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1864reruns · 6 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤgratefulness (i'm sorry, can this be over now?)ㅤ౨ৎㅤ12.9k

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oneㅤ/ㅤtwo synopsis. luffy loves you— you know this with how abundantly clear love is in every ministration of his outstretched hand and a grin— yet your traitorous heart demands more, even though you're in no place to give him your loyalty. you know this so you do not demand his love nor to be saved, even when met with a relentlessly stretched hand.

warning(s). gn! reader, hanahaki disease, but some creatively liberated variation of it, angst, hurt/some comfort, slow burn, but does it really count if nothing happens?, unrequited love, pining and the works, background character death, blood, violent imagery, vague allusion to an unspecified mental disorder that involves eating habits (pls be careful!!!), luffy tries his best to be kind but it's cruel, reader spirals 🙏; minimal editing and proofreading (these are basically my thoughts raw and unadulterated)

from vyon. the card game they play is a vietnamese one also known as smth like thirteen in english and has too many rules to explain but it doesn't really matter :3 i was a beast at that game though i fear; this fanfic has been in my drafts for so long, it also grew into too big of a project than it was meant to be. i also had to split this up into two parts, it was getting too long, i'm sorry ＞︿＜

do not repost / copy / translate.

Once you know Monkey D. Luffy, you'll know his heart not a few minutes after. He's welded the unmoving, burning ingot to his bicep, always on display due to his amassing collection of armless vests; rubber skin melted around the golden gem, oozing past the lines of his beating heart to staple it there, an anomaly on the expanse of skin not otherwise susceptible to bullets or cannons. Your captain is a man that lives with his heart on his tongue, always ready to dictate the lay of your next move with an irregular beat that drums against the skinned men of war and an impulsivity that makes his crew scramble after him exasperatedly; oxygen taken from his cerebral arteries to his brain are stained in the grease and oil that stick to the meat he handles so carelessly. In the same endearing way, he's careless with his heart, allows for the small stuff to momentarily prick his heart, for judgement to cloud into anger before it picks up on the bitter taste of agony.

It's always easy to get a frown onto Luffy's face. Feign disinterest in his stories; make yourself too busy to help him look for strange insects; force him to shower, scold him after he does something he wasn't meant to; keep him away from something he seems interested in; starve him for more than five minutes— he makes it all exceptionally too easy. You're not audacious enough to claim to know Luffy any more than the Strawhats, especially not those that he had met in East Blue; you try not to let it bother you that they managed to meet a younger Luffy who had so many holes in his defence, whose smile threatened through skin more, who had yet to find scars in his palm from how hard he had to clench his fists.

To you, it seems unfair that Luffy had managed to uncover so many of your firsts. His unwavering presence by your side as you learnt how hard it was to live on sea, the intonations of your screaming when a marine canon was pointed at you, to live so freely away from the confines of restrictive justice, how it felt to have a hand in yours to promise forever and then some. Luffy has no preferential treatment when it comes to people he loves; he treats them all the same, no hierarchy could dream to disrupt that.

With the same sandals he uses to stomp on the faces of Marine's, he could demand food from Sanji, money from Nami, Zoro to play with him— instead, you watch him whine Sanji, food and dissolve into a puddle when his cook orders him to wait, he allows Nami's fists to fall onto his head when he makes any financially impulsive decision (or even thinks them), and he idles himself with drawing on Zoro's face with Usopp and Chopper, with the previous two of them taking the psychical brunt of their consequences. (Chopper is let off with a mere promise that he won't join in with their shenanigans again when it involves making Zoro into a fool and a growing bump underneath his hat.)

Luffy, from second to fourth gear, is tender aggression when it is love.

His form is bizarrely respectful when the door opens and light dawns upon your face; you see him through the gaps of Nami and Sanji's legs and towering forms over him, his hands on his thighs and feet tucked underneath his bottom. He slurs out an I'm sorry that lets you know that his face is definitely messed up and then follows up with an I was hungry though!

Then Nami messes him up some more for his shitty justification.

She leaves him— some caricature of her anger— on the floor with her hands on her hips and Sanji trailing after her with hearts in his eyes at her dominant display of power. As she passes Brook, he asks for the colour of her underwear and earns himself the same treatment. It's then that you laugh. Luffy snapped his head up, following after the trembling air of your laughter and then calls out your name, the syllables are all messy around his swollen cheeks and a missing tooth that will come back after a few minutes but you cannot rid yourself of the thought that it's sticky with love that you only remember hearing when you were just a babe, screaming and crying in the arms of a tired and ill mother in a hospital. You were introduced to a group of midwives with same love you hear now, their idle finger catching into both your small hands; Luffy's hand dances across the air, breaking apart your laugh with urgency and catching onto your wrist.

You're not sure if it's you who had been pulled to him or if he'd managed to catapult himself into you but you both end up a mess on the floor regardless. Limbs tangled around each other in a wave as you both fall to the deck, Luffy does not correct the length of his arm and takes to wrapping the limb around you like a vine snaked around the trunk of a tree. You don't know a start nor an end as Luffy nuzzles his beat–up face on your shoulder. "Hey captain," you raise your head to look down on him, trying to wrench a hand through the tight spirals he's coiled around you.

"I'm hungry," he whines in lieu of a response, "and I'm bored, Usopp kicked me out after I ate one of his ketchup stars." He doesn't relent with his hold on you, simply loosening the coil that you're trying to work your hand through before tightening again once your arm makes it past to trap it against your side. You don't question the fact that Usopp's ketchup stars may be laced with gunpowder or what the small dose of gunpowder may have done to Luffy's internal organs.

You guess even Usopp has his limits when it comes to his childish captain. "I can't do a lot about either of those things if you're keeping me hostage here." He looks up at you, his exaggeratedly large lips in a pout that matches the swelling of his cheeks and then says your name again, like you’ve done him wrong. It's a disordered collection of the letters again but you find you can't really do anything to fight against it. Instead, green tendrils sprout from your trapped arm, each vine wrapped in a light of leaves and strain against his extended limb before he gives in and, instead, laughs as he wraps his rubber arm around the spindly, twisted branches splitting open layers of skin on your bicep. His skin coloured against the green runner keeps the bine from wilting down to meet gravity.

You let Luffy do whatever he wants, with an expression that you're not sure you're too familiar with etched out on the lines of your face. Thinking back on it, you could've simply done as Nami had or Usopp, ignore or scold him enough into submission but his fingers catch one of the fronds and it curls between the meat of his fingertips, reaching out to tickle his palm and something soft blooms inside you. You know it must be you, not the work of your devil fruit, because as much as you've tried in your lacklustre pursuit of beauty, you've never been able to sprout any kind of flowers.

When Luffy finally lets you go, you find your way into the kitchen and give Sanji a smile. You apologise for interrupting him and tell him that you know that lunch had been served only an hour ago but, if he wasn't too busy, you were still a little peckish. Sanji shoots up immediately and asks you what you've got a taste for— you assure him any leftovers from lunch will do and he tells you, though this doesn't come as any surprise, that Luffy had worked his way through any grain of leftovers with a laugh. You laugh along with him and well, you seemed to be craving meat right now.

The plate he prepares seem to be more about quality rather than quantity, with sauce underneath the red meat drizzled across the white ceramic, a slab of meat already cut into bite sized pieces for you and a decorative herb stuck between the fatty slices but when the light oozes down into the stretch of meat, you don't think Luffy will complain too much.

You, of course, were right about that.

The shattering grin he greets you (the plate of meat, however small it seemed) with gives you the faint smell of sticky rain drenched in the light of the sun, and you almost give him your hand when he reaches out for the plate. Brook's guitar strums in the background and your heart shakes in time with his strings and Luffy's incessant chewing.

You've really no problems with Usopp asking you to help him with target practice, it's fairly common for you to help the crew with their unique fighting style— save Nami and Franky for fear of losing your life with their less than particular aimed area of damage— it's easy enough really. You don't even have to be mentally present for it; shaking through layers of flesh, vines grow across the deck of the Sunny and rise up straight to tower over Usopp as he fixes his goggles over his eyes. You keep a quarter of your mind instilled in every chloroplast that shivers across the skies so you can keep them moving but the other three quarters are focused on the card game you play with Robin, Chopper, and Franky.

You hear the snapping of elastic and your finger twitches against the back of playing cards as the particular vine shot to the left, glancing curiously at Chopper's hand across from you when he turned to Franky and accuses him of looking at his cards.

"It's not my fault!" Franky frowned, fixing his comedically small glasses to perch on his metal nose. "Your cards just happen to be in my view when I'm looking at the pile 'cause you're tiny!"

Chopper takes to this horribly (you reshape a vine that has fallen to one of Usopp's stones and keep it relentless across the wave of air) and he grows into the much less cute and broader, more human version of himself to hold his hand out of Franky's view. (Two vines snap together and they take the path to slice through air to where Usopp stands, you hear the cracking of wood as Usopp shouts at you, saying he only wanted to focus on offence. An apology is drawn out with the green arm in the air.)

"Ivy," your eyes flicker to Robin and she gestures to the pile of discarded where the two of spades had been placed on top. "It's your turn." You glance down at your hand, eyes flickering over the collection of 7's in your hand.

"Bomb." (You feel a vine break apart into pieces, think about the fact that it's lucky you've no nerves attached to the tendrils, and keep the one down to give Usopp a little win.) Franky curses your name as Robin chuckles.

Chopper glances at the four 7's with a sense of wonderment that you're sure is too dramatic for the moment. "No wonder I had no sevens!" You give him a sly grin and watch Robin pass her turn, ignoring Franky's levelled glare behind his glasses.

In the end, Robin wins anyways, ridding herself of her hand with her final card being the two of hearts. The loss is taken bitterly by both you and Franky though you think Franky definitely takes it worse than you do as when he stands to sulk away, cards fall out of his speedos, and they leave a trail after him. Robin, in all her morbidity, laughs behind a hand as you and Chopper drop your jaws in disgust.

Chopper collects the cards, hesitating with the ones that had been on Franky until Robin points out that you've all played many rounds and there's a chance that all of them had shared the same fate. (Another vine shutters down to the floor, broken apart and particles flown across the deck.) The cards slowly fall to the floor as Chopper cries out in disgust. Shaking your head with some colourful amusement, you use the two vines fallen to pick up the cards and start shuffling them.

Responding to Chopper's call, Luffy shoots his way from Sunny's figurehead. "What're you guys doin'?" He falls graciously to where Franky had previously been sitting; his eyes are ever so impatient to glance over the cards being shuffled. "Oh," he says with great interest, "are you guys playing 'go fish'?" He leaned towards you— the cards in your possession, actually— and blinks at the shuffling. "Lemme in!"

"We weren't playing 'go fish', Luffy." The little doctor has since calmed down, taking a seat between Luffy and Robin and shaking his head. "We were playing—" he turns his head up to Robin, to which she supplies 'bài tiến lên' with the intricate accents and all, "that!"

A flash of thinking places itself on Luffy's face, crossing his arm and tapping the side of his sandals on the deck, then it's gone. "Let's just play 'go fish' then."

Chopper whines, saying that 'go fish' is boring and that Luffy always snatches more than one card from other people's hands, which is cheating, and that he doesn't want to play.

Luffy turns to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed at the dip where his nose bridge starts and then straightened out towards the end. The two vines that had been expertly dodging all of Usopp's shots and taunting him by doing silly dances and twisting into words in the air both crumple down to the floor at the same time, they follow the curve of your spine as you double over, a breath stuttering in your throat. You hear Usopp call your name and the deck of cards slip out from the vines that had been shuffling this entire time, your hand wraps around your throat and you hack out a cough you've managed to choke on.

"Are you dying?" Chopper shoots up, frantic as you keep coughing and choking— both violent in temperament, and scampers around, shouting for a doctor.

Footsteps tap closer as a shadow forms over you, Usopp's hand patting your back ferociously comes after the sound of shoes stop.

The blur that came with tears invading your eyes gives you the confidence to look at Luffy again before you're calling Chopper to a stop. "I'm fine, just choked on air."

You don't mention how it felt like you were breathing through a cheesecloth, how your lungs feel so restricted with every inhale as you all compromise on 'chase the ace' and how easier it feels when Usopp pushes his way between you and Luffy, too intimidated to pick from Robin's hand; when you all finish up for dinner, Robin is looking at you in a way that makes you think she's caught onto how you've been struggling.

Dinner is a strange ordeal. It's characterised with its usual events: Luffy sneaking his hands into people's plates though his stands full, Usopp trying to hold his plate out of his way, Zoro tending to his glass bottle of beer, Sanji making some quip about Zoro's show of alcoholism, Nami getting increasingly annoyed by the noise around her, Brook's laughter, Zoro escalating the situation with Sanji, Chopper screaming when Luffy clears Usopp's plate and then goes for the doctor's, Robin watching the scene with the patience of a saint, Franky pretending he was better than the rest, Usopp exacting revenge on Luffy by swapping their plates. It all ends with Nami telling them all to shut up and Luffy taking one final chicken leg from Zoro's plate. You stare down at your plate and count the missing bits, Luffy hasn't really touched any of the potatoes or asparagus, so you finish them up.

Two chicken thighs sit in stark contrast to the plate, thinking about having them anywhere near your mouth makes you a little sick for some reason, the weight of them in your stomach, the taste of caramelised skins, crisped with wells of juice sat next to a tinge of burnt flesh; you push the plate over to Luffy and detest the way he can take the colour of well–done oranges between his teeth and not care about the juice dribbling down his chin.

Luffy says thanks with his mouth full of chicken; Nami glares at him and turns a more concerned face to you (that also makes you sick) and inquires about you not eating. You mumble out some excuse about not being hungry, not feeling well, having a little bit of a headache, feeling tired— something along those faux lines, you don't remember but you remember that you don't tell them the truth exactly. "Sorry Sanji," you fix into your shitty excuse after, running a hand through your hair, to make yourself feel better about the entire ordeal.

He offers to make you a more palatable porridge or soup instead.

You take a cigarette and a red apple, going to bed hungry and angry at some unknown thing that brews on the tip of your tongue.

The next island is of great interest to Luffy.

The entire crew knows that its history nor culture was not either reason behind his excitement, only the mere prospect of digging his sandals into new, uncharted land is why he's running around the deck, filling up the empty spaces with bubbling laughter. Sanji finishes up bentos for those that are leaving, taking unnecessary extra care with Nami’s, and wishing he had it in him to starve Zoro whilst Nami is giving everyone an allowance. You take two bentos, yours and Chopper's, and head out onto the deck. Luffy only seemed momentarily sad that you were going with the doctor but bounced back immediately after when the trees come closer enough to intimidate so you push down the offer to join him instead. Franky joins up with Usopp, Luffy'll run off alone regardless of who he ends up going with, Nami ends up going with Zoro (to Sanji's displeasure), and you and Chopper make plans to find a pharmacy and a library for Robin.

Being around Chopper is easy enough with this unsettling prick of poison that's forced minimal responses, curt words, a flurry of tiredness, a sickening chill through your days recently. The little doctor is a lot more mindful of changes in mood, it's not any imminent injury either so he doesn't press to know why. Out of guilt (for being a brooding asshole lately), you ask him about his rumble balls and all his different forms. He answers cheerily and you can only pick out every other word with a persistent headache as the smell in the air changes from salty skies and bloody fish to sweetened foods and something unfamiliarly clean.

It's a bright island. You hear a faint bell in the distance that is traced over with the sound of children and stall owners; Chopper's hooves rhythmically sound beside you on the pavement and you find yourself counting them in groups of four. "Ah, there." You pick up your head and turn to follow the direction of Chopper's eyes. A sign is hung on the side of the building, the library. "Robin wanted a book of North Blue diseases for some reason," Chopper mumbles to himself as you two push open the door.

It's a small bookstore, walls lined with books and the paths carved with more standalone bookcases. "North Blue diseases?" You repeat, confused, "do they have North Blue exclusive illnesses?"

Your question goes unanswered, though it looks like it opens a vault of new questions for Chopper. Books aren't of great interests to you, so you follow behind Chopper as he walks through each section and grab whichever book he tells you to bring down for him. On the way back, you tell Chopper to keep going and change your course in search of something you're not too sure of.

You stray away from the town centre and head deeper through the small alleys of the town, there's no destination in mind; without the urgency of a fights and with the domesticity of a small knit community, you wander adrift. There's a dampness in the air to the walk around a shadowed hide of the place that loosens up the tension below your ribs, many different eyes follow after your form as the heel of your shoes click against a null path; shadows ooze around the soles of your shoe and lacquer up between the carved maze of black rubber of your soles until you find your way into a dead end.

It's a little bit of a cliché to be met with a ragtag group of delinquents when you turn to go back. Your eyes trace over them. In the hand of the one closest to you sits your wanted poster.

Something blooms inside you again— it's a much more pleasant feeling than the unmoving sap of ire that's been invading lately. Each man before you is physically bigger, towering over you ominously and shadows eating you but they all have swords and guns in their hands and that's why they lose. You, to the detriment of all life around you, are a weapon in and of itself; you choke out the vitality from others and steal their nutrients. They strained against their confines as their skin blossoms through shades of blooms, you are not the merciful rubber of a human, so your constraints don't relent, they squeeze and squeeze until the bark splits apart, until blood is cut off at the source, until they wither, until you are full.

On the way back, you buy a gift for everyone with the money you hadn't used and when they take to it, all in their varying degrees of joy, you feel less bad about the dead end alley full of brothers and sons. You tell yourself, handing Zoro a gift of alcohol, if not them, then it'd have been you.

You end up staying anchored to the island for a week to your displeasure. The longer you're stuck there, the closer you are to exploding; you always keep an eye out on the log pose strapped to Nami's wrist like you could quicken the process if you stare enough. Usopp starts avoiding you out of fear you'll blow like a poorly constructed cannon, Zoro makes you train with him to see if it'll help blow off some steam, Sanji brings you iced drinks at a rate that keeps you dizzy but you always feed it to Luffy or redirect it to Chopper's or Usopp's office with a little note.

On the third day, you follow in Zoro's example and sprawl out on the deck to rest your tireless mind. You've always wondered how sleep was ever a possible option for him when the feet thundering across the deck came with obstructive vibrations, no doubt slapping any chance of sleep away from his mind, but you find that it's almost pleasant. Beats all from familiar loves translates through the groves of wooden planks and etch through the back of your spine, you feel a bone fall back into place after Nami's heels against the floor and the thunderous kick that lands where Zoro was standing manages to work its way up your head to ease a headache.

The sun burns cries into your eyes and the skies move fluidly, they don't ripple as clouds shrivel against a light blue you're unfamiliar with; even as you close your eyes, you continue to feel the burn of the sun. The slapping of weaved straw against a sticky, sweaty sole then the deck comes as you slip into sleep.

Dreams have never been so amicable enough to become a recurrent in your life; more often than not, you're shown memories all blended together into a mess that leaves you sick, the abhorrent now and the nostalgic then bleeding past their confines until you see your mother stood next to that deceitful Marine admiral, both with that same look in their face. You wake up with a start when a loud bang scours its way through a flurry images you're unfamiliar with and then your body escapes you. Your head weighs with the heaviness of the bodies dropped to the floor, arms cold as if dipped into the river Styx, bones locked in place with a restrictive pain, muscles burning, aware of every breath that shivers through your suddenly odd body.

"Owww," three Luffys blur around each other as you pushed a hand to the floor to straighten up, you try blinking away the other two, but they're glued to the captain reflecting in your eyes; he looks down at what he's tripped on and follows it back to you. Your hand is met with something curved in shape when you go to push yourself up and when you look down, you see vines underneath you. You realise then that a burst of them had grown beneath you, splitting through the lawn deck and uplifting some of the planks underneath the greenery and inching upwards towards the guard rails of the ship. They take the form of something you think you met in your most recent sleep.

Luffy has managed to crawl his way towards you in the time you spend wondering why your devil fruit had been acting up— in your sleep no less and he wraps a hand around your ankle to get your attention. "Hey, you're really cold." He pointed out, eyes flickering down to the flesh between his fingers and then trailing his fingers up your thigh as he shifts closer to you on his knees.

The touch makes you violent and tender. "Really?" You managed to puff out, giving too much air back to the world with how much you're panting, "I feel a little warm though."

Luffy hums, clapping his hand over your cheeks with gentleness he only shows to those he loves, and it feels wrong. You get an itch underneath your skin that urges you to move, move, move but you can only push Luffy away with a ferocity he'd never shown you as you tremble under the bursting of violent air hacking up your throat, your shoulders strain as you wrapped your arms around your stomach, trying to heave out something that wasn't there.

Luffy scrambles back immediately, not caring for you shoving him away, and soothes away the rattling of your core with his clammy hands on your arm. "Are you sick?"

No, you think as a retch comes up your mouth; maybe, you correct as the path is marked by drool slipping down your chin and tears streaking across your cheeks. You shake away Luffy again. He's less submissive this time, his legs open over yours to plant his knees by your thighs. You hear him call for Chopper and it's obvious he has something of a frown marked on his face; you keep burning beneath your skin, but Luffy keeps rubbing his palms over your arms like you're cold.

You realise what your vines had drawn underneath you when Chopper comes out, fretting over you as he takes Luffy's place close to you. A grave. The image makes you laugh as the reindeer instructs his captain to haul you up after you'd ignored his inquires on if you could walk; your arm bends around the shape of Luffy's shoulder and your laughter erratically convulses into a collection of coughs from the skin on skin high.

You forced into bed rest after Chopper does a preliminary round of tests on you and declares you've simply gone down with a cold. You take to the diagnosis apprehensively, though in Chopper's defence, how was he meant to accurately diagnose you if you don't tell him all your symptoms? Instead, you sit in his office and spend the minutes, all alone, trying to retch out the feeling of having a piece of hair down your throat; you claw at the blanket and keep hacking until you've got a blanket full of tears and spit. The feeling does not pass.

At lunch, you get a visit from Franky who comes by to complain that you've made unnecessary work for him. "—seriously, how did you manage that in your sleep? Were you having a nightmare?" He ranted, legs crossed and leaned back in the visitor chair in a way that pushes his skinny, hairy legs close to your face.

Scrunching up your face, you sit up. "It was the future." You rebut, in between all his fantastical stories of his nightmares and talking about how he'd never attack Sunny even if Chopper grew a mechanical, giant arm and overthrew Luffy to become their captain. "A future," you correct yourself before turning to Franky with eyes judgemental, "are you scared of Chopper?"

"You weren't there at Enies Lobby," he tells you, which serves as a cruel reminder of sorts. You think about all the scars you've seen littered on the crew's skin and wonder which ones they've collected while they were with Luffy and who knows of which. The faint, protruding marks underneath Nami's tattoo, the stitches around Zoro's ankles, the ones pulled across his chest; you wonder if Sanji's got one hidden underneath his bangs. "The future?" Franky repeats after a moment, "are you a prophet?"

"It's a working theory," you brush off instead. "Though I can see in my mind's eye that Luffy is currently eating all the food and you’ll be left to starve if you don't go back."

Franky scrambled up from the seat not a second after your words.

With him gone, you settle back onto the bed and wonder about too many things to recall.

Between the hours after lunch and before dinner, Luffy comes by. He settles himself on the bed and forces you up as well, the shifting causes another cough to burgeon in your throat and you turn your head the other way to spit it out in an uncontrolled group of four. "You're not feeling better?" He frowns.

You see now that he's holding two pieces of barbequed meat in his hand, he's got the bone in his palm as he holds it upright like a sword, juices from the flesh dripping down to his hand and the smell gives you a headache. "Do you want this?" You move your eyes to Luffy, he's got his eyebrows furrowed together and his lips straightened out in a line when you don't answer. "Both?" He looks over at you, then the meat, and then you. "You," he swallows, "you can have them," his knuckles turn red around the bone, "since you need energy and you're sick." You think he's trying to convince himself to give them up.

You reached out and watch Luffy's face turn sour as his expression squeezes altogether around a midpoint trapped in his nose; you retract your hand and watch his face relax and his body unwind, you think he's moved his hand back a little. You repeat it again a few more times until laughter comes up and dislodges the uncomfortable feel of hair set deep in your throat. "It's fine, Luffy, you can have 'em."

"Really?"

"Mhm, go for it."

He moans around a bite of meat, crying your name as he chews and says thank you. The feeling is back as soon as it left.

No one comes to visit after that. Chopper comes by before he heads off to bed to make sure you're all set for the night and tells you that he expects to be woken up if you feel any symptoms get worse. You agree to his conditions, though can barely make yourself seem like you were taking him seriously with his cute face scolding you, but it seemed to work well enough as he's gone after he leaves a cup of water by your side. Sleep lingers around the corner, shirking away from your twitching fingertips and restless eyes; you give up after a few minutes, thinking about Robin who'd been thrown on watch tonight.

After going back and forth on the details, you bundle up yourself in the blanket (not wanting to have to mimic any semblance of serious guilt to get through Chopper's less than intimidating scolding if you get any sicker in the morning) and wander to the deck. The darkness of the sea would be safe for you, twisting around every limb extended to grope your way through your chosen path and oozing out from strands of hair to empty at your feet if not for the lamp of the moon ahead of you. Its light a forecast of tragedy, reflecting off a blade that would drive through the blood of a man who faced an unlikely love with only disgust and betrayal. "Robin?" The light hangs onto your word with a vehemence to uncover your unjustifiable deeds.

"Ivy," a shudder of surprise rattles your head to duck to your shoulders as you turn around. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

You give Robin a frown, tugging your lips down. "Yeah, my weakened bones nearly fell to the floor." She huffs a laugh. "Please announce yourself before you appear." Robin traces over your palish face and your features soften into a smile when your eyes meet.

"Can't sleep?" She asks once you two settle at the side of the Sunny where you'd napped earlier today, some of your vines still wedged between planks and parts of the floor haphazardly missing. You lean your back against the side of the ship and lower your eyes to the floor.

It's a total void, welcoming you back home. "No," you answer, a little breathless. The moon doesn't shuttle into the hole of the deck and something reaches a hand out for you between the atoms of a black hole. Roots twist out, easing close to your feet and sinking beneath the soles of your shoes. "I napped a little earlier." It's safe.

Robin hummed— I know rattles through her hum— and her elbow falls onto the guard rail of the ship. For the next few moments, you regret coming out. Robin's always been more receptive to the details and fine lines; it's not surprising that she can nitpick through a flurry of fronts and covers to the feelings you want to hide. They beckon out to her, wanting to fill that hole that's grown smaller with every day she wakes up to the open seas and the lively sound of her crew. "Chopper said you were sick?"

"A cold," you sniffle, bringing the blanket closer to you. Finding some semblance of confidence inside you, your eyes flicker over to Robin but she isn't looking at you— only turns when she feels your gaze levelled on her. You hesitate, searching for something to say and land on extending an arm and opening the blanket to invite her into your bundle. "You cold?"

She laughs, "it's fine, you should go back in if you've got a cold though." Her head tilted with a smile, "it'll be bad if the night air makes you worse."

Not wanting to find yourself softened in moonlight nor her eyes, you nod and bid her a goodnight before shivering your way back into your room. The door opens and light from Sunny's hallway is swallowed into the darkness of your room before it's banished out with the slam of your door, you shuffle around odd things thrown on the floor and slip into bed.

Your sleep is broken through with intervals with coughing, curling into yourself, shivering still though you burn in the night like a sibling of a star. When you wake up, sometime in the afternoon, you're heaving and reaching out your arms all around your duvet to haul together the skin that feels like it's melted down. Your palms prick against the leaves of vines that have overtaken your room, they fluoresce around your body and branch outwards to all corners of your room. The mess all blur together as your brain thrashes in your head with every splutter, you shake and twitch, trying to make sense of anything. Skin burned raw as you attempt to kick away the shrubbery that's keeping the blanket contorted around your body.

Your throat skinned and crude with its imminent thoughts of water.

A hand reached back blindly to grope at your bedside table for the cup that Chopper left for you last night. What you find instead is the burning touch of the sun, it seeps through the micro wounds stabbed through lines of your fortune and inflames every nerve straight to your heart. Your hand snaps back towards your body, the bones shivering from the imminent heat. Your entire body twitches at different paces, an invasive and hungry need drowns your senses. You need water, you need not for this to happen, water, you need for your sleep to be calm, you need to stop burning, you want to stop losing control, water first. You want water. Water— you turn your head to find the water, you need— Luffy?

Luffy is sat on a chair that you don't remember being there and when you look a little closer, you see that your vines had granted him a throne to comfortably lay on, other than that, they avoid him like the near plague. His body is leaned forward, his chest laid against the side of your mattress and arms crossed on your bed to sleep on like a pillow. You retch up some acid and, like the bowed head of a priest, a gentle petal disrupts the stream, flowing against the tide. It's a beautiful purple colour that's light against the transition to white towards the middle and an eye-catching yellow streaking against the white; lines of a deeper hue stretch through the petal and it's oddly reminiscent of veins.

The petal sits on the puddle of stomach acid that warms your thighs, your head bowed down to stare at it; you feel your soul unfurl at the sight of it, branches stretched outwards over a riverside, the heavy head of buds pulling weighted branches down to drink from the stream. Everything else blurs with a ripple, the petal is withstanding no matter no much you try blinking away an oncoming headache. The river near dries up in your attempt to wash down this unnerving disgust; you hunger for more.

Little changes when you find out what this 'cold' truly was. The lighting in Sunny's library is several shades warmer than the light of the sun, it draws upon the hunched shoulders down to your back as you tilt your head to hear the bones crack under your ear. Four syllables, that's all your death is. A lot of words are four syllables. Anonymous; unfortunate; hilarious; adventurous; hanahaki. It doesn't mean a lot by itself, so you try giving it some context. You pretend to tell Chopper that you're dying, you have hanahaki and that it's something he can't cure in a way you'll accept and you still feel nothing. You think about Chopper's face. He adamantly tells you that he'll cure you, he'll do it. The you in your imagination tells him no. Faced with your refusal, Chopper cannot do anything. In the end, it is a grave that cures you.

Death, as it stands, was something you had accepted when you stepped onto a pirate ship. Even someone with as stubborn a character as Zoro could be welcomed in by death, even Luffy. For a while, you wonder about death. The air in the room pauses as if to grace you with the silence to ponder on it, all you hear is the sound of your own breathing.

The closest thing to death comes searching for you a few minutes later.

You've always been interested in Brook. A skeleton with nothing but a sword; he has no lungs yet still sings, no heart and still smiles, dead but human in all his actions and behaviours. "There you are." He sneaks up behind you, bones falling onto your shoulder as you think, he smiles down at you. "Luffy asked if I’d seen you earlier.” He looms over you for a moment before he's straightening back up and calling out loudly, "but I'm a skeleton so it's not like I have eyes to see anyone anyways!"

It's the two syllables 'Lu–ffy' that shakes you the most. You stifle a cough in your chest and feel it tear through your ribs instead, searching for a path out. "For what?" The breaths rattle in your chest and shudder through your words.

"He wanted to show you a beetle." He takes the seat next to you, peering down at the picture book that you have open. You wait for him to make a comment about seeing what you were reading before disregarding it all with a lack of eyeballs so he wasn't seeing it really but he doesn't say anything, so you're forced to talk instead.

"Brook."

"Yes?"

It takes a single breath to prepare you to say this, it's warm and evident that you've not yet truly succumbed to your illness. "Do you see yourself as dead?"

Death is the art of those who do not live. It's something that keeps people tethered to the moment; it's the one thing that keeps humans humane. It's evidence you've lived, no matter how full nor how long. She's beautiful in her own right.

"I cannot see myself as anything because I am a skeleton with no eyes!"

Brook does not get to elaborate because Luffy shuttles in moments later, whispering loudly. (He'd learned somewhere that you're meant to be quiet in a library when he was younger but his whispers still manage to shake the room somehow.) "You're here! I found a beetle to show you!" He tip–toes to your side, "what're you reading— oh, hi Brook! The flowers here are pretty!" He points a finger down to a sunflower; his index covers an entire petal and he strokes it upwards to the middle. "Do you think they're edible?"

He turns to you with a smile.

You meet him with the same, "their seeds are." He gasps and picks up the book to scour through the letters in search of a name of these seeds. You take in a shuddering breath and when you feel another urge to cough, you cannot stop it.

When vines splatter around the room, they uproot the place; they've always been disruptive in this way. A wave of them washes various bouts of furniture to the floor, through the pounding of your ears, you hear the sound of books thudding as green appendages snake through bookcases and rattle them at the base; Brook's chair collapses as a vine chokes out one of its legs into splinters, the world blurs into a hue of greens and purples. A hand reaches from down in your throat, you heave around gaps of allowance for air and gag, cough, retch up more acid and some tea that Sanji brewed earlier this morning in lieu of breakfast. It's unpleasant. It's ugly in a way death should not be, though you guess the dead don't get to choose how to live in the same way the living cannot choose their death.

You're hauled off to Chopper again.

Chopper's voice comes as the hollow sounds of keys on an old piano. He does another round of tests on you— this set lasts a little longer than the previous and he takes extra caution with some. He finds that your heart is a little faster than it should be, he nitpicks at the bluish tint around your fingers and notes the concerning amount of weight you've lost in the past few weeks. When he asks you, what's wrong, you tell him that that's what he should be telling you.

Hypoxia; another four syllables for your cause of death. "Some of the symptoms are there," Chopper frowns, mumbling to himself. "It's when your tissues aren't getting enough oxygen, do you have difficulty breathing?"

You placed your cheek into your palm, elbow on Chopper's desk. "You're a pretty good doctor, Chopper."

The effect is immediate, he starts blushing and kicking his legs in his seat, a hoof goes to rub at the back of his head and nervous laughter comes from him. "That isn't distracting me at all, you bastard." You smiled and watched the compliment break any semblance of professionalism in him.

He gets back on track a little while later, placing a stethoscope on your chest and asking you to cough. You're not sure exactly what he's looking for but you give a soft cough into your elbow and you can say for certain— just based off the way he jumps back and looks at you a little quietly for a second, it's nothing good. Chopper spends a few minutes looking at your fingertips, then your lips, then some other parts of skin already exposed and humming to himself, troubled.

For now, he says, he wants you to try not to exert yourself— maybe leave fighting to everyone else and focus on resting until he can figure out a better way to confidently diagnose you. His lips are pulled into a frown, hands in his lap and trying his best to be professional and keep his emotions at bay. Before you know it, your hand is on top of his pink hat and fondly rubbing over the material softly. "Thanks Chopper, I'll keep that in mind."

He nods. You hesitate for a second before you're getting up to leave so that everyone else can see that you're not dying— or maybe you should tell them you are, you're not sure you could take another session of Franky accusing you of destroying the Sunny to create more work for him.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and twists, stopping when Chopper speaks again. "You're not hiding something from me," he accuses gently, "are you?"

Your hand tightens around the doorknob. A flash of that imaginary Chopper comes back to you— heartbroken and confused at your refusal to be cured— you steal an unnecessarily large breath from the world. "I get sudden cravings for sweet things if that means anything."

Chopper, unbeknownst to you, takes those words and carves them true and raw into himself. His eyes are unwilling to leave you for more than necessary during the times you eat together, he watches you push aside the food on your plate, tearing small bits of meat off the bone to chew on it for a couple minutes too long before swallowing. He makes note of the way you have no problems finishing up everything but any sort of meat, sliding them over to Luffy, or one of his victims.

You're met with another blossom soon after lunch. You've made a bad habit of leaving the table early to escape the smell and resign yourself to the open deck, sprawling out on the grass like Zoro usually does. You're certain you're about to fall asleep shivering but the slap, slap, slapping of your captain's sandals are nearing closer so your brain kicks awake with a start; your eyes twitch, eyelashes shuddering in the wind. The darkness over your eyes morphs into a shadow of Luffy hovering over you, head tilting with a hand on his hat— your mind supplies you with the frown— and then you hear him taking a step back and sitting down next to you.

A troubled melody hums through his lips and when you open an eye to peek at him, you see his hands wrapped around his ankles, legs loosely crossed; he turned back to you and you quickly close your eyes. Here is where you finally learn that when Luffy touches, he's never placated with a simple tap, a light knocking between skin— no, he must stroke, he drags his fingers up the side of your thigh, he shivers from the coldness of your flesh and, even then, crawls closer. Then he's silent for a worrying amount of time and for a moment, curiosity takes you over. You find yourself wanting to draw light upon the disgusted features when he's met with someone he thinks close to him is growing closer and closer to a grave amongst the roots.

He leans his forehead against yours whilst you shuffle through the despicable crawl of your heart through your bones, something shifts in you and when you reach to itch at your side, it dislodges. It takes no more than a simple flip for your entire world to shift; you think you saw Luffy hovering over you momentarily before you had snapped to the side.

A fragment of the world greets its end.

Something strangles you, a hand of a giant pressing two fingers against the sides of your neck until everything in you bursts and splatters against parts that have gone unknown until now. There's nothing new to the tremor of vine that erupts through your skin, bubbling through the surface of flesh like a geyser; the tentacles claw their way your throat until you're choking around them, searching for an allowance for air. Your knees shuffle up to find some balance, head ducked to meet the lawn across the deck and elbows digging deep into the dirt. Your spluttering comes in time with the sound of Luffy calling your name, shouting for Chopper; there's a knot tied inside your mouth, you shake away tremors and tears all the same. You erupt yet there's nothing to be burnt, it's only ash that leaves your mouth— only the colourful petals of the wisteria plant that wash over the green of the open deck, burnt in hues with blood.

The next island is a spring island, known for their sweet peaches and sweeter music.

You watched Luffy devour two peaches in his hands, the ripe skin melting underneath his teeth— pale with a dusted blush until it snapped into a bloody red, melted at the pit. Then he's gone with a rustle of mikan trees as you held out a basket for Nami to delicately place her mikans in; apparently, she'd managed to catch the attention of some peach vendor with her sweet tangerines and swindled the poor man out of his money for a basket.

The streets are lined with lively hums and a strumming of odd instruments, music escapes through every crevice of a worn-down building as Luffy jumps from stall to stall, drooling over the goods before you're beckoning him back with his lunchbox and a promise of meat after you finish this errand for Nami. On your way to the stall, you hear faint chattering that doesn't interest you but Luffy straightened up beside you and turns to stare at the people as they argue on who had managed to grow the biggest peach this year.

You sigh, grabbing hold of Luffy's collar when he stops to stare at them and drag him off to the stall vendor who had fallen victim to Nami's schemes. The exchange is easy enough— give him the basket (ignore the fact that Nami had managed to make it look like it was overflowing by artfully bunching up a cloth on the bottom and filled gaps between the fruits with flowers) and make sure you've got the correct amount of money. It's when Luffy asks the stall vendor who has the biggest peach this year that things begin to go downhill.

Rather than answering Luffy's question, the man goes on a tangent about some kind of festival for a God and how the biggest peach will be the offering to said God this year— apparently, Shumi (the woman who owns the fabrics shops) had managed to get her hands on this, that, or the other to help her husband grow a peach large enough to bring doubt to the fact that Gyupuri had managed to grow the largest peach (again) this year.

Luffy insists on tracking them both down to help the people come to a decision as he wiped away the drool on his chin. Resigned, you managed to find Shumi first with her shop being the only one in town that sold fabrics and she denies you both permission to see the peach; Gyupuri, on the other hand, is more than happy to show you to the peach he grows. He takes you straight out of town, into the forest, and then up the mountain to where there's a clearing full of nothing but flesh coloured peaches.

As you listen to Gyupuri's story on how he was merely taking after his father to grow these strangely sized peaches, you have to keep Luffy in your hold so he doesn't go running to the giant peach and take a bite out of what could be for a God. Somehow though, he manages to get a handful of flat peaches when you weren't looking and when you attempt to apologise to Gyupuri, he doesn't seem to be fazed, shoving a few more peaches into your hand and telling you it's fine.

"So, who is this God anyway?" Luffy asks, his legs wrapped around your waist and chin hooked on your shoulder as he leaned back, satisfied with cheeks full of the peach you were holding in your hand. You turn to give him a look, but he merely stares at you back.

The people here must have made a unanimous decision to answer questions from the left side of the field because Gyupuri only tells you the name of this God when he drags you and Luffy up a hill to stare at a statue of this God carved out of generic stone.

To be polite, you call the statue pretty; Luffy feels no need to be polite, so he says it's not really. When you look at him to furrow your eyebrows at him, he's already looking at you.

When you're back on the ship, money handed to Nami, you think about that moment so much that it grows moss in your mind and vines burst through the crevices of the worn–down artifact you've made out his gaze to be. You throw up everything you manage to eat and feel hollow and worthy when you meet Luffy's eyes in Chopper's office again.

There's a chill that follows your days after that.

It's persistent and stubborn in a way that cruelly reminds you of Luffy. On a brighter side, you've got an excuse to be lazy in bed though it irks your bones not to have the weight of you walking thrumming up your body. You get visits from the Strawhats, get your food delivered to you, some of the crew shuffling into your room to keep you entertained with some card games and the likes— you get Luffy consistently making his way into your room and treating it as any other room on his Sunny. He comes in, always makes himself home on the bed, and talks about what he did today. At some point, it becomes less endearing and more annoying to be treated as though you were actually dying. (You hadn't told them for a reason.)

Four days after Chopper had resolutely punished you with bed rest, Luffy decides that he was going to start sleeping in your room. Apparently, your face had translated over what your head was thinking too quickly because he starts whining, saying that he wouldn't get to see you enough if he doesn't do this and, well, since you've always had a tender, raw, skinned soft spot for the boy, you end up saying yes.

He spends his first night telling you what he was going to spend tomorrow doing and you come to the realisation that every other sentence contains you. (Going to find more beetles to show you... Chopper told Sanji it'd be good to get more meat into your diet... Zoro accidentally cut snakes and ladders in half so Nami is giving me money to see if we can find one for you so we can play... Robin said there's a really pretty flower on this next island… For you… For you...) It’s all there laid bare and you cannot face it. You hide your face into the crook of your elbow and wretch out a cough. Luffy frowns but doesn't mention it. He talks himself into sleep and you lay awake to him, trying to keep yourself from blooming throughout the night so he doesn't wake up, cold and still.

When you're startled awake with misty embrace in a dream, you see that Luffy has gone.

What he has left is his straw hat and a mouthpiece of his greatness. The straw is rough against your fingers, resembling the thorns that grows along roses and you stare at it in your lap until you can feel the roughness in your throat— just when you think you need to get water, Sanji shows up with breakfast. You eye the cigarette in his lips and ignore the settling of the tray on your bedside table, watch the smoke fight the smell of scrambled eggs and bits of bacon to take over your room.

"We're at an island?"

Sanji walks around your bed, finding himself comfortable on the couch across the foot of your bed. "We docked early this morning," you watched his smoke rise, ash falling to the wooden floor of your room, waving and grasping hands up to God. Sanji keeps himself entertained by looking around your room, his foot pushing around odd leaves and petals on the floor before he nods over to the plate. "Eat." Then he's gone.

You stare at the tray, settling Luffy's straw hat aside, you shuffle to the end of your bed and take the fork in your hands— you look at the plate until you swear you can taste the eggs in your mouth and the slight bursts of saltiness that'll come from the bacon and you have to wash it down with the glass of water he's given you. You push it aside and opt to go back to sleep.

You dream of a still life on top of a hill, overlooking a dock as the Sunny pulls back out into the sea; you thrash but find every part of you rooted down to one spot, the wind picks up and you feel tangles of what could be hair or leaves hitting against a part of your body. You're still rooted despairingly in a garden of silks and duvets when you wake, Luffy had found himself unable to keep away from your breakfast but when you sit up and look a little closer, you see a pile of the diced bacon bits shoved off to the side as he shovelled eggs into his mouth.

Shattering free from the earth with a faltering cough broken into four, you shuffled yourself up and spit out a cluster of wisteria. At this point, you do not need to look at Luffy to know what his face looks like; he turned to face you, cheeks full and quickly finishing the eggs to shuffle closer to you on the bed with a book in his hands. "You left your book under the plate."

It's a hardback children's book, pulled out of Sunny's library and coloured a light blue that resembled the sky and broken apart by a sunflower in the middle and petals around it, the title curled around the sunflower. You know that the book was left in the library when you were having your episode. The cover is smooth to the touch as Luffy gives it to you and ends up knocking his shoulders against yours in his attempt to get closer; your eyes moved over to the tray of food and you think of Sanji, who'd grown up in the North Blue where this children's story was more popular amongst the romantic commonwealth.

He knows, you think, and it fills you with a dread that the wisteria blossoms feast upon delightfully; he knows, and he could tell everyone, the vines throb over your heart as Luffy opens the book over your lap and looks up, expectantly at you.

Myrsa was a pretty girl, enough so that praises sang for her ended up calling upon the scorn of love's Goddess. The depiction of her getting cursed is almost comical, stricken by lightning as she returns from a forest with a basket full of flowers and mushrooms. "What happens next? What happens next?" Luffy pushes his face closer to the book, tangling a rubbery leg with yours as he moves impossibly closer. "How does Myrsa beat up the God?"

It's the certainty he holds that Myrsa will beat up God that makes you laugh, it's the fact that she does not beat anything that makes you tremble, shaking coughs and petals out your throat. Luffy seems to think that the book is too excitable, trying to pry it away from you and saying that he can ask Robin to read it to him later so you should just rest. "Don't you want to know if Myrsa will beat up the God now?" You ask instead, knowing the answer will be yes.

Perhaps they were the wrong words to convince Luffy because when you're on the last page, Myrsa buried in a forgotten land and her love used as fertiliser for a field of sunflowers, he's threatening to beat up a God made up to exact revenge for Myrsa. It's a lot more cheerful than you had expected— all the characters drawn with round faces, small bodies, and black dots as eyes. It makes death seem redeemable.

After Luffy hauls himself out of your room, in search of the God had turned Myrsa into sunflowers, you force the bacon down your mouth and bring the tray out to Sanji. You linger in the kitchen, eyes watching him as he scrubbed the dishes and danced around the kitchen, no doubt knowing why you were there. He doesn't seem to want to be the one to approach the topic just based on the way he refused to stop even for a moment for the past fifteen minutes you've been there.

You know nothing about Sanji past the fact that he's blond, he's a cook, and he used to be a prince from North Blue's Germa Kingdom.

"You know Myrsa didn't die because she had hanahaki." Your hip meets the edge of an island, arms crossed over your chest as you watched Sanji finally slow to a halt, throwing a glance over at you. He takes his cigarette between two fingers, breathing in for a moment and then takes it out, holding it out to you. "What she was cursed with, wasn't ever meant to be able to kill her."

"I know."

Sanji takes the cigarette back after you shake your head, shrugging a little as he continued. "Myrsa died."

You laugh a little, "I read the book."

There's a point he's trying to make that's as foreign to you as the notion of a love that doesn't hurt but he turns a glance to you that almost reads like he's disappointed in you and it settles nicely against the vines choking you through. You straighten up, uncrossing your arms and his visible eye wanders back over the pots he has boiling on the stove. "You liked the ending?" The ending of the North Blue story was a two–page spread of a sunflower field, a planet of bright yellows and a dull light blue, clouds breaking apart overwhelming tones of sunny golds and drowning diamonds.

A tree split awkwardly in half due to the spine of the book, curved in shape and pinched in the middle until you held the pages at the edges and pulled to straighten in down. "It was pretty," a gentle breeze running through the leaves shedding from the tree, a shiver to the wooden flesh that split apart if looked at the right way by the right man. Myrsa was beautiful, even in a death she didn't pick treated her well.

How could you hope to live when she did not?

You find a lot of things pretty now; you wonder if that's the dead crawling in you that is beginning to appreciate the life around. Robin sat on the deck with a cup of cooling coffee on a table in front of her and a book in her hand, Nami stood between her rows of mikan trees, Zoro straining under the weights of his responsibilities, Brook with a violin to his shoulder. The sky drowned over the ocean as Luffy leaned his head against you on Sunny's figurehead, his voice a soft beat over the water rushing against the hull of the ship. He's talking about Shanks and his dream and your heart aches selfishly; his skin gulps down the orange light of the dawning sun and you resigned yourself to a death loving him.

You wonder if Luffy still thinks of his dead brother, your tongue slips against the bark of your gums, and you open your mouth without thinking. "Luffy," you hear spoken into the wind, "will you tell me about your brother?"

"Sabo?" He's clapping his feet together excitedly, turning from the sky to you with a large grin on his face, "he's a part of the Revelation Army— no, wait revocation? Revenge Army? Renovation Army! Wait— that's not right."

"No, the other one." A whisper haunts the wind, 'the dead one' written in its movement.

There's a certain hesitation to his words that brings you to the realisation that being loved by Luffy is a wonderful thing. He's never been one to be articulate with words, picking the simple ones that come to mind first without a moment's hesitation but strangely the simple–minded way served him well when it came to love. Love is not articulate either— it's one of the simplest things in the world— so when it's met with someone like Luffy, it blossoms into an art form of all things beautiful.

You regret have not meeting Luffy when Ace was around. Dancing around his features is a tender skip of tightness; his shoulders pulled up to his ears, head ducked down, lips awkward and tongue thick as he told you the story of being accepted to be Ace's brother. Hues of embers fluoresce, dripping down on Sunny's figurehead as you reached an arm around him; his words are stained in blood and adoration, strained and slow but Luffy persists, his love persists.

"You should've met him!" He finishes, turning to you with a light chuckle. "You would've loved him."

Your hand falls onto his shoulder, pulling him closer despite the crawl of vomit up your throat and you leaned your head against his straw hat. "Maybe I will."

Death is another thing you think is simple. It's as easy as slipping into Chopper's office to find him hunched over his desk, his hooves holding onto a pestle as he circled the butt around in a mortar. "Ah, you're here?" He glanced over his shoulder as you walked around him and settled onto one of the beds he has in his room. "Give me a second! I nearly have your medicine ready."

"Chopper," you think you've played this out in your head before, "I have hanahaki."

His arms slow down to a halt, his face dropping by several degrees; the previous petals that made up his hopeful and cheerful expression flutter to the floor, guided by the winds you'd altered with those four words.

"Hanahaki?" Chopper's words are slow as he settled the pestle down, "I thought— but it doesn't exist?"

"Funnily enough, it died off." You tell him with a little laugh. "As more people took to the seas and chased after the one piece, less people fell victim to hanahaki." The Chopper you've told this to before in your mind was definitely less devastated and surprised to be greeted by the fact that you have hanahaki.

He's stumbling over his words, trying to pick something to focus on first as his face was scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips open into disbelief. "How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me? You'll have the surgery, right? You can trust me; I'll definitely save you. When did it first start?" Your head is pounding with the incessant questions he spits at you, unable to answer any of them as any allowance for a response was filled in by another inquiry. Suddenly, he's pulling his mind to a stop as he turned back to you, solemn and sad and asks, "who is it?"

It's easy to tell how Luffy has touched people, Chopper makes note of the way your head tilts and you smile and it's obvious that there was no one else capable of calling upon your love.

"And the surgery?"

The look on your face, although foreign to you, tells him all he needs to know.

That doesn't stop him though, he keeps himself by your side and urges (pleads) you to have the surgery; his constant presence becomes a problem when he makes a point of forcing Luffy away from you. It's small at first, trying to distract Luffy with other things, claiming to want to be the one to watch over Luffy when you all dock so you're not given the chance, clinging onto your arms and demanding your attention when Luffy threatens to take it away from him. Then, when Luffy notices that he's been holding onto this flower for hours, fingers pinched around a sunflower stem to ask you how you get seeds from the flower to eat, and every time he's seen a speck of your colour from corners, Chopper shows up to drag you away or points a finger somewhere to shout about a meat mountain, he has a problem.

You notice it's about the meat mountain at first though.

He's slamming the door to Chopper's office after the fourth time, shouting, "Chopper! Where's the meat mountain you keep talking about?" He doesn't seem to care about the fact that Chopper is checking up on you as he stomps into the room, plopping himself down right next to you. Chopper pushes him away when your shoulders brush against each other and you're coughing out bloodied petals. His attention diverts when he hears the shaking of your cough, how you knock into him uncontrollably as your torso leans to meet your thighs, hands deep into the foam edge of the mattress. Petals splatter onto your shoes, clinging to the leather with saliva and re–painting the laces in a sickly red. Luffy’s touch is intrusive, a hand tightened on your thigh that burns your skin to ash and forces vines to splutter out your skin. They attack him, you reel yourself away from Luffy in hopes that they don’t reach him but in some disgusting way, they force themselves to new lengths to coil around his limbs. Spindling up and up and up and you can’t see his face anymore as a thick rope of vines in the shape of his hand reaches out for you, they keep moving up until you only see his hat— your back knocks against the wall. You sternly tell yourself this death is acceptable; the vines grow limp.

When you’ve calmed down enough, the first thing Luffy asks you is, “why aren’t you better yet?” And you feel as though you’re being scolded for some reason; your eyes flicker over to Chopper, fingers tangled together in front of your thighs from the corner of the room you’ve forced yourself into. When Luffy catches the wandering glances— as if you’re trying to keep him out of something— he treats you exactly how you’re acting. Like a criminal.

“Chopper?” It’s unnerving how his eyes are still on you, no trace of expression on his face, “out.”

“But—”

“Out.” Chopper throws you an unhelpful glance as he passes you to get to the door.

You’ve always had the wrong impression of Luffy— everyone that doesn’t know him has the same image; he’s a pirate that has taken down warlord after warlord, who has brought horrifying change and shifts the balance of authority wherever his feet take him. Hearing hushed whispers of him and his close affiliates in the lightened haze of booze, to distract from a tooth getting knocked out of place never does much for his image either. Though it wouldn’t be right to say that Luffy is wholly good either— he’s selfish. Selfish and impossibly kind and downright disgusting with the handling of his own needs; the sound of your name fizzing between his teeth has you startled, nodding your head back to him on the bed you’d left him at.

“You’re hiding something.” It’s not a question nor is it an accusation of any kind. It’s an observation. Luffy slides himself off the bed, his sandals comically slap against the floor of Chopper’s office, “tell me.” His hands fall onto your shoulders, one stays there and the other slides down. He treats your skin like an amusement park for his pleasure; his nails drag across the goosebumps of your bicep, pressing down on raised scars and then splashes into the palm of your hand, dragging ripples in the centre.

You hesitate, twisting your fingers together and pulling as if to attempt to dislodge the odd feeling that follows his fingertips. “Are you asking as a captain?” Despite how general expectations of Luffy remain pretty low to those who do know him, it’s also known that Luffy has a nerve in him that’s impossibly receptive to hurt. There’s a certain way to activate it and when it’s on, it doesn't quieten down until its idiot owner is pleased. Luffy scrunches his face up in an odd way, displeasured at your question as if he couldn’t believe you’d ask him something that hurtful, and his head tilts.

“Tell me.” You’re met with an unwavering stare, the hand on your shoulder tightens and there’s a hardness to it that you’ve never associated with your rubber captain— you can feel the bone in his fingers, stern and undeniable. Your eyes trace over the exposed, tanned skin of his bicep and you wish that you could force your vines through his skin to crawl into his chest and listen to the tremors that’ll run up your devil fruit from his beating heart for some kind of answer. There’s a sudden breath that’s available to you that isn’t tainted and clogged, trapped before it even meets your lungs, but it burns in a new way as you stare at Luffy, scared and terrified of a new life that’ll be forced upon you if you tell him what’s wrong with you.

You open your mouth with an excuse, but Luffy huffs and the words shrivel in your mouth, collapsing to a grain on your tongue and when you close your mouth, you taste dirt. “Luffy,” you beg, “I can’t— just, I’ll be fine.”

There’s a hint of some anger in his gaze before it turns into a haunting realisation, “Chopper knows, doesn’t he?” He pushes you aside, “I’ll just ask Chopper.”

There’s a ringing distant in your ears that chimes like the bell of the church from that place two islands ago, maybe three— you haven’t been too good with time recently. Sunny shakes like the earth as a body hits the pavement, you feel disgusting and heavy and an itch claws through your palms where Luffy’s hand has just been. You’re sure it’s Chopper he’s shaking an answer from but you hear Robin’s voice, calling for him to calm down and when that doesn’t work, Sanji cuts in. It all gets further and further away, you think about the planks of Sunny opening to welcome you back into that darkness from nights ago, you think about being choked by one of your vines, you think about the wisteria blooming whole in your lungs— you think and you think and think and suddenly, it’s all nothing. You’re dying, you think, that’s a fact, what else? Luffy is the reason. Or maybe you’re the reason.

“Luffy,” were you the one talking? “Luffy.” The voice comes again, stern and your eyebrows furrow with the same tension that the voice is carrying. “Thank you for being my captain.”

Not that it surprises you, Luffy punches you.

#op production: circa. 1864 #one piece #monkey d. luffy #one piece angst #one piece x you #one piece x reader #luffy oneshot #luffy angst #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #op luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x you #op x reader #op angst #one piece one shot

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chervbs · 10 months ago

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undying devotion — a. ancunin

pairings: astarion ancunin x gn!reader

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: you have a very limited time to free everyone, including duke ravenguard, from the iron throne. It seems easy enough until you realize you may not make it out before gortash destroys the entire prison, and you along with it. and with your new but thriving relationship with your vampiric companion, you have more to lose than just your life.

warnings: angst, mega angst, main character death, spoilers for act 3 (specifically the iron throne quest), mentions of c*zador, resurrection, hurt/comfort, happy ending, maybe ooc astarion because I’m still getting used to writing these characters, lmk if I missed any!

a/n: hello my angels! I hope you all enjoy this short little angsty piece I came up with for everyones favorite vampire. anonymous requested some angst for astarion and I immediately thought of this moment that happened in my first playthrough of the game where the only person I couldn't get out of the iron throne was my tav. it was a scary moment until I remembered what my man withers was there for. the characters in the game don't actually have a reaction to tav not making it out so I came up with this. any feed back is greatly appreciated! <3

ao3 link

Of all the battles fought between the crash of the Nautiloid ship and now, the Iron Throne is proving to be potentially the most perilous.

The plan had seemed simple when you all waited for the submersible to dock the underwater prison. Get in, free as many prisoners as possible, and get out. Of course the creatures guarding the prison would be an obstacle, but your party had defeated a plethora of foes before, how difficult could this mission be?

You all shared the sentiment, until the projection of Lord Enver Gortash had made an appearance.

“Aren’t you the intrepid little adventurer?” The man’s smug voice startled everyone aboard, shoulders growing tense and glares growing fierce. “Digging and diving where you don’t belong. And I thought we were friends.”

Astarion watched as you squared your shoulders, looking the projection right in the eyes. “Fuck you, Gortash.” The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, but it didn’t last.

Gortash made it clear that if you continued on your quest, he would destroy the Iron Throne, and you all with it.

You had glanced back, communicating with Astarion, Halsin, and Karlach silently. Each of you wonder if this is worth the stakes. Worth all of the lives that could be lost if you failed. Then you looked at your captain, Redhammer the Deviser, and nodded for him to dock the ship.

“That was a mistake.” Gortash scowled. “When the corpses start to wash up on the shore, remember–you could have prevented all of this.”

There wasn’t much time after you docked to accomplish what you came for, so the four of you climbed the ladder with swiftness. The moment you stepped down, your tadpole began to wriggle as a familiar voice spoke to you.

“Halt. You must act with haste. Duke Ravenguard is held within these walls. He must be extracted.” It was unmistakably Omeluum, the mindflayer you’d made friends with in the Underdark.

You knew there was no time for questions. “Tell me what to do.”

“Duke Ravenguard is held in the security wing. Be careful, there are many hazards. This structure is collapsing. Act with speed, act with efficiency. Good luck.”

Swords, arrows and spells were used to get you all through the prison with haste. The Sahugin guards were inconvenient, but not the priority. You only attacked when they were in your way, and dodged them the rest of the time.

Astarion and Halsin were able to make it to Duke Ravenguard, freeing and healing him while also taking down the obstacles sent by Mizora. The security was the closest to the center of the ship and the two men made quick work of the guards still lingering there.

You and Karlach had each taken separate wings, hoping to free as many people as you could. Karlach freed the few prisoners in her wing before she came across Omeluum. Once he was freed, he was able to teleport the two of them back onto the submersible.

It was only as you fought your way through yours that you regretted not bringing someone else with you. The wing you took held the most prisoners and it seemed as if every guard your companions didn’t defeat decided to flock to the area.

Time was running out and you knew it. Your tadpole wriggled again.

“You must return. The prison will be destroyed any moment now.” Omeluum warned. His voice was monotone as any other mind flayer, but you could sense veiled concern.

You took one last look at the crowd of Sahugin in front of you, your heart pounding in your chest. You lacked enough energy to be able to misty step back to the entrance, and there was no time to look for a useful scroll.

“Did everyone make it on board?” You asked, slashing the guards in front of you.

“Indeed.”

You sighed, tears welling. “Then tell them I’m sorry.”

Astarion was the last to climb aboard the submersible after Halsin. Water sprayed onto the platform as the structure began to give way. Halsin reached down to grab his forearms, pulling him the rest of the way. He’d just barely began to search for you within the ship when Karlach spoke up.

“Where’s Tav?” She asked shakily, as if she had already realized the answer.

Astarion’s eyes widened, as did everyone’s. “No.” He whispered, darting over to the window.

There was a split second before the explosion, the force of it rumbling within the water. “No!” He cried, knees buckling as he collapsed.

Karlach slapped a hand over her mouth, tears already falling from her eyes like a waterfall. Halsin bowed his head, sad eyes closing as Astarion lets out a heart wrenching scream.

It didn’t matter to him that his companions had never seen him so distraught, not even after he’d delivered the killing blow to Cazador. No, this pain was entirely different.

This pain was like having his heart ripped out, then his soul extracted then his body mutilated. Every part of him ached in a way he didn’t know he was capable of feeling. Though it shouldn’t surprise him. In the time since meeting, you’d taught him many things about himself. And even in death it seems he’s still learning from you.

Astarion was more silent than Karlach and Halsin had ever seen him. As they received their reward from the Wavemother and talked to Duke Ravenguard, Astarion dragged behind them, silent tears escaping consistently.

Only once they reached camp did Astarion seem to return to his mind, paying no attention to the surprised and concerned stares from everyone else. He was only focused on storming over to the camps undead resident.

Withers did not looked fazed nor surprised by the vampires rage, closing the tome he had been focused on the staring blankly.

“Bring them back.” He demanded, voice thick with emotion. “Bring Tav back.”

Astarion faintly heard a few gasps from the crowd that had gathered behind him, the rest of the party hearing of your death for the first time.

The creatures hollow, echoed voice responded. “There is a cost to do so.”

Astarion’s jaw clenched. “What is it?”

“A matter of coin.” Withers replied simply.

A pale hand reached back into his travel pack to pull out the pouch of coin Astarion had collected throughout your travels. He shoved it against the undead’s chest. “Here!” He snarled. “Take it! Take all the coin we have, I don’t care how much it takes.”

Withers calmly opened the pouch, peaking inside. “That won’t be necessary. This is more than enough.” He said, dropping the pouch to the ground. “I recommend keeping thy distance for a moment.”

Everybody took a step back besides Astarion, only until Karlach placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and pulled.

Withers lifted a bony hand, speaking his words like a prayer. “By doom and dusk, I strike thy name from the archives. Rise!”

There was a brief flash of light that had everyone shielding their eyes. In a matter of seconds, you appeared, stumbling like you’d been thrown back on earth. Which, to your credit, is what it felt like.

Your breaths were quick and heavy as they had been in your final moments, and you patted your body to ensure you really were alive.

There wasn’t much time for you to linger in your thoughts before you were essentially tackled, toned arms coming around you in a crushing embrace. As you heard the sound of weeping, you registered that it was your love who had lunged at you.

A choked sound escaped your lips before you could even realize you yourself had started to cry, arms wrapping around Astarion’s torso.

Through your foggy eyes, you could faintly see your other companions standing a few feet away, some wiping tears and others smiling somberly at you. But they were far from your mind at the moment.

You could only focus on the man in your arms, the both of you collapsing to the ground. “My love.” He whimpered out, surely leaving fingernail markings with how hard he was gripping you. “My little love, I thought you gone for good.”

A watery chuckle escaped, one of your hands coming to lace within the white curls of his hair. “I’m so sorry, Star. Never. I could never leave you.” You sobbed.

His embraced loosened, hands traveling to your face and pulling your forehead against his. His crimson gazed peered into yours, full of desperation. As if he would never be able to look into them again.

“I have never known pain,” He whispered to you hoarsely. “Like what I felt when that wretched place exploded.”

Your lips quivered with another onslaught of emotions. You placed your own palms against his cheeks, thumbs stroking the smooth, alabaster skin. “I never would have made it on time.” You sniffed. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

He shook his head lightly, removing his forehead and replacing it with his lips instead. He pressed a kiss there, then to your cheek, and then a final one to your lips, lingering again as if it would be the last kiss you would ever share. You only separated once oxygen became a concern.

“The others are waiting.” You sniffed, though you made no move to leave his side.

“Let them.” Astarion said, a small, relieved grin growing on his face. And you did.

The rest of the world could wait until the end of time for you to part from your Star.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #gender neutral reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion fluff

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kranja · 15 days ago

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one book deep into the husky and his white cat shizun (as usual i'm late to all the good parties) and i have a few observations

1 this is much funnier than i expected. i'm pretty sure we're in the lighthearted getting-you-invested phase, because to make it really hurt you have to make me care about these people first, but i still wasn't expecting it. and yes i have been forewarned of The Horrors, and the few glimpses we've gotten of the original timeline are Super Yikes. taxian-jun's wedding? yikes on bikes.

2 aggressively worried about shi mei. he seems like a sweetie and i do not want him to either turn out to not be a sweetie or die again. both would make me sad. but mo ran for sure will not have the emotional intelligence to realize he's not really in love with shi mei so much as the idea of shi mei until we get through some serious character growth.

2a (was he ever really in love with shi mei? maybe once, long ago, before everything. that would be interesting to explore)

2b (absolutely the funniest resolution to a danmei love triangle is "sorry, i'm straight," so i'm kinda rooting for that)

3 i was ABSOLUTELY not prepared for Utter Disaster Chu Wanning. dear god. i've managed to avoid spoilers enough that i was buying his cool aloof immortal shtick but he's a cripplingly socially anxious mad inventor shut in who's lost control of his life so badly that he sleeps amidst pieces of his engineering projects because they've taken over the bed? oh no i love him.

3a (really waiting on the reveal of what exactly went down in the incident that set mo ran on his downward spiral--chu wanning failing to save shi mei. my bet is on something happening that chu wanning knew he could not save shi mei from, but he was so utterly unequipped to offer explanations or comfort that he came across as uncaring. ouch.)

4 really thought awkward coffin boners were a mxtx thing but here we fucking are. hilarious.

5 actually the whole bit where adult desires and experiences plus teenage body have turned mo ran into an inappropriate boner factory is solid gold. ten out of ten never stop.

#the husky and his white cat shizun #erha #2ha #as stated i'm one book in no spoilers please

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nctstar · 7 months ago

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Can you write a smut w plot on Taeyong x sub!reader x Mark ? I am craving for this pair please bestie...you can take your time, no rush. make them a bit possessive and dom and you can add anything to your liking.

hiii friend! i know this is CRAZY late but i hope you still like it <3 turned out a bit more sad than expected HAHA

dumb conversations, we lose track of time

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He bent over to kiss you, bringing both of his icy hands to your face, but you didn’t care. The kiss was everything, and you brought your bodies over to the wall as you continued, one of his legs now in between yours. “Fuck, I think…I’m gonna miss you so bad.”

pairing: markyong x fem!reader (no markyong ship)

other members: other 127 members mentioned

word count: 3k

genre: romance & smut, angst, fluff, sort of hurt/comfort

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! mild profanity, mentions of being sick from food, kissing, dom!markyong, praise kink, degradation (use of slut/whore), daddy kink, slapping, penetrative sex, riding, oral (male receiving), manhandling/being held down/held in place, missionary sex, praising (sweet girl, good girl), crying (like lots of crying!!), subspace, double penetration (2 in 1), clitoral stimulation, taeyong is leaving for military service and this is upsetting to reader (strong self insert moment LMAO)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic.

a/n: NOW i know i was technically supposed to make this a (freaky) smut only...but i had to add the extra things because i have been sooo emotional lately and i have not really been in a smut mood unless it's emotional and loving :D with the release of the tortured poets department, taeyong's enlistment, renjun's hiatus...ya'll it's just been a lot. so a lot of this is very much just me projecting HAHA but hope it's comforting to some of you. also, i just wanna say that you guys shouldn't feel pressured to engage in sexual activity when you're sad and crying...everything here is consensual of COURSE as always, and this is all fantasy but i just thought I'd add that in. please take care of yourselves when you're vulnerable. love ya'll mwah <3

You stifled your giggles in the droop of your cardigan, but Taeyong still flushed red. Your cheeks puffed out as you fought the urge to snort in his face. “I’m so sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, instinctively going to run his hands through his now non-existent hair, making you double over in laughter. “Alright, miss, that’s enough. Hilarious, I know.”

“Noooo Taeyong, don’t be embarrassed.” You ran over, pinching his cheeks in your hands, feeling his skin hot and elastic under your thumbs. “You’re so cute. Like…Anpanman!”

“I know you love jjingppang, jagi, but that was so uncalled for.” You strung his arm into your body, letting the both of you walk away from the dim lights of the restaurant. “Why? Are you hungry? But didn’t you just eat?”

“There is always space for dessert, hon. Come on, we’ve been together 2 and a half years now, and you still don’t know my philosophies?” You were teasing, having fun, but as you watched another couple walk in front of you, hands gripped tightly together, the shadows in the trees dancing across their bodies, you felt something sharp poke inside you. You gulped the feeling down, forcing a smile, even though you knew he wasn’t watching.

“You’ll get sick if you eat too much bread again.” You shook your head, scoffing. “That was one time, Taeyong. And it was in Japan. I would definitely have eaten that much again.”

“Really? I recall you crying in the bathroom, whining to me about why I didn’t stop you.” You knocked him playfully, feeling his scent permeate your senses and bring you back to those times in Japan. He was here now, a solid body standing right next to you, brushing up against you, but…You felt a sudden rush of emotion, but you could see Mark’s car now, and you decided not to bring up what you had been thinking the entire time.

“So-“

“I’m sorry I’m leaving you.” The words surprised you, even though it was something both of you had been holding back the entire time. “I’m sorry I have to do this.”

“Don’t be silly.” You were standing in front of him now, the white streetlights illuminating every line on his face, too scared to look into his eyes. “You have to do it, right? And, you should be proud of yourself. It’s hard work you are willing to dedicate yourself to for a while. And, I can always take care of myself.”

“You have Mark.”

“No, I can take care of myself.” You nodded as if you were trying to convince yourself instead of just him. Your eyes watered, working against every restraint you had. “Please, just…it will be fine. I will still see you. Just, not as often. But you’ll still be here.” He held both your hands, bringing them to his chest, and you were looking at your shoes, watching them get blurrier, feeling him pull your body towards his.

You couldn’t do it. Not for the last time.

“Bye.” You let go of his hands, turning swiftly around and walking towards the parked car at a pace that seemed closer to running.

The warmth enveloped you, and you hastily rubbed off the tears, almost embarrassed at the thought of crying in front of him. Both of them. “H-hey, Mark.”

“You okay?” You nodded, and he brought your hand to his lips, lightly pecking it before he shifted gears.

∞

The apartment was quiet at first, as if it already sensed the loss of one tenant. “Just squeezing past, babe.” Mark’s shoulder brushed yours as the keys jangled in his fingers, his steps retreating towards the bathroom. You walked over to the couch, looking at the empty cake box, the one Doyoung had bought to celebrate. The cake crumbs that littered the floor, the frosting on the couch – you didn’t even have the heart to be mad.

“Is that frosting…on the couch?”

You chuckled weakly, sniffling. “Yeah. I thought I told Jungwoo not to make a mess.”

“You didn’t. You’re so quiet around the boys. So shy.” Mark’s breath tickled your neck, his lips grazing the skin hidden underneath your cardigan. He kissed you gently, bringing one hand to your shoulder, the one he had brushed. “It’s what I love about you.”

You smiled, watching Mark’s shadow cover you as he moved to sit next to you on the couch. “What a mess. This isn’t driving you crazy?” You shook your head, but you smiled, a little bit more genuine this time. Curling up next to Mark, you basked in the heat of his body. He pressed his nose to the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “You smell good.”

“You trying to get laid, Lee?” You felt his chest shake as he laughed, both a little awkwardly and without holding back, like he always did. You thought of all the times you fell asleep in his lap, feeling him stroke your body soothingly as you both waited for Taeyong to get home.

You sat up, turning, looking deep into Mark’s eyes. “I love you.” You kissed him, pulling his bottom lip with your mouth as you pulled away. He ran his hands up your back, connecting lips as you climbed onto his lap, so quick to bring your body against his. He held your hips in place when you stared to move, groaning softly as he pulled away from your mouth. “Are you sure?”

“What, am I sure I love you?”

“No, I mean,” he gasped shortly when you kissed his collarbone, a spot only you knew how to tease. “Easy, baby. I mean, are you okay with doing it tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, and you hated yourself in that moment for ruining it all. Desperate to stop him from continuing, you shut him up with a kiss, moving his hands from your hips so you could grind against his growing bulge. Your fingers in his hair, you dug your knees on the couch so you could push your chest onto his face. He moaned this time, tugging at the ends of your hoodie to signal you to take it off. You hissed when the cold hit your bare torso, Mark unhooking your bra clasp as you shivered. “You cold, sweetheart?” You nodded, but you were sitting back onto his lap, both of you shrugging off your bottoms as you talked. The cold drew goosebumps on your skin, but you felt wet and hot in the pits of your stomach.

“Fuck, so tight.” Mark threw his head back as you cried out, feeling the stretch harder than you remembered. He held you in place with a hand on the small of your back, another on your thigh. “Shhh. Come closer to me. Good girl.” He continued praising you as you sunk deeper onto his length, inches buried inside you. “W-wait.” You pressed a hand to his stomach, warning him not to move as you scrunched your eyes shut. “So fucking big.” Mark laughed, moving your hand away and bringing your chest closer to his mouth. As he licked and nipped at your body, you began to relax, your breath quickening with every passing second. His dick jumped inside you, making you whimper. “You ready, sweet girl?”

You tasted the tears before you felt them, streaked down your face. “Please.” you begged, and he began to thrust up into you. “Fuck, Mark, M-Mark!” Your voice carried through the apartment as he rolled his hips into you. “Come on, baby, that’s it. You’re our good girl, right?” You sobbed, bringing one hand to your mouth to quieten yourself, but he pulled the hand away. “If you’re gonna cum, you better do it screaming my name. You understand?” He held your chin into place. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, p-please. Fuck,” You gasped, feeling the ripples of pleasure run through your body. “I’m close! Please, Mark, can I-“

“Yeah, good girl, baby. I’m close too.” His voice was raspy, his thrusts sloppy as he reached his own high. You shut your eyes, feeling your thighs constrict as you came. You breathed heavily, the tears still running down your face. When the ringing sound stopped post-orgasm, you heard yourself crying.

“Hey, hey. You did well, sweetheart. It’s okay, I’m right here.” You nodded, feeling your body slump against him. “Can I pull out? Does it hurt? I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You looked into his eyes, feeling the way he held you so securely in his arms. “I miss him. I miss the three of us. I know it’s silly, because it technically hasn’t happened yet, but,” you sighed. “I didn’t know how hard it would be until it really happened.”

Mark hummed in agreement, wiping away your tears. “Of course. That’s not silly. And, I love you too, okay? I’m here for you.” You wrapped your arms around his body, breathing in his scent, feeling Mark pull your hoodie around the both of you. “You never hurt me, Mark.”

∞

You both woke up with a jolt when the knocking started. You climbed off Mark as your eyes shot open, and the both of you started frantically dressing, as if the person had entered straight away. “Who’s coming over so late?” Mark grumbled.

“Hopefully Jungwoo to clean the couch.” You muttered, but Mark was rushing to open the door after peeking through the peephole, and you frowned.

“Hyung.”

You knew it was him. But you couldn’t even move. In that moment, you were frozen in time.

“Hi, jagi.” His body stood looming over yours, his face red from the cold outside. You didn’t know what to say, rubbing the itch on one of your ankles to kill time.

“You’re…you’re here.”

“Yeah. It’s my apartment too, right?” He smirked. “Why, is the Anpanman look enough to make you forget me?” You laughed, sniffling, hitting him lightly on the chest. You noticed Mark raise an eyebrow, left out of the inside joke. Your stomach churned, your heart pining for a loss that suddenly was not lost, and it all felt so out of place.

“I love you.”

“You’ll live.” You scoffed, pushing him away. He laughed, the smile lines on his face making your heart soar. “I don’t think I’m gonna miss these stupid jokes.”

He kissed your forehead. “I think you will.” You rolled your eyes, but he was right. As always. You ran a hand up his chest, then, underneath the hoodie he was wearing. You gasped in an exaggerated, ditsy way, making your voice airy on purpose. “Officer, I think you’re pretty hard right now.”

Taeyong smirked, his eyes darkening as he gripped the wrist of your wandering hand. “Oh yeah? You think you know me so well? Wanna play that game?” In the corner of your eye, you watched Mark’s figure step closer. “She already did, Hyung.” He pushed his tongue on the side of his cheek, and you fluttered your eyelashes at Taeyong, feigning innocence. “I didn’t do anything. He’s lying.”

“Oh?” Mark looked pissed, and you only giggled in response. Taeyong brought his face closer to yours. “If I find out you’ve been lying, you’re done for. Now, on your knees.” You complied, seconds later being met with Taeyong’s length springing out of his boxers. You covered his tip with your mouth, but you felt your hair being yanked backwards and a slap on your face. “Did I say anything yet? Dirty slut.” Mark’s grip on your hair didn’t falter, and you whined. “If you want to suck me so bad, you better be ready to beg for it.”

“Mmm, please. Please let me taste you, Daddy. Please, I’ll be good.” Mark’s other hand travelled under your chin, tilting your head up almost uncomfortably, making you yelp. “Tap him if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded in response, and as soon as you did, Mark’s thumb pressed hard on your bottom lip, prying your jaw open. Taeyong thrusted inside your open mouth, guttural groans leaving him as he did. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sudden intrusion, the apartment now filled with the sounds of you violently gagging on dick. Your fists clenched by your sides. “Pretty cockwhore, aren’t you?” Mark whistled lowly, making you squeeze your legs in embarrassment. “Ah, so you like being our nasty little thing. As expected.” You shook your head, but he only tightened his grip, laughing almost cruelly in response. Taeyong pulled out when he heard you choking, inhaling air as soon as his tip left your mouth. “Not so talkative now, are you, pretty?” Your voice raspy as you spoke, you opened your mouth wider, sticking your tongue out. “Daddy’s little whore, yeah?” You could only hum in response as Mark held you still, Taeyong jerking himself off on your tongue. You swallowed the cum in your mouth, letting some of it drool out of your mouth. Taeyong bent over, spreading it over your chin, mixed with your drool. “Go and bend over the couch.” You went to nod once more, but he slapped your face. “Words.”

“Y-yes, T-Taeyongie.” You only used that when you were floating away, letting yourself go, and to be honest, you were surprised it had happened so soon. As you bent over the couch, you had an inkling that they were surprised too. You felt Taeyong’s hands on your sides, and you jumped. “Sorry, jagi. Is this still okay?”

“Uh-huh.” You felt wetness pool in between your legs. “Please, f-fuck me. Before, what happened…well, Markie…I’m sorry I lied, Daddy.” You heard Taeyong shushing you. “I want you to enjoy yourself, beautiful. Okay? Tell me if this is too much.” You sighed, relaxing when you felt Taeyong rub up your back, pressing hard in the way that you liked. Under his hands, you felt safe. Calm. Honest.

“C-Can we go to the bedroom? I don’t like this position.”

Your body burned, even though your shared bedroom was freezing tonight. “Fuck, it’s cold in here.” Taeyong held you close to your body, as if he never wanted to let go.

As the three of you sat on the edge of the bed, you began to ugly cry. Taeyong rubbed your back as you shook, Mark taking a tissue to wipe your chin. “Was it too much? Baby?” You didn’t know who was speaking, but you held both their hands, unable to stop the tears from falling. “No, its just that,” you rubbed your face harshly, feeling the days makeup rub off on your hand. “This is all so fucking dumb. I’m sorry, but, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t care if that makes me a bad person.” Taeyong laughed as he held your head in both his hands, pulling you into his body. Mark ran his hands soothingly up your thighs. “I think I love this side of you, actually.”

You smiled, remembering your conversation only a while ago. “Sorry I’m ruining everything.”

“Sorry but, you must be fucking crazy if you think that’s true for even a second.” Unlocking yourself from Taeyong’s embrace, you exaggerate lifting your hands up in surrender. “Okay, relax, Mark. Don’t call a woman crazy.”

“Especially not a horny one.” You snorted at this, making both of them laugh. Sighing, you tried to appear mad or even annoyed. But you hadn’t felt more free in days.

He was right. You were going to miss these stupid jokes.

The three of you rolled onto the bed, you straddling Taeyong while Mark left noisy kisses down the sides of your neck from behind. “I want you both inside me. Please.” You moaned as Mark squeezed your boob from under your shirt, your head on his shoulder as Taeyong pulled your panties down, the three of you momentarily and, almost comically, struggling with taking them all the way off.

Your hands splayed across Taeyong’s bare chest, you bent over to kiss him. “I’ll miss you.” You whispered against his skin, and he squeezed the outside of your thigh in response. As Mark sheathed himself inside you for the second time that night, he began to thrust straight away. “Still fits like a fucking sleeve, so fucking good.” Your breath quickened as your clit rolled against Taeyong’s bare cock, your moans thickening as you watched Taeyong lie beneath you. “You ready, my love?” You nodded furiously, Mark holding onto you with an arm across your shoulders, pressing your body flush against his. Both men guided you onto Taeyong’s length, the stretch now burning, firecrackers exploding in your stomach. “Fuck! Oh fuck!” You couldn’t breathe, pulling at Mark’s arm, slowly registering him shushing you in your ear. “Relax, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Almost there.” Taeyong groaned in pleasure, shifting the tiniest bit, which made you yelp. The feeling was so unfamiliar, and your heart pounded at the new sensations. “Please, don’t move yet.” Taeyong rubbed circles on your clit, watching your face carefully.

“Nghh, ahh…” The feeling of both of them inside you was starting to choke you from the inside, deliciously bringing you close to a release. “Wait, Daddy, don’t-“ You squealed as you squirted, your clit throbbing from the aftermath. “Shit, I don’t know if I can-“

“You can cum again, pretty. I know you can.” You moaned, feeling both of them bump against each other and into your walls inside you, wet and messy. “Oh my god, oh my…” you babbled, holding onto anything as they thrusted relentlessly, both their timing desperate and rocky. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for us, jagi, that’s it.” Taeyong’s voice rose in pitch, and you heard Mark groaning in your ear, pressing your upper body closer to his. You came for the second time, gasping for air, hips rolling without permission over both their cocks. You slumped over Taeyong after, Mark pulling out and resting next to you both on the bed.

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thehusbandoden · 1 year ago

Note

Hello Brain Damage! I hope you're doing okay. :) I had to actually stop every thing I was doing today cause I was so tired that I couldn't focus or work at all. That being said, (if you're not to busy, and I apologize if I'm overloading you with requests) I would really love to see how the MHA characters would react if the reader was just so tired they couldn't do anything, and I mean I was doing an online document and every few minutes I would stop to look for my paper (sadly there was no physical sheet). I literaly got 6 sentences down in an hour, it felt like I lost the ability to read. thankfully I'm much better after a nap! Have a lovely day, and take a break if you need one!! <3

A/n: you're too sweet. Don't overwork yourself and remember to get yourself some rest!! You're not overloading me at all, feel free to send as many requests as your heart desires! I hope this fits your taste, if not you can always send in another ask/comment and I'll fix whatever is needed! <33

Comforting Their Exhausted s/o

General info:

Genre: comfort/fluff \\ wc: 1,284 (in total) \\ characters: Hawks, Dabi, Bakuhoe

Hawks:

Oh, he will not stand for it. Nothing, and I mean nothing is allowed to torment his Babybird! Running like a madman, Hawks skids into your office, honey eyes squinting at your exhausted form.

"Babybird! This is unacceptable!" Hawks exclaimed, pouncing onto your lap.

"W-what is?!" You exclaim, holding onto Hawks larger form to stop the both of you from falling.

"You're exhausted my baby!"

"Oh.. I'm fine, baby. Really."

"But- your eyes have bags under them!"

"I'm fine, Bird brain. Now may I please get back to work?"

"No! No you may not!" Scooping you up in his arms, Hawks plops you onto your shared bed, laying ontop of you to stop you from squirming away from him.

"Let me go! I'm not afraid to-"

Shutting you up with a kiss, Hawks hums as he trails kisses from the top of your face down to your collarbone.

"You need rest, Darling." Hawks hums, pecking your lips twice before flipping you over, ending up with you laying on his chest.

"But-"

"No no no. Cuddle your hubby and then we can finish it together, mkay?"

Nodding fondly, you rest your head against Hawks chest, listening to his heartbeat with a wide smile on your face.

(The next morning; 10:02 a.m.)

"Babybird~"

"My darling~"

"Light of my life~"

"Darling~"

You awoke to a soft, heavenly voice and a series of strange pressure trailing along your face. Blinking open your eyes, you smile as Hawks kisses your entire face, sweetly calling you by his many pet names.

As he realized you were awake, Hawks grinned down at you, honey eyes shining with adoration.

"There you are goregous." Hawks cooed, kissing your lips sweetly.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down to lay on top of you, wrapping your legs across his winged back. "Hi handsome."

Smile widening, Hawks kissed you once more before nuzzling into you, sighing as you scratch the base of his wings.

"I made us breakfast.. but I'd like to stay like this for a little longer."

Giggling, you move one hand to play with his hair and the other to caress his back. "Okay, but only for a few minutes. I'm hungry."

Dabi:

You didn't even notice Dabi coming into the apartment, or even into your office. Your eyes were simply focussed on your screen, re-reading the same sentence for what seemed like the thousandth time.

You knew that you needed rest and that you weren't really getting any work done, but you needed to get this project done. Your boss was already breathing down your throat for submitting your last project late, and you couldn't afford being fired or having a pay decrease.

Since you and Dabi moved in together, you've both been working yourself to the bone, working almost 24-7 to try and provide for one another. Though it hurt his pride, Dabi just couldn't carry for the both of you due to his low income, and so you both heavily relied on your income, paying the bills plus most of the other expenseses with your semi lousy income.

Due to your growing exhaustion, you've been flailing, and your boss was nowhere near patient enough to deal with it; which simply put more stress on your shoulders.

Sighing, you rub your eyes; holding back tears yet again. You had to stay strong.

You loved Dabi. A lot, actually. You couldn't just give up and leave him to try and work himself dead just to make sure that you were comfortable and happy.

You had to be fine for him. He already sacrifices so much just to try and lessen your load by a little bit. "Just hold it in. He doesn't need to worry about me-"

You were interrupted by a pair of familiar lips being roughly pressed against your own, drowning your words out with ease. Once you got rid of your initial shock and started to kiss back, his lips were gone.

"What did you say?" Dabi growled, turquoise eyes piercing your e/c ones.

"I- I just didn't want to bother or worry you.." you sigh, eyes glued to Dabi's large hands that were currently holding onto your wrists.

"What are you talking about!? Y/n- you can't do that to me. If you're struggling, I need to be able to help you."

"But-"

"No buts. Put your shoes in mine."

Giggling, you brush the hair out of Dabi's face, looking up at him with your pretty doe eyes.

"Don't you mean 'put yourself in my shoes'?" You innocently ask, holding back your giggles as you study his face.

Opening his mouth, Dabi stopped before growling, moving himself to sit in your lap.

"Same thing. Now, what's bothering you?"

"It's nothing real-"

"If I have to ask again I won't be talking to you next time I'm struggling."

"Fine! Bully."

As you vented Dabi moved you into his lap, holding your form against his chest as he pet your hair, comforting you as best as he could. Though he didn't always know what to say when it came to comfort, he knew how to listen, and he knew how to silently show you he cared with gentle caresses and giving you your favorite seat; his lap.

After you were done venting he simply held you, quietly cooing words of comfort and affirmation into your ear, telling you how much he cared about you.

After holding you for a while you fell asleep, causing Dabi's cold and broken heart to soften, maybe even healing a little bit.

Tucking you against his chest, Dabi held you while you slept, caressing your arm, waist, and hip. Every few moments he would leave a gentle, loving kiss to your forehead. After a while of cuddling you, Dabi reluctantly slipped out of your hold, moving towards your computer.

Looking over what needed to be done, Dabi smirked. Nothing is going to stress his Babydoll out.

You woke up to your favorite breakfast in bed, a smiling Dabi, and a finished and turned in project. The rest of the day was filled with only one another.

Bakugou Katsuki:

"Oi. You need to get some sleep, idiot." Bakugo's loud voice rang from the kitchen, causing you to sigh.

"Baby, I need to get this project done, you know that!" You call, shutting your eyes for five seconds before trying to force yourself to read the words on the screen.

"No, sleep!"

"Sorry babe, I can't." You sigh, looking up at your fuming fiance.

"Yes, yes you can. You came over to have a sleep over, not to work." He grumbled, setting your plate of desert in front of you.

Smiling, you give him a kiss on his jaw as a thank you, eyeing your favorite home made treat appreciatively.

"Eat that, then get to sleep or I'm gonna take that laptop of yours away.

"Sweetie, you can't do that."

"Oh yes I can. I can do whatever I want, it's my place, and my girl's health!"

"Aww, are you saying you care about me~?"

"NO! I'm not. The- the light's annoying. That's all."

"Mhmm~"

Smirking at Bakugo, you move to sit down on the bed next to him, resting your head on his shoulder as you dig in.

"It's delicious, thank you baby." You whisper, pecking the pro hero's muscular shoulder.

"Yeah yeah, just finish eating."

Smiling fondly, you finish the dessert before wrapping your arms around Bakugo, pecking his lips. "Thank you, love."

"Yeah yeah." He murmured, wrapping his arms around you before bringing you to bed.

"Oh you little brat." You giggle, holding onto the man you loved with your entire being.

"Shhh sleep time. It's past our bedtime."

"Katsu-"

"Past. Bed. Time."

~~~~~

Hawks' masterlist | Dabi's masterlist | Bakugo's masterlist | Navigation

You can tip me here <3

Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

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olderthannetfic · 2 months ago

Note

Sending this to you specifically because I feel like you're the only normal brained person about this series.

I read Captive Prince a couple of years ago and liked it fine, as someone who doesn't have a strong preference for or against m/m and therefore isn't well-versed enough in its clichés to notice whether it reads like something full of cliché fanfic tropes. I really liked the use of language, some of the historical/political stuff, some of the ways that the characters are made complicated or unreliable.

The problem is, I've since coincidentally read most of the books that were Pacat's inspiration and. Well. Like 80-90% of the stuff in there has direct parallels in one of those. I'm not sure if there are more than three original thoughts in there.

I am not joking, if you read 1. The Lymond Chronicles and House of Niccolò by Dorothy Dunnett; 2. The Nightrunner series by Lynn Flewelling and 3. The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice, you will find that some of the scenes were ripped off beat for beat, many jokes were taken and just lazily reworded, a lot of the character beats and arcs are at best a mashup of 2 or maximum 3 things from those books with the serial numbers filed off really poorly. There's a scene where some characters discover a suicide victim whose structure and descriptions are completely ripped off from another series, except Pacat fails to see what made the original scene so impactful. A lot of the pretty use of language is also directly copied from those, including some really really specific descriptors. It's so blatant!

And I don't see how people are okay with this! I know people who are fans of several of these works and they're totally cool with it! And honestly if it were some rando's unpublished original project I'd be cool with it too, but as a published beloved worldwide phenomenon with rabid fans? C'mon.

And another thing is, all of the other series mentioned above are balls to the wall insane. She just... she just made it bland. She took off most of the edge and reshuffled the elements into a fairly straightforward MLM love story with some light kink thrown in. It's not a BAD series, but I feel like I'm disappointed that someone read all my favourite books and THAT was their takeaway?

I started reading, got to the name of the series and burst out laughing.

And, wow, you brought up something totally new that I hadn't thought about! I'm impressed. Genuinely. Usually, I rant about all the reasons I hate the series while debunking the standard anti talking points.

I've read the Vampire Chronicles, but that was in the 90s and I read Captive Prince in like 2016 or after. I had zero recollection of common points. I haven't read The Lymond Chronicles despite years of hurt/comfort fans bugging me to do so, and I think I got like a chapter into the Nightrunner series before getting distracted...

The reason I found Captive Prince annoying and derivative is that it also reads exactly like the original m/m that was available when it was first being written, most notably the work of P.L. Nunn who was extremely famous for horny fan art but who also wrote some original m/m fantasy novels. The scene where they finally bone reminds me heavily of the one from... uh... what's the P.L. Nunn one where the prince creeps on that archer dude and he gets raped because of course and then the prince has to be ~patient~ and it's peak boring 2000s rape recovery tropes?

The rape backstory is not only lifted from Fushigi Yuugi (the author's fandom at the time) but is shared with basically 100% of original m/m from that era. It's sometimes the uncle, sometimes the stepfather. One single time that I can think of, it was the foster brother, but mostly it's that "funny uncle" type. Unless it's gang rape from a bad Gundam Wing fic. That was also everywhere.

Once somebody told me the author had previously shipped Tamahome/Nakago, I realized that they'd taken what would be a kind of unusual anime ship and made it a thousand times more boring by dumbing down the scary, tall general with the tragic backstory into an uke-appropriate waif.

So I guess what I'm saying is that there may be some inspiration you aren't familiar with, but it's the same story as what you said above: this is the blander remix.

As for why people are okay with this... honestly, most of the people who really adore the series whom I've talked to point to how it encapsulates the exact tropes and tone they loved in anime fic circa 2000.

As a fellow weeb, I loathed the tone of said anime fic circa 2000 and could not wait for tastes to change, so Captive Prince is a hideous blast from an unlamented past for me.

I think most people who love the series aren't familiar with its inspirations. Those that are may have consumed them quite a while ago and don't realize quite how direct the parallels are. Or, for the inspirations that aren't overtly canon m/m, the lure of it being Exactly Right may overshadow other things.

(They also mostly haven't read 90s fantasy doorstops that actually contain political intrigue, tactics and strategy. Captive Prince is a piss poor entry into this genre and should be recced for m/m, not this other stuff people constantly think is in there. None of these characters can reason their way out of a paper bag.)

More than any of that, there's a lot of love left over from when the series was a serialized original story on Livejournal in an era when we had vanishingly few original m/m works, especially long ones in a fantasy alternate world.

I think that is what gets it a pass when a new m/m novel presented as "m/m romance" or posted on one of the webnovel sites would be mocked for unoriginality. Many Captive Prince fans aren't (or weren't when they read it) all that familiar with the smorgasbord of original m/m available today. Many are unfamiliar with anime fanfic circa 2000, so this feels adjacent to the fic they've read but a little fresher... instead of like the week-old sardine tin I found it to be.

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wangxianficfinder · 9 months ago

Text

In the mood for...

Feb 17th

~*~

1. I may have asked for this already at some point, but I do love it so... ITMF fics where an outsider misconstrues Wangxian's relationship. A great example would be "Happy Not Knowing", in which LXC thinks they're just friends with benefits. Another great one is "Every Mother's Son," where Madam Lan sets out to rescue WWX from suffering the same fate as her. Any misconception will do, I just want to see characters' baffled realizations that wow, these two really are disgustingly in love after all. @invisible-mirror

The F-Word by raspberrymocha (M, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, Family Dynamics, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Humor, Fluff, Light Angst, Weddings, Engagement, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Sex, 5+1 Things, Heteronormativity) might count, where everyone believes Wangxian are just friends, when the two have been trying to announce their engagement

Marital Claims by yeolinski (M, 5k, wangxian, Lawyers, Established Relationship, Marriage, Married Life, Accidental Marriage, the juniors are interns, nobody believes they're married basically)

~*~

2. Hi (^▽^) this is for ITMF! I would really like to read something where the juniors find out about the past™/ what happened to WWX, and get angry for WWX(not at him!!), kinda like they are taking his side? I guess?? something like that, thanks, have great day (^▽^)/

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation)

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, WWX & Juniors, wangxian, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, BAMF WWX, Humor, junior quartet is the wwx fan club)

❤️ grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon) A demon turns WWX into a child with only the memories of his childhood on the streets; the juniors take care of him while trying to break the curse, draw parallels to his adult behaviour patterns and we all cry; even Lan Qiren sniffs.

~*~

3. For the next IMTF: nephew reveal fics! Anything where JC finds out about Lan Sizhui, either as the primary focus of the fic or as a more-or-less significant plot point. Preferably ones where they end up with a familial relationship, or on the road to one. @linderel

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

and autumn comes when you're not yet done by tired (M, 36k, JC & WWX, wangxian, JC & LSZ, Angst, Family Issues, JC's crumbling mental health, Death Wishes, Regrets, defence mechanisms, Projection, Post-Canon, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Angst with a Happy Ending, References to Depression, Feelings, Canon-Typical Violence) I haven't read this, not nephew reveal but sounds like it could fit

when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations) it's not the focus (only like three paragraphs) but it's my favourite JC reaction to the Sizhui reveal

~*~

4. For itmf. I asking for fics where LWJ groveling a little after WWX, doesn't matter the setting or if just a few scene.

Thank you.

Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with feelings, College/University) is a good one! It’s a modern fic roughly 20k

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

~*~

5. Hiyaa. A) Can I have some books where it's of the Yin Hu Fu being turned into a child or children? Similar to The Unquiet Grave

B) ITMF some fics that are mostly wwx being a nie or just being besties with nhs while NMJ is a whole big brother to him :) @thatperson0-0

5B)

shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NMJ/LXC, wangxian, NHS/WN, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Joining the “Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect” Club, Mentions of WWX’s life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family)

Heart of the Beast by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 417k, WIP, WangXian, 3Zun, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious WWX, WWX Deserves Better, WWX Deserves Happiness, WWX, Deserves Love, Protective NMJ, Scheming NHS, Protective NHS, Soft NMJ, is So Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings)

The Light That Fails to Dim by glowingreverie (T, 310k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mild Gore)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, wangxian, modern, slow burn, kid fic, found family, it gets worse before it gets better, PTSD, blood and injury, dissociation, trauma, angst w happy ending, musicals, alternating pov, JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort, panic attacks)

~*~

6. hi!! i hope you guys are doing well <3 I had a request for itmf, I was hoping you could rec some darkji fics? I don't mind any genre as long as there is no mpreg!!! thank you for all your hard work 💗

Like stones on an unseen board by Vir_Abelasan (Not rated, 11k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Teacher LWJ, dark twin jades, Age Difference, Manipulation, Protective LWJ, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Relatively canon-typical abusive Jiangs, WWX Get a Happy Ending, wangxian Get a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Not Jiang Clan Friendly)

~*~

7. Thanks for all your hard work ❤️

I have a request for the next itmf.

Are there any crossover fics with only wangxian and hualian from tgcf? I searched and they had bingqiu but i haven't read svsss yet or any other ship. I would really like to only read crossovers between mdzs and tgcf.

Thank you ♥️

~*~

8. Can you direct me to some wangxian fics that are beautifully written and have plot but also with smut?

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 54k, wangxian, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sentient Burial Mounds, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, Flashbacks, mild body horror, foot washing, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy..., then sexual intimacy, playing fast and loose with mdzs lore, WWX learning to accept intimacy without deflection, occasional LWJ humor agenda, [Podfic] build me no shrines by flamingwell)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, wangxian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror, Mystery, The intrinsic horniness of wound tending, Yearning 2: The Electric Boogaloo, [Podfic] 爱不释手; never let me go by argentumlupine)

🔒 Due Process by Kytrin, ShotsOfSunshine (E, 279k, wangxian, JC/LXC/NHS, JL/LSZ/LJY/OYZZ, Modern, Canon-Typical Violence, Foxxian, dragonji, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid WWX, Wwx identifies as male, Organized Crime, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of child abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Reincarnation)

curse of the dragon emperor by lulu_kitty (E, 96k, wangxian, Dragon AU, Canon Divergence, Mythology References, Identity Porn, Cursed WWX, Trans LWJ, Trans Male Character, Misgendering, Canon-Typical Violence, Gender Dysphoria, gender euphoria, Phoenixes, Curse as a Metaphor, Dragon WWX, Fox WWX, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Bottom LWJ, Dirty Talk, WWX Running His Mouth, LWJ Getting Bullied in Bed, Submissive LWJ, Trauma, WWX Has PTSD Minor Character Death, Prince WWX, Emperor WWX, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Weirdo4weirdo wangxian, Mpreg, Trans Male Pregnancy, Size Difference, Dragonxian has two dicks, YLLZ WWX)

🔒 the past drifts away with the waves by thelastdboy (E, 46k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, LSZ & LWJ & WWX, WIP, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Fall of Lotus Pier, Major Character Undeath, YZY Being an Asshole, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Major Character Injury, Amputation, Loss of Limbs, Transformation, Merpeople, Fierce Corpse WWX, Merperson WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, No Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cultivation Sect Politics, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Resentful Creature WWX, Undead Merperson WWX, Slow Burn, Getting Together, Revenge, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Resentment, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, River Spirit WWX, Non-Human Genitalia, Dark WWX, Monsterfucker LWJ, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, Wēn Remnants Live, Wangxian Get a Happy Ending, Sect Leader WQ)

~*~

9. I was watching a YouTube video where the tuber was talking about how all men in ancient China had facial hair like Teacher Lan did. I know that MDZS takes place in a fantasy China setting. Hopefully there are plenty of fics out there about Wangian growing facial hair and they both think the other is absolutely gorgeous. I would love to read about them. ☺️ @lizzybgood

~*~

10. Question for the next Mood For, dear Mods. Do you know fics set in the canon verse or similar where lwj goes (stays) violent / dangerous and maybe mad with grief after wwx's death, a menace to the cultivation world? Bonus points if he is still like that when wwx comes back. @tehanu1979

Only death awaits the ones who disobey by Siera_Knightwalker (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Dark LWJ, Angry LWJ, Minor Character Death, Adopted LSZ, BAMF LWJ, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Immortality, No noncon, The world only survives 7 years before Wei wuxian is emergencied back into it, Protective LWJ, Sad LWJ, LWJ Loves WWX)

~*~

11. not exactly sure how to phrase this itmf, but could you please rec me some fics of the BM fam hustling toward a better life? as a community, they farmed and built and made wine and clothes etc, so id love to see them interact with the people of yiling/similar (could be any other jobs, including entertainment or anything else)

thank you!

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Necromancy, Demonic Cultivation, farming, Found Family, Pre-Slash, canon-typical corpse desecration, Questionable approach to cutivation, Making Shit Up As I Go, Cultivation Sect Politics, Fix-It of Sorts, canon typical genocide mention, Burial Mounds, Yílíng Wèi Sect AU)

🔒the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 88k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

~*~

12. Itmf wangxian fics where jgy is a good person and supportive

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 46k, JGY & WWX, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death)

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, JC & WWX & JYL, wangxian, JC & JYL & JFM & YZY, not YZY friendly, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, not JC Friendly, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters, hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings)

The Wild Geese's Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, wangxian, LXC/JGY, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, all women live no women die, LWJ’s canonically intense feelings about everything all the time, WWX’s clinical depression gets treated and blamed on resentful energy, navigating gay marriage in ancient china by utiliizing class snobbery for your own ends, if you’re not sure whose fault anything going on in here is then blaming NHS is probably a good bet, WWX plays ‘summon LWJ’ it’s super effective!, the ‘unexploded cow’ approach to dealing with your enemies)

walk away from the sun by KouriArashi (M, 107k, LXC/JGY, LXC & LWJ, wangxian, LWJ & JGY, LXC & NMJ, Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort,vEmotional Hurt/Comfort,vDeveloping Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Politics, supportive brothers, supportive husbands, Canon-Typical Violence, Lan Family Feels, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

The Misadventures of Wei Wuxian in Cultivation Realm by makkurokuro93 (E, 77k, wangxian, Transmigrator WWX, Inspired by Studio Ghibli, Courtesan LWJ, Courtesan LXC, Parallel Universes, Slow Burn, Good Person WX, Good Person JGY, BAMF CSSR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content)

🔒 omegaverse murder gremlins series by ShippersList (E, 203k, wangxian, LXC/JGY, rape/non-con, underage, A/B/O, nontraditional A/B/O dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Spies & Secret Agents, Fake Character Death, Slow Burn, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canonical Character Death, Mutual Pining, Good JGY, Introspection, Self-Sacrificing WWX, Love Confessions, Protective LWJ, past child sexual abuse)

Peony to Lotus Series by Deriliarch (T, 72k, WIP, YaoLi, WangXian, ChengQing, Soft AU, Canon Divergence, POV JYL, JYL Lives, JYL-centric, Demisexual Character, Demiromantic Character, Slight pining, Arranged Marriage, Fix-It, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending, Marriage of Convenience, POV Alternating, Trigger warnings at the beginning of chapters--nothing huge, Trauma, Pregnancy, Parenthood, Fluff and Angst, Family Bonding, Anxiety, Courtship, Asexuality, Internalized Acephobia, Slice of Life, Flirting, Discussions on consent/relationship boundaries, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Past XiYao, Internalized Misogyny) Wangxian is pretty background here, the focus is JGY/JYL

Reluctant partner by sacrificial_fawn (G, 31k, WangXian, XiYao, Modern AU, Mpreg, Family Reunions, bonding over your shared trauma, Reluctant Bonding, Married Life, Supportive LQR, Past Miscarriage, Male Lactation, non-graphic birth, Intersex WWX, Slight OOC) this one is hilarious

~*~

13. Hi! First of all, I’m really thankful for you guys’ work! I’ve found some of my favourite fics through your account!

Do you guys happen to know any fics where teenage or war era wangxian meet adult (and married) wangxian? It can be time travel or anything honestly! I’m not particular about the details.

I’ve been trying to search for something like this but was unable to come across anything.

花无百日红; the flower that withers by yiqie (M, 29k, wangxian, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Case Fic, Spells & Enchantments, Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, It's about the emotional catharsis, If you have ever laughed at WWX clowning himself for the 'no one will marry you' scene, This fic is: for you)

River Stones by littlesystems (M, 18k, wangxian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Junior Quartet, Oblivious WWX, Suffering LWJ, LJY having the time of his life, Voyeurism)

🔒 ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water by RoseThorne (G, 1k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX, JYL & WWX, WQ & WWX, LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, Major character death, Time Travel Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Future Character Death, Timey-Wimey, Truth, Honesty, Guilt, Crack and Angst, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc)

~*~

14. Itmf wangxian fics with

A) exhausted WWX and doting lwj

And B) your favorite most feet-kicking fluff

14A)

🔒we made space by MajorEnglishEsquire (E, 19k, WangXian, Getting Together, Sleep, Sleeping Together, Lap Sitting, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Adopted Children, Exhaustion, Happy Ending, Sex)

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

Red Flower With One Hundred Petals; Smoke Carried on the Blue Dusk Air by carolyncaves (T, 32k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Alcohol, Mental Health Issues, Angst, Tenderness, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, thoughts of death/dying, Rabbits, Caretaking, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Fluff, Family Feels, Literal Sleeping Together, Shotgun Wedding, angry wedding planner JC, Yunmeng sibling drama and fluff, physical affection, Terrible Parties, Happy Ending, for WangXian, i'd call it a 'significantly more optimistic' ending for the larger plot)

14B)

Hand in hand is the only way to land by so_shhy (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Meet-Cute, Fluff)

The Late Great Custody Debate by stiltonbasket (G, 9k, WangXian, NieLan , XuanLi, Modern AU, Domestic Fluff, baby a-yuan, Single Parent WWX, Confused WWX, Happy Ending)

i’ll have you and you’ll have me by sundiscus (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, fluff with a sprinkling of angst (for flavor), i’ll have you and you’ll have me [Podfic] by Fleur Rochard (fleurrochard))

Setting in a Honeymoon by harriet_vane (G, 1k, WangXian, Fluff)

Some of You by tangerinechar (M, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Social Media, Actor AU, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Love Confessions, Matchmaking, Light Angst)

looking through a window by glitteringmoonlight (T, 5k, wangxian, modern, college/universtity au, outsider pov, fluff, humor)

🧡 A Study in Fluff by WeaverOfTheNight (T, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ghost bunnies, Vet LWJ, Architect WWX, Kid LSZ, Domestic fluff, Modern with Magic)

~*~

15. heyyy admins, any suggestions on sick wwx and lwj takes care of him? thanks for your hard work lovelies! :)

between two lungs by fruitys (M, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, but also. Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, but also! A Different Kind of Sleeping Together, First Kiss, Love Confessions)

I'm For You Now by phnelt (T, 5k, WangXian, Sickfic, Caretaking, Bathing/Washing, Comfort Food, Good Uncle LQR, it's a mild cold, low stakes softness, Domestic Fluff)

🔒 may your sunlit soul find its way home by puddingcatbeans (G, 10k, wangxian, JC & LWJ, Post-Canon, PTSD, sort of a case fic, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Tenderness)

🔒 Love in all forms, something tender by Vrishchika (T, 4k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ, WWX & LXC, WWX & LQR, Post-Canon, married wangxian, Established Relationship, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family Feels, Sickfic, Sick Character)

Sick Bed Reserved In Gusu Lan by scifigeek14 (T, 14k, wangxian, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, sick/comfort, Healing, Illnesses, Fever, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Limited, Happy Ending)

Talismans by brooklinegirl (E, 10k, wangxian)

~*~

16. Hiiii for the next itmf I want fics with wwx wearing the lan forehead ribbon (like properly wearing it yk not in the ‘inappropriate use of the lan forehead ribbon’ way lol although I don’t mind if that’s part of it too), signaling he’s part of the sect cause he married in

Thank youuuu :D

~*~

17. I’m in the mood for fics that are long(ish) (about less 100k more than 30k) with plot but with not too much angst and that still prominently features wangxian relationship. Thank you for your hard work 💕

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian)

❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 46k, JGY & WWX, wangxian, canon divergence, child endangerment, JGS being JGS)

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Canonical Accidental Baby Acquisition, Families of Choice, References to Depression, Happy Ending, I Swear To God I’m Giving Them A Happy Ending, Overzealous Use Of Imagery, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Well Except WN But He Was Already Dead So, Fix-It of Sorts, [Podfic] Wide Enough and Wild by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)) this isn't super plot heavy, but there's some plot

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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jasntodds · 7 months ago

Text

Summary:

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don't care.❞ It's been a month and a half since Crane's reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that's not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you'll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right? Right? Warnings: Angst, Fluff, smut, mentions of being tortured, mentions of being held captive, mentions of abuse (comic!Canon), violence, mentions of death, various injuries, bruises, blood, hurt/comfort, some anxiety, ptsd, hints of depression, mentions of Batman villains being Batman villains, nightmares, some paranoia, discussions about previous homelessness, drug mentions, gore, a bomb, jason has a bomb in his helmet (comic!canon), I'm changing the timeline to season 4 a little bit because i can lol, possibly character death (lol), murder?, i am a defender of Jason’s white streak of hair in the comics A/N: I am so excited to finally be on the last book lmao I have had so many plots taking over my brain for months just to get here and I am so happy to finally share them lol The title is a reference to Penance by Holding Absence which I always recommend them lol You don’t have to read books 1 & 2 to read this one, but you might want some extra context. If you don’t want to read all of that, you can just ask me and I’ll tell you what you need to know to read this book!! tag list | playlist | full masterlist ↳ status: Ongoing updates: Wednesdays

Chapters:

Chapter 1 - Things Are Different Now Chapter 2 - Setup Chapter 3 - Project Starfire Chapter 4 - When The Dust Settles Chapter 5 - Wilt Chapter 6 - New Robins Chapter 7 - Autopsy Scar Chapter 8 - Favorite Vigilante Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Book 1 Masterlist Book 2 Masterlist

Fic Inspired Works:

Jason Todd moodboard Playlist Post Chapter 2 moodboard

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #penance

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novasolstarr · 2 months ago

Note

NOVAAA DROP YOU'RE PRESSURE OCS!! AND MY LIFE.... IS YOURS!!!

A little tip for the way you draw Sebastian

(I deeply apologize if I've sent an ask already.. I have the memory of Dory so I can't remember if I even sent one or not.)

FINALLY GOT THEM ALL DRAWN AND SKETCHED UP

OC LORE UP AHEAD

Content warnings before you continue! The upcoming information may contain topics that are sensitive to users, including;

Medical mentions

Vague Child death

It is now 23:00 and I’m so tired and have school and blegh. So enjoy this silly little jabbering of OC lore and my apologies for the typos that are bound to be incoming

ALSO Feel free to ask any questions about these characters, I’m more than happy to answer them :3

The Nurse, Z-156

Also known previously as Andrew Laticdinae

Andrew before being subjected to the procedures from Urbanshade at the Hadal Blacksite was a nurse at the [REDACTED] hospital located within [REDACTED] [REDACTED]. During his round about runs a patient under his care, an elderly individual, known as [REDACTED], had passed after receiving a lethal dose of heart medication which sent the elder into cardiac arrest. The nurse responsible for the death was quick to pin the blame onto Andrew, and in his confusion, poor wording, and inability to afford a good lawyer, Andrew was charged with murder and sent to the [REDACTED] Prison.

It was here that he was eventually picked up by Urbanshade along with a select few other individuals.

Andrew during this time was put into a project which revolves around making agile, quick, deadly, and effective agents. He was one of the latest of these procedures, having been subjected to the mix of Nurse Shark and Sea Krait. The Sea Krait DNA provided Andrew with a scuted underbelly, a vicious venom [complemented with fangs], and a large paddle like tail that allowed him to comfortably, quickly and effectively navigate through the waters, able to Bob and weave between narrow spaces. The Nurse Shark mix also provided him with a primarily cartilage skeleton and a bite that’s near impossible to pry off due to the suction like bite. Should an individual be able to pull Z-156 off, if the venom doesn’t make quick work of them the large chunk of flesh that is pulled off along with Z-156 will certainly leave them in a world of hurt.

Andrew ended up as one of the more successful tests, however the animalistic appearance side effect was unwanted and needed to be worked out. After further study Andrew had been dropped, leaving him to ponder what his fate may become. In a desperate moment, Andrew pleaded to Urbanshade Personnel to allow him to opportunity to work as an on-sight-in-water medic, noting he had exponential experience before ended up in his current position.

It took days of back and forth [with help from his Docile nature] to finally get the Personnel to agree, granting him very very limited freedoms compared to the average experiment.

Though he was far from treated like an employee. Whenever he was to be out on his job, he was fitted with a muzzle to prevent any potential envenomation of divers, he could only eat within his room, was monitored around any medications and was heavily restricted on what he had access to as to prevent any potential attacks.

Despite it, Andrew preferred this over being cooped up in a room to rot or potentially worse, almost overworking himself some days out of fear. Even now a passing Expendable may find this friendly face sitting within the Blacksite, ready to offer up his services in exchange for Data. [This Data is given to Sebastian]

Mechanic Info

For 90 pieces of Data players can have their health restored from anywhere between 20-50 health. Do note though that this comes with a 25% risk of failure, in which the player will have 10%-20% of their health removed [this will not exceed 10 health however].

Players can also flash The Nurse a limitless amount of times on their first time meeting him, however continuing to do so with each meeting will result in him becoming short with the player. By the 7th - 8th meeting and flashing him twice, he will lash out and bite the player dealing a base of 10 damage. Though this in itself is fine, players will then receive 2 tickets of damage for up to 30 seconds. Players that were at 100 health will be knocked down to 30. This can be stopped with a medkit though or eating wall dweller flesh.

Nova Starr, Expendable

Just a self insert for me and Non-canon to my universe :3

False Alarm, Z-326

Also know previously as Nouvel Nebula

Nouvel lived a relatively bland life before Urbanshade, married to their husband Clayton Nebula [OC Owned by @cyanide-cafe], and working various odd jobs they could find. They were relatively lax and had little concern, so when they ended up thrown in prison alongside their husband after suspected of being an acquaintance in his murders and defiling via cannibalism, they were thrown for a heavy loop.

Even during these harder times the two were inseparable and this became further apparent once picked up by Urbanshade and delivered to the Hadal Blacksite.

Here, the two were put under similar genetic splicing with small differences in DNA for the purpose of testing fertility between spliced genetics. Despite the difference in spliced DNA, Urbanshade was capable of producing 3 living offspring using their gametes in a controlled environment via test tubes, only one of which however was able to escape their termination date and still roams the facility unbeknownst to their supposed parents.

It wasn’t until their time in the Blacksite that Nouvel learned of the crimes that landed their husband here and, subsequently, themself, being absolutely horrified by the revelation and distancing themselves as much as they feesibly could from him during this period. The relationship became stiff and strained in this time, made further worse with the eventual separation of the two for their experimenting. Despite their disdain towards him at the time, he was the only comfort they had in this hellscape, falling deep into a mental spiral which further fueled their eventual sporadic behavior.

The extreme mental strain in this time from the constant experimentation, manhandling from personnel, separation and even occasional threats should they continue to lash out and attack, left them flitty about their behaviors towards Expendables. They seem to show more submissive behaviors when groups of 3 or more are around, being passive unless provoked, but the will quickly become incredibly hostile with groups of 2 or fewer.

Mechanic Info

False alarm is a small and agile monster, preferring to hide within dark rooms whilst waiting on unsuspecting Expendables to pass by. Though they are passive if groups exceed more than 2 players, flashing them will result in a hasty hit and run, where they damage the aggressor for 15 damage and then run off to a separate room.

If there are 3 or more in a party there’s a rare chance that False Alarm will even provide a small bit of information about item whereabouts for Expendables lingering in a room too long. This could be vague hints about flashlights, medkits, high priced data, or otherwise.

If there are 2 or fewer Expendables around, False Alarm becomes hyper aggressive, doing multiple hit and runs for 5 damage per hit, targeting the player with the least amount of health. Flashing them successfully 3 times will get them to back off entirely, ending the encounter for the rest of the run.

Be wary when False Alarm is around, for their companion Real Alarm is not far behind..

Theo Nebula, 326-327-5

Theo Nebula is the last of 5 offspring that had come as a result of the project behind Z-326 and Z-327. Theo ended up the most human and most viable of the 5, with the first 2 offspring having never successfully survived after being removed from incubation and the more recent 2 having been long terminated before Theo, as they had no use and were more hassle than they were worth, being far more monsterous in appearance than Theo. Despite being the most human, they still showed several physical changes and even risked a shorter life span due to their rapid growth [Looking almost 13 or so despite being 4 at most]. The project itself at least proved it was possible for mutations that had occurred on individuals could be passed down, and with more proper tweaking may even be able to be further selective about what can and can’t be passed down.

After Theo had been researched to their fullest extent and there wasn’t much use for them anymore, they were set to be terminated just as their previous two siblings. Luckily for young Theo, a familiar face sent the Blacksite into mayhem after releasing the monsters, allowing Theo to escape their fate of being terminated.

From time to time they can be spotted rummaging around rooms or heard crawling in the vents in their search for food and fueling their curiosity of the Blacksite. They’re cautiously curious yet incredibly skittish and will quickly run off whenever approached by expendables. It’s recommended to search where they were last rummaging through as this may provide Expendables with extra data or information

#roblox pressure #pressure roblox #pressure #character art #oc pressure #roblox pressure oc #pressure oc #oc art #pressure original character #answered asks #asks encouraged #NovaStarr Ask Blog

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zepskies · 19 days ago

Note

hey love!! so in awe of your writing & writing style and i wanted to ask which fic of yours is your favorite?

Well hey there, my lovely!

Oh wow, you're so kind, thank you!! 🥰💜💜 That is a tough question... So I'm going to cheat a little bit and give you my top 3:

3. Smoke Eater (Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

This was my first full AU series. It came from my love of Chicago Fire and medical and cop procedurals like it. Throw in a murder mystery, arson, former playboy Dean, and other angsty storylines in the middle of a whirlwind romance, and you got yourself a firefighter AU! ❤️‍🔥

2. Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

I feel like most people would expect me to answer this one for number one, but it's still very close to my heart. It was my first real foray into the complex, lovable asshole known as Soldier Boy (Ben).

And it was my attempt at creating a redemption arc for him through an "enemies to lovers" story, edgier than anything I'd done previously, thanks to the grittiness of The Boys world.

I've continued writing far past the original series because I just can't quit these two, and this version of Ben.

1. Midnight Espresso Series (Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized Latina Reader)

This is a collection of stories in the SPN fandom, and it's very personal to me! (I'm plus-sized and Latina.) Though I tried to make it so all readers, regardless of race/ethnicity or otherwise, could enjoy those stories as well.

It gave me the chance to pair Dean with a reader character who is also a giver like him, who looks out for and cares for him in the same way he cares for others, all while being a badass hunter herself.

From dramatic and angsty hurt/comfort to fluffy smut, I've tried to explore many facets of their relationship, while utilizing both my heritage/culture and my personal experience with body insecurity, body shaming, etc. Like BMD, this is a series I can always come back to and write more stories for. 💜

Bonus: The Honorable Choice - (Dean W. x OFC)

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

I haven't dropped this one yet, but I'm mentioning it because it's currently one of my favorite projects that I've worked on so far!

⬆️ Part 1 coming on 11/03 (Read it on Patreon now!)

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andkisses · 10 months ago

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♡ a good way | beomgyu ♡

despite the director casting you and beomgyu, your best friend, as the romantic leads, you both promise it won’t change anything between you

♡ beomgyu x gn!reader | wc. 9.1k ♡ genres/tropes: college!au, friends-to-loves, theater!au, hurt/comfort ♡ mentions of/warnings: injuries, lmk if there's anything else ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for joshua from svt; i changed some of the times in the fic from the original, so if it’s a little wonky that’s why :’) pls enjoy ! <3 at the time it was my longest fic, now only second to roman holiday ^^ a/n 2: apologies for my absences ! i had some health issues even tho it was supposed to be my break :') im doing well now ^^

♡ masterlist ♡

It was strange. Weird. Practically unfathomable and there must be some kind of mistake. The play had those two characters as romantic leads. The ones who slowly turn to look at each other, catch the starry glint in the other’s eye before slowly leaning in, before slowly closing their eyes, before slowly feeling their heartbeat accelerate because oh heavens this is it—before slowly kissing each other for the first time with such tender passion some members of the audience start to cry.

Those roles were not ever meant for the ones who have been friends since seventh grade, where one of them accidentally tripped and tossed their lunch all over the other, rendering the former an apologetic mess and the latter slightly smelling of garlic for the rest of the day. Not for the ones who stayed up far too late binge watching whole seasons of anime because they finally turned in that big project and it’s in fate’s hands now. Definitely not friends who are each other’s best friends, always. Never them.

But when the director swings back to the two of you, the mischievous and excited glint in his eye is unmistakable. His giddiness even bubbles over and he repeats himself, happily gazing between you and the best friend of 8 years standing beside you. “Beomgyu, Y/N, you will be the best two leads this stage has ever seen.”

You don’t want to talk about it. You avoid it for as long as possible. Have every conversation about everything else possible except the one topic that actually needs discussion. The trees outside are slowly losing their crunchy leaves, littering the ground with crimson and gold and sprigs of chocolate in between. They rustle and fuss when walked over, and shuffle down the street in a hoard of warning, proclaiming threats of the bitter winds of winter that would soon approach and engulf everyone whole.

Some mornings, you can see remnants of late-night frost on window panes, icy designs laced over the glass in the early morning hours. The grass glistens and shimmers with frozen dew, and the sidewalk is slippery enough to encourage walking slowly or bypassing concrete altogether and walking through the dead leaves. Some nights, you can see your breath curl as you wait outside the diner, a translucent white beast disappearing into the night. As night draws darker earlier, the air grows colder, like a mysterious ghost. One moment, you’re warm—the next, a bitter chill sprints around you, immersing everything in a coldness that drills past your layers and settles into your bones.

But you’d wait a thousand years in the cold just to walk him home. You’d wait forever if it meant seeing him one last time before the day ended and blurred into the next through a series of dreams and quiet darkness.

Beomgyu is one of the last few people out of the diner; he never closes, but he stays as long as he can, helping out and cleaning before his boss gets angry and tells him to “go home! Don’t you have homework?” When he steps out onto the street, making sure to close the door behind him, he’s safely bundled up in a black pea coat and a plaid woolen scarf that, when wound up, nearly encompasses his neck, chin, and even the bottom tips of his ears. When he sees you waiting for him again, he smiles, eyes lighting up like firecrackers and his grin is so warm it starts to defrost your bones, slowly but surely.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me?” he says, falling in step with you as the two of you began the chilled trek back to your apartment.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “but then who will make sure you don’t get lost on your way back? Or, I don’t know, get eaten by a star-monster?”

“A star-monster?” He quirks his head towards you, raising his eyebrow in mild but amused confusion.

You nod your head. “What if the stars gang up on you and snatch you right off the face of the earth and you disappear into the sky? And no one knows or can save you because I wasn’t there? Hm?”

A bitter chuckle escapes his lips. The white curl of his breath fills the air in front of him before it fades, taking the bright look in his eyes with it. “Then I guess I wouldn’t have to be a part of the musical, would I?”

Silence washes over you like a breaking wave—it hurts and stings, knocking everything away and tossing the tiny ships around into chaos. The only sound now is the brush of the wind skirting the leaves down the street with you and the distant city noise. The heels of your shoes hit the pavement in time together, and your breaths slowly start to match up. But something’s off; you feel it in your heart and your bones begin to ache again as the cold ice returns once more, spreading their chilled fingers across them.

Somehow, you find your voice, but it’s quiet and small. “It couldn’t be that bad, could it?”

Beomgyu shrugs, looking anywhere but you. He throws his head back and stares up at the night sky, where the stars kindly twinkle back at him, almost as a promise of we’d never steal you away. You look up, too, but all you see is a menacing darkness that you’re not sure you can get rid of. It feels like it’s bearing down on you, pressing down on your head, your shoulders, and your heart. With it comes a dark doubt, one that oozes into the cracks of your armor and makes you start to question things. It beckons out the dangerous thoughts—the what ifs—and coaxes them into the light and forces you to acknowledge them. What if... this changes things. What if... it ruins things. What if...

“Y/N?”

Your gaze drops back down. Beomgyu stands a few yards ahead of you, in the light of one of the yellow streetlamps. You must have stopped while lost in thought, slowing down until you ended up stuck in between two lamps, in the shadowy part. “Hm?”

He shakes his head. “You just stopped walking.” He turns toward you completely and quickens his pace until he’s beside you again. The look on his face screams of concern, of wondering if his best friend is fine or if it’s something he can’t fix. He reaches out to take your hand in his. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart swells, but it still feels as if it will break, shatter, crumble at any time or place. It feels like porcelain, that if it isn’t handled with care and marked FRAGILE, it will ruin to the point that nothing can fix it. You know what question you have to ask; it’s weighing down on your tongue and you’ll have to force it out.

You gulp, and you can feel your hand shaking in his. Beomgyu’s eyebrows knit together, his starry eyes trying to search for what’s wrong. For what is in need of helping. You stare back at him, garnering the courage to ask the question that’s been plaguing you since roles had been assigned. “The show–it won’t change anything between us, will it?”

And then, he does something unthinkable.

He laughs.

Beomgyu lets go of your hand and bends over in half, practically cackling at the idea, whisker dimples on full display. When he stands back up again, he’s still laughing hard enough he crinkles into your frame, resting a hand on your shoulder and burying his head into your neck, an arm resting across his stomach. His body shakes with laughter, and it’s infectious. A grin slowly spreads across your face, and then a giggle works its way out until the two of you are both laughing like fools. You may be between two lampposts in the shadows, but there’s light where you are.

When the laughter finally subsides to gentle smiles, Beomgyu takes your hand again and tugs you close. He starts walking again, pulling you along, swinging your arms between the two of you. He knocks into your shoulder jokingly, and the both of you smile harder. “Of course not,” Beomgyu says. His smile is pure, assuring. The hand in yours is warm, stable. “Nothing will ever change us.”

Seventh Grade.

The auditorium was full of anxious students, the buzz of noise telling the story of those who were waiting for their turn to shine on stage. The lights were turned on as bright as they would be for a performance, and the stage was decorated with real props from last semester’s performance, a steampunk rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. No one thought the director could pull it off, but when the curtains closed for the last time that first showing, everyone was left starstruck and a new round of students was inspired to try out for the next performance.

A loud clap from the director thundered through the auditorium, signaling for attention and shocking you into your seat a little further. The red fabric bristled against whatever skin your sweater didn’t cover. Outside, the harsh winter weather pummeled the barren landscape, the dead, empty tree branches getting whipped by the bitter, unforgiving wind. The light dusting of snow made everything brighter, almost to the point it hurt to look out the windows at the white world. Inside, however, was full of warm tones and warm breaths. The heat of the auditorium practically had you sweltering, making you wish you had worn layers instead of a bright green sweater. The threads around the collar began to itch at your neck, and you tugged at the hem in search of relief. You really wanted to be here. You really wanted to audition. But the number of people and how long you’ve waited has started to play mind games with you. What if they don’t get to you today? What if they skip over you entirely for someone else? Someone with more theater experience from prior years than you, a complete newbie? What if—

“Hey, uh, is this seat taken?”

You looked up, still fiddling with your itchy collar. It was the boy from the day before—Beomgyu. The one who had accidentally tripped over someone else’s backpack and thrown his lunch all over you. He looked like a complete wreck, one hand holding onto the wrist of the other arm, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he struggled to even look in your direction. You shelf your own nerves and offer up a kind smile and pat the seat, which he hastily filled.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a while afterward. On stage, more students rotated through songs and performances, some spectacular and others a little lackluster. It was beginning to become monotonous, and your mind started to wonder if you had gotten here earlier, would you have already auditioned by now? But then something happened. A student walked on stage, introduced themselves politely, and then began to blow everyone and every other performance out of the water. The way they moved, spoke, sang—everything they did was captivating and you felt yourself leaning forward in your seat, drawing ever nearer to the practically perfect audition. There was no music playing in the background, but their vocals and stage presence was more than enough. The entire auditorium erupted in applause when the student on stage finished.

“Wow,” you breathed out. You’d practically fallen out of the chair—feet standing on tiptoes, elbows on knees, chin rested in your cupped hands with a shimmer in your eyes. That. You wanted to be like that. Bewitching, enchanting, and utterly spellbinding.

“I know right?” the boy whispered beside you. The two of you turned to look at each other, and somehow, in the back of your mind, you registered he was sitting the same way you were, looking completely and utterly enraptured with the previous performance. He stared into your eyes—the first time, you noted—and you could see the stars, like a secret milky way full of wonder. There was a serious note in them. “Let’s both do our best so when we grow up, we can be that good.”

“No.” You shook your head, and Beomgyu’s face collapsed into confusion. You shook your head again, this time with a mischievous grin spreading across your lips. “No, when we grow up, we’ll be way better.”

A murmur ripples around campus. Sophomore year of college, and all of high school behind you. You’d think you would be used to it by now, the way quiet words spread around so sneakily but somehow always managed to make their way to your ears, too. But when the girls in the bathroom see you and slyly turn away, whispering how you and Beomgyu have the romantic leads, how of course they do, you can’t help but feel the knot in your stomach form and twist your insides until you feel pressure on your heart as well. Until it feels like you’re about to burst and spill everywhere. You want to spin at them, throw your hands out, and tell them how it’s not like that! That there’s nothing between the two of you except for friendship, the purest of kinds! Stop thinking that way!

But the wiser part of you, the one that’s been through high school, knows that they would just nod their head and try to hide their smirk. You can’t change their minds; they’ll always be thinking and imagining what they want.

Outside, the halls teem with people trying to get to their next class or break. You debate on stopping by your locker near the theater—you won’t need your books again until you go home thanks to rehearsal, but it would be out of your way to get there, on the opposite side of the arts block. But your books are heavy. Really heavy. Like shoulder-breaking, premature back pain-inducing heavy. You find that your feet have started to take you through the crowds to your locker before your mind decides on the plan itself.

In middle school, your and Beomgyu’s lockers were practically as far as they could be from one another. Yours by the gymnasium and near the arts building and the theater. With your mismatched class schedules, you only got to see each other at lunch and for theater. As your friendship grew, he would let you borrow locker space. It got to the point where you basically co-owned each other’s lockers; everything for classes on his side of the building was in his locker and everything for classes on your side was in yours.

By the time high school rolled around two grades later, the two of you were inseparable. As were your lockers. His at one end of the hall, yours at the other end on the opposite side. This only caused trouble junior year, when the two of you had such a bad falling out you could hardly bare to walk past one another’s locker let alone the other person. You would end up taking roundabout ways to your own locker, which worked until you ended up running into him one day without warning.

But you don’t have that problem now. As you walk past Beomgyu, who’s standing by his locker talking to another theater kid, you lightly slug his shoulder. You turn to walk backward and catch his reaction, and he’s staring back at you with fake confusion and his arms thrown up in the air. “You’ll pay for that!” he calls after you.

“Yeah, yeah, sure I will!”

You reach your locker, a happy smile on your face, glad your best friend is the kind of person you can beat up on. You spin the lock with precision, ready to open the door, slam your books inside on the shelf, and hurry to the theater for rehearsals. You can’t wait to see what strange exercises the director would have up his sleeve today; last time, he had everyone stand on the steps in the audience and each time they recited a line correctly, they got to move up two steps. First to the top wins; you and Beomgyu tied for first.

When you pull out the lock and swing the door open, what you see ruins your mood instantly. The crisp, white, inch-thick script stares back at you with quiet remorse. Remember me? it seems to say. Don’t forget about me. You’re almost afraid to touch it, knowing exactly what it holds in its pages even without having read a single line. If your fingers were to graze it, it’s as if an electric shock would shoot out and stop your heart from ever beating again. A tiny part of you wonders if, if your heart really did stop beating, would Beomgyu come to your side and rescue you?

Or would it be like the other night, with a sharp, bitter laugh and a mild happiness over a forgotten kiss.

You’re jostled out of your stupor by a neat punch to your arm, and you fall back into your locker with a metallic clang. When your vision focuses back on the real world, you see Beomgyu walking away from you towards the theater with a confident smirk on his face. He throws out his hands, his smile growing even wider. “I told you, you’d pay for that!”

You’re smiling too, now, and you hurry and grab the script and race after him.

It will all be okay. The two of you had already talked about it, how nothing could change between you two. Regardless of what the girls in the bathroom would dare to say in front of you. Regardless of what anyone else on campus or your major are thinking. Regardless of the script that burns slightly in your grasp, the crisp paper threatening to cut tiny slices into your delicate skin. You and Beomgyu—inseparable best friends for the rest of time.

It would always be that way. No play, no roles, no romantic leads, would get in the way of that. You’d promised each other you’d be each other’s best friend, always.

Freshman year.

Sunlight streaming through the loosely drawn curtains was what woke you, lit patterns playing across your face. Your back ached from sleeping on a couch at a crooked angle for who knows how long. You stretched and tried to pull at your sore joints, attempting to return them to pre-crooked status. The room was still dark; the lamps were all off and the only other source of light was the television, where Netflix was playing some random anime you don’t remember ever selecting or talking about. Vague memories float up to the surface slowly as you finished waking up: you and Beomgyu had turned in a big semester final project that neither of you had thought would be finished on time but somehow managed to pull off. Deciding to get take out and stay up as long as possible watching as many seasons of anime as you could fit in and—

“Boo!”

Your scream echoed through the small dorm and you pulled at the blanket on top of you, trying to hide behind the soft, comforting quilt. On the other side of the couch was Beomgyu, laughing so hard he nearly rolled off onto the shag carpet rug. You half thought about being kind, and warning him to be careful because if he fell he could hit his head on the coffee table, but the other half said he scared you and deserved whatever happened next.

“How could you be so mean!” you whined, reaching behind you to grab a pillow to throw at your best friend’s face. “How long had you been planning something like that?”

Beomgyu paused his laughter to think. “Probably since I woke up about ten minutes ago. It would have been more elaborate, but then you woke up and I ran out of time.”

“You’ll pay for that, you know,” you muttered, drawing the blankets closer against your chest, where inside your heart still beating faster than usual.

“Even after helping you with that project and pay for dinner? On a college budget?” He paused for another moment, resting his chin between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. “Wait, pay for dinner... seems like I’ve already paid for it, Y/N.”

“Beomgyu!” You lunged forward, diving towards his end of the couch. Instead of a successful attack, you landed squarely in his arms, where he proceeded to tug you tightly against his chest. Escape, you soon realized, was futile. You’d have to talk your way out of this one. “Beomgyu, let me go. Now!"

“You know, you sure are whiney when you wake up,” he commented, rustling the hair atop your head. Your heart was still beating quickly and you were convinced the flush of your cheeks was due to large bouts of boiling hot rage streaming through your veins. “And why should I?”

“I would be in a nicer mood if you hadn’t scared me!” You tried to wriggle your arms up and pry your way out, but his grip was solid still, strong and warm. Since when was he ever this strong? His cheeks, you noticed, were warm and rosy as well, but that was from laughing too hard, you were sure. Why else would they be flushed?

“You may have a point…”

“Of course, I have a point! Now let me go!”

Mischief swam around with the stars in your best friend’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, planning something you could only hope wasn’t entirely embarrassing. One eyelid dropped shut, and the smirk on his lips was unmistakable. “I will, but only if you pay for breakfast. From somewhere nice,” he rushes to add. “Student union doesn’t count.”

You released a terse sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Fine! Deal! Now, release me!”

His arms slid away and you rolled over onto the floor, gently landing between the couch and the coffee table. The carpet was rough against your bare arms, but you were glad to be freed from Beomgyu’s death grip.

He was situated on the edge of the couch, chin resting lazily on his forearm, his eyes filled with mild shock and awe. “Really?” he gasped, as if he couldn’t actually believe you’d agreed. “Even if it’s the overpriced brunch food from the boutique down the street?”

You sighed, staring back at him. “Yes. Even the brunch food from the boutique down the street.”

A moment of stillness, then...

“I’m glad we’re best friends," he said plainly, no hesitation in his voice. His dark eyes had warmed to a welcoming honest color, the kind some people could describe as home. The air around the two of you was still, a precious silence that quietly begged to be broken softly. Outside, the morning birds began to sing their late winter tune, beckoning spring to arrive as soon as possible. The sun filtered through the tiny windows brightly now, filling the dorm with warm yellow like that made everything feel nostalgic. Like the perfect ’80s movie.

When you found your voice, your words were soft but not timid. They held the same amount of honesty and weight as his had. “Me, too. We’re best friends, always.”

A soft smile played at Beomgyu’s lips as he echoed your promise. “Always.”

The walk back to your apartment is chilly. Even though the sun shone brightly ahead, the first freeze of the season the night prior plunged your town from late autumn into early winter. What few leaves remain on the trees might as well be frozen on, and the rest of the dead ones scattered around on the pavement, crunchy husks of their former selves. It’s daylight, but you can easily imagine if darkness were shrouded around you, your breaths would be rising out in front of you in vague translucent puffs. Cold describes everything in sight.

Beomgyu is close by your side, nestled in that ridiculously oversized scarf of his. Christmas is a while away, but you’re already planning on getting him a nice, Beomgyu-sized scarf, probably a deep brown to match his eyes.

“What’cha thinking about?” His voice, clear as crystal, cuts through the air like a sharpened knife, but it doesn’t startle you. It’s warm and inviting against the bitter winter weather, a gentle fire among the cold.

“What I’m gonna get you for Christmas,” you reply, burying your hands into your coat pockets. The pavement scuffs beneath your boots, the walk back home growing boring. As you crossed the street where you two used to part ways freshman year, him to the left and you to the right, you remember when he said his parents told him they were moving during high school. How distraught the two of you became, only to find out he was moving in across the street from your house. Now, you split the rent for a two bedroom apartment. “How about you?”

“To be completely honest, I’m wishing I had remembered my gloves this morning, because right now, my hands are extremely cold.”

You laugh, a bright chuckle, and pull your own hands out of your pockets, staring down at the grey gloves cloaking your fingertips. You hold out your hand towards him. “Want to take one?”

Beomgyu scoffs. “And let you suffer from an equally terrible fate as myself? I think not. At least one of us needs to live.”

You laugh again, throwing your hands back into your pocket. “Fine, be that way.” You cut in front of him, dashing over to the short decorative stone wall running as a divider between the grassy park and the sidewalk. In a quick hop, you’re walking along the top as it gradually slopes higher to the point your feet are even with Beomgyu’s waist.

He stares up at you as you hold your arms at length on either side of you, a small frown playing on his lips. “Be careful,” he warns, the tone of his voice surprisingly stern, something he rarely treats you with. When you look down, you see his brows creased as he follows your pace.

“Yeah, okay, dad,” you laugh, finding the bitter look on Beomgyu’s face amusing. The stone wall beneath your feet is sturdy, and your balance is just as solid. Years of strange theater exercises had brought you that. You can even see your apartment down the street; you’d walk all the way atop this wall, taller now still, and show him. You’ll get to the end and hop off dramatically and tease him for worrying. He keeps pace with you perfectly, still by your side even if there’s distance. The look in Beomgyu’s eyes tells you he wants to reprimand you, take you by the waist and set you safely on the sidewalk before scolding you on every reason why you shouldn’t have done that. But you don’t need him to. You’re perfectly safe with no reason to worry and—

You’ve misstepped.

Your foot is too far from the center, closer to the edge of the stonewall than you had anticipated. There’s not enough foot on the edge to save it. Your impressive balance is misplaced even further as your arms circle widely at your sides, trying in vain to regain some semblance of stability. You can feel yourself pitch sideways, your feet finally coming out from beneath you, and now you’re looking up at the crystal blue sky.

There’s not a cloud in sight, odd for this early winter day, and for the shortest of moments, it’s like you're falling through the atmosphere. The cold wind biting at your cheeks is caused by your descent. The screams you hear are just the air rushing past your ears, calling your name, not anyone else. The clunk of bodies hitting the pavement is just an illusion.

Your vision snapping to black is just a mistake, a cruel trick of fate, like the dark doubts that swarm around your head when you’re all alone. The blackness is almost welcoming, and you succumb quietly.

Twelfth Grade

Four weeks. Just under a month. Your life had gone from bold with color and emotion to two steps from dead and lifeless. Subjects you’d once enjoyed, now dull and monotonous. Walks to school were boring. Lunch and free period were non-committal. You’d skipped theater more than your fingers could count; you’d gotten an email from the director asking if everything was okay.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

Because it had been four weeks, just under a month, since you’d talked to your best friend.

What you’d even been fighting over, you couldn’t remember. That entire night is a fogged mess in your memory banks, existing but inaccessible. You know it’s there, but your brain, or maybe your heart, refuses to replay the details for you. The only information it relays is that there was a fight, and somehow some kind of words were said that ended in hot tears and storming out of houses with no goodbyes, take cares, or any sign of always.

Life since then had been weird, like you had shifted from one plane of existence but the world didn’t shift with you. Like a blurry camera shot, where one part of the image is in focus with fuzzy edges but everything else is shaken and smeared like thick wet paint.

All the love and joy theater had brought you since seventh grade was gone, five years nearly shattered to pieces inside your nearly-broken heart. You had no idea when the light would return, or if you would ever act again. It was so closely entwined to him, it physically hurt to walk near the theater or even think of certain plays.

Just like it hurt in the classes you shared. Sitting across the room from each other as far as possible, as opposed to right next to each other and sharing looks and soft smiles. The other students and even the teachers were left in a mild tailspin of confusion. There was never a scene made, nor any words spoken. Glances weren’t exchanged anymore. You never looked in his direction; your heart would ache far too much to handle.

Different pathways were even chosen to get between classes. You didn’t want a chance encounter in the halls, you couldn’t handle it. You guessed he couldn’t either, because you never saw him. There were never any accidental meet ups by your lockers, either.

Your plan had been to skip theater again and take the bus home, riding it around until it dropped you off last. You wouldn’t have to see him, it wouldn’t have to hurt, for that day at least. But you were running late, another teacher asking if you were okay needing brushing off. You needed to hurry and stop by your locker to retrieve your books. The bus was leaving soon; if you wanted to leave, you’d need to rush.

The halls were empty, everyone either in their after school clubs or outside waiting for the buses. You hurried to your locker, fingers anxious to spin the code in, grab your books, and leave. You reached inside, ready to retrieve the books by their spine and disappear from this place for what would feel like a short eternity. The hall was too bright, too empty, too--

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, head whipping to the side. Beomgyu stood mere feet from you, but he might as well have been a thousand miles away. There were no longer any stars in his eyes, no warmth or cheer. They were sad, dark pits of self-doubt. They were muted screams, begging for help but not being quite loud enough. The dark circles under his eyes pleaded as well, and the downturn of his lips was what sent your stoic, bored, “I can make this” facade spiraling downwards.

You reached forward instinctively, wanting to cup his cheek with your hand and gently rub away the dark circles with your thumb, but you froze midway. Your voice even hitched. “Beomgyu... you look…”

“Awful? Dreadful? Like hell?” he filled in for you, and you couldn’t help but nod. Your chest was tight, almost to the point you wanted to clutch and tear at your heart to find relief. And the way your best friend was standing, shoulders slumped and body looking one strong wind from caving in like a fragile house of cards, it seemed like his heart was aching, too.

“What happened to us?” you asked, voice quiet and quivering. The hot buildup of tears began behind your eyes, making the edges of your vision blur together in a mass of sad, muted tones. “Why did we—”

“I don’t know,” he answered quickly, anxiously, as if he doesn’t speak fast, he’ll lose you again. He took a tender step forward, leaving only a few feet between you, but it was still too much space. You missed being side by side, close enough to bump into each other’s shoulders or elbow each other’s sides. Beomgyu took another tiny step towards you when you didn't move back. “What were we even fighting about?”

“I don’t know.” You felt like one step away from crumbling inwards, clasping in on yourself and all the way to the cool hallway floor. Your hands were shaking now at your sides, and you gripped your hoodie hem to prevent the shivers from racing up your arms and shaking the rest of you until you shattered into tiny shards. The moment your fingers curled around the soft hem was when you realized: it was his. You’d thrown in on that morning without even thinking. Now, all you could notice was how strongly, how nicely it smelled like him. You took in a solid breath of air to prevent the tears from spilling over, but it was shaky and unconvincing. “Whatever we were fighting about, it’s not worth this. I miss you, Beomgyu.”

His eyes were still empty, no stars in sight, but now they were glossy with tears. His chin quivered, and his lips moved to say something but couldn’t. His fingers curled and uncurled around the leather strap of his messenger bag. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I miss you. So much it hurts to breathe, so much I can’t stand to look at you in class or else I feel like crying. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please, please, forgive me and be my best friend again. I don’t think I can take life without you anymore.”

The both of you lunged forward at the same time, wrapping each other in a hug. Your arms clung to his neck while his encircled your waist, holding you close. Warm, salty tears finally spilled over, running down your cheek and onto the soft denim of his jacket. By his shaky breaths, you figured he was crying, too. “I don’t want you not in my life anymore either,” you managed, hoping somehow that you’d made sense.

Beomgyu laughed in your arms, drawing you even nearer. “Good, because I really didn’t want to have to explain to your father why I was standing under your window with my guitar instead of just letting myself in like usual.”

You laughed too, but the kind of broken laugh where you find pure happiness just after harsh sadness. Your heart swelled with joy, knowing that Beomgyu was still yours. The time you’d spent apart, not talking or goofing around or shoving each other playfully with stupid grins on both of your faces, had been life-draining. You’d never get it back, even if you spent forever together. You never wanted to go through anything like that ever again.

Beomgyu nestled into the crook of your neck, words whispered so quietly you knew instantly that they were just for you. “We’re each other’s best friends, always. Right?”

You wrap your arms around even tighter, a true smile on your face for the first time in weeks. “Right. Always, Beomgyu, always.”

The apartment is quiet. The shades are drawn open, allowing late afternoon sunlight to spill in and swim around on soft carpet floors, bathing them in warm yellow light. The television in the corner is on but mute, the news airing with no noise. The heater kicked on a minute or so ago, filling the house with nicely warm air. Outside, soft baby snowflakes begin to fall out of the sky, the first snowfall of the season. If the sound had been on, you would have known that the weatherman said the snow was no reason for concern—it wouldn’t accumulate to the point it was dangerous. Just a light dusting, something to make the outdoors look nice and wintry.

But you are unconcerned with whatever the weatherman’s words may be or the consequences of the snow. There are more pressing concerns.

Your voice warbles as you pull out the first aid kit from above the washer and walk back into the living room. “Beomgyu, I’m so so sorry, I—” You bite down on your lower lip to prevent yourself from crying; there wasn’t time for that now. The white plastic lid snaps open, and you pull out the gauze, the alcohol wipes, and the bandages with shaky hands. He sits on the edge of the couch, one hand bracing himself on the cushion, the wounded one resting tenderly on his lap.

You lower to stand on your knees and reach out to take the hurt one in yours. You stare down at his split second knuckle, an ugly gash that would surely scar no matter how kindly or tenderly you treated it. Caused because of your stupidity, your recklessness. Caused because you tripped or slipped or something and fell off the wall. Caused because he risked his safety to catch you. You feel your heart break, knowing the scar would be your fault, forever, and you can’t ever fix it no matter how hard you try.

There’s no going back, or rewinding time to try again.

Beomgyu winces as you wipe at the cut with the alcohol wipes, and you mutter sorry after sorry. It’s beginning to not even feel like a real word. You can feel your chest heaving, one step away from a total breakdown as you swim through deep and measured breaths. Guilt pours over you like a thick syrup, sticking to every surface and threatening to drag you down and drown you whole. It fills into the cracks of your armor, bubbling up inside you like a witch’s brew. As you place the gaze and wrap the bandages around his hand, your breaths are coming shallower and shallower, your ability to keep it together fading. When you tie the bandages into place, you let go and drop to sit on your heels, all energy gone. Your head hangs in shame, and you wish you could crawl away and hide somewhere until further notice.

Which would be easier if you didn’t share a damn apartment.

However, your best friend won’t let you.

“Hey,” he calls, his voice soft and soothing. His healthy hand curls under your chin, gently begging you to look up, and you comply. His eyes are calm and filled with stars again, and other emotions you can’t quite place. He smiles kindly, and you can feel your heart shatter at that instant. Right now, you don’t deserve that kindness. Your shoulders spike up and tears begin to spill over. Beomgyu’s face collapses into concern, and he slides off the couch to sit on the floor next to you, legs crossed.

When he places his hands on your shoulders, you try to shake them off. “Please, just...” Your voice falls away. How could you ever apologize for what happened? You knew you shouldn’t have, and yet you did. You knew he seriously disapproved, even if he didn’t voice it totally, and yet you continued. You knew, deep down, that you were getting cocky, and yet you didn’t stop. You had plans on teasing him, mocking him for his concern. The guilt presses down and down, crunching against your head, your shoulders, and your heart until you could scarcely breathe. Quiet sobs heave against your frame, from your torso down to your whole body. You could tell, soon, that you’d simply shake apart into fragments that could never be pieced together again.

You injured your best friend from your own stupidity.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says again, and this time, he reaches for you and pulls you into his lap, safely tucking you under his chin. You don’t resist, and even if you wanted to, you doubt you could have done it past all the crying. He gently rocks you back and forth, rubbing your back, soothing you as one would a small child. Once your sobs have subsided, and your breaths return to a semi-normal state, he speaks again. “I don’t hate you for what happened, if that’s what you think. I could never, I…”

You pull yourself slightly from his grasp, enough to stare at him at eye level, coming out from underneath the warm spot of his chin and neck and shoulder. The emotions swirling around amongst the stars in his eyes are new and unusual to yet, and some part of you feels at home with them. Your voice is quiet, almost hesitant, when you talk. “You... what?”

Beomgyu takes a breath, as if steeling himself. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Need?" you echo, head quirking to one side in confusion.

He nods, staring straight into your eyes. When he speaks, his tone is something you’ve rarely ever heard before. “Need. My chest might burst if I don’t get this off it, and that wouldn’t really help me graduate. Or tell you this. So... and seeming we might as well have almost died…” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and Beomgyu seems hesitant, but only for a moment. Years of going up on stage have prepared him, but you can tell in this instance, he’s honest, 100% himself, and your best friend, not some actor playing a character for some play.

He takes another breath before: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes grow wide, a small gasp escapes your lips, but he doesn’t stop.

“No, that’s not right. I know I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for a long time but this... this is different. I want to keep you safe, to wipe away any of your tears. Seeing you sad just... tears at my heart. It hurts. Whenever you're sad or upset, I feel the same way, even if it’s just words over a text message. I really did feel like I was going to die when we had that fight. Living without you was unimaginable, but I had to go four weeks without you. Without your voice, your stupid jokes, your laugh. I guess I was in love with you then, too, I just didn’t know it.”

Words escape you, any witty comeback gone. You stare at him, the honesty in his eyes, thinking you’d see him differently after his confession. But you don’t. He’s still Beomgyu. He’s still your best friend. He’s still your Beomgyu.

One of your hands raises, and you tap yourself on your sternum. “Me?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes now, as if he expected some kind of response like this. “Yes, you. I mean, who else would look up at the night sky, invent a star-monster, then worry about it taking me? I’ve wondered if I was really in love with you, like really actually in love with you. But when you fell and I caught you and you blacked out and I didn’t know why... Y/N, I was so worried. I could feel my heart breaking and I knew that if you never woke up, I wouldn’t ever be the same again.”

He’s mere inches from you, arms around you, body heat radiating off in such pleasant ways you feel okay with melting straight into the floor. His hands move from around your back to ghost around your face, like they want to caress you but are too afraid you might shatter like a fine porcelain under his touch. And his eyes—damn, his eyes. Every star, every galaxy, stirring together to create a beautiful milky way, a gaze so firm and caring you feel as if you’ll never look away. That if you somehow managed, too, you’d feel as if you were missing something dear and important.

Your heart flutters in your chest, its beat stuttery against your wrists. Oh, how on earth did you get here?

Maybe it was when one was so starstruck by the other they stopped watching where they were walking and dripped over someone’s strewn out, overstuffed backpack. When the other offered up a seat beside them during the audition to help settle nerves. Maybe it was when they woke up next to each other after having fallen asleep after binge watching an entire anime season or two, with Netflix on some other autoplay show, one was wondering how the other could look so soft and delicate just after they wake. When the other was happy that they were in each other’s lives. Maybe it was when they declared they’d always be friends, best friends, but now always seems to be more weighty and mean a little more than before.

Maybe, just maybe, this is when they slowly turn towards each other, catching the starry glint in the other’s eye. When they slowly lean forward, ever closer, to the point they can feel one another’s soft breath. When gazes go from eyes to lips and back. When heartbeats slowly start to be harder and louder. When you feel like you might be the one crying because oh heavens—this is it.

But there are things those plays never mention, things the audience can never detect.

They never mention how the palms of hands become sweaty, or how automatic it is to take a soft breath before another pair of lips meets yours, a touch so delicate you finally understand what all the hype is about.

How nice it feels to have two hands cupping your cheeks so gently, their little fear of shattering you gone, or how your own hand curls into the fabric of his shirt as if it’s second nature, the most right thing in the world.

How tantalizingly dizzy a first kiss is.

How soft lips are, how soothingly warm to the point you wouldn’t mind if they were all you felt. How tender goosebumps trail down your spine until something begins to pool in your stomach.

How, even though you’ve become utterly breathless, you can’t stop at just one, because now something that's been building and growing for years has unlocked.

Hands that trail from cheeks to ghost over the nape of the neck, sliding down arms softly to then find purchase at your waist. Kisses, more warm, tantalizing kisses that leave you craving for more. Kisses that roam from lips to chins, then trail down the jaw to tease and nip tender patches of skin on necks, only to return to corners of lips for more wholehearted, dizzying kisses.

You’re warm, almost hot, but it’s so pleasant. What exposed skin you have tingles with feeling, with a craving touch and affection, too. The two of you rest your forehead on one another’s, breath still shallow from all the kisses exchanged, hands softly interlocked with fingers entwined, or as much as one can with bandaged knuckles. He finds his voice first, though even it is soft and a little hoarse. “I should have done that a long time ago, huh?”

You giggle and snuggle closer, nestling into the crook of his neck. You place a kiss underneath his chin. Beomgyu rubs even patterns on your back with his healthy hand while you take the bandaged one in your own, cradling it gently. You pull it up to your own lips, kissing where each knuckle is softly. When you look up, you see the stars glowing in his eyes, brighter than anytime you’ve ever seen them.

Beomgyu sighs, eyes softening at the corners. “I guess the kiss in the play won’t matter anymore, hm?”

You lightly slug in him the shoulder, a love-filled smile playing on your lips. He smiles back in a similar manner, his eyes lighting up with happiness. “Oh, and I guess this means you love me back, too.”

People fill and mingle around the diner, looking for an open seat among the crowds of customers. And older couple swoops in as soon as you vacate the booth, not even caring that your dirty dishes were still neatly stacked at the edge awaiting pick up. But you didn’t mind. You push through the doors to wait outside while Beomgyu paid. Even though there’s a small crowd at the counter, you knew exactly which one he was. Beomgyu wore his light blue jacket, the one that accentuated all his features nicely. You’d have to make sure that whatever Beomgyu-sized scarf you bought matched that jacket. He needed to wear it as often as possible.

The first official date was almost over, but you knew there would be many more to come.

Once he’s finished paying, Beomgyu makes a beeline for the door, carefully navigating around all the people crowding the entryway. “Is it always this busy?” you ask when he rejoins you.

Beomgyu shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so. But knowing you, the most gorgeous person ever alive, would be there waiting for me was very motivational.”

You do little to hid your smile.

He takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers as if it were second nature. Maybe, it was, and you two had just been trying to ignore it. This walk from the diner back to your apartment had been done countless times before, but this one is special. And now, you think, it really is your apartment.

Beomgyu starts to casually rub gentle circles onto your skin with his thumb. “It’s the perfect kind of weather for me to take off my jacket and give it to you to keep you warm, you know.” He then takes a deep sigh and throws his head back. His next words come out playfully clipped. “But, someone had to be smart and wear their jacket.”

“Well, you’re not dating a fool,” you chuckle. When you notice Beomgyu pouting, eyes downcast away from you, you laugh again and poke him in the shoulder to get his attention. “Thank you anyway, Beomgyu, for always thinking of me.”

He turns back to you, all smiles. “Darling, I don’t think I could stop thinking of you even if I tried.”

“Ew, gross.” You laugh, white curls of breath forming in front of you. But, unlike last time, there is no cold or ice in sight. No dark thoughts and doubts plague you tonight. You’re delightfully warm and happy.

“Ew, gross yourself,” Beomgyu mimics, throwing his tone to match yours. “I’m cold too, by the way. So I guess thanks for thinking of me by thinking of yourself. God, you’re like the smartest person ever.”

As the walk home continues, so does the conversation. "Our parents seemed pretty happy when we told them, huh?" Beomgyu mentions, a smile playing at his lips.

“Maybe they planned it,” you muse. “Maybe the director was in on it. They wrote it all together because they decided it was now or never.”

Laughter fills the air, and even in the dark spots between the lampposts are filled with light.

You nudge your shoulder into Beomgyu’s, garnering his attention. “Can I ask you a question?” When he nods, eager to hear what you have to say, you continue. “Why did you throw your lunch on me that day in seventh grade?”

“That was an honest mistake!” he exclaims, eyes filled with desperate honesty. The blush along his cheeks as he looks away is readily apparent. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with sincerity. “But sitting next to you on audition day wasn’t.”

A soft smile plays at the corner of your lips. “I’m glad I got there late, then.”

“Me, too.” A moment of silence falls between you, but it’s comfortable, like an overtly fluffy blanket made just for two. Afterward, Beomgyu is the first to speak again. “Okay, I’ve confessed something from our past that’s mildly embarrassing yet still endearing. Now it’s your turn.” He turns to you with a mischievous grin on his lips. "’Fess up, darling."

It takes a small instant, before: “Oh! You know that time we stayed up all night and watched anime after that big project? When we woke up the next morning, even though you scared the hell out of me, I thought you were pretty cute.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows quirk up, his grin grows wider. “Cute? Me? You thought I was cute?”

Pink blush rushes to your cheeks before you smack him on the shoulder. You drop his hand and quicken your pace. “You were cute, you’re not anymore.”

Beomgyu races to catch up with you, takes your hand again, and bumps into your shoulder gently. “Of course I’m not cute anymore. I’m handsome.”

You make a fake gag. “Oh, please!” There’s no sense of lightness when you shove his shoulder.

“Hey, now,” he says, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand, another fake pout on his lips. “Be nice to your boyfriend.”

You scoff. “Is that what you are now?”

“What else would I be? More than friends but not a boyfriend…” Beomgyu’s eyes brighten as he lets go of your hand and snaps his fingers. “Aha! Your husband!”

You shove him with two hands this time. The idea of being with him like that is overwhelming to the max. “Fine, you’re my boyfriend, then.” The word feels foreign on your tongue, but you can easily imagine them growing comfortable. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your Beomgyu.

He slings his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close as your apartment slowly grows larger in the distance. He leans his head over and rests it gently on yours. “I guess I lied,” he mutters, and you pull back confused even with his eyes on you, rich and loving. “I told you the play wouldn’t change things between us.”

A smile slowly spreads across your face. “But... we changed in a good way, right?”

Beomgyu answers you with a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, caressing your shoulders kindly and pulling you just a little closer. “Yeah, we changed in a good way.”

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