#i could watch him do mundane tasks for hours. idk what that says about me but there you go

[leqclerc]

Signature. We're good.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Hey. Idk if you’re okay with taking requests rn but I’m kinda having a shitty day and I’m in desperate need of any comfort. It’s a request not related to either of your series, So, How would Changbin act when he finds out Y/N hates her birthday and gets really depressed during the day? Feel free to say no. It’s okay no pressure ♥️

I'm sorry boo. <3 I hope things get better soon. <3 I love you.

Tags: Changbin, Seo Changbin, SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, Request, Mutuals, Changbin x you, Changbin x reader, Seo Changbin x you, Seo Changbin x reader, Fluff, Angst, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, not OT8, SKZ imagines, SKZ reactions, SKZ scenarios, SKZ Drabble, AU

Genre: Light Fluff, Angst

Title: It's My Birthday, I'll Cry if I Want To

It's after the third sigh that Changbin finally sets down his quill and glances over his glasses at you with slightly exasperated amusement written on his features.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong, princess, or are you going to make me guess?"

You heave another longer, more annoyed sigh-just to peeve him a bit-and push back your chair, your body protesting, stiff muscles cracking, as you cross to the window, glancing out onto the courtyard below.

The sun's rays are barely beginning to breach the trees, but it feels like you've been studying for hours already.

"It's my birthday." You don't look at him as you say it, eyes drawn to the movements of a gardener at the edge of the rose bushes, trimming back a few errant leaves.

You vaguely wonder if your mother has thrown another fit again-"the roses are getting out of hand, Reginald!"-and your father-long suffering, patient man that he is, however aloof-had tasked the poor gardener with fixing the apparent problem, no matter how imaginary.

Changbin's chair creaks as he leans back.

"I'm aware of this." When you turn to look back at him over your shoulder, he's smiling, one brow cocked. It gives him a roguish, rakishly handsome air, an air that you doggedly try to ignore. "As is the majority of the kingdom."

"I hate it." You lament morosely, once again turning your attention back to the large picture window, where a new character in the play currently being put on in the garden has emerged-this time, a woman bearing a basket of laundry on her hip, headed for the river.

"I also know this." Your tutor's voice is softer this time, and you dig your fingers into the lip of the window, willing yourself not to turn and look at him once more. You don't want to see the pity on his face. "But you've never told me why."

"I have." You protest sharply, though you know it's not the real reason, just a facsimile you've told him to hide the true pain, and you still don't turn, because you don't want him to see the lie on your face.

You've never been good at hiding things from him.

"It's pointless and mundane and altogether a waste of time. Not to mention, the festivities my parents insist on putting on, not for me, but for show, are boring and long winded and if I have to make one more polite conversation with Duke Fairlough, all the while pretending not to notice him ogling my chest and ass, I'll eat my hat."

Changbin chuckles, and you finally work up the courage to glance back at him, watching you with slight amusement, dark curls gleaming in the dying light of the morning fire.

"You don't wear hats."

"I could start." You object stubbornly, finally turning from the window and returning to your seat across from him, fingers drumming agitatedly along the edge of the table instead of picking up your own quill and returning to your studies.

"You could." Changbin agrees amicably, eyes still lit with slightly amused affection, as he hides a smile and pushes one of your open books toward you encouragingly. "And you could also try to actually apply yourself so you can finish your lessons early and enjoy the rest of your day."

"Hah." You retort, snorting skeptically, even though you know it's a very unladylike thing to do.

You've never worried about being overly ladylike around Changbin. It's one of the many things you like about the man sitting across from you.

"Highly unlikely."

Changbin nudges the book toward you once more with a bitten back grin.

"Try."

You huff with annoyance, but take the offered book, and glancing toward the chaperone standing silently at the door, unmoving, you chance a swift kick at Changbin's ankle under the secrecy of the table.

He dodges you easily, and you feign irritation with a glare, but the grin he gives you in return and the ensuing butterflies swarming in your gut may very well be the only good thing that happens on this, the day of your godforsaken birthday.

*****

"Ridiculous." Your mother mutters once more under her breath from her seat at the writing desk, tossing aside the message she's just received, the heavy, embossed paper spiraling slowly to the floor like a wounded bird. "We attend their daughter's betrothal ceremony, and they can't even make the princess's birthday celebration?"

You try not to wince as the maid currently coiffing your hair elegantly at the back of your head shoves a particularly nasty pin into the recesses of the updo.

"Well." Your mother stands from her chair, huffing under her breath, pacing to the large window and then back again. "They can consider themselves blacklisted for the foreseeable future then."

You bite your lip as another strand of hair gets tugged a little too roughly into place, and stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to make yourself smaller to avoid attracting the angry queen's attention.

Too late.

She comes to stand beside the mirror where you sit, scanning a critical eye over you from head to toe-the heavy, ornate makeup adorning your face, the fancy, flawless coiffed hairstyle, the long, heavy blood red ball gown you wear-and you know, everything is exactly how she asked, and yet, she'll still find something to be unhappy about.

"Myrtle." Your mother says sharply, and the maid snaps to attention, as your mother fingers the pearl earrings you currently wear. "Swap these out for the Swarovski crystals. The moonblood pair."

Myrtle ducks her head silently and scurries to the boudoir to retrieve the requested earrings.

Your mother leans over and picks up the crown resting on the worktop delicately, stroking her fingers over the gems and gold with something akin to affection, something she's never given you, and then she reaches out, putting a rough finger under your chin as she raises your gaze to meet her own in the mirror.

"Sit up straight. Don't slouch."

You do as she asks, and she places the crown carefully on the top of your head, adjusting it until it's perfect and to her liking.

"There." She steps back, as Myrtle appears and changes out your earrings, admiring you with a critical stern eye. "Perfection."

You resist the urge to say anything, biting your tongue, staring at her silently through your reflection in the mirror.

You're not a daughter, you're a doll, a pawn, to be used in her political parties, and you know your place. You always have.

Your mother waves a dismissive hand at the maid, who scurries immediately from the room, probably happy to be out of the queen's oppressive presence, and you wish you could follow her, as your mother returns to her desk and sits, taking out her letter opener once again, which she points at you sternly, before saying, "Oh, by the way, your father sent a gift. I had it put in your chambers."

You rise from the chair, careful not to disturb any of the work put in over the last few hours, and manage to find your tongue.

"Oh, has he left already?"

Your mother doesn't even spare you a glance, already deep into the recesses of her next letter.

"He left this morning. You know this."

You didn't know this, but instead of fighting, you simply nod, and when she doesn't say anything else, take the opportunity to scurry from the room.

The hallway air feels one hundred times lighter, and you suck in mouthfuls of air, desperate to get every inch of that woman out of your lungs, hands on your knees.

"You okay there, princess?"

You glance up, startled, at the familiar voice, and Changbin has paused in his perusal past the hallway, staring at you with clear concern on his face, his fingers paused on the ascot he must have been in the middle of tying around his neck.

"Did you just run a marathon?"

You straighten up, unconsciously reaching up to make sure your crown is still straight, and run your hands down your dress to smooth out any wrinkles.

It's your mother's influence, and you hate it.

"I'm fine." You nod pertly, because suddenly, seeing someone so familiar and caring and warm, after spending so much time in your mother's icy, cold, indifferent presence, is making the back of your throat burn. "Just-"

You shrug, praying to every god above that you don't start crying, not when Changbin is here, looking at you like that.

"-getting ready."

Changbin watches you for another long moment, and then he finally lets you drop his gaze, offering you the hint of a smile, as his fingers once again start tying the ascot, an elegant knot already forming around the collar of his loose dress shirt.

He's wearing black breeches, and knee high boots, and god, is that a sliver of chest beneath the top open button of his shirt-

You force yourself to drag your gaze away from your tutor, out the window beside you, and clear your throat.

"You look nice."

You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips, but Changbin merely cocks his head curiously, staring you down once more, before he grins and replies lightly, "Thanks. I was going to say the same thing about you, your highness. Although 'nice' is probably too bland of a word to describe how you look right now, if I'm being honest."

His open honesty catches your attention and you look at him sharply.

"What word would you use then?"

Changbin looks caught off guard, as if he hadn't expected you to ask, but answers anyway.

"Probably something more along the lines of magnificent. Or perhaps, if I'm being transparent, exquisite."

You swallow at his entirely forthright words, and suddenly, it feels a little too vulnerable-like something taboo-standing here in a back, dark corridor with Seo Changbin-your tutor and a man-without any sort of chaperone, his dark, swirling eyes entirely, dangerously, holding your own, the tension between the two of you so thick that you're almost positive you could cut it with a knife.

You find you like the feeling.

There is a clatter from down the hall, a chef shouting something angrily at a clumsy maid, and the moment is shattered, crashing to the floor at your feet in a million pieces of stained glass.

You take a step back, and Changbin clears his throat, dropping your gaze, as he ducks his head in deference to you.

"I'll see you at dinner, princess."

And without another word, he's gone, and the icy feeling leftover from your mother's words, and your father's absence, is already creeping back into your bones at the lack of his warmth.

*****

"Yes, duke, I'll be right back! Just need to freshen up-"

You dash around the corner, freedom just in sight, and run directly into your mother.

Her fingers curl around your wrist before you even have the time to react, face cold, and voice even colder.

"Where are you going?"

You swallow, schooling a blank expression, and level your voice.

"To freshen up."

She eyes you skeptically, disdain written across her face, blood red lips pulling into the start of a disapproving sneer.

Her fingers tighten around your wrist as she tugs you to her, and you do your best not to wince as they uncomfortably pinch your skin.

Her breath smells of overly sweet wine and perfume, lips brushing your ear as she speaks in a low, cold tone, and you're fairly certain nothing has ever made you more nauseous.

"Don't keep the duke waiting."

She releases you without another word, plastering a bright, artificial smile onto her face, and she enters the room you had just left, a chorus of greetings echoing in your ears, even as you dart for the safety of the garden.

You don't allow yourself to stop running until you reach the rose bush patch, the same bush you had seen being trimmed this morning from your bedroom window, and even then, you're gasping for breath as you slump down onto the cold concrete of the nearby bench, hot tears already threatening at the corners of your eyes.

You swipe at them angrily, the warm liquid splashing down the flushed arch of your cheeks, the breeze instantly cooling the tears against your skin, against your fingertips, even as you wipe them off meticulously against the folds of your dress.

You sniff, taking in a deep breath, and let your head fall back, staring up at the newly emerging stars, wishing you were anywhere, anyone, else.

"Do you want to tell me the truth now?"

You start at the voice, and nearly lurch off the bench in your surprise, eyes wide, heart pounding, as your gaze drops from the sky and to the warm, familiar features of Changbin, watching you from a respectful distance away, hands tucked out of sight behind his back.

"God. How do you always appear out of thin air like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack."

His expression is carefully schooled, you know, because you've done the same thing countless times in front of your mother.

He gives a half shrug, but doesn't move toward you, watching you with a slight tilt of his head.

"Sorry."

You heave a heavy sigh, and slowly unfurl your tense fingers from the edge of the bench, dropping your gaze now to watch the way the toes of your dance slippers dig into the dirt beneath your feet.

Your mother is going to kill you for the stains later.

You watch the toes of Changbin's riding boots come into your field of vision as he moves closer, and then he takes you by surprise, crouching down in front of you, hands splayed on the bench on either side of your body for support.

He glances up at you, dark eyes unreadable in the evening light, and you hope to god he can't still see the sheen of leftover tears on your cheeks.

"Why aren't you inside?"

"I told you-" You protest halfheartedly, not meeting his gaze, even as you tangle your fingers into the thick folds of your skirt resting in your lap. "-I hate birthday parties."

"Why?"

You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, feel the truth itching to be released.

Because my father is never here, because my mother couldn't care less unless it benefits her, because I'm not even allowed to so much as look in your direction-

But instead, you sigh again and direct your watery gaze back to the sky, willing the tears back into the depths.

When you speak, you're proud that your voice comes out steady.

"Because Duke Fairlough is a creepy old man, nearly twice my age, and yet, my mother pushes the issue every single social event, without fail, because I am nothing if not the star pawn on her twisted, political chess board."

"Hm." Changbin hums a sound of understanding beneath his breath, and you try not to focus too much on the rise and fall of his fingers, the mounds of his knuckles, the swirling pathways of his veins.

You've never noticed, not until you were up close, but the man has pretty hands-soft and ink stained-hands of a poet, or a scholar maybe.

"That does sound wildly unfortunate."

You shoot him a glare at the soft teasing lacing his tone, and he offers you the hint of a gentle smile, before he continues with, "That's not the real reason you're out here though, right? Alone, crying, on your birthday?"

"I am not crying." You protest defensively, instantly, and Changbin chuckles, smiling fully now.

"Okay, princess." He gives in easily, smile fading to something more secretive, something more intimate, cocking his head as he stares at you, and you feel yourself hold your breath, as he reaches up without warning, and slowly ghosts a gentle thumbpad across the skin beneath your eyes.

"It must be raining then."

You sniffle, scared to move, afraid he'll pull his touch back from your skin if you do, and imperceptibly nod in response.

"I can't believe you didn't notice."

He huffs a chuckle, and you're relieved when he doesn't pull back from you.

"I'm a learned man, yes, but I can be entirely too oblivious and thickheaded for my own good sometimes."

You snort beneath your breath, and try not to follow his hand like some sort of starstruck tart as he finally retrieves it from your skin, settling it comfortably back on the bench beside you.

"I am, however, not dumb enough to buy any of that bullshit you've just given me."

You look at him in sharp surprise, you've never heard him curse before, but the look in his eyes has the cutting rebuke dying on your lips.

You've never seen Seo Changbin look so utterly serious before-studious yes, but never this focused-his attention completely on you, dark, swirling eyes scanning your face, molten, angry almost.

"So tell me again. The truth this time. Why, princess, are you alone in the gardens, crying, on your birthday?"

"I-" You start to say, and he shoots you a firm look that stops you in your tracks. You suck in an almost choked breath, and start again. "-don't like birthdays."

"Why?"

"Because he's never here, and she's never cared, and I hate-no absolutely loathe-having to act like I'm better than everyone, above it all, especially you."

He's watching you silently now, watching you catch your breath, watching a literal weight lift off from your shoulders as you finally, finally, blurt out the truth, watching the pounding, broken, bleeding, remnants of your heart, laid bare, just for him.

"What?" You accuse defensively, when he still hasn't said anything, fingers nervously beginning to fidget with your dress once more. "Say something."

"I don't need to say anything."

You wet your lips, staring at him in open surprise now, his face softening slightly as you hold his gaze.

"What?" You repeat again, dumbly, not quite sure you're understanding.

He laughs then-low and relieved, a rumble in his chest-and when his fingers cover your own-warm and soft in contrast to your icy cold, skin and hearts alike-you feel everything jumbled and out of sorts in your chest finally settle into place.

"I don't need to say anything." He repeats again, slower this time, and when he looks at you now, there's nothing but tender honesty in the depths of his dark eyes. His lips quirk into the hint of a soft smile. "I'm sorry you hate your birthday. I'm sorry your father is never here and your mother only plays you for her own little games, but I-"

He takes in a deep, almost jagged breath, fingers tightening over your own, and you resist the urge to tangle yours with his in that moment, palms flat against each other, all warmth and soft skin and spaces finally filled.

He looks at you again, the fire renewed in his gaze, vulnerable and open and entirely honest.

Laid bare, all for you.

You feel the cracks in your aching heart recede slightly.

"-I, for one, am eternally grateful, every year, when this day darkens my doorstop once more."

"Why?" You ask in a breath, even though you're fairly certain, staring at Changbin's face, that you already know the answer.

The slowly healing cracks in your heart-warming and melting the ice that's been there too long, filling it in with something akin to molten lava-are a testament to exactly that.

"Because, princess-" Changbin murmurs, the affection returning to his eyes now, warming his entire face, right down to the tender, beaming smile he gives you, only you. "-it gave all of us, especially me, you."

You bite your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile.

You feel so happy you could cry.

But you've cried enough.

"I never took you for a poet, royal tutor."

He inclines his head, eyes sparkling.

"And I never took you for a romantic, princess."

"I'm not." You admit, squeezing his fingers between your own now, dizzy with sudden giddiness as you stare at the man kneeling before you.

When he looks at you once more, you give him the smile you've been holding back all night-maybe even all your life-just for him.

"But you could make me into one yet."

Changbin grins then, tangling his fingers with your own, and nothing has ever felt more right in your entire life.

Maybe your birthday won't be so bad from now on after all. Not with him by your side. Not with the ice gone, replaced with nothing but sunshine and warmth and bright beams. All because of him.

"Happy birthday, princess."

[os-hyoideum]

Fake - Hawks/Takami Keigo x fem!Reader

Summary: Keigo wants to be there for his struggling love.

Word count: 3232

Content/Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst(ish), depressed feelings, mention of suicidal thoughts, self-indulgent, third-person perspective

a/n: I started writing it in March 🤡 but I felt like I couldn't abandon it, so here it is, finally! ngl kinda exposing myself here oop- idk if it's a comfort fic, but I hope you enjoy :)

During the late hours of the evening, the city below looked particularly beautiful. Colorful neon lights, emanating from dozens of advertisements and signs, illuminated the people who, without care, carried on with their evening tasks, be it a trip to a bar or the travel home from work.

Hawks stood on the roof of the building, looking down and just taking in the scenery. It was not a particularly special day, but the rain that poured earlier has left the ground wet and glistening. The lights, bouncing off the pavement and people, created a picture truly from under a hand of a masterful abstractionist. The pinks, the blues, the yellows, all the colors created the effect of a spilled paint from his point of view.

While admiring the city, Hawks’ phone vibrated in his pocket. Taking his eyes away, he took out the device and, when the screen lit up, was met with the face of his love.

It was his favorite picture in the whole world and he knew, deep down, that any professional photographer couldn’t capture anything better. Truthfully, it wasn’t really a masterpiece, just a simple selfie, but the memory connected to the photograph made it exceptional. He remembered the quiet moment (so little of them in his life) when he could take his partner away and just enjoy an ordinary day with her. A walk, a picnic, anything that made him forget about his everyday life. The smile he saw in the picture truly made him feel like the surroundings brightened a bit.

The message on his phone was simple, a request for him to come back to the office, probably to take care of the stack of papers that adorned his desk.

He put the device back into his pocket, took a last look at the city down below, and, after putting his goggles on, spread his scarlet wings to take off.

If he were being honest, he would say that, given the option, he would stay in the air, in the sky, far above the ground, forever. The wind, howling loudly in his ears, silenced the worries of his everyday life. The air flowing around his body, through every feather of his wings gave him a sense of freedom. In the sky, he was able to see the horizon and just let himself be carried.

There was just one thing missing among the clouds.

On his way back to real life, where he would need to take care of mundane work-related tasks, he took a little detour.

Maneuvering expertly over and around the buildings, he found himself in front of an ordinary apartment complex. The grey modern building had a few floors and, quickly locating the right window, Hawks flew over to where his partner’s apartment was. Some people looked at him, from the street or through their own windows, but they were used to his random visits and paid him no mind, for which he was grateful.

He stopped in place seeing the inside of his lover’s bedroom and peeked inside, as the blinds were open. Some crumpled clothes lying on the bed, along with a few books. Through the open door, he could see the light coming from the TV.

Normally, he would just knock on the glass for her to open the window, but suddenly he got a hunch that something was not right. Maybe it was the fact that her texts became drier as the day went by (just like the last few days) until they halted completely, or maybe the open blinds, usually closed soon after it got dark. Whatever the source of his uneasiness was, it made him fly down and go inside the building through the door. He climbed a few flights of stairs to get to the floor she lived on. The only sounds, keeping him company during his walk through the corridor, were faint voices from behind some of the doors and his own footsteps.

He reached his goal. The alertness in his mind only became stronger as he knocked and waited patiently for the door to open.

A few dreadful seconds later he heard the sound of the turning mechanism inside of the lock. Only for a split second was he able to see the cold numbness on the face of his love before she noticed who had visited her. Her expression changed immediately and she smiled, oh so brightly.

Moving and pulling the muscles in her face, she was always able to make Keigo’s days better. And she could do it in an instant too, and so well that others never noticed the difference between the fake and the real. But he had sharp eyes, trained from a young age to catch any irregularities around him. He noticed, every time, how she faked and he hated it, especially knowing that when he did the same, she always pushed just enough for him to give in and let her in, more and more every time. He would push a bit too, at least to let her know that, if she wanted to, she could tell him anything.

“Keigo!” she exclaimed, voice high in pitch to sound happier, “What are you doing here, baby?”

“I was on my way to the office and thought I could drop by for a moment… Can I get in?” He asked pointing to the inside of the apartment.

“Oh! Of course.” She opened the door wider. “I got back from work not long ago, so… I guess, it’s not that clean.” She added with a small laugh.

Keigo knew it was a lie. He knew when his partner worked; she finished three hours ago.

He entered her space and when he kneeled down to take off his boots, he caught the glimpse of her cheerful expression falling. Still in her work clothes, she looked like she would get crushed any second. He knew her mind could get heavy at times.

“Come here.” He outstretched his hand towards her and lightly pulled her into himself.

At first, she was slightly rigid in his arms, but relaxed a bit, feeling Keigo’s soft strokes along her back. She hid her face into the high collar of his jacket and he noticed how tightly she gripped the material with her fists.

“You should get changed… wear something comfortable.” He whispered to not disturb her too much.

“I’m so tired.” She mumbled, her face still hidden. He just held her for a little while longer, allowing her to let go of him first. When she finally straightened her back and looked at him, this time without a fake smile, he felt like his heart broke, for her. He lifted his hand and gently stroked her cheek.

Her face was virtually emotionless, but he noticed the tensed jaw. The eyes, that hypnotized him every time he gazed into them, were looking more into space than actually at him. Her spaced-out expression made it seem like she was sculpted in marble.

Keigo squeezed her arms lightly to ground her a bit into reality.

“Do you want me to help you?” He asked softly, giving her a way to back out, if she truly wanted to.

“I don’t need…” She looked down with hesitation. Being vulnerable was never easy, even with some of the closest people. Admitting the need or want for other’s presence was quite a feat. She sighed. “Yes.”

“Do you want to take a shower too? Or just change?” She saw not even a slight sliver of judgment in his eyes.

“I’ll take a shower.” She said quietly and took her arms away from Keigo’s. She turned around to go to the bathroom but stopped when he made a move behind her. “Alone, but… stay… please.”

He just nodded with understanding and watched her drag her feet to the other room. At first, nothing came out of there, but a few minutes later he could hear the water from the shower. Going into his partner’s bedroom, he looked briefly at the messy clothing laying on the bed, pushed them aside, and took the clothes he knew she used as pajamas and always put under the duvet.

After the water stopped running, he waited ten minutes before knocking on the door. After getting quiet permission to enter, he went in and saw her sitting on the toilet, wrapped in a towel, with her unseeing gaze focused on some point before her.

“Come on.” Keigo softly broke the silence in the bathroom and reached out to her with one, which she took. He pulled gently and, without saying anything more, gave her the clothes he was holding.

With no request for him to get out, he just stood in the doorway while she put on her sweatpants and T-shirt. It was strange for him to see her vulnerable because she always closed herself off in those moments. He knew it was important that she just let him be there.

“Do you feel… better?” He asked when she stood in front of the mirror slightly squinting at herself.

“Hmm…” she hummed, “Perhaps. Not any lighter, though.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He felt like he was going through a field full of land mines. His training made him an expert at obtaining information, but he did not want to use his, masterfully crafted by the Commission, manipulation skills on her. He hoped that he was enough to bring her any semblance of comfort.

She shrugged and, after pushing him slightly out of the door, moved out of the bedroom and sat down on the couch, empty staring at the TV playing some meaningless show. Keigo took a place next to her, his wings hanging behind the backrest.

For a second, he cursed his lack of experience with human emotions. Of course, he was trained to observe and he knew when something was not right, but since he was never allowed to get close to anyone, his skills turned to nothing in the face of his love slowly getting pulled into the darkness of her own mind, all while maintaining the smile he adored so much.

After a minute of silence between them, the girl took a pilot and turned the TV off. She looked at him, the quietness becoming almost unbearable, but quickly, she broke it with a question:

“Do you really want me to… talk?”

And he just nodded.

Unable to look into his worried, gold eyes, she lowered her gaze. Leaning slightly on her elbows, she stared at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Well… I haven’t been feeling… um, really good, lately. Mentally, I mean.”

“Yeah… I’ve noticed. Should’ve said something sooner.”

She turned to him and put one hand on his knee, which he gently covered with his own and started to stroke with his thumb.

“No.” She opposed, “I’m actually grateful that you took more of a, hmm, silent-observer approach. I had space… but still knew you were there, somewhere, for me.”

“Good thing then that I’m not completely useless here.” He tried to joke with a small smile that fell quickly.

“No, but I am.” Before he could protest she took his hand, the one he’s been stroking her with, into both of hers. “Kei, Keigo… I can tell you what’s going on up here-” she pointed at her head “-but it’s just, so hard. And you have so much of your own shit going on… I don’t want to worry and burden you with my... stupid mind.”

He sighed, brought his free hand to the back of her head, and put his forehead against hers.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I think I do…”

She closed her eyes, letting her sense of touch be the center of her attention. She focused on the weight his head put against her own, the way his messy hair brushed her face and his slow warm breath felt against her lips. It grounded her mind, silencing (if even for just a moment) the annoying white noise constantly present in there.

“I don’t want to look at you,” she started, “when I’m talking. It’s just… I don’t want to be seen, only heard.”

Keigo shifted his head and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

She turned away from him, putting her legs on the couch to sit cross-legged. It took a few moments before she started talking. Organizing the thoughts and feelings plaguing her was not easy.

“I… I just feel so bad. And I don’t even have a good reason for these stupid feelings,” she said, sounding slightly annoyed, “Why the fuck do I feel like this? I have a home, I have friends, I have… you. I have everything I could hope for and yet… I feel so bad, so… so numb. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Keigo looked at her hunched back and saw that she put her face into her hands. He wished he could just take all her troubles away, be the hero that he was supposed to be, but of course, he couldn’t, and that - he hated.

“I’m so fucking tired. I have no energy for almost anything. Yesterday, before bed, I sat in front of my computer for hours. Doing absolutely nothing… Why am I even telling you this? It’s so stupid. You do so much for everyone and I’m just dumping my shit on you… saying how tired I am, while you’re so much more tired than me.” She straightened her back with a dry chuckle.

He leaned slightly towards her and put his arm on her shoulder. She turned her head to the side and looked at him from the corner of the eye.

“Don’t invalidate yourself. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Call it my… bird senses-” he smiled a little “-but I felt like you might need someone. And nothing you do or say is stupid. Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

“You… remember?” She asked with raised eyebrows, after turning her body sideways to him.

“Of course. I remember a lot of things about you,” he said with such tenderness in his eyes that, while looking into them, she felt like she could suffocate. But it was good, it wasn’t nothing. “The quote you like, how you make your coffee, what is the song you listen to on repeat… everything I see and know about you, I remember.”

Pushing away the shame and the nagging voice, saying that Keigo didn’t really care, she faced him completely and moved close enough for her knees to touch his thighs. He could see now how shiny her eyes became.

“You can cry, if you want to.”

“I wish I could… no matter how teary my eyes get, it’s just… nothing comes out of them. But on the inside, on the inside, I’m weeping.”

She talked mostly with a flat voice, little change in her tone, but he sensed the grief deep inside her. Grief for herself, grief for her crumbling mind.

“That’s okay. It will come when the time is right.” He really hoped he was doing it right. That he was able to give any comfort.

With slight hesitation, she touched his leg with her fingertips before resting her palms to play with the fabric of his pants.

“I don’t get it. Why you are so… here. You could just leave and I would be okay… in time.”

“I told you that I love you, right?”

“You did, but still…” Her eyes became unseeing again. She looked through space with a spaced-out expression. “If I wasn’t here you wouldn’t have to bother, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Are you saying that you’ve thought about…” He did not want to end that sentence, too scared to actually hear it.

“Death?” So she ended it for him. “Yeah, I do… from time to time. But I don’t think I’d do it. Even if I think it would be better without me taking up space, I’m too selfish to just let go of everything…”

Keigo was a bit shocked with how calm she was. Death was something that he himself contemplated in the past, but hearing it said by someone he loved was on a whole another level. Fright and relief washed over him.

He took both of her hands into his and brought them to his mouth. He put his lips on her skin, not kissing, just feeling, making sure that she was indeed there with him.

“I… am so glad. So glad that you trust me enough to let me into your mind.” He made sure to look her straight in the eyes. His (just barely) trembling fingers squeezing hers. “You are my Sun. The most important star in my galaxy, in my whole universe, even. And I will do anything in my power to prevent you from burning out. I… I just need you like flowers need the Sun.”

She did not expect such a statement from him, it wasn’t really in his nature to make proclamations of that stature. But she knew it was on purpose, another thing he remembered: her love for the stars. If he loved her like she loved the unknown universe… It was almost overwhelming. She also understood the implication of his power - he would try to help her and if she needed more, he would get anyone more suited for this particular job.

He sighed and put their hands down (never letting go).

“It sounds selfish, doesn’t it? You need me and I say that I need you.”

She gently pulled her hands away from his and changed her position to sit on her feet. Leaning forward, she cupped his face softly, fingers getting tangled in his messy blond hair.

“Do you know what is it about us, Keigo? Why do we even work?” She asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“We’re fake. Both of us.” He knew what she meant. “We’re fake to the world. But we know the truth and need each other to tell it.”

He said nothing, instead just embracing her, the words still echoing in his mind.

The position they were in was uncomfortable. His arms around her torso, hers around his neck with her head on his shoulder, both leaning into one another a bit awkwardly. Still, they both savored the warmth the other provided.

“I will stand by you all the way, as long as you want me,” he whispered right in her ear.

“You’re betting on a losing dog…”

“A losing dog...? Then I’m losing by your side.” He felt her slight smile on the crook of his neck. “I’ll wait for the day when you sing along to songs again…”

She lifted her head to look at him from the corner of her eye.

“You know, that’s a bit cheesy.”

“Maybe,” he said with a sigh, “but when you do it, you always seem happy or content. When you stop singing, the silence is almost deafening…”

She hummed in agreement, he was right, after all.

“Hide me away, Keigo,” she whispered gripping the fabric on his back, “Just for a moment, please.”

His wings spread to the sides before enveloping tightly the two of them.

They sat in their own crimson bubble, a safe haven, while his phone lit up in his pocket with a reminder of forgotten reality.

[carnalpleasure]

you guys!!! i wrote my first michael fic :’) i got this idea just now and felt compelled inspired to write it.

listen listen... michael comes to the clinic to free richard and bring him back to hawthorne, kinda like how ariel went and got michael out of jail. he suspects richard is a warlock and the creatures he’s seeing are actually demonic or something idk. and um that’s all i’ve got so far check it out

You don’t belong here.

Time seemed to pass differently at the clinic. Nobody was ever in a hurry to get anywhere so time slowed down and the patients did too. Mundane tasks could be stretched out for hours and you wouldn’t feel a minute pass.

Richard had been sitting at one of the tables near the window, mindlessly dropping Connect Four pieces into the blue plastic frame, watching them slide to the bottom one by one before releasing the lever and letting them all come crashing down on the table.

He had been doing this on repeat for hours. Since his only opponent had checked out, he hasn’t wanted to play with anyone else. He’d never admit it, but he missed Jonah. He missed having someone he could trust, who understood him, who didn’t treat him like a basket case. Someone who made him feel safe even when surrounded by demons.

He was too lost in his memories to hear the footsteps approaching his table. He didn’t even look up, his gaze fixed on the little plastic pieces in his hand. Until he noticed it.

His red sketchbook laid out on the table in front of him, opened to a drawing of a particularly hideous creature haunting the page. His eyes shot up to see a man dressed in a sharp black suit with a thin black ribbon around his neck looking down at him with his arms behind his back, a smug look on his face. Was it a smile? A smirk? Whatever it was, it made Richard see red.

He shot up from the table furiously, about to wrap his hands around this boys neck and choke him to death with his own stupid little tie. But the man just sighed impatiently and waved a hand, and just like that Richard was magnetically drawn back down to his seat, an unseen force refusing to let him up.

“Ah ah, before you try to kill me you could at least hear what I have to say. I did come all this way, after all.” His tone was dripping with confidence.. arrogance?

Richard said nothing but glared up at the smug bastard, his anger building inside him. He wanted to tell him off in so many ways, each more violent and vulgar than the last, but he still stayed silent.

“Now,” he said, tapping the page in front of Richard with a ring adorned finger, “tell me what this is.” His voice was demanding but not stern. It was soft, almost relaxed even. Richard relaxed a bit too when he felt the magic that was holding him hostage softly begin to dissipate. He avoided looking at the drawing, returning his gaze back to his precious interrupted game and silently wished he could go back in time and pick a different one. “Sketch,” he mumbled, shrugging it off.

The man sat down across from Richard and started to turn the pages slowly one by one, as if he were showing them to him in a lineup. He never took his eyes off of Richard’s, studying his every expression.

“You see them,” he said softly, curiously. He wasn’t asking, he was stating. As if he’d already heard this before and was retelling the story. He continued, “At night time, just before the witching hour. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, when you think you’re finally safe they’re there. Their cold hands, warm breath..”

Richard squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, cutting him off and slamming the book shut in one swift movement. “You don’t know what you’re talking about” he snapped back angrily. His body was shaking, blood boiling, heart pounding so loud he could hear it in his ears. He tried to hide behind his anger but the man saw it for what it really was: fear.

The man sat up, his hands folded on the table before him. His smile didn’t seem so smug anymore. “You don’t belong in here, Richard, because you’re not sick. You’re special. And there is a place for guys like you and me... a place where you will be safe from everyone and everything, including...” he brought his hand up and with a tilt of his wrist the red sketchbook went flying off the table and into his hand.. “the creatures you’re trying to hide in here.”

Richard couldn’t believe what he was hearing. And definitely not what he was seeing.. Twice now he had witnessed this strange man using... magic?... if that was even possible? He was beginning to worry that this was just a delusion, a side effect from the drugs perhaps. Or worse, maybe he had truly lost his mind.

Then the man stood up and reached out a hand to him. “My name is Michael Langdon.” he said with a smile.

Richard continued to glare down at the hand extended to him. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking it, allowing Michael to help him up. Wherever this man was taking him, it couldn’t be worse than being alone at the clinic. Especially at night.

“It’s time for us to go,” Michael said with pride before turning and heading for the door. Richard followed behind him cautiously, still expecting him to disappear at any moment. Nobody in the room seemed to notice either of them... although it wasn’t uncommon for the other patients in the clinic to ignore and avoid Richard. He had a reputation for violence since the rumor spread that he had choked his last roommate.

They made it to the end of the hall just before the nurses’ desk when a man behind the counter noticed the boys. A wave of panic came over Richard as he made eye contact with the nurse and instinctively readied himself for a fight.

“Hey, excuse me! How did you get in here? We don’t allow visitors, sir, you’ll have to-“ snap.. crack.. bloodcurdling scream

Before the nurse could even finish his sentence, his neck was snapping, then his spine, then his extremities. Ungodly sounds of bones shattering and blood babbling resonated in the room. Richard witnessed the whole brutal attack and he didn’t even blink. His face actually softened, all his fear gone in an instant, replaced with an intense feeling of power he’s never known before.

He looked back at Michael.. who only had to flex his fingers to utterly destroy that man’s skeleton.. and it was as if he was seeing his own rage manifested right there before him in human form. Finally, finally he had found someone again who could see the world the way he does, and who could sit in the darkness with him. Richard knew right then that he had found his place in the world. By Michael’s side.

[7hyuns]

doyoung x reader; practice [m] 

word count; nearly 2k i believe!!

warnings; semi-public sex, unprotected sex, biting (? is that a warning idk), swearing

requested; yes, thank you angel. 

you promised yourself that you wouldn’t distract doyoung for at the very least the majority of the time he spent practicing. initially, you had wanted to keep out of the way for the entire time he spent going over his group’s new dance, but the notion of doing so was starting to seem harder than you’d first expected. even with the recurrent distraction of his members – people who had become your own friends – you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering further than you wanted it to.

when you noted that he’d focused himself back in on his own movements, you let yourself stare at him with less embarrassment than you had been before. he wasn’t wearing anything particularly special; black sweats and a loose long-sleeve white shirt adorned his body, and if you didn’t already know what his body shape was, you wouldn’t be able to tell. but that did nothing to change the tightening in your stomach, or the way you suddenly felt flushes of heat run through you when he moved with a certain amount of force.

skimming your tongue out to wet your lips, you shifted slightly where you were sat, not letting yourself look away from doyoung just yet. his eyes were glazed with a layer of complete focus, telling you that he wasn’t thinking of anything but how to perfect his movements. with every intentionally sharper moves and the resounding sounds of his deeper breaths surrounding you in the practice room, the heat building between your thighs became harder to ignore. you felt a small nag of irritation for yourself at the reality that this was all it was taking for doyoung to get you worked up, and it wasn’t even him doing anything directly.

sparing a brief second to glance over at the clock above the door, you saw that the practice had ten minutes left, if doyoung was done in that time. if he wasn’t, then you could never be sure how long they’d go on for. a bout of petty selfishness moved through you, your eyes already flitting back to continue observing the way doyoung practiced so studiously in front of you, willing him to not notice the look in your eyes as you stared at him. he hadn’t taken a second to pause since he restarted the song’s dance yet, and you assumed they’d be focused in on this one until the practice hour ended. in the moments he didn’t spend actively dancing, he didn’t appear to lose even a sliver of his intent, his eyes remaining firmly away from you as he kept himself impossibly composed despite the creeping evidence of tiredness lingering around him.

when the song came to a close, your eyes remained intently fixed on doyoung, and you felt your lips part slightly as he spared you the most fleeting of glances, your eyes suddenly shifting at the tug of worry that he’d noticed you staring even earlier. swallowing thickly, you kept your eyes trained on the wooden floorboards, hearing the song begin again as a childish need to huff and roll your eyes overcame you. you waited until you knew doyoung would be closest to where you were sat to finally look up, hoping the smaller proximity he was in to you would make it look less like you were desperately checking him out.

through the entirety of this turn of the song, you breath kept shallowing out on you, as if you were consistently forgetting to breathe regularly. the sheer sight of him looking so perfect while he was completing such a mundane task to his day was beginning to bite at your nerves, unsure of how you’d missed noticing how good he looked the other times you’d been here. drawing in another sharp breath, you chewed lightly on your bottom lip as you attempted to distract yourself from how intensely you’d been keeping your eyes on him. not wanting him to note that you’d barely taken the risk of losing sight of him for a second just yet, the worry that he’d think you were purposefully trying to distract him from practicing biting into you.

the final part of the song ran through, and your ears were met with the sound of out of breath rasps and a few breathless laughs as they realised practice was practically finished. you returned a few of their grins as they paced closer to where you were sat, grabbing at water bottles and remaining silent as they pulled in ragged breaths to try and catch them quicker. after a few moments passed, small bouts of conversation began to break out, and you finally let yourself step out of the press of shame and look over at where doyoung had stood himself closer to you than you initially remembered him doing.

he hadn’t joined into any of the conversations yet, although you wanted to assume that it was just because he was still worn out. but with the way his eyes were lingering on you, full of something you had already placed a thousand times but couldn’t fully accept you were seeing in a room full of other people. you wondered if this was simply a coincidence, nothing more than fate finally giving in and being nice to you, or if his reaction was entirely your fault and he’d been observant enough to notice the way your eyes had barely left his form for a single moment.  

your mind felt fuzzy, as if all sense of thinking about anything other than the way doyoung’s hand looked curled around his water bottle was completely gone from your mind. when you began to hear and see movement happening elsewhere, you felt a jolt of shock rush through you, unsure of when the boys had reached a unanimous decision to get up and head home. doyoung drug his tongue over his lips, letting his eyes linger overtly on your figure for a moment before he cleared his throat to speak.

“i think i’m just gonna run through the choreography one more time, actually,” his voice seemed raspier than you recalled it being normally, and the sound made the sensation keeping your throat tightened up even worse than they’d been all day.

taeyong tilted his head at doyoung, eyebrows rose in confusion, “are you sure? if you’re still struggling, i can stay and help,” he offered, his lips pouted outwards as he spoke.

doyoung blanched at the kind offer, evidently struggling to do something that you were sure would make him feel guilty later, “no, no, it’s okay, i just wanna make sure i’ve definitely got it all,” doyoung cleared, and you let your eyes drift away from him back to taeyong, watching as he nodded and picked his bag up from the floor. he gave doyoung one last look of something crossed between suspicion and confusion before he headed out the door, closing it gently behind him.

the click of the practice room door left you and doyoung shrouded in silence, the room suddenly feeling far warmer than it had been. you coughed to clear your throat, staring at your hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the room, waiting for doyoung to do or say something. for a moment, you swore you could still hear the muffled sounds of the other boys heading out of the building, and you turned your head towards the door to see if you could pin-point the moment the sounds disappeared into nothingness.

you didn’t get the chance to pick out the moment silence descended over the building, or at least that hallway, because you felt hands cupping your jaw roughly, tipping your face upwards as your lips connected with doyoung’s. after you recovered from the slight shock of feeling his lips touch yours so suddenly, you slipped into the same rhythm as him, moving your lips to match his tempo as your hands moved to curl around the back of his neck. there was no hint of desperation in the kiss from his part, but you were entirely sure that wasn’t the case from your end, as you could barely keep your hands in one place and his remained firm and warm against your jaw.

pulling away, doyoung tugged you to stand on your feet, being closer to his height so he could reconnect his lips to yours easier, his arms wrapping around your waist as his lips sped up against yours. you let your fingers tangle in the hairs at the nape of his neck, pushing back the urge to already begin tugging on it lightly. as your lips continued to move smoothly against his, you felt one of his hands travel from where they rested lazily draped around your waist to cup your jaw again, his thumb stroking across the skin of your cheek. more desperation built up within you at his ministrations, your back arching your body closer to him until your chest was pressed up against his.

you weren’t sure who eventually pulled back so you could both catch your breath, but it didn’t particularly nag at you to find out, your eyes fixated on doyoung as he dragged in ragged breaths for the second time that day. “where did that come from?” you prompted him softly, your breath still not completely caught.

his eyes narrowed into a glare at you, “you think you can just eye-fuck me for an entire hour and expect me not to be bothered by it?”

your mouth opened to defend yourself on instinct, but you couldn’t find any excuse for the way you’d been staring at him. his lips quirked upwards, letting you know he wasn’t annoyed with it, a burst of relief moving over you as you grinned back at him. the arm that was still locked around your waist pulled you closer to him again, his hand that cupped your jaw brought your lips back to his own. for a moment, the kiss remained relatively sweet, his lips smoothing against your own until the remembrance of where you were and how little a window of time you really had slammed back into the both of you.

he turned you around, so his back was to the door as he began walked you backwards towards the wall, the flat of his palm coming into contact with the surface of the wall before he pushed you back it against gentler than you thought he would. the hand that had been cradling your jaw was still against the wall, and along with his body helped to make you feel caged in against the wall. within the circumstances, you couldn’t say you weren’t grateful for the security that came with this position.

his lips finally began to skim away from yours, and you were left pulling in sharp breaths that turned to breathy beginnings of moans as his lips began to trail down your neck, not wasting time leaving marks but instead keeping to getting you even more worked up than you already were. the lack of time was already starting to seem more obvious, his hand leaving the surface of the wall to slide down your skirt, moving up between your thighs, nudging them apart as he did so. his fingers skimmed along your clothed heat, your head dropping back in response, doing nothing more but giving him more open space to cover with his lips.

“doyoung,” you moaned breathily, “hurry up,” you chided him, feeling the ghosting of his breath against your throat as he laughed softly in response.

he hummed, hooking his fingers around the sides of his underwear and tugging them down. he lowered himself to drop down, his knees almost touching the floor as he finished pulling your underwear off of your legs, pausing for a moment to pepper kisses to the insides of your thighs, chuckling softly as you bit back a moan in response. his hands moved to shove his sweats and underwear down together, just enough as he spared a cautious glance back at the door of the practice room.

moving back to be closer to you, he curled his arms back around your waist, drifting further down to map out of your body until he reached the backs of your thighs. “jump,” he mumbled, raising his eyebrows at you as you hesitated slightly, “don’t be such a baby; jump,” he urged, tightening his hold around you just before you did so. curling your legs around his waist as his movements grew in their rush, his lips reconnecting to yours as he lined himself up with your heat.

your moan was swallowed by his lips as they kept themselves pressed to yours, moving roughly against one another. a soft groan passed his lips as they slipped away from yours, his hips snapping against yours at a pace almost too fast for you to fully comprehend. in your position, or perhaps just in this situation, you weren’t fully sure what to do with yourself. your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip to make sure that the minimal amount of noise possible left your mouth while doyoung continued to increase his pace, his harsh breaths falling onto the skin of your neck and collarbones as he kept his noises firmly pushed back.

you weren’t sure if he was struggling as much as you, but when you felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten, you were almost entirely sure that remaining silent wasn’t going to be something you could realistically do. your arms had been draped over doyoung’s shoulders, and as you got closer, your grip on him tightened considerably, his teeth digging into the skin of your neck as he confirmed for you that he wasn’t finding staying silent very easy either.

“doyoung,” you mumbled against him, “i’m close,” you felt him nod against you, your eyes clamping shut firmly as his hips drove against yours even harsher than they had been before, if that was even possible.

one of doyoung’s hands had moved from wherever he’d skimmed it to earlier, adjusting to cover your mouth with his palm as he felt you tighten around him. the feeling of his teeth on your neck grew rougher, a moan fighting to escape past his hand, the coil in your stomach coming undone as his hips stuttered against your own, letting you know he’d hit his high along with you. he rode out the both of yours highs, his hand clamping down over your mouth tighter as he knew you’d begin to get louder, only slipping away once your high had died down.

slipping himself away from you, he readjusted his clothes to look like nothing had happened again. he dug his hand into his pocket, pulling your underwear out and earning a tired chuckle from you as he slipped them back onto your legs, tugging them up until you swatted his hands away and did it yourself. being stood on your legs again felt strange, almost as if you didn’t fully have the strength to keep yourself standing. doyoung offered you a wary glance as you planted your feet firmer, a proud grin turning the corners of his lips up just slightly as he began taking long-legged strides towards the door.

you followed along behind him, gripping his arm as he came to a stop, giving him a worried glance, “what if somebody heard?”

he offered you a shrug, “that’ll be your fault, won’t it?”