared chai latte with an awkward darting of your eyes, lifting your hand in refusal as though if he doesn’t take it away, you’ll reach out and snatch it from him.

“I’m actually getting some green teas this morning,” You say, and he knows he isn’t imagining the disappointed chuckle in your tone.

He takes your discarded usual away without hesitation, suddenly concerned that you may have developed an allergy or an intolerance for your favorite drink, but you just swipe a palm over your forehead and lean your elbow on the counter, settling into the comfort of your casual friendship with the attentive barista. “My boyfriend and I have decided to start eating healthier,”

Changbin can’t bring himself to believe you. You eat vegetables and chicken or fish for lunch, you snack on cheese and meat, you bake with honey instead of sugar, and he can’t remember the last time he’s seen you without a water bottle in hand, in various stages of emptiness.

“We’re opting away from the lattes and cappuccinos for a bit.” You give another awkward laugh that turns his stomach, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

“You like the green tea?” He’s surprised. You have tea at home, of course, but it’s all black teas—rich and spicy and meant to be topped with a swirl of milk and brown sugar.

The skin around your mouth tightens as you fight a shiver. “Oh, no, but my boyfriend does.”

“I can make you something different,” He offers. “I have a bunch of teas. I just got in a new chai spice blend—” He breaks off when you raise your hand again, a physical barrier between your weakening determination and his tempting offer.

“That’s okay, Binnie. I think it tastes like soap and grass, but I promised him I’d give it a chance. Just the two green teas, please.” And you give him a sweet smile, just to make sure he knows that you’re not frustrated with him so much as your new dietary commitments.

You know he’s about to argue again, so you toss an appreciative glance around his coffee bar. “You live around here? I can’t imagine working every day like you do.”

“The apartment upstairs is mine,” He explains. “This café is my life; it’s not really a job anymore.”

“Wow.” Your soft voice is awash with jealousy. “That sounds like a dream.”

He hums softly at you, pulling the tea from his shelf. “It only tastes like soap and grass if you brew it too hot,” He says, and flicks on the kettle, indicating the thermometer on the lid. “If it tastes fishy, or sudsy, it’s either steeped too long or brewed too hot. Brew it low, steep it briefly, add a drop of honey, I swear it tastes like summer. If you don’t like it, I’ll give it to you for free.”

You protest, rolling your eyes nervously at his kindness, insisting that you’re not going to like it but you’re going to pay anyway. But when he hands you the drink—yours with honey and the boyfriend’s without—he urges you to take a delicate sip and watches your anticipating frown fade into pleasant surprise.

“Oh, it’s not bad.” You say, and beam at him.

He beams right back. “You want more honey?”

You shake your head. “No, this is fine. I’m still not sold on the flavor, but it’s not rancid like it’s always been from other shops. Thank you, Changbin!” And then you skip right out of his shop, on your way to deliver the drinks you don’t even like to your boyfriend.

But then, the morning that you arrive at his register with dark circles under your eyes and a downward slant to your lips doesn’t bring him the sense of relief that he thought it would. Your voice is low and unengaging as you order the teas, your smile unconvincing as you pay and leave without so much as a glance toward the TV.

Your boyfriend starts waking up earlier than you, leaving you to eat breakfast by yourself. It allows you to go back to your usual protein smoothies for breakfast, which seems to grant you at least a little bit of peace.

It seems that you’re still meeting him for lunch, because you still come in and order the two teas that you hate so much, but you hardly even talk to Changbin anymore. He watches your posture droop when you walk home, watches the way your muscles bunch and tense when your boyfriend looms behind you to greet you, hears the rising voices float across the street as you argue for the hundredth time.

Changbin hates the man who’s taken you from lovesick and floating on air to burdened and fearful. He hates the snippets of your life that he gets to see, the early morning sighs of disappointment as you realize you’re waking up alone again, the drag of your feet as you prepare to head in and grab the teas, your discouraged slump after lunch when your boyfriend comes home from work.

So when the morning comes that you arrive with your makeup sloppily done, tear tracks splitting the seamless layer of your foundation, and you order a single chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves, Changbin smiles sympathetically at you and gives it to you for free.

He had watched you receive the breakup text over breakfast, his heart keening as you cried into your smoothie, his gut clenching as you sniffled your way through applying and reapplying your mascara, smiling proudly as you stared at yourself in your bedroom mirror and set your shoulders, determined to go about your day as you intended.

“His loss, gorgeous.” He says, unprompted, as your purple-tipped fingers curl around your cup of comfort.

Your eyes snap up to him, wide with surprise, and for a second his smile stalls. But then he reaches across the counter and presses a napkin into your hand, gesturing to where your eyeliner has fallen from your lower lid, and says, “I assume the tears, the single drink, and the lack of rancid green tea means your boyfriend isn’t in the picture anymore.”

Suspicion falls from your shoulders and you dab at your eyes brokenly. “Your tea was never rancid, Changbin.”

He reaches across the counter in a move that he, himself, wasn’t anticipating, and covers your hand with his own. “I know you’re having a bad day, gorgeous, but you can always talk to me.”

That brings a smile to your face. “Do you give all your customers such five star service?”

“Only the crying ones,” He winks, and then gives your hand a squeeze once he notices that you haven’t tried to pull it away.

You gather yourself with a bit of his offered strength, pushing your shoulders back and swallowing the next threatening round of tears, and flash him a smile that holds a trace of your old vibrancy.

He smiles proudly back at you. “Can I assume you’ll be taking your usual from now on?”

You nod, pulling a long drink from the beverage you’ve missed for so long, and give him the most beautiful sigh of contentment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Binnie.”

“See you soon, gorgeous.”

It turns out, that ominous bruise on your throat from a couple months ago wasn’t a trick of the light.

You bounce into the café wearing a shade of green that makes your eyes pop, earrings jingling as you make your way to the register. When you take a habitual gander at the menu, as though you’ll ever order anything but your usual ever again, he sees it again.

Not greenish blue, like it was that time, but a bright red and darkening purple, freshly settling into the flesh of your smooth throat.

You’re chattering about something, his peripheral catching flashes of your teeth as you talk, and his ears catch the clatter of your bracelets when you gesture with a hand to punctuate whatever point you’re making, but Changbin’s eyes are on the faint handprint beneath your jaw.

A paper to-go cup, mercifully empty, crushes in his angry fist, and your words stop abruptly.

“Binnie?”

His mouth stutters open, mind searching for words to demand an explanation for the signs of violence against you, stare still stuck on the marring of your perfect skin and supple flesh, when a delicate blanket of warmth covers his shaking hand. His mouth clicks shut, gaze dropping to where your hand is wrapped around his.

“Binnie. It’s fine.” How you knew what is speeding through his mind escapes him, because all he can see is another handprint, this one wrapped around your wrist, barely concealed by the stacks of mismatched bracelets.

When he finally catches your eyes, you look embarrassed and ashamed, but not unwell. Your smile is weaker this time, and his fingers pinch around the crumpled cup when he notices your lips trembling. “Binnie, I swear it’s fine.”

He takes your hand on his as permission to reach for you, and he tosses the cup in the trash and leans against the counter, his hand sliding up your forearm to grip your elbow. “Is someone hurting you?” His eyes narrow and his head cocks to peer under your jaw at the large, obviously male handprint.

Now that he’s close enough, he sees redness on your scalp, thin spots in your hair, tiny specks of crusted blood. Someone’s been yanking you around by the hair, and he’s almost sure it’s not a consensual act.

His mind is made up then, certain that something bad is happening in your house after he’s gone, determined that he needs to stick around longer and make sure you’re okay. Some time between his afternoon watch and his early morning check in, you’re being harmed by someone much larger than you.

When he looks away from the bruise at last, feeling your perfectly painted nails dig into the muscle of his forearm, he finds tears in your eyes.

“I’m okay, Binnie, I swear.” You whisper, and your free hand reaches for the latte that he tried to give you right before he noticed your damaged throat.

He loosens his grasp on you—it wasn’t tight to begin with, but he doesn’t want you feeling trapped. Instead of helping you reach the latte, he brings his hand up and lifts some of the loose strands of your hair away from your throat.

Changbin hears your breath catch, sees the pulse racing beneath your ear, so he pulls back. He drops his palms on the counter and watches you with a frown, observing as you desperately try to collect yourself from the intimate touches he’s surprised you with.

He can’t do anything about it until he knows what’s going on, so he just matches your weak smile and clears his throat. “Don’t go letting someone hurt my best customer, alright? No, put that away, it’s on me today.” He makes a waving motion at you as you go for your billfold, and the tension escapes from your chest.

Your voice sings with light laughter. “How can I be your best customer if you keep giving me things for free?”

Changbin just nods towards your latte. “Get out of here, gorgeous. Enjoy your drink.”

“I always do, Binnie.”

It’s your brother.

There’s a definite family resemblance in the slope of your noses and the bends of your knuckles, but the similarities stop there.

It’s after dinner that he arrives—two, three times a week—bursting into your house with no regard for your privacy or boundaries, rifling through the wallet that you keep on the mail table. His voice booms through the house, calling for you, so loudly it travels across the street.

He’s the reason you start coming in with darker bruises, poorly concealed by makeup on your throat, on your wrists, under your eyes. He’s the reason more of your hair tangles in your shower drain in clumps bunched together by clotted blood. He’s the reason for the spattering of bruises across the smooth skin of your chest, the reason you’ve stopped wearing bras with underwire that press into your damaged ribs for the sake of soft and gentle sports bras.

Your brother is the reason you sit on your bed at night, pressing an ice pack to your naked thigh where a faint boot print has stiffened the flesh. He’s the reason two of your fingers are wrapped and splinted, and the reason that Changbin has watched you sell your family piano and your late father’s expensive stereo set.

All for drug money.

Threats and violence and theft from your own brother so he can meet with his dealer outside the fourth street McDonalds.

Your smiles grow heavier and Changbin’s heart pounds harder as he watches you tremble in front of him, holding your latte with both hands. The expensive stones from your jewelry collection are gone, as is the vintage watch that your grandmother gave you.

It’s getting worse.

Your brother comes by more often, he gets more desperate. He’s no longer just looking for drug money, now he’s in debt, and you don’t have the means to help him pay it back. Not that he can be convinced of that.

You stop coming to the café. Changbin knows why, he knows you don’t have the money to spend on a drink every morning—even though most times he gives it to you for free. You won’t take advantage of him, even though he tells you you don’t have to pay.

Instead, he sees you tenderly rise from bed, walking on stiff and pained legs to your closet, dragging loose clothes over your mottled skin. You haven’t stocked up on your protein powder; it’s an expensive supplement, and your bank account is drained from your brother’s latest visit. Your breakfast is the last of your frozen strawberries, blended with yogurt and honey, and you sag over your straw like you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

He sees you bend over your work with your water bottle next to you, not having the energy to take your usual gym break. Instead, you nap.

You’re drained of money, drained of strength, drained of hope.

He sees you lock your door, and then sweep up the splintered wood after your brother breaks it down. He sees you block the door with a bookshelf, and then collect all of your books off the floor after your brother shoves it aside anyway. You try everything, from nailing the door shut to setting a burglar alarm, but you just end up having to clean up shattered windows or stand silently while your brother explains to the police what a silly misunderstanding it all is.

And then one night, the one night that Changbin has to stay late to update his inventory after his weekly supply shipment at the café, there’s a knock on his apartment door. He’s fresh out of the shower, upper half bare and a towel draped over his shoulders, one end of it clutched in his hand and scrubbing the dampness from his hair, when he swings the door open and there you are.

You’re a tortured vision in white; white t-shirt and white sweatpants, your face streaked with tears and your left eye swollen from a fresh beating, and you throw yourself into his arms like you’ve known him forever.

He’s stunned, panicking, desperate to get you out of his apartment, but he’s a weak, weak man because you’re wrapped so tightly around him, your hands pressed into his back, your chest flush against his, your damp face curled into his neck, and his brain just blanks out.

The towel drops from his grasp and his arms find their way around you. Whether it’s his heart or yours that’s pounding like a jackhammer between you is unknowable, especially when he breathes in the scent of you. He knows the smell, knows it like his own home, but it’s different when it’s directly from you.

You’re weeping into his ear, trembling beneath his hands, and he’s forgotten everything he needs to hide.

“Slow down, gorgeous, I’m here.”

You crumble in his arms, sagging against his chest.

“I’m here.” His hands smooth delicately over your hair, mindful of the abrasions that you’ve suffered, and his strong arms keep you on your feet.

“I need help, Binnie.” You weep, pulling back ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter open and it’s like the entire ocean is inside them. “Please, Changbin, I—”

And then it’s too late.

Your gaze drifts over his shoulder, and there they are.

The walls are covered. Printouts, pictures, drawings. You sipping your smoothie in your kitchen, you working at your computer in your home office, you tugging a shirt over your head, the lace of his favorite red bra peeking out between the hem of the shirt and the skin of your stomach, you doing your hair in your bedroom mirror.

You.

You.

You.

It’s too late. He can’t get a word out before you bolt.

Gone in a second, terrified by the man you had run to for safety, disappearing into the night.

You pull all your curtains closed after that. The lights in your house are always off, a for sale sign goes up in your yard. You exist in the darkness, hiding in the shadows, suffering alone.

His heart breaks as he feels you slip further and further through his fingers.

You’re still hurting, still being hunted. Your brother keeps coming, keeps attacking you, keeps stealing from you. He’ll take the money from your house, too, Changbin already knows it.

It makes him angry.

He’s so angry, he hasn’t touched his camera in weeks. He’s so angry, he hasn’t swiped an article of clothing to hold onto the scent of you in ages. He’s so angry that your own brother has treated you so badly, that now all he does is watch.

Because you won’t be getting any more bruises.

You are so scared and tired of your brother’s treatment of you that you ran to Changbin’s apartment for the first time in your life, just to seek protection. You trusted him. You wanted his help. You knew he would protect you.

A million pictures of you aren’t worth that gift.

So he watches.

And waits.

And then, one night, just as the sun has disappeared beneath the neighborhood houses behind yours, your brother pulls up in the driveway. He stumbles out of his car, jerking with nerves, and pounds your door down, disappearing inside your home.

Each crash fills Changbin with rage. Each shatter, each groan of damaged belongings sets his blood on fire, until he’s across the street and on your porch. He finds the key where you’ve left it in the hanging pot and pushes the door open, skillfully dodging the creaky floor panels in the entryway.

The desperate grate of your brother’s voice worms into his ears like a venom, and the ensuing whimpers and cries from you settle in his stomach with painful weight. He rounds the corner and finds you there, your back pressed to the wall, your brother’s hands around your throat.

Your face is red from strangulation, your eyes wide and reddened from burst blood vessels, trails of crimson streaming from your scalp. Your brother is screaming about the money you owe him, money that he’s expected to find by some miracle after having already pilfered your paycheck earlier this week.

And then, just as your eyes begin to roll, you catch sight of Changbin. For a second, you freeze, and it’s fear in your expression as you behold the barista that you thought you knew, creeping through the shadows of your dark living room.

But then your brother’s other hand smacks against the split skin of your cheek, and your expression changes.

Changbin sees it.

You’re staring at him in relief, your mouth forming desperate pleas for help, tears spilling down your face in a sudden moment of vulnerability.

His chest clenches.

At your next whimper, he has your brother by the collar, hurling him backwards. At the thump of your feet hitting the floor, the rest of your body falling in a heap, his hands are fisted in your brother’s shirt, shoving him out of the house.

Your brother is spluttering and shouting in confusion and protest, while you’re coughing and gagging behind them.

There’s only a few seconds where your brother attempts to fight back, his wired muscles throwing stabbing punches into the dark at Changbin’s face, but he doesn’t land a single one. Instead, a deliberate blow strikes his jaw, knocking him back. Another hammers against his eye, and he sprawls in the grass, gasping for air.

You’re on your feet then, following them out of the house, standing on your porch as you watch through stinging eyes.

While your brother is stunned, Changbin turns and sees you, and he freezes. He knows he’s scared you. He knows he’s crossed every line of acceptable social interaction, and that you caught him red handed. He says your name, a whisper into the night, and your gaze shifts to him.

You’re thinking, panicking, mind no doubt tracing back through the evidence of his intrusion plastered all over his walls, the sanctity of your home utterly violated by his undetected presence.

While you try to make up your mind about it, Changbin can’t breathe.

But at this point, your brother can. “What the hell?” He gasps, breath clouding above his face. “This is none of your business, asshole.” He’s up on one knee then, cupping his face and getting his wits back.

Changbin whips around to face him, his fists once more clenched in fury. “Touch her again and I swear to god—”

“Binnie.”

Your voice is a song in his ears and his head snaps back around to you. Your hands wrap around his still tight fist, your eyes peering up at him in earnest. You’re leaning into his arm, begging for safety, and he sees the blood that spills over your lips.

You’re hurt, you need medical attention, and you’d rather be with him than with your brother.

“I’m gonna take you to the hospital, okay?” Changbin whispers, and when you nod weakly, he brings his hand to your temple. You’re hot, feverish, under his touch. “Will you let me do that, gorgeous?”

“You’re not taking her anywhere.” The voice is an inch away, and your hands grip Changbin’s bicep.

He reacts on impulse, shoving your brother away from himself, away from you, and can only watch as the larger man stumbles out onto the street, illuminated by the yellowish glow of headlights. And then it’s like that scene from Mall Cop—one minute he’s there, the next he’s been plowed out of sight like a sliding transition in a Star Wars movie.

You don’t scream.

You don’t cry.

Both of you gasping in shock at the completely unintentional turn of events, Changbin feels you press yourself into his side, your weak and bleeding arms winding around his back. He can’t believe you’re there, trusting him, clinging to him, but he holds you like you’ll disappear if he lets go.

He needs to take you to the hospital, let them figure out why you’re coughing up blood, check your bones for new breaks, but right now your face is nestled against his throat and he can’t move.

“You’re still such a creep.” Your broken voice whimpers, but your hand tightens in his shirt.

He could cry with relief. You’re not letting go. “I know,”

He gets a grumble in response. “You stole my favorite sweater.”

Not even the flashing red and blue lights speeding around the corner can take this moment from him. “I’m sorry, gorgeous. I’ll give it back.”

“Promise me you’ll burn the pictures.”

“All except the ones that incriminate your brother.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

Comment a request to be tagged for Hyunjin's next week!

Let me know what you thought of this one! Thank you all for reading!

PART 2 INFO

tag list:

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella @babyphotos0325 @softfor-svtptg @furfoxsake22 @tubelightanyaa @kayleefriedchicken @rockstarkkami @sp1derst0rrr @allenajade-ite @naraportokala @its-stayville-forever

[zombearzilla]

Hi friend 🩶

4. What piercings do you want?

24. What are three places you want to travel?

34. What’s your coffee order?

37. Have any tattoos? 🤭

Hiiiii 💜

4. Funnily enough I just got a little cute helix piercing which I just posted on snap and I’ll post here too! Next one is gonna be a normal lobe piercing. Then I think I’ll be done.

24. I’d love to see more of America, like the west coast and Pacific Northwest. New Zealand and Aus for sure. Going to Sweden next weekend woo!!

34. If I’m put on the spot then I’ll go for a cappuccino or a flat white. Sometimes I like to get a chai latte or have a little experiment with things.

37. I have so many tattoos now 😂 next one will be this Wendigo on my leg, but I’m gonna try and hold off on it until January!

[stinklebug]

decided to Have Some Fun in a fic i'm working on, and thought i'd share the hcs i'm including in it, plus some others that won't be in it but are similar so it makes sense to just lump them all together

chai has piercings. two on his lobes (he mostly wears stud earrings because they get in the way less). his right ear's helix is also pierced, and he has a nose piercing on the left side

he has a tattoo of the metallica-stylized 響 on the inside of his wrist, alongside a tattoo of glass pyramids on his upper back

there's a scar on his cheek, a few on his arm and hand, and some near his core

peppermint has her left eyebrow pierced. she also has her other ear pierced, but doesn't really wear earrings on that side because they get caught in her hair

she has a tattoo of a trail of blue paw prints on the right side of her upper back

she has some scars on her hands

macaron has his right ear pierced

he has some scars on his hands

korsica has all the piercings of her punk outfit (upper lobe, and two helix piercings on her left ear) plus the ones from her fashionista outfit (lobe on both sides), she just doesn't wear earrings much

[mera-mann-kehne-laga]

Ok dare anon, here you go:

So as instructed by anon ji, i have to describe mere some mutuals in some few sentences.

@hell-lit011019 (Lilu di) -meri pyaaaari beautiful inside-out most favourite didu who's THE BEST and the most caring, loving and cute person I know. Writes bht badhiya poems. Very self-depricating and suicidal most of the time but won't let you do anything bad to yourself and would always always chear you up. Loves spamming me and dropping cute pics in inbox when I'm feeling low. Didu u have no idea how grateful I am to you. And I always will be. *teary eyed* Lobe you

@vellibandi (Sharmaa jiiii) -the srk to my mahima ji, and the flynn to my Rapunzel <3 bheri smart and cute and cool and caring didi who writes bheeeeri well and is the only valid person on this earth lol.

@terimummykejai (yashika di Paagal aurat) -my bandi (yeah we're dating) and my ex-srk. Bht dhokebaaz ldki. Simp. Obsessed with novels and kdrama and kpop and has THE BEST Instagram stories. DROP DEAD GORGEOUS. Inki kaatilana Aankhein toh haaaaayee.

@mainapnifavouritehoon (Humari Geet madam): the sweetest didi who's veeery good at hyping you up about the tiniest stuff haha. My ultimate source of validation. Has EXCELLENT taste in music and is so very similar to mine! Desperately looking for her Aditya, writes beautiful kavitaayein and is VEEEERRYY GORGEOUS BEAUTIFUL SUNDAR ADBHUT.

@ekcupchaide (momo ji)- humari personal lawyer ji and the chai supplier of desiblr. Is herself baawli but calls me baawli aurat. Satkeli. Adorable and phunny.

@merapehlapyaarwaapasaagaya - kind of mom figure hehe. Gives the best advice. Pretty, sweeeeeeet, caring and loving. Idk what I'd have done if she hadn't been there lol. Di me loves you <<<33333

@midnight-rainnnn (meri chotu si cute si satkeli Disha) -bhai aapki to kya hi taareef krein. Mere pass Shabd hi nhi Hain tere bare me kuch bolne ke liye T-T (kuch bolne laayak ho tab na) Bht pyaari behna who's obsessed with killing and choosing violence over peace. Verrryy creative and paints and draws bht pyaaaara. Has excellent taste in music (loves hozier and tay tay bhai ofc). One of the very first ppls I got to know here.

@thewinchestergirl1208 (Apni Madhu Di) -the first desi person I saw here and my very first human follower lol. Caring and loving and pyaari <3

@remen-nyoodles (raman Bhai) -suuuuuper cool bhaiyya ji, nerd, clicks beautiful moon pics, loves space stuff and cursed stuff. Is very done with Shanti Di's dad jokes lol

@the-eternal-seeker (Avi bhaai)- caring cool cute sweet and funny bhai who never leaves a chance to pull your leg and rn is desperately waiting for me to send him a song cover haha. Thank you for being there. Love you <<3

@just-another-godless-god (ahana baccha) -our cute little baby who's bherii smoll. Super sweet and loving.

@mindless-musing (humari Sonu di) -bohooot caring and sweet didi who'll always cheer you up and check up in you if you're doing well or not and will make sure if you're alright. I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT WHEN SHE SPAMS ME!

@indulging-in-love-or-rage (Meri jaan Krish aka my nincompoop) -loves me, poetry, dark academia, sunsets, Greek mythology, timmy and the Moon and a lot many things. Is one of the sweetest and most adorable people I know. Very cute hehe. I love his voice. Beautiful, Loving, caring, passionate, VERY TALENTED. Will do anything to make sure he's loved ones are alright.

Bus Yaar anon ji Mai thak gya aur nhi Hoga mere se T-T

[sparklecinnamonbunny]

Character Bio: Sunday Evening Offdensen

AKA: Sunday Mourning (stage name), Suns, the Cursed Seer/the Siren (depending on which side of the prophecy you ask)

Birthday: November 1, 19XX (same age as Nathan & Skwisgaar)

Zodiac Sun: Scorpio Moon: Virgo Venus: Libra Ascendant: Libra

Meaning of the Name: The day of the sun, after the sun’s set! Her mother was delirious through large portions of labor and delivery. When the nurse asked for a name, Nathalie thought she’d asked the time and said, “It’s Sunday Evening,” with such force and confidence that the nurse wrote it down. Guthrie, absent at the birth, left it after the fact as a reminder to his wife to be strong.

Birthplace: New Orleans, Louisiana

Gender: Cis woman

Speaking Voice: Emma Stone

Singing Voice: Floor Jansen

Appearance

Height: 5’4” flat, anywhere from 5’7” to 5’9” in heels.

Eyes: Hazel green, skewing golden. Eye shape is round/protruding, with plenty of real estate for her usual heavy goth makeup looks. Post-DSR, gold.

Lips: Full, with pronounced cupid’s bow on the upper lip.

Hair: Straight with very slight wave (2A). Sunday usually wears her hair long and layered with side swept bangs. She dyes her hair frequently. 

At first appearance (shortly after S2E10 “Dethgov”) her hair is bleached blonde, but quickly dyed cherry red thereafter. After she starts dating Nathan Explosion (S2E14 “Dethsources”), she dyes it black, leaving her bangs red (picture “slut strands”). In Season 3, she’s spotted with a shoulder length lob, dyed back to her natural medium brown. In Season 4, she has extensions to her waist and her hair colored in a black-to-burgundy ombré. In her Smugly Dismissed days, her hair is box-dyed black.

Body type: Hourglass, with wide shoulders and hips and a small waist. She tends to carry weight in her thighs and butt. She has a large bust thanks to breast implants.

Piercings: Has a habit of getting a new tattoo and/or piercing everywhere she travels. Nose ring, left nostril. Multiple lobe piercings, helix, and anti-helix holes on both ears. Industrial, left ear. Orbital, right ear. Belly button pierced.

Tattoos:  “Owl” on right bicep that looks suspiciously like a falcon. Baphomet kitten on right shoulder. Moon cycles on right wrist. Wolf howling at moon on left wrist. Left arm sleeve of the High Priestess with detailed background. Lower sternum/underboob tattoo of a bat hanging upside down with wings spread. Down right hip and thigh, a zombie mermaid. On left hip, an alligator, raised on its hind legs, surrounded by music notes and sparkles. Mark of Hecate behind left knee.

Extra details: Dimples, the left stronger than the right; large Roman nose (frequently commented on by Skwisgaar). Prominent cheekbones. A strong, square jawline not unlike her brother’s.

Preferences / Background

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual/Pansexual (would likely self-identify as bi, given the time mtl is set in, but her attraction to individuals isn’t dependent on gender)

Romantic Orientation: Panromantic

Favorite Meal: Eggs Sardou OR fresh beignets and black coffee.

Favorite Drink: Alcoholic, a Boulevardier. Non-alcoholic, a dirty chai latte.

Favorite Snack: Hummus and anything she can dip in it.

Language Fluencies: English, French, Creole, Swedish (slightly rusty), Swiss German (very rusty)

Education: Master of Music (Juilliard), Master of Business Administration (Columbia), Bachelor of Fine Arts (Loyola). Privately educated as a child, she achieved her BFA as a young teen. After Loyola, Sunday spent a brief time in a Swiss boarding school before running away to form Smugly Dismissed. When she ditched the band, she spent some time “hiding in plain sight” by simultaneously attending Juilliard and Columbia.

Occupations: Metal vocalist, Smugly Dismissed; Freelance songwriter/lyricist (post-Smugly Dismissed to present); session artist, strings (post-Smugly Dismissed - Season 4); Fetish model (post-SD - Season 1); Television/Media personality (shortly before Season 1 - Season 4); President, Metal Alliance (Season 3-4); interim Dethklok manager (briefly, post Season 2- pre Season 3); Solo recording artist, Crystal Mountain Records (Season 3 to present).

Music Credits: Three albums with Smugly Dismissed as vocalist, lyricist, songwriting, and some bass guitar; songwriting credits on two Ava Sunbeam albums (listed only as SEO); at least two albums as a solo artist. One album playing violin in the Juilliard String Quartet.

On television: Worked primarily with MBC as a judge/presenter for their reality singing competition American Voice Showdown, and made occasional guest appearances after her initial tenure. Recurring guest role on MBC’s Paw and Order during Season 1. Host of Swinging Steel Awards during Season 2. Guest appearance on the William Murderface and Dick Knubbler Christmas Special during Season 3. Host/presenter for MTV’s Sunday Mourning’s Anti-Valentine’s Ball during Season 3.

Hobbies: Witchcraft! While Sunday’s familiar with protective charms and spell work, her main focus is on divination. She owns four tarot decks, each with their own style and purpose, and performs readings for friends and family. She believes in osteomancy (throwing bones) and often uses it to address lingering questions. She’s determined to learn every stringed instrument. She’s competent with the violin, viola, cello, bass, guitar, and piano. She’s currently learning the harp. Sunday’s quick to remind people that she was “the worst guitar player in Smugly Dismissed”, which the author notes is a lot like being the last pick in the NFL draft. Occasionally, Sunday visits exclusive BDSM clubs (she’s a VIP at Club Hedonism, but doesn’t partake in the same munches that Murderface does). Barring that, she’ll indulge in her fetishes with trusted dominants. As an experienced rope bunny, she’s participated in bondage shoots and demonstrations for her clubs. Her ‘guilty pleasure’ is reading trashy romance novels, the more erotic the better. She’s embarrassed by the books, despite participating in BDSM acts that would make the protagonists blush, and conceals them inside volumes of French philosophy in her home.

What About That Curse? As a child, Sunday often visited her maternal family’s occult shop. On a visit at age five, Sunday ran inside while playing and tripped against a display table. A strange antique vial fell cracked open in sync with Sunday’s head on the floor, splattering her with the fluid inside. Two days of seizures and visions later, the child got a terrible feeling when someone was about to die. It took until adulthood for her to realize that she attracted the damaged like flies to honey. Even later than that, she realizes her singing charms people.

[pacifymebby]

💛🦉🥤🌙

Hi lovely anon thank u for the ask <3

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

Quite a few (and I high-key want more!!) I have my lobes done twice on each ear, my helix, tragus and conch, my nipple and my nose. I really want to get a double nostril on the other side of my nose now so I can wear two hoops through one side and little crescent moon on the other.

I kinda want to get something like this done? But I'm not bold or brave enough I don't think :'(

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

Definitely a night owl, but like so much a night owl that I also love to be awake but tucked up in bed drinking coffee at 5am. What I am essentially is someone who likes to be in bed, so my favourite time is when it's okay to be in bed.

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

Chai latte every time <3

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

Too long way too long. (since I was about 13, it's done irreparable damage to my brain)

Pls ask me questions to entertain me whilst I'm at work!!!!

[butchkaramazov]

hiiiii here to tell you that i love you and your blog so much and i will do anything for you <33

ye lo ek cup chai

I LOBE CHAI SHDHDHSHSHSH THEMKUUUU

this and guddu's chai. best i've ever tasted.

[voidsteffy]

Hi didi

How's you? How's studies? How's everything?

I lobe you

Mwah bye

Hi behena!

Me's good, studies are also fine. Hectic but it is all for a goal

Everything is a bit jumbled right now but i am trying to set everything into a comfortable pattern

I lobe lobe you meri pyaari shinchannnn

How's you? Kuch chahiye, chai, coffee, jal, bal?

[steviebbboi]

tag game <3

was so graciously tagged by my lovelies @eloquentlytired and @laurfilijames

last song you listened to: supernatural - live version by ariana grande (shes INSANE 🎵)

silver or gold jewellery? hmmm, i definitely wear and attracted to gold but im trying to wear more silver lately!

do you have any tattoos? yauuuuurs, 19 and counting baby~~~

piercings? gots double piercings on my ear lobes, a cartilage piercing and a nose piercing!

currently reading or favourite book? the current book im reading is iron flame by rebecca yarros but im also simultaneously reading Quarterlife: the Search for Self in Early Adulthood because ofc im going through a quarterlife crisis everyday 🥹

a hobby you would like to try? man what do i not wanna try should be the question (ADHD brain FTW). recently, i've gotten into crocheting (esp. after getting tips from lovely @darsynia <3)

coffee or tea? hit me with both, but specifically coffee during an 8 am shift. any other day, it'll be a matcha or chai (trying to cut back on coffee 😭 i admit this reluctantly)

favourite video game? i dont game too much, but when i do its either animal crossing or hello kitty island adventures lmfaooo

star sign? scorpio sun, gemini moon, libra rising (hence, why i have a quarter life crisis everyday)

who is your hear me out? man i feel like maybe o'malley from the aristocats? LMFAOOO I FEEL LIKE I HAVE MANY BUT IM BLANKING. or Inuyasha lmfao

NPT: @stargazingfangirl18 @veltana @buckys-wintersoldier @ronearoundlightly @bigtreefest

@ro-is-struggling @innorogers

[chaisarinawat]

Jaroenchai "Chai" Sarinawat

Ｓｋｅｌｅｔｏｎ

>> FULL NAME: Jaroenchai "Chai" Sarinawat >> MEANING: Prosperity; Happiness; Success >> NICKNAME: Chai - he prefers to go by this name >> DATE OF BIRTH: 31st of January, 2001 >> AGE: 23 y/o >> SIGN: Aquarius♒ >> ORIENTATION: Homosexual >> RELIGION: Buddhist, occasionally practising >> GENDER: Cisgender male >> UNIVERSE: 404 Error

Ａｐｐｅａｒａｎｃｅ

>> FACE CLAIM: Pon Thanapon >> HEIGHT: 170cm // 5'7 // Smol >> WEIGHT: 63kg // 140 pounds // On the thinner side >> HAIR: Chocolate brown // usually in a side part // prefers a wet or gelled look // fluffy if not styled // long front fringe, reaches the top of his eyes // curls up at the nape of his neck // long enough to pull >> EYES: Chocolate brown // wide // crinkle cutely when smiling // bags underneath >> CLOTHING: Baggy shirts // oversized // khaki pants // baggy shorts // sneakers // jewellery usually cheap or thrifted >> OTHER: Full cheeks // full lips // often wears tinted and fruit-flavoured chapstick // uses light concealer to hide his imperfections // perfect teeth // no tattoos // piercings in lobes // has fake piercings for other parts of his ear

Ｐｅｒｓｏｎａｌｉｔｙ

>> STRENGTHS: Hard-working // Organised // Dedicated // Passionate // Fiercely loyal // Willing to work on self-improvement // Encouraging // Supportive // Can keep a secret // Learns quickly >> WEAKNESSES: Self-confidence // Physical strength // Easily manipulated // Pushover // Insecure // Emotional // Nervous // Hindered by moments of paranoia // Hindered by moments of fear // Picks at his nails // Clumsy asf // Absent-minded // Daydreamer >> LIKES: Thrifting // Cosmetics // Hanging out with friends // Keeping busy // Being outside // Boba tea // Coffee // Cute items // Cooking // Going out (when he can afford it) // Drawing // Working // His boss, lol >> DISLIKES: Not having enough money // His parents // His ex // Feeling overwhelmed // Doing the wrong thing // Not being good enough // People who've broken his trust // Being out at night alone // Loud noises // Being taken advantage of

Ｂａｃｋｇｒｏｕｎｄ

>> HOMETOWN: Currently living in Bangkok // Hometown TBA >> RESIDENCE: Rental apartment in Din Daeng, Bangkok >> NATIONALITY: Thai >> ETHNICITY: Asian (Full Thai) >> FINANCIAL STATUS: Grew up incredibly poor // currently struggling to get by >> OCCUPATION: (Current) Personal assistant to Danuphon Sangchareon // Dragon Entertainment // (Before) Bartending at a night club + other odd jobs >> EDUCATION: Finished High School // Did not go to university >> SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Thai // Basic English (Good enough for his job)

Ｒｅｌａｔｉｏｎｓｈｉｐｓ

>> FAMILY TREE:

Parents: Pawin (father, deceased) // Yindee (mother, absent) Siblings: None Others: Paternal grandfather (alive) // Paternal grandmother (alive) // Maternal grandfather (deceased) // Maternal grandmother (deceased) // Other aunties // Other uncles

>> PETS: None // He can't afford to take care of any // Still tries to feed stray animals, at the expense of his own meals

>> ROMANCES:

Korn (the toxic-ex, M) // Chai was 19, Korn was 24

Chai was working behind a bar when he met Korn, who flirted with him and asked for his number. It was romantic and Chai felt like he could trust Korn, telling him about his life and how happy he was to have found someone to love - unfortunately for Chai, Korn did not possess the ability to love; only to hurt. A relationship of manipulation, gaslighting, and abuse lasted for a year and a half, until Chai broke it off with the help from his friends. Chai is still healing from that time in his life.

>> PLATONIC:

Rachi (friend, M)

Fern (co-worker turned friend, F)

Jack (co-worker turned friend, M)

>> BACKSTORY:

When a marriage is on the rocks, the solution is to communicate. Perhaps some marriage counselling, talking to professionals, trying to mend in a way that's healthy. If it doesn't work out then, that's fine too - people break apart. Not everyone gets their happy ending, even if they think they will. If working hard to save a marriage doesn't work, then maybe it's best to leave on amicable terms.

The solution is not, however, to have a baby.

Chai was brought into this world under these circumstances. His parents, Pawin and Yindee, met and married young, despite advice from their own families to wait until they were older. They rushed their relationship, severing ties with most of their loved ones for the sake of their own love, living in their own fairytale world where only they existed. That was until reality rudely came knocking on their door; expenses were piling up, and neither of them were able to sustain a well-paying job in the long term. Saving was hard, but spending was easy. Not only that but they had married young, having barely known each other before tying the knot, drunk on love and blind to the problems it might cause in the future. Like, how was Yindee supposed to know that Pawin would rather spend his money on drugs instead of food for their growling stomachs? How was Pawin supposed to be okay with Yindee flirting with her boyfriends when she was upset with him? Their relationship was toxic with shouting matches and tears almost every night. Whatever family they had that had not cut them out advised them to seek help or get divorced; but they didn't listen.

And Chai suffered.

The home he grew up in was not one of love. His parents' marriage wasn't saved by his birth - they would rather call it ruined. After about a year, the problems that they had put on hold returned full force. There was even less money now with an extra mouth to feed and extra body to clothe. Eventually, it did become too much and Chai's parents did divorce. He was 11 at the time.

They blamed him, for it. They blamed him for everything. Dad's drug problem? That was because Chai was too whiny and dad had to resort to other ways to relax. Mum flirting with another man? That's because she felt unsexy with her husband, because giving birth to Chai changed her body. No money? Ugh, Chai's school expenses, of course, they'd never have to pay for that if he wasn't born!

Neither one of his parents wanted to look after him - in fact, his father couldn't. Pawin died from a drug overdose, shortly after separating from his wife, and Yindee decided to start fresh in another country, finding another man to leech off of and convincing him to move with her to America. Pawin was thus raised by various relatives - though, they didn't really want him either. He was too much of a reminder of his deadbeat parents.

When Chai turned 18, he decided it was best to live alone, not wanting to continue being a burden on those who were forced to take him in. Because he couldn't afford university, he spent all his time working and earning money to support himself.

Ｅｘｔｒａｓ >> FEARS: TBA >> PHOBIAS: N/A >> HANDICAPS: N/A >> MENTAL DISORDERS: Anxiety (possibly undiagnosed) // He hides it well, but sometimes, when life gets too overwhelming, he finds himself unable to cope. >> PHYSICAL DISEASES: N/A >> PREDISPOSITIONS: N/A

[hatchet-handle]

WELL! Squirrelshine as a cat isn’t fully developed, but her human counterpart, my oc Estelle, is

Estelle runs an antique shop a block or two down from CCRP and Beanies, with an apartment above where she lives with her half brother, Callum, and their 5 cats. She has a rather bloody family history because her family is cursed after her mother made a deal with Blinky.

Estelle tries to keep quiet but she’s also very much a people watcher. She knows everyone even if she doesn’t know their name because she loooves watching through the shop windows. She’s labelled Ted ‘Mr Chai Coffee’, Bill is ‘Red Lobster Hat’, Paul is ‘fun tie man’ (Paul’s only personality trait is weird ties trust)

Oh and she’s a lesbian and dating Zoey Chambers (would that translate to HatchClan and Honeysong? Idkkk <3333)

Squirrelshine/Honeysong cannon now hehe…

lobe her. she sounds so fun. love the blinky connection with her being a people-watcher too.

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Cry Me a River - Chapter 57 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

"Together forever... never apart. Maybe in distance but never in heart."

Forever, So They Hoped

"Stress?"

Hushed whispers sang within my haze-filled mind as I bordered between drifting and alertness.

My eyes remained shut, body still as I listened in on the conversation around me.

"He is only seventeen," a voice rose.

"Will he get any better?" another asked, a voice so smooth yet anxiety-ridden nonetheless.

The speaker's voice was closer than the other's, a mere few centimeters from me.

A pair of fingers brushed through my hair.

The movements were careful, as if afraid of breaking me.

"If you can keep his stress level down it would definitely help with his recovery. Maybe try to keep him away from the courtroom for a while. Keep him... here. In this room under gentle care and we will see how that goes," the first voice spoke, his voice getting closer than previously.

A light creek hummed beside me as an additional weight sat beside me.

The bed bent downwards and the fingers in my hair shifted, traveling down to my face to where they began drawing feathery circles against my one exposed cheek as the other laid face-deep in a pillow.

Unconsciously my face moved forward, nuzzling into the gentle hand.

My head brushed lightly against a chest and the fingers against my face stilled.

"We will speak again later," the first voice suddenly grew far again.

The voice was beginning to grow more apparent with my clearing mind, becoming more and more familiar with each vowel's utterance.

"Let me know immediately if you discover anything else," said the voice beside me.

A smile bloomed on my face as recognition hit me with my clearing mind.

Such a voice, I could never mistake as anyone else's.

One that was both deep and soothing simultaneously.

'Alastair.'

It seemed as if with my clearing mind so did the room as the sound of footsteps filled the room, filing of feet as the sound of a turning knob squeaked through the room.

It was then, as the door whined that my eyes unsealed themselves and in the moment of blinding light that I saw a head of golden curls disappear out the door.

'Michael?'

"Good morning."

Alastair's lips brushed against my ear, interrupting my moment of brief confusion.

"Good morning."

I turned to whisper against his lips, lightly brushing them like a butterfly wing against a soft flower bud.

And like that, the bud slowly opened, engulfing me in its sweet warmth.

His fingers combed through my hair, lifting me to deepen our kiss.

A light moan escaped my throat as his desire consumed me.

"What a beautiful sound," Alastair growled against my lips as his fingers shifted from a gentle combing to a passionate raking.

A tingle ran down my spine, resting just above my hardening member.

I attempted to lift my legs, to wrap around his waist only to find myself frozen.

It was a strange feeling, I could feel the muscles contracting in my thighs.

Yet, they refused to move.

"A-Alastair," I breathed as his teeth locked around my lobe and nibbled lightly.

He hummed a response as his lips descended down my neck.

My fingers entwined with the baby hair by the tip of his neck.

"Alastair," I tried again.

"Yes?"

His lips rested on my shoulder.

"It's spreading, the numbing feeling. It's spreading."

"Do not fret, love," he lifted himself on his hands to peer down at me.

"Michael told me this would happen. You merely need to relax. That is all," he whispered out the last words as he brushed his lips against mine.

Though as he spoke such calming words I couldn't help but feel a pit of unease form in my stomach.

Perhaps it was a remnant of last night's nausea.

'I just need to settle my stomach.'

"Could we get some Chai from the kitchen?"

A small smile pulled to his lips and he nodded, hoisting himself from the bed.

I raised my arms up, waiting to be lifted into his arms.

Yet, instead, I received a sorry-full gaze.

"Michael recommended that you do not leave the room."

"Why?"

'For what purpose?'

"To help with your stress."

My brows knitted together.

What stress?

"Alastair, I am not..."

"I will get you that tea," he interrupted as he made his exit, closing the door behind him with a soft thump.

My hands fell to my side as I watched the door with an exasperated sigh.

I sat on our bed, legs taking the form of cooked pasta by my side as what felt like hard stone, lodged itself in my throat.

A knock resounded at the door just as I settled myself beneath the sheets.

With a quirked brow, I pushed the sheets down to see the door.

"Who is it?"

"Your servant Hannah with breakfast, Your Majesty," a feminine voice rang from behind the door.

'Breakfast? Did she not see Alastair going to the kitchen?'

They tended to dismiss the morning maid lest Alastair and I slept in.

They knew that Alastair appreciated our privacy during the morning time.

After all, it was our only real time together before he had to leave for private meetings.

She was undoubtedly new to her job.

'Good thing Alastair isn't here. He surely would have fired her.I'll merely call her in and inform her of our ways.'

"You may enter."

The knob turned as the door creaked open.

The first thing I saw was a small tray, followed by the face of a petite blond.

My brows pulled quizzically as the face registered in my mind.

It was the same maid from yesterday who had brought breakfast to our room.

"Hannah?" I hoped I had said the correct name.

She nodded, bowing her head slightly.

"I'm not sure if you are aware of how our morning regiments work," I said carefully. "The mornings in which Alastair and I don't sleep in, maids are called off duty for our room."

Her eyes widened as she grew suddenly panicked.

"Oh," she gasped. "I am so sorry, Your Majesty. I had no idea."

"Are you a new hire, Hannah?"

She nodded with a hint of flurry.

"You are quite lucky that my mate was not here, Hannah," I said softly, hoping not to frighten her too much.

Her eyes grew down cast.

A sudden guilt filled my chest.

'Poor thing.'

"Do not worry too much about it," her eyes lifted.

"Just be a bit more careful in the future, alright?"

She nodded, eyes growing vaguely more bright.

"You are dismissed."

She bowed her head.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

I merely nodded as she sent me one last nerve-filled look and exited the room, tray in hand.

It only took a few minutes for the door to open again, except this time by my handsome mate with a kettle and cup in hand.

He placed them on the night table and poured me a cup.

Steam sizzled from the ceramic cup, wafting past my nose with a bitter-sweet aroma.

He helped me sit up against my pillow and carefully handed me the cup, as to not spill it onto our sheets.

I took the teacup into my hands and lifted it to my lips, a hummed moan escaping my throat as the hot liquid ran down my throat and to my stirring stomach.

I peeked up at him as I drank.

He was silent, eyes lost on the sheet as his mouth formed a line across his face.

Finally, I laid the tea down onto the night table and scooted closer to him so I could take his face into my palms.

I brushed a single, black strand behind his ear and watched as his eyes settled onto mine.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly.

His hands reached up to cup mine.

He was silent, lost in his own thoughts it would seem as his eyes searched mine.

Finally, a gust of air escaped his throat and his mouth opened,

"Nothing you should worry about, love. Merely my own fears."

'Fears?'

"What kind of fears?"

"Of not having you by my side forever," his voice came out chipped and eyes twinkled with such fear.

My heart tightened and for a second I couldn't breathe.

"I can't promise to live forever," I breathed out.

"But I can promise to try my damn-est."

A light laugh breezed past my cheek as he nuzzled his nose against mine.

"I do not think I have ever heard you curse before, love."

A chuckle escaped my throat as I pulled a single hand from his face to lightly push him.

"And you?"

"Hmm?"

"Forever only works if we both promise to it," I poked his side.

He dropped his hands from mine to cup my face and pull me forward,

"I promise," he pressed a light kiss to my cheek.

"To try my damnedest to live forever by your side."

I lifted my pinky with a raised brow.

"This again?" he laughed.

"It doesn't count otherwise. Everyone knows that."

"Oh, really?" he smirked.

I huffed, waiting.

Finally, he entwined his pink with mine and sealed the deal.

"Now you are stuck with me," I chimed with raised hands.

"Oh, how unfortunate," he cooed before pressing me down onto the sheets and proceeding to thoroughly show me just how 'unfortunate' it truly was.

*

I awoke in a state of alarm.

A cold sweat washed over my body in a sea of ice and sudden nausea as my body shook and teeth chattered.

My arms wrapped around my waist, nails stabbing into the skin of my stomach.

Bile crawled up my throat, its nails clawing up from my stomach like a swarm of locus.

My head rang as I bent over the bed, nails digging into my skin as the nausea took form and spewed out my mouth.

My body convulsed, un-seeming sounds choking from my throat as I retched off the bed over and over again.

'It won't end.'

My body grew weak, fingers tingling against my stomach as the wave of nausea took everything I had.

Finally, it stopped.

After gagging nothing but air for a good few minutes it seemed to have gotten bored of my helpless form and left to seek another victim to torch.

There my body laid, half dangling from the bed yet without the energy or will to move.

A whimpered cry broke past my desiccated throat, my fingers clawed at my face as my head shook with a thunderous growl.

'What have you done?'

[khushiiiiii]

Hello friends, Chai peelo☕️

[actual-corpse]

My last two braincells arguing

Yes... I am on reddit... am actual cesspool compared to this hellsite... I used to be a titan on that site lol.