#i did this for my own enjoyment but i liked the playlist so much i decided to share

[pinkberrytea]

Astarion is nervous, possibly even afraid that he is about to lose something—that you are about to lose something, something precious and dear to him.

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.

Enjoyment beyond the death drive—beyond the self-imposed regulation of pleasure. He wants her, so desperately, so ardently; yet she escapes through his fingers like fine sand, falling on the ground and dissolving in the dirt above his grave.

Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 3k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: this is the sequel to la petite mort! while it was initially intended as a standalone oneshot, i wanted to expand on the themes introduced in the original. hopefully it lives up to its predecessor! thank you to the wonderful @xxnashiraxx for giving this one a read, i love you dearly friendo!

tags: blood drinking; hurt & comfort; possessive behavior; masturbation; hand jobs; body worship; dry humping

“Astarion…?”

His name slips from your lips before you even open your eyes, your consciousness slowly returning as you are suddenly woken from restless sleep. You feel his naked chest pressed flat against your back, his cold skin robbing you of the warmth of yours; his strong arms encircling your waist, hands roaming your sides; and his fangs, sank deep into the crook of your neck as his wet tongue laps up your crimson, which leaks from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his jaw and onto your shoulders. There is no pain—rather, the sensation is almost pleasurable, familiar, which comes as no surprise considering it’s been months now ever since his nightly feeding sessions became a daily occurrence. You don’t even bother setting up your tent anymore; upon leaving the Shadowlands, he’d begin routinely insisting that you sleep in his, heedless of your mutual agreement to abstain from more carnal proclivities for the time being. “Oh, darling, wouldn’t you say it’s much easier for me to dine with you this way? As hard as it will be for me to keep my hands to myself, I did give you my word,” he’d say, and true enough, you had yet to go beyond very heated kissing and groping—regardless, here he is now, avidly drinking from you while grinding the throbbing bulge inside his pants against your rear.

“Shh. It’s alright, love. Go back to sleep.” Astarion unlatches from your bruising vein to whisper the words in your ear, and you are almost tempted to do just that, but it’s far too late; ignoring him or the erection poking at your backside is no longer an option, and he probably realizes that too, having stopped gliding his hands up and down your torso to gently rest them on your arms instead. You are wearing his shirt, a habit you’ve taken to in recent days—at first you’d lie and say it was because you didn’t want your own to become soiled with blood, though in truth you simply enjoy the intimacy of sharing clothes and the comfort of being enveloped in his scent. Despite seeing right through your excuses, Astarion didn’t seem to mind at all; quite the opposite, he appeared to enjoy the fact that you’d start sleeping clad in nothing but his shirt and your underpants, since oversized as it is, the length would be enough to cover your crotch and thighs. He likely didn’t factor in your agreement, of course—while convenient in most other circumstances, the ease of access wouldn’t exactly be conducive to chastity, so to speak.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you groan and twist your body to face him. He moves one of his hands to your scalp, lovingly running his slender fingers through your tousled hair and planting a bloodstained kiss on your temple. When he finally pulls away to meet your stare, a shiver unexpectedly runs down your spine; his pupils are blown out, almost completely eclipsing his sanguine irises, yet you can undeniably see something primal and hungry lurking in their depths. The candle you had lit before turning in for the night burns bright still, and the light of its dancing flame bounces off his sharp teeth, which had been puncturing your own flesh but moments ago. How easy it is to forget what the heart wants to deny—whenever the true nature of his vampirism rears its ugly head, you find yourself questioning your blind trust in him. Yet like a passing breeze, just as soon as that sliver of doubt weasels its way into your mind, it’s then gone; foolish though it may be, you don’t fear the darkness in him, not now, not when he first put a knife to your throat. 

“You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just one night it’s better to forget.”

Tentatively, you reach out to lightly stroke his cheek, the pads of your fingers ghosting over his ivory skin. His eyelids flutter close as if by instinct, and he quietly leans into your touch, looking almost vulnerable for a moment. Ever so delicately, you trace the lines on his face, his high cheekbones, his cupid’s bow, his plush lips, which are parted still. It amazes you how his features can be at once so edged yet so soft, much like the man himself, in a way. No, you don’t fear him, even if he has given you no reason not to other than a heartfelt confession.

“I—I could help you, you know,” you hear yourself mumble, almost bashfully, a faint glow spreading across the bridge of your nose and warming the tips of your ears. “With that, I mean.” Astarion furrows his brow and his eyes flit back open in confusion, only to slightly widen as you coyly motion with your head towards his obviously tented pants. He looks down at his groin and then up at you, unsure of what to think, much less of what to say. It’s not often that he is left wanting for words, but then again, you were ever one to drag him out of his comfort zone. 

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you little rascal.” Despite the initial shock, he quickly regains composure, almost too quickly. His expression abruptly changes, gaze laced with seduction and lips quirked upwards into a practiced smirk. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the first one of us to acquiesce? I’ll admit your innocent facade had me fooled, but you’re quite the needy thing underneath those big round eyes and blushing cheeks, aren’t you, darling?” he teases, voice lowering an octave, its cadence measured to an almost unnerving degree. Your mouth becomes dry and your stomach coils into a tight knot as you immediately recognize his sudden shift in attitude, a side of him you’ve come to know all too well and that disturbs you still—yet even more worryingly, his otherwise perfectly poised countenance seems to enshroud an emotion that had never been there before: anxiety. Astarion is nervous, possibly even afraid that he is about to lose something—that you are about to lose something, something precious and dear to him. 

“I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.”

“No! That’s… I didn’t mean it like that,” you blurt out, heart fluttering in your chest, so loudly you are sure he can hear it. While you have never gone over the terms of your agreement or discussed them in-depth, you had always assumed that physical intimacy wouldn’t necessarily be off the table, especially the kind of intimacy that would require nothing of him. Although perhaps therein lies the problem—someone who perceives everything as transactional would naturally fail to accept that another would be willing to give without taking. Remorse washes over you as you realize your mistake, which you promptly try to mend, much as the guilt bars you from looking him in the eyes. “What I meant is… I can take care of it. For you.”

Astarion’s eyebrows slowly slide up his forehead and he studies you intently for what seems like an eternity, clearly taken aback. Before long, he finally breaks the silence, humming quizzically and untangling his fingers from your hair. “Hm? Is that right?” he hesitates, only to yet again flash you a sly smile, a much softer one this time, ruby irises twinkling with something akin to melancholy. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” Despite provocatively purring each word, the tone with which he speaks is remarkably gentle, almost uncertain. Bringing a hand to your chin, he cups it delicately and tilts your head upwards, prompting you to meet his stare, its flirtatious edge now replaced with wistful warmth.  

“You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

You inhale sharply, your brief show of boldness having obviously run its course, and the pink flush coloring your ears deepens into a bright red. His smile widens once he notices your nervousness, and he brings his face even closer to yours, so close you can feel his lashes tickling the delicate skin under your eyes. His cool breath caresses your lips, the metallic scent of blood—your blood—wafting up your nose. Still cupping your chin, he at last closes the distance between you, covering your mouth with his and hooking a leg over your waist to pull your bodies flush together. With the swell between his thighs now nudging your belly, he starts leisurely rolling his hips, resuming what he had been doing before rousing you from your slumber.

“Hnng…” As you bury your fingers in his silvery curls, melting into the kiss and relishing the taste of him, Astarion lets out a muffled moan, low and throaty. Wetness starts pooling between your folds, though instead of indulging in the sensation, you try to ignore it to the best of your ability—tonight is not about you, and you want him to know this. Regardless, he can obviously smell your arousal, but far from causing any upset, it only serves to entice him further; sliding his free hand down your back, he firmly grabs one of your buttocks with a bruising grip upon reaching your ass, kneading it roughly. All this time, he’d been graciously accepting your generosity, and then some—he’s not about to stop now, not when for once he knows he hasn’t manipulated you into extending your kindness to him.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted.”

“Mngh—Astarion…” you mewl into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside yours, fangs nipping at your bottom lip without breaking skin. You press one of your palms to his chest, feeling the firmness of his pectorals under the soft pads of your digits before gingerly sliding them downwards, raising a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Drawing small circular patterns, you slowly glide your blunt nails across the valleys of his ribs, his navel, and finally his lower abdomen, teasingly grazing the waistband of his pants.

“My, such a good little helper you are,” Astarion breaks the kiss to murmur against your reddened lips, and moving his hand on your chin down to grasp your own, he encourages you to venture under the waistband. Your fingers now intertwined with his, you let him guide you to the hardness pushing against his smallclothes, which are damp with precome, much like yours are damp with slick. You can feel the outline of his length through the thin fabric, and he unceremoniously has you both fist it, wiggling his hips so that his pants drop below the plump of his behind. 

“Such a good, selfless little helper…” he croons, sliding both of your hands up and down his still covered cock. With every pump, his groans grow huskier, small beads of sweat pooling in the creases of his forehead. His eyes are now closed, his mouth slightly parted, and his hold on your hand is strong, if not binding. Your dripping sex wantonly clenches around nothing at the sight of him, so hopelessly focused on his own pleasure; gods, how desperately you wish to be stretched open around his enlarged girth, stuffed full of him until you are both flailing for purchase, panting and screaming each other’s name. He may not be ready for that yet, but as your imagination wanders, you tell yourself that there’s no harm in picturing him taking you from behind, balls swinging and hitting your ass as he thrusts deep into your slit with reckless abandon; your lips wrapped around his flushed cockhead, one of his hands mercilessly tugging at your hair as he sings you praises; you bouncing on his lap, buttocks slapping against his legs with each bob of your body.  

“Astarion…” you moan, rubbing your thighs together to get some relief from that small amount of friction. His cock jerks under your combined hands, so hard now that his smallclothes are pulled back enough to reveal the swollen tip. How sweet is the sound of his name on your tongue, how sweet is the scent of your desire when he is the one you yearn for. Just as you fantasize about him, Astarion too keeps replaying all sorts of scenarios in his head—he hates that he can’t have you yet, that he can’t pin you to a wall or throw you on a table and fuck you until you beg him for mercy; he hates that he can’t watch your cute little tits jiggle as your tight cunt swallows him whole, that he can’t coax pretty noises out of your rosy lips and make your eyes water as you come for him. He hates that his lust for you is tainted, that his lust for you is what inspired him to choose you as his target in the first place. Most of all, he hates himself for having disregarded you as a beautiful fool; for having underestimated his own susceptibility to falling in love, for having even fallen in love at all. 

“You’re a vision. And you’re so much more than that.”

“Gods, I want to be inside you…” Astarion grunts, letting go of you to pull down his smallclothes, finally freeing his weeping erection. It glistens in the candlelight, red and hungry, and you waste no time wrapping your fingers around its base. A muted whimper falls from his lips once your warm skin collides with his, and he rolls his hips into your hand, to which you respond by lightly squeezing him, drawing pearly, sticky liquid from the twitching crown. “Gentle, darling…” he whispers, though his half-lidded eyes, hazy with want, show no sign of aggravation—despite the commanding tone of his voice, it’s safe to assume that the instruction is not so much a complaint as a suggestion. Regardless, you obey, stroking him softly and setting a sensual pace to your movements.

“That’s it. That’s it, love. Good girl…” With his newly freed hand, Astarion tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his long fingers against your cheek before inconspicuously running them down the elegant column of your neck. His gaze is immediately drawn to the fresh set of bite marks maculating your otherwise perfectly smooth skin, and he absentmindedly licks his lips upon noticing the ruby droplets blooming from the small wounds. His cock throbs against your palm as he lowers his head to plant a loving kiss on the spot earlier claimed by his fangs—which he then sinks again into the still seeping artery. This time, you feel a sharp sting, but as soon as he starts sucking, the pain fades away; he wraps an arm around your upper body to hold you in place as he drinks, cradling you against his chest, and his other hand quickly finds one of your breasts under your—his—shirt. Trapping its puckered peak between two deft digits, he pinches it playfully, and you are unable to stifle the whine that subsequently forms in the back of your throat.

“Asta—aah…” You try to remain focused on the task you’ve been entrusted with, tightening your grip on him to remind yourself that he is the priority, not you. This in turn causes him to moan against your neck and shove his hips forward; taking his reaction as a cue, you speed up the tempo of your strokes, which are now almost synchronized with the vigorous bobbing of his Adam’s apple. His hand on your breast gropes it passionately, all five of his fingers now splayed across its soft swell and digging deep into the squishy flesh. He wonders if it’s a deliberate act of provocation, or if you really are so naïve that you wouldn’t notice his ravenous stare whenever your nipples pebble and become visible through the white sheerness of his shirt. Knowing you, it’s probably the latter; he’s yet to meet anyone as oblivious as you are, and while he has learned to accept that this side of you is not necessarily a weakness, it also awakens in him a protective instinct—a possessive instinct. You may be prey, but you are his prey; his to feed on, his to fuck, his, and nobody else’s.

“Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.”

Astarion bends the leg hooked around your waist to pull you even closer to him, and from the way his groans increase both in frequency and in volume, you can tell he is about to fall over the precipice of ecstasy. The glossy sheen of sweat covering his pale skin makes him look like a marble sculpture, an otherworldly creature, yet the ferocity with which he feasts on your crimson reveals him not touched by the divine, but consumed by sin. It’s almost ironic then, that sinful as his longing for you may be, it feels so pure, so sacred. Tension coils low in his stomach, and for once there is no guilt, no disgust, no contempt; only rapture, as if he were an apostate and your love a haven, a promise of sanctuary.

“But I know that this?”

You pump him one last time, and with a guttural growl, Astarion comes in your hand, spurting out ribbons of his seed all over his own abdomen and thighs. Unlatching from your neck, he doesn’t bother pulling away, bloodied lips still pressed against your heated flesh, and his hand that had been under your shirt joins the other as both of his arms fold around your midriff. You let go of his softening length to run your fingers through his curls, closing your eyes and trying to catch your breath, tiredness suddenly weighing down all of your limbs and anchoring them to your bedroll. Lulled by the gentle pounding of your heart, he too empties his mind and lets himself be engulfed by the warmth of your body, so soft, so inviting, so very alive. Your taste still lingers on his tongue, your lifeblood now mixed with his within his veins—as his happiness trickles down in rivulets of scarlet, yours soars into the starry night sky. 

“This is nice.”

[sunboki]

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

.

.

.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk—letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here—“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

[lookismfanfics]

𝐁𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐.

Notes: If ya’ll want part 3 it’ll probably include Goo, Vin, Daniel, Jihan, and whoever else you guys want. Just a heads up!

Warnings: Fluff, nudity (not explicit), wholesomeness, mild cursing, mentions of violence

Eugene • Gun • Zack • Johan • Jake • Lineman • Jason • Hudson

𝐄𝐮𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞

🝮 The candles, assortments of expensive shampoos, classic piano melodies playing from the speakers, and altogether romantic atmosphere weren’t out of the normal for Eugene.

🝮 Shower time was usually like this. He was busy, and needed to unwind… but in a timely manner.

🝮 The only thing different about the bathroom today was you.

🝮 You. Crouched by the tub, pouring globs of bubble-bath solution carelessly into the foamy water. Wrapped in his a luxurious robe.

🝮 Eugene takes off his quickly-steaming glasses, wiping them gingerly against his shirt.

🝮 “What’s all this about, (Y/N)?” He asks. No doubt he’s forming an answer of his own right now. You smile coyly.

🝮 He likes that smile on you. Your casual wit and intellect never fails to charm his cooly-intelligent and egotistical self.

🝮 “It’s your shower time. Says so on the calendar,” you state. “I told you sharing our Cloud wasn’t an invitation for you to spy on my personal schedule,” he counters.

🝮 He ends up cracking a smile anyway. The type of smile he reserves specifically for your enjoyment.

🝮 “Whatever. Get in.” You gesture towards the tub, unfazed as Eugene stares at you cooly. “Sorry. You want privacy undressing or something?”

🝮 His sharp “yes” falls on deaf ears. You both end up stifling giggles and sharing looks as he piles his clothes on the floor.

🝮 The soap suds in the tub are an off-white color. Eugene hates dyed bath bombs.

🝮 After he submerges himself in the water and has a book in his hand, you take to kissing his knuckles and smoothing out his hair.

🝮 Neither of you converse very much. He smirks whenever your eyes meet, though.

🝮 It’s elegant and intimate. That’s norm for being in a relationship with Eugene.

𝐆𝐮𝐧

🝮 It started off with a workout.

🝮 Gun, the ridiculous bast*rd, trying his hardest to overwork you till your bones break. For the sake of getting stronger.

🝮 And now that that’s over, it’s your turn.

🝮 Exasperated and breathless as you push on his bare chest, trying to force him through the doorway of the bathroom

🝮 “Just— get— in— Gun!” You huff, slapping your hand roughly against the side of his torso.

🝮 He’s such a pig sometimes.

🝮 On his own he walks backwards and sits down in the bathtub. Soapy water engulfs his frame. His normal nonchalance is wasted on you. All he ever seems to do is smirk when you’re around.

🝮 You mumble “jerk” and in response he tells you to “eat ass”

🝮 You hold his head underwater for that-

🝮 He chooses the soap. A musky, expensive brand. Something that smells like him.

🝮 While Gun scrolls boredly through his classical playlist you take off your clothes.

🝮 Hop right in beside him, let him spread his legs and lean against his back. He doesn’t mind. Actually, he prefers it that way.

🝮 “You did good today,” Gun remarks. He leans his head back against the wall. You hum in reply.

🝮 It’s not so much a bath as it is a warm soak.

🝮 Gun’s hands rub down your legs roughly. Even if he isn’t gentle, per say, it feels nice for your aching muscles.

🝮 “You weren’t so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles at that.

🝮 You’ll come out of that bath with Gun’s signature scent all over you. He doesn’t mind THAT at all.

𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤

🝮 If athletic had a scent… then it would smell exactly like Zack Lee’s shampoo.

🝮 He digs his hands into the side of the bathtub and wills himself not to blush as you crouch beside him, pouring more bubble solution into the foggy water.

🝮 “Where’d you buy this anyway?” You ask, knowing Zack doesn’t like buying cheap brands. And it doesn’t smell bad, necessarily.

🝮 He swallows, eyes narrowing and a sheepish flush rising to his face. “I dunno. Do you not like it or something…?”

🝮 “No it’s fine. It smells like you.”

🝮 Zack’s hands are busted. His cracked knuckles are a clear indicator of the fight he had gotten himself into.

🝮 You grumble about it a little, but not too much. Just a simple, “I thought we talked about you getting into fights…” and then you dropped it.

🝮 You lathered your hands with shampoo, scrubbing deep into the roots of his hair.

🝮 You tenderly scrubbed across his body, knowing he was unable to with his mangled hands.

🝮 Sweet, rushed kisses followed. Zack is such a simp— almost completely unable to look you in the eye, let alone return your affection.

🝮 The signiture-athlete-soap was down the drain. Zack dried himself off.

🝮 “You weren’t planning on doing this again… were you?” He calls. When you don’t answer, his chest deflates.

🝮 “(Y/N)— ARUGH!”

🝮 The door slams

🝮 “Why are you naked?!”

🝮 “I’m getting in the shower too…!”

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧

🝮 Puppy eyes. That’s what he gives you.

🝮 Where did he learn this sacred guilt-tripping art from? His dogs?

🝮 Either way, you shake your head.

🝮 “Look, you can use the bathroom to shower- or whatever. But I’m not helping you.”

🝮 Johan: 🥺

🝮 Five minutes later, you’re helping him.

🝮 He’s half naked, and had reprimanded you for staring. “It’s not that big of a deal,” or whatever crap he said.

🝮 You are currently checking the water temperature.

🝮 “Look, using my bathtub is pretty straightforward. Once you get it to the temp you like you can just plug in the drain cap. Okay?”

🝮 You demonstrate. Johan nods.

🝮 “Okay. Soap is there… and-yeah. Have fun Johan.”

🝮 You rise, dodging him and beelining for the door. You have other things, after all-

🝮 “Wait,” Johan mumbles.

🝮 You look over your shoulder, met head-on with those baby brown eyes of his. Johan blinks. His brows are furrowed slightly in contemplation. Or whatever is going through his pea-brain.

🝮 “Can you get in with me?”

🝮 🫠

🝮 (I can’t tell you what to do. Hop in or leave him hanging- 💅)

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

🝮 His shirt slips off a solid abdomin and exposes inked shoulders and chest. His tattooed arms flex as the shirt falls to the side.

🝮 This display is… seen by no one. Jake has no audience in the empty bathroom but himself.

🝮 He cranes his neck to catch sigh of some scrapes and bruises on his back. It not too difficult. Even through his peripherals the purple splotches are obvious.

🝮 With a sigh, Jake begins to unzip his pants and unclamp his belt—

🝮 THE DOOR CREAKS

🝮 A towel covers him in a second. (Since when has he been self-conscious??) The door opens completely to let you in.

🝮 You… with your arms full of bath and medical supplies.

🝮 You set down the things and face a nervously smiling Jake. The towel is snatched out of his grasp in a millisecond.

🝮 “Don’t bother hiding it Jake. I know you look like a wreck,” you snap.

🝮 Jake? Self-conscious? Nah. Afraid of your wrath? Maybe.

🝮 The water is turned on and soon the bathtub is filled. Eventually the soapy water cradles Jake’s large figure.

🝮 Your hands feel nice against his sore skin, he thinks. He stays still as you wash off his cuts and bruises… let’s you wet his hair and scrub soap into his scalp.

🝮 “I love you,” he smiles. Cheeky.

🝮 You sigh and press a kiss against his cheek. “I know.”

🝮 Bubbles eventually popped… the water was drained. Jake’s favorite part was being dried off anyway. He likes his hair being ruffled by you… the soft towel rubbing down his back and legs.

🝮 In the end he smells like strawberries. You can’t help but tease him about that.

🝮 Argument avoided successfully 👍

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

🝮 In all honesty you had never seen Lineman without a shirt on. You’d only… heard about it.

🝮 But anyway. Here you are. Pouring soap onto a washcloth and dabbing it on his temple.

🝮 The excessive amount of bath bombs were completely necessary. You didn’t need to be flashed.

🝮 Lineman sits as still as possible, not wanting soap to get into his eyes. He mumbles about how nice the water feels and how he’s grateful that you’re taking care of him.

🝮 “Why does it smell so peachy?” He asks suddenly, cupping some of the water in his hand.

🝮 You shrug. “It’s just the scent I guess.”

🝮 Bandaids have fallen off and are thrown in the trash. You apply neosporin to the cut over his eyebrow.

🝮 You’re about to pour some water into his hair but he dodges out of the way. Something about a hair routine. Admittedly it is one of his nicest features…

🝮 “Ya don’t have to do that, (Y/N). I’m good,” he tells you sheepishly. He says that a lot actually. He’s capable of turning on the water… cleaning his banged-up body… drying off…

🝮 You do all those things for him anyway. He just complies bashfully and lets it happen.

🝮 Afterwards you ask him to take his clothes off more often (as a joke.) He takes you completely seriously- 😳

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

🝮 It’s not that Jason can’t be romantic, but between the two of you, you’re typically the more… intimate one

🝮 This weekend was a bit different though. And without getting into explicit details, you’ve spend a fair share of romantic time together.

🝮 So now, to unwind, you’re grabbing your bath kit and treating the two of you to some self-care. (The bath bombs needed to be used. Lua gifted them to you two Christmas’ ago-)

🝮 You settle for a green colored… minty scented soap. With the pigmented water bubbling and steaming, you decided now was the time to hop in.

🝮 You sink into the tub 🛁

🝮 Jason comes in a few minutes later with some towels and a book for you.

🝮 “Don’t you wanna get in?” You ask. He splashes you with some water and gives some sort of embarrassed reply.

🝮 He uses a loofah to scrub your back. “Isn’t the water too hot?”

🝮 “Nope. Just you.”

🝮 *More aggressive splashing*

🝮 “You’re worse than Jake,” he mumbles, dropping the loofah and sitting against the wall. You just smile in return.

𝐇𝐮𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧

🝮 “What kind of scents do you like?” You’d ask. He wouldn’t give you an answer.

🝮 “Hudson…! I’m for real!” You’d say. Still, nothing.

🝮 “Please just answer my question-” you grumbled. Nothing.

🝮 Hudson didn’t want you to spoil him (that’s… not exactly what you had in mind but-) and he definitely didn’t need you spending your money on HIS beauty products.

🝮 Ever since he joined the Allied…. Idiots (there’s not a nicer way to put it) he’s begun to realize that his own products and routines are pretty low-key.

🝮 He went over Jay’s penthouse once. To drop something off. The dude was basically butt naked, wearing just a skimpy robe. What was that all about? Apparently he was in the middle of some hour-long beauty ritual.

🝮 Then there’s Zack Lee. Don’t even get Zack STARTED on using hair gel… or washing your face… using an exfoliator…

🝮 Compared to them, Hudson just kinda… showered? The soap brand he used jumped from whatever was available. So when he told you he didn’t have a favorite scent, he was being completely honest.

🝮 So you took a guess. Picked out some honeysuckle bubble soap. Some matching scented shampoo. Now you dip your finger into the water to test if it’s okay.

🝮 Behind you Hudson reluctantly takes off his clothes. He takes better care of his sweater than his pants, which he just flops on the floor and toes out of the way.

🝮 You gesture for him to get in.

🝮 “I never asked you to do this…” he murmurs, slipping underneath the sudsy water.

🝮 You nod. “I know. I just felt like it.”

🝮 You kiss his knuckles and help wash his back. You also tease him about his wet, flat hair—

So sorry for the delay everyone! Going to hustle through requests!!

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (6)

ー☆ Chapter 6: Spirit

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cussing really ー☆ Word count: 8.2k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, lovelies! This is a chill and soft chapter compared to the mess the past few ones had been lol. I tried out something new with the passing of the week in the story, while illustrating it, I hope it's enjoyable and nice. I thought it was a nice little idea. I think we can say that they are finally headed in the right direction lol. Let me know your thoughts! I'll try to update next week, but with classes back again...I cannot promise anything, I was dreading this moment lol. Please listen before or while reading this chapter to Spirit, this chapter's song. I hope you enjoy, happy reading!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

『But it's nice to hear a voice or two

Something's stirring, my conscience is split into two

And it might be a phase

But I swear this shit is clear-view』

            The noise was too much—well, it wasn’t any different to how noisy the cafeteria usually was—but my head was thumping violently and my eyes were burning. I hated to admit it, but a cold was catching up on me and that brought bigger despair into my bones than it was necessary. I hated being sick, and it really wouldn’t come in handy right now as I had to study for the upcoming test Seulgi wouldn’t stop yapping about. She had been talking about it since we had stepped inside the cafeteria, and it was only adding onto my growing headache, making me sniff loudly as the hot steam of the—somewhat tasty—soup was blowing into my face, making my eyes sting. I had to consume something hot—and healthy—if I wished to recover faster. I couldn’t help but shudder as I wrapped the warm beige and black patterned jacket tighter around my frame. Considering the state I was in—I should’ve probably worn something warmer—but I had assumed it would be warm outside today—it wasn’t.

“I think the professor said something about checking whether we handed in all the assignment, and how that will count for our final grade too.” Seulgi was still going on about that dreaded test, and I groaned as the spoon slipped from my fingers and rattled loudly against the metal cup my soup was in. Seulgi’s eyes snapped up as she looked at me, her own spoon hanging midair in her hand as she looked at me concerned, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No.” I snapped, holding my head in my hands as I sighed loudly, “You keep talking about that bloody test and I already have a ragging headache—please, Seulgi, for the love of God, shut up!”

“Jesus,” Seulgi muttered at my outburst, very visibly trying to hold back her amused grinned, “when did you become such a drama queen—oh, wait. You’ve always been one!”

I rolled my eyes and flipped her off before grabbing my spoon and scooping up some soup, bringing it to my lips to blow it before eating it. Seulgi just giggled and continued eating her soup. My phone, which was placed on the table, suddenly buzzed, and my eyes traveled to it quickly, reaching out for it with my left hand.

“So, uhm, last night at the concert…” Seulgi trailed off and my eyes lifted to look at her for a second, watching as her cheeks suddenly flushed.

“What about it?” I asked as I unlocked my phone and very aggressively tried to ignore the sudden violent thumping of my heart. Fuck, why was my body acting up so much lately? My fingers were eager as I pressed on the notification from Mingi, opening up our chatroom.

I hate him: how u holding up Me: terribly…my head is on the verge of exploding and seulgi just keeps on going and going

There was a cough and I remembered the soup in my spoon, that I hadn’t eaten yet, and, so, I quickly did as my eyes traveled back to Seulgi. One eyebrow was cocked as she looked at me, but she didn’t say anything just swirled her spoon around in her soup.

“Well, Wooyoung was very nice, he’s—lovely.” Seulgi licked her lips as she averted her eyes when a small knowing smirk grew on my lips, “Yeah, very lovely, anyways, he dedicated a song to me and kept on looking at me while he was singing and—yeah, he stayed by my side all evening.”

Another buzz of my phone, and I had to fight every nerve in my body to not open the message immediately. Besides, I was having a conversation with Seulgi, she was more important right now.

“Sounds lovely, indeed.” I hummed before gulping down another spoonful of my soup. Seulgi’s eyes narrowed slightly, as she leaned forward in her seat.

“Since when did you start agreeing that a man was lovely—let alone Wooyoung?!” She made an expression as if what we were talking about was scandalous, and I scoffed, the phone buzzing in my hand again. My grip tightened around it and I quickly unlocked my phone before looking back at Seulgi.

“If I hate a man, that’s the problem, if I am supportive of the guy you’re hanging out with, that’s the problem. Make up your mind, Seulgi.” I deadpanned, and my best friend just scoffed, leaning back in her seat as she was finished with her soup. I raised my eyebrows at her and she pursed her lips. I couldn’t help it, but my eyes traveled down back to my phone as I quickly read the text from Mingi.

I hate him: seulgi seems like a cool person, wooyoung talks about her all the time is ur head okay? still got a headache?

I have no idea when texting each other become normal, because I still found it weird, and slightly irritating. After last night, I thought things would just…remain the same way. Just because Mingi and I shared some personal things did not mean that we now had to be—like this. Like we were friends or something, because we certainly weren’t. I still couldn’t stand his guts, and my thoughts on him did not change one bit. He was still a self-centered, arrogant, and an egotistical asshole, and yet this morning I woke up to a good morning text from him, eyebrows furrowing, and fingers quickly typing out a text which said that I was blocking him if he sent one more message. And he proceeded to send several more…to the point where I couldn’t ignore him anymore…and just…texted back. And it was weird, because my heart would not settle for one second each time I got a text from him, and I hated this feeling. What was happening to me? Why didn’t I just block him already?

“Y/N, are you listening to me?” I felt caught red-handed as I looked up at Seulgi, who’s eyes were narrowed once again, as she kept looking between me and my phone, suspicion growing on her face. I cleared my throat awkwardly, and despite wanting to ignore it, I quickly typed back to Mingi before placing down my phone and paying full attention to my best friend.

Me: yeah, it’s gotten worse

“I’m sorry, my mom texted me and it was urgent.” I lied through my teeth, hoping that Seulgi would buy it. My mother rarely texted me; she would usually call even for the smallest things, however, there were rare instances and Seulgi knew that, but the look on her face told me that she didn’t fully believe me.

“Okay,” She drew out the word and I went back to eating my, now, warm soup, “I was just saying that…I think I’m falling for Wooyoung.”

I paused as my eyes slowly raised, falling on Seulgi. Her voice had gotten quiet and she was fiddling with her fingers in her lap, cheeks slightly coated pink. I didn’t say anything as I continued looking at her, but she was still avoiding eye contact. In fact, she looked on the verge of passing out and that was very unnecessarily funny—but Seulgi didn’t seem to think the same.

“Stop that!” She snapped, leaning over the table, “I’m serious, I—stop looking at me like that!”

I pressed my lips tightly together to stop another snort from breaking through and looked back down at my half-eaten soup, not feeling like having more of it, but the soreness in my throat was slightly gone, and my body wasn’t shivering as much as before. I had to eat a little bit more.

“He’s too sweet and caring, I can’t help it.” Seulgi went on, voice still quiet in the loud cafeteria, “And he treats me well. Like…he pays a lot of attention to me and remembers everything I say. You should’ve seen him last night, up on the stage, I try not to think about it, but I think the song he sang was…a confession or something.”

“Why don’t you ask him out then?” I found myself asking as I finished my soup too, not having an appetite to eat anything else.

“Well—” Seulgi sighed and leaned back in her seat, “I’m scared I’m just reading too much into things, you know. I might be overthinking everything, and it turns out he sees me just as a friend.”

“I highly doubt that,” I said with a chuckle as I placed my left elbow on the table and my chin in my palm, “Would someone who isn’t into you dedicate a love song to you?”

“I wouldn’t.” Seulgi muttered, cheeks turning pink again. I grinned at her as my head continued throbbing, I tried to ignore it. Now that I had eaten, I could finally take my medicine. This morning when I woke up there was a note on the counter in the kitchen and three pills placed on top of it, instructions on the note from my mother as to when and how to take them. She knows me too well.

“Exactly, you wouldn’t, and neither would Wooyoung.” I told Seulgi and I watched as a small flustered smile made it on her face. It made me chuckle, I felt happy for her. Seulgi deserves someone who treats her right and loves her a lot, her previous relationships have been all close to terrible, her partners not understanding her fully. Seulgi was an artistic soul trapped in a fragile, but warrior body.

“You think I should ask him out?” Her voice was small, I knew she was scared of ruining something which brought her so much happiness. I didn’t want to see her suffering either, so I didn’t want to give her the wrong advice, but sometimes we had to take a leap of faith and see how things work out.

“I mean, at this point I’m convinced he’s into you, so…” As I trailed off, a sudden, and weird, thought popped into my head. I could always ask Mingi about Wooyoung’s feelings towards Seulgi, but that implied two things. One, I was giving away Seulgi’s feelings towards Wooyoung, and perhaps that wasn’t a smart move as Mingi would surely tell Wooyoung about it. Two, it implied that Mingi and I were now on a level of friendship where talking about our friends feelings was alright. And it certainly wasn’t, because—Mingi and I weren’t friends. I don’t like Mingi, and he—just enjoys making my life hell.

“I’ll think about it.” Seulgi said with a hum, and then her eyebrows suddenly furrowed, “But—enough about me and Wooyoung. Are you okay?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at her and shrugged, “Well, my head is on the verge of exploding, but other than that, I think I’m fine.”

“You didn’t sound fine yesterday, Y/N.” Seulgi had a knowing look in her eyes and I realized she figured it out that I had lied on the phone when I told her I had a family emergency, hence why I wouldn’t go to Outlaw with her. I just sighed, feeling smaller as I pulled my jacket tighter around myself.

“I was just—” How was I supposed to tell her that I pretty much had a breakdown and felt like dying because I found out that Yunho was Mingi’s best friend, and that I damn nearly lost my mind when I saw Yunho happy with another woman on Instagram? It sounded crazy even to me and I didn’t want to embarrass myself even more. I knew Seulgi would understand and never make fun of me, but I felt pathetic, and I refused to make a fool out of myself again, “Tired, and stressed. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure?” Seulgi asked softly, her hand reaching over the table and grabbing my arm, her warmth seeping through the fabric of my jacket. It was comforting, “You know you can tell me anything.”

And suddenly I felt like telling her that Mingi and I had been texting since last night, since—since he witnessed the aftermath of my breakdown, and drove me home because it was raining too hard. But it didn’t feel real, I knew it wouldn’t last. Whatever this was—whatever Mingi was trying to do, it wasn’t real. It wouldn’t become anything real. And so, I forced a smile on my lips and nodded at Seulgi, patting her hand with my right one.

“Of course, and I do tell you a lot of things, you know?” Seulgi just rolled her eyes and retracted her arm, making me chuckle. As she leaned back in her seat I heard some commotion happening behind me, but I didn’t turn around to check. Today was not the day where I fed my curiosity, all I wanted to do was go home, get underneath the thick blanket, and sleep for a whole week so that the sickness would be gone.

“I always feel like you know more about me than I know about you—and we’ve been friends for years now, Y/N.” Seulgi shook her head and I chuckled.

“That’s because you talk a lot more than I do.” I teased her with a chuckle and she rolled her eyes, until they suddenly widened and she was sitting up straighter in her seat, making me furrow my eyebrows. I noted the way she subtly tried to fix her hair as they were in two low ponytails, and before I could ask her about what she was doing, I heard two male voices behind me, one of them shrill, while the other one was raspy. I should’ve hated myself for how quickly my body reacted, my heart in my throat as my ears suddenly started ringing due to the rapid thumping of my heart.

“Hi, girls!” Wooyoung’s cheery voice was loud as he suddenly appeared to my left, going around the table. The chair to my right was drawn back and my body stiffened as a backpack was dropped at the foot of the table. Wooyoung pulled a chair out for himself and plopped down in it messily, leaning towards Seulgi, making her eyes slightly widen. Wooyoung pressed a loud kiss against her cheek, and I couldn’t help but stare back at her just as surprised as Seulgi was looking at me. And she’s afraid that Wooyoung doesn’t feel the same for her?! Before I could say something inappropriate and something Seulgi would kill me for, the deep chuckle to my right distracted me, reminding me of my own rapid heartbeat all of a sudden. I turned my head and came face to face with Mingi, who had a soft smile on his lips. My left hand turned into a fist as I didn’t know how to react—how to act. What was he doing here? Why was he here? And why was he looking at me like…he was actually happy to see me?

“Hi.” He greeted quietly as his smile widened and I gulped, trying to ignore the glasses sitting on his long nose. They were close to slipping off, but it didn’t seem to bother Mingi as he didn’t do anything about it, his dark and fluffy hair falling in his eyes, giving him a boyish look. He was wearing casual clothes, light blue jeans paired with a dark purple hoodie, and a few silver necklaces peeked through from underneath the fabric as it fell close to Mingi’s collarbones. I cleared my throat and averted my eyes, noticing that neither men carried trays with themselves. Were they not going to eat?

“Hi.” I greeted back quietly and pushed my shoulders back as I turned my head away, suddenly becoming extremely aware of the two pair of eyes watching Mingi and I with intrigue, but also surprise. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at Seulgi, but she didn’t react. Mingi seemed nonchalant as he noticed the two sitting across from us being weird, and suddenly, a yellow thermostat was pushed in my direction.

“I got you some wild berry tea,” He said as my eyes snapped back to him, growing wide, “since you’re not feeling too well. I hope it helps with the headache and sore throat. Imagine how much worse you’d be feeling if you didn’t listen to me…wanting to walk home in the rain—”

“Yeah, thank you, okay!” I didn’t mean to exclaim, nor blush as hard as I have, but Seulgi’s eyes were boring into the side of my head, and I was scared Mingi would say something which I would have to explain to her later—and I did not want to do that, like at all. Mingi’s smile was amused as he nodded once, resting his hands on the table as he watched me fumble with the yellow thermostat as I tried to put it away in my bag. God, this was mortifying—why would he embarrass me so badly?!

“Now it makes sense why you kept carrying that around with you,” Wooyoung chuckled, and his next words made everything worse, “You hate tea.”

Of course Mingi hated tea, why would he like it? Like any normal person does?! And the knowing smirk on Seulgi’s face was certainly not helping as I cleared my throat, and pushed my hair behind my shoulders before crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Who hates tea?” I found myself muttering with a scoff, trying to diffuse the weird tension, but I really should have just shut up.

“I do.” Mingi muttered back, jutting his lips out into a pout, and my eyebrows furrowed as I looked at him, hating the way my eyes lingered on his red, plush, lips.

“Whatever.” I found myself saying as Mingi chuckled, angling his body towards me. My eyes darted to Seulgi alarmed, but thankfully it seemed like Wooyoung and her weren’t interested in us anymore as they fell into conversation, their voices loud and eager as Wooyoung explained something to her and Seulgi nodded enthusiastically.

“Did you sleep well? I never got to ask you this morning…” Mingi spoke up again, and my eyes were back on him. I sighed and shook my head no, trying to ignore the weird feeling in my heart. Why was Mingi sitting with me when he could be entertaining his baboons—fangirls—right this second? Somehow that thought was a little more infuriating than it should have been, so I quickly pushed it away and answered Mingi instead.

“Not really, but it’s fine. I had a rough day yesterday.” I found myself explaining, and Mingi hummed, “And you…did you sleep well?”

My voice sounded hesitant, and I found myself feeling unsure suddenly, wondering where this conversation would lead to. What even was the meaning of it.

“Yeah, but it was short lived.” Mingi said with a chuckle, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“I got inspired,” Mingi’s cheeks suddenly flushed a light shade of red, and my eyes narrowed as he suddenly avoided eye contact, running a hand through his hair, “So I stayed up to write lyrics.”

“Oh, I see.” I pursed my lips and found myself wanting to say more, “I know the feeling. I get inspired at the worst of times. I’ve stayed up countless nights just to draw or paint. It’s really a pain in the ass when you have class in the morning.”

Mingi laughed and nodded, “I know, I can’t tell you how often I skip those classes.”

“I wish my professors were that lenient.” I chuckled as I rolled my eyes, making Mingi smile as he leaned slightly closer, making me stiffen as his glasses hung on for dear life on the bridge of his nose. I was itching to push them up his nose—and since when did I get such urges?! I’d rather die than touch Mingi.

“Mine aren’t lenient either, but—” He leaned even closer, and my jaw tightened as I fought every nerve in my body wanting to lean away, “If you’re smart about it, they’ll let you off.”

“Are you calling me dumb?” I narrowed my eyes at Mingi and he chuckled, finally leaning away, back in his seat. It felt like I could finally breathe, but my heart still felt like it would fall out of my ass any minute.

“There it is—I’ve missed her.” Mingi’s words were sarcastic, but the teasing smile on his lips told me he wasn’t necessarily bothered.

“What.” I huffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest again, “You admit that you act like an ass just to piss me off?”

“I don’t act like an ass, doll,” There it was, that stupid nickname he’d called me by once today already through text, “It’s you who gets bothered by me being simply myself.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you got a shit personality.” I found myself huffing, finding this exchange a lot more familiar, less unnerving compared to the weird amicable conversations we’ve been having since last night.

“Well, that I did not miss.” Mingi’s eyebrows were in a frown, and I suddenly felt—bad. Since when did I care if I hurt his feelings or not? I bit back a groan and sighed loudly instead, licking my lips.

“Whatever, I—thanks for driving me home last night.” I found myself blurting it out despite having thanked him once already, “I would feel a lot worse now if you had let me walk home in the rain…”

Suddenly the yellow thermostat placed on the table next to my hand felt like it was burning my skin, and my cheeks grew hot. No way in hell I was blushing because of a bloody thermostat right now.

“Yeah, I told you so, didn’t I?” Mingi wriggled his eyebrows playfully, and before I could stop and think, my right hand was balled into a fist and I was hitting Mingi’s bicep, scowling at him. It made him laugh loudly as he pushed my hand away, his palm warm against my fisted hand, and I realized my cheeks were even hotter now. Fuck, where can I bury myself right now?! And if seeing the satisfied smirk on Mingi’s face wasn’t bad, the sudden silence coming from Seulgi and Wooyoung certainly was worse as they gaped at both Mingi and I. I knew why, of course, but Mingi seemed not to catch on as he looked at Wooyoung with a confused frown, raising his eyebrows at him. They were very probably shocked by the sight in front of them—Mingi and I being cordial for once? Never heard before, never to be imagined up until this point. And when Seulgi opened her mouth to say something, I just knew nothing good would come out of it, and I quickly kicked my left foot out underneath the table, my boot coming in contact with her shin, making Seulgi yelp loudly as her eyes grew into saucers. Wooyoung looked at her confused and she grit her teeth, brushing off the concerned questions rolling off Wooyoung’s lips, Mingi looking between Seulgi and I confused. I forced a tight smile on my lips and gave Seulgi a warning with my eyes, thankfully successfully shutting her up as she started speaking about the test we’d have tomorrow, coercing both Mingi and Wooyoung into a conversation as I sneakily unclasped the yellow thermostat and took a small gulp of the tea made by Mingi. It was sweet.

『And I'm standing at the edge

I'm just trying to pretend that I want you so deeply

'Cause your spirit sings sweetly to me

Think I'd rather be alone』

Monday

Me: mingiii i passed my test!!! I hate him: omg really?! that’s great, congrats!! Me: told ya, i’m too smart bby lol I hate him: who’s the cocky one now? Me: u

Tuesday

I hate him: can’t remember the last time i ate mashed potatoes Me: lol that’s random? I hate him: lol ik…i’m over at woo’s and his mom made us some fancy dinner everything is mouth watering i think i reached heaven finally Me: aren’t u a bit dramatic rn? u acting like u hadn’t had food in a year I hate him: food t h i s good i certainly hadn’t have also, i’m not dramatic side eye Me: shouldn’t u be paying attention to whatever’s going on there? i mean…woo’s mom did prepare all the food for u don’t be ungrateful, put ur phone away I hate him: yah, why are u trying to get rid of me? i’m in the bathroom, btw so i’m not being ungrateful to anyone dumbass Me: firstly, ew. secondly, asshole I hate him: i’m only washing my hands chillax oh—woo’s calling for me ttyl Me: no, actually don’t text me ever again.

Wednesday

I hate him: have u seen the moon? it’s so pretty Me: mingi?? it’s literally 1am I hate him: i know, but have u? Me: yeah, i’m looking at it rn I hate him: isn’t it so pretty? Me: it is but what’s gotten into u? I hate him: nothing…i just can’t sleep Me: me neither I hate him: so what are u doing then… Me: was trying to draw but it’s not coming to me rn hasn’t happened in long so i was on tik tok scrolling what are u doing? I hate him: idk i’m just… idk i was jotting down some lyrics but it’s not coming to me either i’ve been just restless all day long Me: ik, u’ve said so during lunch did u get to eat that hot dog, btw? or did wooyoung steal it again I hate him: nah, i let him have it then made some for myself when i got home it’s too quiet, i hate it Me: play some music the one you showed me yesterday that one was good I hate him: u liked it? i thought u didn’t Me: i was just fucking with you i’ve been listening to it on repeat I hate him: oh, that’s cool it’s one of my faves i’m glad u like it too now Me: mingi i’m becoming sleepy now… I hate him: it’s okay go to sleep we’ll talk tomorrow Me: sweet dreams, mingi I hate him: u too, y/n … i miss Yuyu so badly

Thursday

Me: i think i’m stuck I hate him: u need help? Me: with my assignment, mingi… I hate him: yeah, still need some help? Me: what does a music major possibly know about impressionism?? I hate him: i thought that’s ur favorite style? how come u’re struggling?? Me: even the most talented prodigy’s struggle sometimes mingi I hate him: my apologies ur highness, for i have committed such a treacherous act by assuming u are not enlightened enough for this assignment may i propose a recreational method that might help such torturous process to come to an end faster? Me: pls stop talking like that I hate him: i’m actually typing but ok wanna know??? Me: yes, idiot just say it already I hate him: say it out loud Me: i can’t belive u just made a twilight reference i’m blocking u like rn I hate him: so anyways wanna hang out? Me: i thought u had something smart to help me out with… I hate him: t h i s is that smart thing Me: i gotta help mom with dinner in half an hour so i can’t I hate him: and tomorrow? Me: mingi… I hate him: okay, fine…at least i tried… again and again and again Me: told u to stop but u never listen I hate him: ofc i don’t wooyoung told me not to give up u’ll say yes eventually Me: wooyoung is literally the worst person u could accept advice from stop I hate him: he just read this and now he’s crying thanks Me: not my problem ur friends look at ur phone when we’re talking wait— what?! I hate him: lol u’re fucked did u not tell Seulgi? that we’re talking… Me: why would i? we’re not friends I hate him: ouch that one hurt but ok Me: tell wooyoung he’s dead if he says anything to seulgi i mean it, bro I hate him: ok, bro.

Friday:

Me: min are u mad at me? I hate him: why u asking Me: cuz u’ve been ignoring me today and u haven’t answered my texts and u’re still dry is this… because i said we ain’t friends yesterday? I hate him: took u long enough to figure it out dumbass Me: well u are the dumb one, idiot if u don’t talk to me how am i supposed to know?! I hate him: how would u feel if i said we ain’t friends? Me: idk but i certainly wouldn’t overreact because we really aren’t friends min I hate him: pff ok bye Me: are u serious rn?? mingi??? ???????? MINGI?! SONG MINGI?!?!?!? I hate him: stop blowing up my phone Me: mute me then I hate him: ok Me: wait don’t omg fuck okay mingi i’m sorry I hate him: wasn’t that hard to say it was it Me: are we actually friends then? i said that because idk I hate him: yeah we’re friends Me: ok but just for the record I still hate your guts u’re insufferable self-centered egoistical selfish annoying an asshole arrogant and you always piss me off idiot I hate him: weird way to confess but ok ig love u too bestie Me: song mingi.

Saturday

I hate him: y/n the world is spinning Me: lol are u drunk? I hate him: not drunk tipsy definitely fuck i can’t see the letters Me: for someone who claims they can’t see the letters u’re typing extraordinarily well I hate him: autocorrect exists thank fuck damn i need water Me: go drink some then idiot I hate him: ok will u pick me up? Me: lol no get ur ass home i don’t have a car I hate him: u could drive mine Me: did u drive there when u knew u were going to drink??! I hate him: nope lol this is funny i almost slipped off my seat lol woo is so loud and hwa thinks we can’t see but he’s had his hand on hong’s thigh all night long it’s disgusting—not like that! i love them— yn maybe i’m drunk hey, i should probably stop typing doll? Me: mingi u’re shitfaced and funny stop texting me ttyl when u’re hopefully sober take care and… text me when u get home

Sunday:

I hate him: god…i’m never drinking again Me: lol welcome back to the land of living I hate him: haha aren’t u just s o funny rn? Me: i’m always funny my sense of humor is immaculate I hate him: u wish i’m the funny one hongjoong drove me home last night sorry for not texting, but the second my head hit the pillow i fell asleep Me: it’s fine glad u made it back safe and that u’re alive ig I hate him: aww did you worry about me? missed me? omg u’re so cute!!!! Me: blocked I hate him: ik u can’t do it cute Me: fuck off

『Shut the lights

Lock my phone

Close the blinds

Here we go

I'm in motion

So long 'til the dawn』

            Today’s theme in Professor Yoon’s class was a painting of your imagination following a style you really love. Impressionism has been a painting style I’ve been obsessed with since a young age, always begging my mother to take me to art galleries which displayed said style. There is something about the fusion of colors, the tracing of lines soft yet accentuated. Perhaps it was the bloom of colors which attracted me to it when I was younger, but as I started practicing it, I realized it was actually the freedom I loved about Impressionism. You could start out with something small, which would lead to something big and beautiful. It looked like it followed no system, yet everything came together once you looked at the whole picture, once you took in the beauty of it all. I had chosen the painting Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge by Claude Monet as inspiration for today’s class, the blues and greens dominating the painting, the lilies having a light purple yet pink hue, never outshining the greens and blues though. It was a color play, giving depth to the painting by using a darker shade, or just drawing over it with the same color until the shadows were created. The painting was a masterpiece, and I was the happiest when my mother gifted me the painting—of course it had been a fake one, but an eight-year-old didn’t care about such things. And I would still not care about it. Of course, owning an original like that is any painters dream, especially mine, but unless I had the money and connections to actually own a Claude Monet painting, I would have to suffice with the fakes that could trick non-art lovers into believing it was real.

The class had been a pleasant one, with classical music playing in the background and with Professor Yoon walking around and helping his students by giving advice or by taking their paintbrushes and sweeping over their canvas, patting their backs with a small smile as he encouraged everyone to keep on going. Mr. Yoon is probably one of my favorite professor’s, always dedicated and soft. Never too rough or demanding. He had always helped out those who needed it and it was very clear he loved what he was doing. Each class he’d bring something new, an idea or a project, and he’d let us explore our creativity and evolve in areas we didn’t think were our forte. If only more professors like him existed, perhaps my years at university would’ve been a little bit more pleasant. But the class came to an end earlier than I wished for, bringing me back to reality as Mr. Yoon clapped his hands twice, a bright smile on his face. He had long light blonde hair swept behind his ears and soft features, he almost looked angelic in the right lightning.

“Very well, class. Today’s lesson is over.” There was a rumble of thunder in the distance as I sighed loudly, “You can bring your paintings to the backroom to dry and we’ll see each other on Friday. We’ll be continuing with today’s project, so have no worries if you couldn’t finish it today.”

There was a murmur of thanks in the classroom and my serene bubble was popped when something to my left crashed loudly against the floor. Seulgi had knocked over the little metal can full of her paintbrushes, and she cursed silently as she bent down to pick them up. A few of the girls around us helped her as I got off my stool, handing her a stray paintbrush as it had rolled over.

“Are you in a rush?” I asked confused as she snatched the brush from my hands and hastily thanked whoever helped her.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, eyes wide, as she took a peek at her wristwatch, “Fuck. I have a date with Wooyoung in an hour and I need to get ready!”

My eyebrows raised. A date with Wooyoung? She never told me they were going out now. Strange. I could’ve sworn she would’ve called me screaming her head off if Wooyoung had asked her to be his girlfriend.

“When did you ask him out?” I managed to ask as I started packing away my own stuff. The chatter in the class was slowly dying down as people were leaving. There was another rumble of thunder in the distance.

“I didn’t ask him out.” Seulgi huffed, pushing her wavy hair out of her eyes. My eyebrows furrowed as I paused to look at her. She glanced at me and rolled her eyes.

“We’re hanging out, it’s not a date date.” Seulgi explained quickly, putting her bag around her left shoulder, “But I think I will ask him out today. I’ve had enough of beating around the bush. If he likes me, good, if he doesn’t—we’ll see what happens.”

“He likes you, trust me.” I gave her a reassuring smile and Seulgi’s expression softened for a second before she became panicked again. I chuckled and grabbed her arm, steering her towards the exit, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your painting too. Get going if you don’t want to be late.”

“Oh my God,” Seulgi exclaimed, pouting, “I love you!”

I cringed away when she pressed a sloppy kiss against my cheek, making her chuckle before she waved and basically bolted out of the classroom. Mr. Yoon chuckled at her antics and I got to work, grabbing both canvas to bring to the backroom before I would leave. This was our last class for today and I couldn’t wait to get home. With the thunder loud in the distance, I would love making it home before it starts raining. I didn’t want a repeat of the night when I got soaked in the rain. It’s been a week and some days since, and I was back to being healthy. Besides, Mingi certainly wouldn’t be here this time too to drive me home. We haven’t spoken yet today and I haven’t seen him in two days. It wasn’t unusual, but lately him and Wooyoung have been hanging out with Seulgi and I during our lunchbreaks. Mingi had said he was busy producing two new songs for his final exam, so I understood he was busy, but it still felt a little weird. I didn’t know where exactly to put this whole ordeal, but if he thought we were friends now, then…I guess I could give in and entertain that thought as well. It didn’t help that we’d been constantly messaging each other, and I tried to ignore the giddy feeling it left in the pit of my stomach with everything I had in myself. I didn’t want to accept the implications of what this could mean. It felt weird. There was no reason for me to overthink something so simple as Mingi and I talking and getting to know each other. If he viewed me as his friend, then I perhaps could put a little more effort into getting to know him and opening myself up as well. My mom—and Seulgi—would certainly be happy to know that I was making friends. Not that I would tell either one about Mingi—because—because. Because it wasn’t anything serious, and even if we were friends, I didn’t expect this friendship to last. Mingi was still a guy, an egoistical and self-centered guy, who could ditch you at any random moment. And he was also Yunho’s friend. That was also saying something about him—but I pushed away the menacing whisper in my head which reminded me that Mingi could be just like Yunho, that he would hurt me just like his best friend did. It was like a never-ending vicious cycle and it felt like it wouldn’t come to a stop. As if the ghost of Yunho would never truly leave me alone. Somehow he was still part of my life unwillingly, and I was letting it happen. It had been going on for too long.

I greeted Mr. Yoon with a bright smile as I got my bag and slung it over my shoulder, bowing my head slightly once I was in the doorway. He returned my smile and waved cutely; his eyes bright but tired. He was always a hard worker and sometimes when I had classes until late in the evening I would meet him at the bus stop, waiting for a man to pick him up. Mr. Yoon was a simple yet elegant man. I have always admired him and respected him, most grateful to him when he had encouraged me after I told him about wanting to start an art club at the university for the art students, but also for those who were simply interested in drawing and painting. Him and Mr. Lee, another professor I completely adored, were quick to proceed in helping me out by finding a classroom suitable enough for our shenanigans. I will forever remain grateful to them.

It was late in the afternoon and the tall stone walls of the building weren’t too helpful in providing light in the corridors as I walked down the art wing, taking a left turn before reaching a smaller circular, but wide, staircase. I quickly ascended the stairs, and was met with a wide hallway where you could head straight, left, and right. In order to reach my exit, I had to turn onto the right narrow corridor littered with doors on both sides. It was the music majors’ wing, their studios lined up on both sides of me with dark wooden doors, each having a small rotund glass where you could peek inside. These rooms were soundproof in order to not disturb anyone, and I let my hands rest in my pockets as I slowly walked down the hallway, feeling my phone with my left hand and picking it up. I took it out of my pocket and unlocked it, checking for any new messages, but there were none. Mingi still didn’t show any sings of life today and I sighed as I locked it and put away, chewing on my bottom lip. I knew he wasn’t mad at me and that I haven’t done anything lately which could’ve upset him, but the sudden weird feeling settling in my stomach felt unnerving. I felt almost restless. Head littered with questions. Was Mingi fine? What was he up to? Why was he not texting me today? I had sent him a meme I found earlier, but he hadn’t even seen it, let alone answered with a silly meme of his own. It was a never-ending whirlwind of questions in my head, distracting me from pressing matters at hand. Like what my essay about the history of arts would be about, because the deadline was right around the corner and I slacked off—once again.

I sighed as I was past the middle of the corridor by now, but the sudden faint music coming from my left catching my attention. I raised my head up and looked towards the dark wooden doors, noticing that the light was on in a studio a little behind me. I pursed my lips and as curiosity overtook my senses, I slowly shuffled backwards, towards the studio, and carefully peeked inside. I tried to remain ominous as one of my eyes looked through the glass, however, soon my whole face was almost pressed up against the small window as I was presented with Mingi’s familiar form. He was hunched forward as he stood, hands pressing against a long table, hands gripping the edge as his mouth moved fast, eyebrows furrowed, and a vein on his neck close to popping. There was a microphone in front of him as he leaned close to it, his lips almost touching it as a headphone was placed over his right ear, leaving the left free. Mingi seemed to be dressed in casual clothing, wearing beige pants, which were a tad bit too big for his form, and a black t-shirt which hung loosely around his form. A longer and shorter necklace adorned his neck, and I gulped as he raised his left hand and starting mimicking something, seemingly hitting the beat as I could feel the muffled vibrations against the door. The sound was very faint, but I could still hear his raspy voice as he rapped, licking his lips once he seemed to be done. I gulped as he was bobbing his head up and down, an attractive smirk appearing on his lips as he started slowly bouncing his body, stepping away from the desk slightly, gripping his left pantleg and then suddenly—our eyes met each other and I gasped loudly as I ducked and swiftly turned around, hurrying off the way I was initially headed towards. The stairs were in my line of sight when I suddenly heard a door opening and then— “Hey, stranger! Freeze!”

 My body froze without my own accord and I cursed loudly, face flushing as I heard Mingi’s deep chuckle behind me. I knew I didn’t have much choice now that I had been caught, and so, I quickly composed myself and turned with an unphased expression on my face. Mingi had a smirk on his face as he was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Yeah, stranger, haven’t seen you in days.” I found myself quirking an eyebrow, and Mingi chuckled.

“I’ve been cooped up in my studio, working on this track for my finals.” He explained, reminding me that I already knew this, and now I felt awkward, “Don’t tell me you’ve missed me, doll.”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” I couldn’t help it but feel furious as Mingi watched me with a smug expression, pressing a finger against his plump lips in mock consideration.

“Hmm,” He blinked innocently, “No, doll.”

I rolled my eyes and went to turn around, but Mingi’s question stopped me, “What are you up to right now?”

“Classes are over,” I answered as I gripped the strap of my bag, “so I’m headed home.”

“By feet?” Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed, and my eyes narrowed as I slightly shuffled awkwardly. We haven’t been alone like this despite talking through text, I felt a little awkward, almost as if I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was weird. It was just Mingi. Why would he make me feel like this? I still hated him.

“Of course, idiot.” I rolled my eyes as my answer was a lot snappier than intended, but Mingi just chuckled and looked past me.

“Do you have an umbrella?”

“No, why?” I asked confused and followed his line of sight as I turned around, eyes falling on the big window. It was pouring outside. Again. And I didn’t have an umbrella with me. I groaned quietly and squeezed my eyes shut for a second as I cursed every deity out there for making it rain right now out of all times. I couldn’t catch a cold again; my immune system had barely built itself back up.

“I’ll drive you home.” I heard Mingi say behind me, and when I turned around to face him, he was closer than before, the door to his studio still open. My heartbeat suddenly picked up as I watched his tall frame come closer.

“No need to do that, I’ll just wait for a bus.” I cleared my throat when his strong cologne evaded my senses, “Thanks, though.”

“Don’t be silly.” Mingi scoffed, and slightly leaned down to be eye level with me. The height difference between the two of us wasn’t that great, I’m a tall girl myself, “You’ll catch a cold again, and I don’t have enough tea bags at home to supply you for another week, again.”

“I never asked you to bring me tea.” I found myself all defensive as I looked away, feeling the heat on my cheeks. I refused to acknowledge the fact that I was blushing, but Mingi chuckled, and when I looked back at him he looked amused.

“Yet you never refused me—not even once.” His voice dropped as he teasingly leaned closer and I scoffed, slapping his chest, and pushing him back. He stumbled for a split second, but he quickly regained his balance and gave me a displeased glare.

“Whatever, I’m going—” The warm hand holding me back by my forearm took me off guard as I looked down at Mingi’s ring clad fingers wrapped around my clothed arm.

“I mean it, Y/N.” Mingi’s voice was soft and deep as I looked back up into his brown eyes, “I’m almost finished and then we can go. I promise you won’t have to wait too long.”

I took a deep breath and softly pulled my arm out of his frail hold, biting my lower lip in thought. As if on cue, there was a loud rumble of thunder which shook the building and I jumped, making Mingi raise his eyebrows at me expectantly.

“Fine, I’ll stay. You can drive me home once you’re finished.” I muttered defeated and watched as a bright smile crossed Mingi’s lips, his eyes turning crescent and almost disappearing, his front teeth protruding as he suddenly leaned forward and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, hurriedly yanking me after himself, forcing me to keep up with his long strides as he lead us towards his studio.

The feeling of his arm wrapped around my shoulders should’ve made me feel disgusted and I should have slapped it off, but I couldn’t help but soak in his warmth and the musky cologne, which was even stronger now that I was pressed into his side, the loud thumping of my heart the only sound in my ears that I could hear.

『Yeah, there's thunder in my head

And it rumbles through the dust on my shelf

Yeah, there's thunder in my head

Unfamiliar like I'm somebody else』

❱❱ Next chapter

[gunnrblze]

My headcannons for what I think the Ghost boys would be like at the beach/if they’d like it lol (cause I may or may not be on vacation)

Hesh: The Walkers are canonically from California, so they are definitely beach boys and have that vibe down lol. Hesh and Logan grew up going to the beach/piers/boardwalks/etc. I think Hesh definitely likes to swim/wade in the waves, probably played ‘mermaids’ as a kid with Logan but never called it that (Logan absolutely did lol). I can see him, Logan, and Elias having had a lot of little family trips there, with Miss Mama Walker too. Definitely likes to sunbathe, a stickler for sunscreen for himself and others, giving ‘the mom friend’ but Beach Edition (learned it from Elias). Probably tried surfing with Logan as a kid, but he sucked at it lol.

Logan: Adding from above^ I can see Logan being more of a sun/sand enjoyer. Will get in the water, but probably enjoyed it more as a kid (I KNOW he played mermaids with Hesh lol, peak sibling behavior). Doesn’t like the way the salt water makes the sand stick to his skin, and gets annoyed with Hesh constantly reminding him to reapply sunscreen. Definitely still gets sunburnt somehow, and complains when he’s forced to put aloe on the burns lol. Would still petulantly throw sand at Hesh like they did as kids. Many attempted drownings occurred with those two. Unlike Hesh, he was pretty decent at surfing, and definitely rubbed it in Hesh’s face lol.

Elias: Peak Beach Dad behavior lmao. Would make sure the boys were sun screened up heavy as kids, and would still remind them as adults. Loves to sit under an umbrella, probably with a beer, and would eventually get in the water. Would roughhouse in the water with his boys when they were kids, flinging them around and shit (still tries but it’s harder when they’re the same size as him lol). Volleyball/football/soccer tossing in the sand for sure. Definitely took Miss Mama Walker for walks on the beach, little dates and what not. Has a random seashell collection somewhere. Makes sure everything is packed for a beach day, doesn’t forget a thing.

Keegan: I can see Keegan being in the middle here. I hc him as being a bit of a southerner (maybe I’m biased but I get the vibe lol) so I imagine he probably took trips to the beach here and there as a kid. Wouldn’t necessarily go to the beach on his own, but if he found himself there, he’d fare okay. Would prob be another Elias, sits under an umbrella and just chills with a beer, might get in the water, but you’d have to convince him pretty well I think. Also ends up with a sunburn somehow like Logan, except it’s because he doesn’t gaf about sunscreen as much. Would eventually complain about the heat, and that’s when he’d get wet lol.

Merrick: Hopefully you don’t find yourself at the beach with this man, because despite being a former Navy Seal, it’s not his vibe at all. Dislikes the humid heat, hates how much sand sticks/gets everywhere, and like Logan, cannot stand being salty and sticky from the water. Definitely more of a mountain man, but if he finds himself there, he’d sit grumpily under an umbrella with the meanest mug for a while. God forbid a seagull disturbs him…he’s just not a fan of this kind of environment. If you convinced him though, he’d kick around a soccer ball or throw a football. Will put on sunscreen once and forget to reapply, then complain when his shoulders are burnt to a crisp afterward. Does however, enjoy the sound of waves crashing…just from a distance lol.

Kick: Likes the beach pretty well. Would definitely have the funkiest swim trunks/hawaiian shirt on deck. Is so pale that sunscreen hardly helps the poor man, he will be red regardless. Loves getting his ass knocked over by the waves, and will swim till his fingers are pruned. Has a ‘beach/summer’ type playlist, and it’s actually really good. Dislikes the sand after a while too, but doesn’t complain the way Merrick does lmao. Would somehow randomly have a bodyboard/boogie board, and will absolutely fuck around on it like a kid. Overall a beach enjoyer, and would def consider taking his own trip there.

Rorke: I see him being a beach enjoyer as well. Likes hot weather (did NAWT like the fed pit…) and would enjoy the sun. Probably wouldn’t care too much about swimming, but would stand on the shoreline and get his feet wet and what not, might get in the water though if swayed properly. Definitely drinks on the beach lol, stealthy with it though, you wouldn’t know that his coke can is actually a bud light (tell me his nasty ass wouldn’t be a bud light drinker…). Has the ugliest, most raggedy ball cap on, and will not wear a shirt within a 10 mile radius of said ocean (‘shoes and shirt required’ is because of mfs like him). Has that ‘cool beach uncle’ energy.

(Definitely don’t think about these big sexy men shirtless on the beach…)

[cadys-ramblings]

I realized something recently: the reason I resonated so much with the secret history when I first read it was because richard's experiences are like a dramatic reflection of my own. subconsciously I knew there was something similar between us as I read it. for a long time, I just thought our personalities were similar. we share an MBTI type, one very few characters have, so of course I would lock on to one of the few, right?

now, as I have matured greatly, I realized that our similarities are far beyond our manner.

in 2022, I was spending hours a day on pinterest. I found my way into communities of like-minded girls who love pretty things like coffee and books and autumn leaves and cats and chunky sweaters. many of these girls labeled themselves with different aesthetics, namely coquette or dark academia or old money. I always considered myself "downtown girl." they always put their self care first, had the best makeup, the coolest doc martins, and the latest trending book (which is how I found the secret history, ironically.) though these aesthetic labels seem harmless on the outside, they had a great psychological affect on me that I only recently realized.

I built my pinterest account and taste in music and movies around this downtown girl aesthetic, as well as a few others I took interest in. I went paddle boarding with my best friend and took pictures of the sparkling lake to memorize how beautiful I felt in the moment. I redecorated my room and refreshed my wardrobe in hopes that people would see my photo dumps or outfits on the street and think, "wow, she is straight out of pinterest." many of these things I did genuinely enjoy. I still wear my big sweaters and bootcut jeans and I'm listening to my playlist full of taylor swift and the smiths as I write this. despite this, I still played up my enjoyment for other people to see.

it got especially bad when the school year started. after spending so much time on pinterest, I had idolized this group of girls with similar interests and ideas of 'aesthetics' to me, so that when I saw a pretty girl in my biology class carrying a latte and colleen hoover book, I wanted to drop everything to befriend her (ps, I don't like colleen hoover, it was just the idea that she was a 'reader' like me.)

I became so fixated on befriending her and her other friends, all swifties and readers and activists, that I neglected the great friends I already had. I didn't want to do activities that I couldn't document, either with photos or my mind, because it didn't fit my aesthetic. I wanted friends who would fit my aesthetic. looking back, this was one of the worst things I have ever done to my friends, even if I never told them about my real thoughts.

I think much of this issue stems from growing up knowing there was something different about me but never really knowing what. now, I know it's neurodivergence, but when I was younger, I couldn't understand why people thought I was weird. they never directly said it, but I could tell by the way they looked at me when I talked to them or how they made strange false assumptions about me they later confessed. I wanted nothing more than to fit in while still being myself, which I believe is why I was so attracted to the idea of aesthetics. my style naturally changed to something more 'socially acceptable' during this time and I was no longer being called emo bitch in the hallway. people would approach me or talk to me in class more than years before. I finally felt like I was being accepted by these 'normal' people. but, of course, I am not free from the shackles of being neurodivergent. these 'normal' people still eventually found me weird or felt there was something off about me. not to be dramatic, but richard being excluded from the bacchanal is a great allegory for being a weird girl to me.

I am obviously not performing rituals to bacchus or killing my friends, but I find richard to be an incredibly relatable character, so much so that I wonder if donna tartt wrote the secret history with similar experiences in mind.

[mitch-the-silly]

hi!!

id like to request sir pentious x reader headcanons where the reader is sir pentious’ and of course went with him to the hotel to spy on the hotel crew for the vees (let’s just say he wasn’t caught on day one for this..) and the reader starts feeling bad so they take down all of the cameras set up. once pen finds out, he’s absolutely pissed and upset, so he refuses to talk to the reader for about a few weeks, and ends with the reader apologizing (or at least attempting to) and some fluff?

thanks a bunch!!

(I swear I love sir pentious more than life itself he’s such a silly lil thing)

OMG YESSS! Sir Pentious was such a comfort character for me; he deserves the world. Most of my friend group hasn't watched Hazbin yet, and I always get caught lacking because of my "It Starts with Sorry" mini-phase. His parts are actual pieces of heaven to me-

(Post-writing process note: I wrote the best parts while listening to "Christmas Kids" and every time that one pops up on my playlist, I cook really hard with whatever it is I'm writing-)

Enough said, I'm gonna make this a tiny bit of a slow burn. Because... yeah :>

Reader is gn! due to no specification of gender being made in the request.

HOPE YOU ENJOYY!!!

"Amnesty"

Sir Pentious X gn!Reader Fluff

Here are your headcanons!

You had found work under Sir Pentious some decades ago. He wasn’t exactly the most successful overlord, but you were happy to not be part of the lower end of the food chain.

He didn’t own your soul and truly had no interest in such a thing. But you were like an assistant of sorts. Not quite an egg boy, not quite an equal to the man himself. 

Despite this, you thought he was quite charming. While he was not destroying half of Pentagram City, he was sitting in the main hall of his steampunk zeppelin drinking tea and conversing with you. It was a very comfortable life.

And thus, as it was routine for the both of you, he began to pick a fight with Alastor again (a sort of fight which he always lost, but when did that stop The Great Sir Pentious). You stood ready to shoot. Your hand on the only lever the egg boys could not reach.

Pulling that lever was literally your only job. The only reason Sir Pentious had hired you in the first place. That’s just how enjoyable your company was to him.

Alas, the fight with Alastor was another failure, but he didn’t go down without ripping a piece of his coat. Action that Alstor didn’t seem to take kindly. The whole ordeal ended in Sir Pentious being flung out across the Pentagram. Of course, you ran off to find him.

Once you found him, you checked if he was alright. “Sir! Are you alright? That was quite the hit the Radio Demon gave you…” you mumbled at him, checking his person to make sure he was alright. He’d put himself together quite well, so you let him be. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine Y/n. I must persist in this endeavor! We mustn’t flail in our pursuit of power.” He called out, a statement at which you nodded. 

You two tried to walk back to where the zeppelin had landed, but before you could make it there, in front of an electronics store, the both of you saw a TV light up with a very recognizable face. 

Through that TV, Vox (one of the overlords Sir Pentious was trying to catch the attention of by attacking Alastor) explained to both of you that he had a mission for them. To infiltrate into the hotel, blend in, and spy on Alastor and Charlie.

(Valentino butted in to ask that they spy on Angel too-)

The both of you were thrilled to accept this mission. Immediately finding the Zeppelin and making your way back to the Hotel (this time in conditional peace).

Sir Pentious knocked on the Hotel’s main entrance and you waited beside him. 

When Vaggie opened the door, you did NOT get punched. Sir Pentious however, did not get the same luck. 

You both pleaded your cases. Saying that you’d spoken about the possibility of redemption and had considered it the best idea.

Of course, Charlie just couldn’t resist taking you two into the hotel (much to Angel and Vaggie’s dismay). 

That same night, both you and Sir Pentious began to set up Vox’s cameras. You almost got caught, but thanks to your amazing deception skills, you two got away with it (Angel saw you guys, and you pretended you’d lost something).

As the days passed, you seemed to get more used to the way things were. The egg boys, Sir Pentious and you loved it at the hotel. 

You became friends with Angel Dust and found Niffty oddly endearing despite her psychotic tendencies. Vaggie’s protective nature made you feel safe, Alastor was good company, Husk was very interesting to talk to and Charlie was the sweetest person you’d met!

And after speaking to Charlie a couple of times on the subject of your dynamic with Sir Pentious, you realized that you were very much in love with him. 

After such a revelation, your mindset completely changed. Charlie had helped you realize that truly, you didn’t just follow and care for Sir Pentious because he was the overlord you worked for, but because you genuinely cared about him. How could you live with the guilt of betraying, spying, and intruding on the privacy of such a sweet person as well as her friends? Yes, this mission meant a lot to Sir Pentious, but you… you couldn’t do it anymore.

One night, you snuck down to the lobby. You knew exactly where all the cameras were, and you began to carefully take every single one of them down. And just as you were on the last one, you were faced with the last person you wanted to see: Sir Pentious.

He stood in front of the last camera, looking at you in disbelief. “What are you doing messsssssing wissss the camerasssss?” He whisper-yelled at you. Demanding an explanation.

“Sir… I… I can’t with this anymore… They’ve treated us so well… and we’re betraying them.” You argued, trying to keep it as quiet as he was.

“What? Why would you do that? I’m not letting you back out of thissssss. You’re not acting with ssssensssse.” He hissed back.

“Sir Pentious, please… I… We are gaining nothing from this.” You argued.

“Nossssing? Y/n, we are working for Voxssss. That’ssss exsssactly where we’ve been trying to be for the passssst five decadessss. You’re not gonna throw all of that away, are you?” He frowned. He felt so offended that you would even suggest you both ditch the plan.

“No that’s not what I-, Sir… I… hand me the camera, please...” 

“Absssssolutely not.” He spat back. 

“Stop being so loud, we’re going to get caught.” You responded, “Please… let’s talk this over, Penty…” You mumbled. An old nickname you hadn’t called him in ages. It was more of an inside joke between the both of you, but you definitely meant it as a term of absolute endearment.

“No. I don’t care what you call me. I’m not going to fall for it. I don’t know what they told you, but I sssssee now that I’ve losssssst your pledged loyalty. Do not ssssspeak to me, ever again, you traitor.” He responded bluntly.

Normally you would find his melodramaticism funny. But this. This one he meant it. You looked at him, a tear rolling down your cheek. You couldn’t take the pain of the wound his words inflicted on your heart. You loved him, and he hated you now. He deemed you as a traitor. So you ran away in an attempt to spare yourself from him seeing you cry. Running up the stairs, you stumbled into your room. Crying in a corner as you looked at the (now deactivated) cameras that you’d taken down. You sobbed bitterly on the floor until you eventually were too tired to remain awake.

The next morning, you crawled into your bed. You didn’t want to leave it. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic of you, but you’d been around Sir Pentious for so long that you didn’t know if it even was far-fetched. But all of that aside, you couldn’t bear to show your face. You felt that if you saw him, you’d start sobbing on the spot. So you simply stayed tucked below your blankets. 

Charlie came in to check why you hadn’t left your room, and you simply told her you felt sick. 

She had Niffty bring you some stew.

The egg boys went to check on you. You didn’t tell them about the argument you had with Sir Pentious.

They offered to bring you the next bowl of stew. They really cared about you 

(Carl has definitely accidentally called you his parent-)

After three days of moping around, you decided you would go downstairs and sit in the lobby. 

Once she saw you, Charlie asked you if you felt better now and you told her you felt much better.

However, at some point, you were left alone with Sir Pentious. You knew that you had to approach him. From the very depths of your heart you knew that you loved him and that if you stopped talking to him, you would live in misery for the rest of your eternal existence. 

So the second you felt ready, you walked up to him with an apologetic look.

The second he saw you in his field of view, he turned away from you. Letting out a resentful huff, he tried to ignore you. However, you were determined to fix things.

“Sir Pentious… I… I didn’t mean to upset you. I know Vox’s attention means a lot to you… but this place made me realize that… you can be happy without him. We can be happy without him. Here in the hotel! In Heaven!” You exclaimed, begging him to listen.

“We? What do you mean by we? You’ve never sssspoken to me like this before.” He asked, still a bit undignified but still turning to you, confused by your choice of words.

You paused, thinking of how to come clean to him. “The reason why I took down the cameras was… because I felt bad. Charlie and I have been talking about feelings and things of the sort… and she made me realize that… That I love you… And, I’m so thankful for the clarity she brought me that it felt like betrayal. But I guess I… I didn’t stop to think how that would make you feel…” You mumbled. 

He gave you a look of bewilderment. He had no words; he was flattered. And suddenly, it all made sense to him as well. The reason why he’d felt so betrayed was because of how he valued you. 

“The last thing I wanted was for you to detest me…” You mumbled at him, feeling tears build up in your eyes.

He gave you a look of sympathy. It clicked in his mind that you did it out of love for him. He didn’t know how to feel about your affection towards him, but he was sure he cared about you and that the feeling was at the very least partially reciprocated. But right now, the feeling of betrayal was still fresh on his mind. 

“I… I forgive you, I sssssuppose… I can’t stay mad at you after such a heartfelt confessssssion…” He mumbled, blushing, turning away. This time, not out of grudge, but out of embarrassment. 

It wasn’t quite long until you two decided to take all the cameras down for good (after you two were discovered by Angel Dust about a week later) and dedicate yourselves to redemption. 

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 10 (Finale and true ending)

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tommy Miller x reader

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, and both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

UUUUHHH ya'll i put the warnings there so uh you can't blame me for what I've done.

Before anything i gotta say the "id do anything for you, you amost killed me, that was for you" bit is curtesy of me and @the-fox-den messing around so credits to them XD

I cannot appreciate y'all readership more. I cried writing this on and off not only bc the content but that it's over. full emotions at the end!

Enjoy! (this is not enjoyable.)

***************

“Hey honey.” Tommy’s voice was groggy and sweet in the late morning. “You up already?”

You shuffled your body back, closer to where Tommy lay, warm and inviting… you missed him. You missed him so much. “Yeah just thinking…”

Nestling his face into your face, Tommy holds you tighter, a protective hand over your belly. “What about?” When you didn’t answer, he knew what you were thinking of. “Ah… you miss him, don’t you?” There wasn’t judgment in his voice, just the soft understanding that Tommy always gave, a grace that showed he knew what Joel had done to your mind.

Nevertheless, you tear up, embarrassed at your own weakness for the man who had nearly killed you and your baby. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me… he had me so messed up and twisted… I didn’t know which way was up half the time… I felt like I was living in a haze…” You begin to cry, letting the frustrations out.

“Hey, hey now it’s alright. He’s good at that… he’s good at jumbl’n you up enough you can’t see straight… and he’s got that look… something in his eyes when his attention is focused on you… just makes you want to make him happy… I know what you mean… Did he hurt you a lot since I left?”

“No” You shake your head. “That was the strange part… It was… it was good… especially after he found out I was pregnant… It was… it was good, actually. I thought he changed… He didn’t… but I had a lot of freedom, I could do pretty much anything with Lorenzo watching me.” You chuckle a little bit, thinking of your friend. “At first I don’t think he was thrilled to be on babysitting duty, but when he realized he could drink and smoke all day I think he liked it a lot more.”

The smile in his voice was evident. “I’m glad you had a friend after I left, honey.” He brushed hair out of your face. “I saw… I saw Joel a few months back… he said you and Lorenzo had gotten close.”

“Yeah” But the tears came again.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?”

“I never said good bye” You cry. “Lorenzo… everything happened so fast and I didn’t get to say goodbye and now I don’t know if he’s even gonna live.”

Tommy coaxed you to turn over and face him, his face beautiful in the rising orange sun kissing his skin and complimenting his dark hair. “Honey, listen, Maria is gonna make sure he’s taken care of. He’s gonna be okay and once he’s rested up, I’m sure he’ll come to Boston, or at least get word out if he’s got other plans.” Tommy didn’t actually know any such thing but he wanted to comfort you.

“He’s coming to Boston” You assure. “He promised me… and him and Zach are a couple, actually.”

His face was one of confusion, then realization. He chuckled. “Love really just… finds a way, huh?”

When you look into his eyes… you can’t help but agree. “Yeah, it does…” He face was so close to you, it’d been so long since he’d held you… even before he left, you two had grown distant, Joel successfully putting a edge between you two, and you hadn’t spend the time with him you used to, angry and upset with him for reasons that didn't make sense… but that was how badly Joel had messed up your sense of direction. And yet, none of that mattered when Tommy was in trouble. You’d put yourself between Joel’s gun and Tommy, and if you weren’t pregnant you’d do it again. Tommy was always there for you, as much as he could be… he was manipulated by Joel, just like you were, but still he tried… and here he was, sleeping on a cold hard floor with you because he uprooted his entire life with Maria… for you.

The kiss was sudden, you pressing your lips to his and for a sweet, lingering moment he kissed back, chest rising as he breathed through nose, savoring you before pulling back whispering your name. 

“I love you…” You confess, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together.

“Honey, you don’t… you don’t have to feel or do anything just because I’m here-”

“I love you.” More assertive this time. He thinks you feel like you have to, like there's pressure… but you never felt that with Tommy. Tommy wasn’t Joel. Tommy was kind and patient, Tommy was loving and gentle and good… Tommy was the one you loved.

Tommy reached out, caressing your hair. “I love you too, honey, I’m sorry I had to leave you” the words just began spilling out from him, tumbling out Tommy’s mouth like a desperate plea for absolution for sins he never willingly committed. “I’m sorry I never stopped him, I’m sorry I didn’t do more, I’m sorry I left you alone in all that-”

You cut him off with another kiss, needier and lonely, clamoring for a connection. “It’s okay, Tommy. It’s okay. I’m okay now, everything will be okay.” And it would be. You were with Tommy now, and Tommy would keep you safe. You hands wander, trailing down his back as you continued to kiss him, feeling him, getting to know the curves and dips and muscles of him for the first time. Your hands move to undo his pants, but he stops you.

“We don’t- honey you’ve had a traumatic week”

“Tommy, I want you…” You whine, and you did. You did, so fucking bad. You missed Joel, you missed Tommy, your head was swirling with guilt and fear and a deep, deep down ache of loneliness that you didn’t know how to fill other than skin on skin. It was all you really knew. Nearly everyone you had cared about, save for Zach, and Lorenzo showed their love with touch. Even June did, although it wasn’t sexual. Tommy always held you when you cried, sat up in his lap with arms wrapped around you as he did now. “I want you Tommy, please?” You whine. You couldn’t deny that the pregnancy hormones worsened things, making you incredibly needy. “I need you, Tommy”

Tommy sighed. He knows he shouldn’t. The week you’ve had, the year you've had, hell, the entire life you had groomed you into submitting your body to men for money, shelter, affection. This is what you knew. Then there was Maria, his girlfriend who he lived with, with whom he swore fidelity too, who had seen this poor, young traumatized her and willingly let him go because she trusted him… That was the other thing, you were still so young… Tommy had made the comment to Joel that if Sarah had lived, he she would be older than this girl in his arms was now… That should’ve made Joel disgusted… shouldn’t it disgust Tommy too? But Tommy was weak, he knew he was weak… and he loved her, didn’t he? This wasn’t a lust filled rape, this wasn’t him taking advantage of her youth and naivety, they were in love, and she needed him. 

“Yeah baby, I’ll take care of you.” Tommy allowed you to undo his pants while he quickly undid your flannel. In the daylight and as he pulled it and the dress over your shoulders, he could see the full extent of your injuries. Where your collar hid, there was a mixture of purple and green bruising around your neck and throat, accentuated by red from the rope burn, and yet the hardest to stomach was your chest. A large black bruise formed on your chest from the repeated punching. “Oh honey… you’re lucky he didn’t break a rib.”

“I don’t wanna talk about him.” You grumble, beginning to shimmy him out of his pants. “Just want you, Tommy. I want you the right way, like we never got the chance to, the way Joel took from us.”

“The right way” He kissed you, lips full of love, offering protection and solace in the distortion. He wastes no time  pulling your underwear down and slipping a hand to cup your sex, immediately giving you the pleasure he swore he could your first time together, but you had refused. He felt so good, firm and assured in his movements between your legs, but soft and caring, making you feel special in his touch.

You spit in your hand and begin to jerk his cock as you both laid there, your giant belly getting in the way. “Usually wetter, the last month things have been… different” A bit embarrassed, you mutter into his shoulder. You were turned on, very much so, but your lower body didn’t seem to get the message. Joel never seemed to care much. You got wet eventually, especially after cumming, but the in between usually hurt.

“That’s normal.” Tommy assured. “Pregnancy hormones. But I’ll make sure you’re real wet, baby, get on your back.” Doing as you were told, you roll over, Tommy slithering his way down you and pressing affectionate kisses over your swollen stomach. “So beautiful…”

He ate you like a man starved, like a past meal on death row, desperate and savoring every last taste. Joel always felt good, so, so, good, but there was an electricity here, all the built up tension between you two, like a rubber band finally snapping and he couldn’t get enough. Tommy worshiped at the shrine of you, adoration in the prayer on his lips, his arms wrapped around your legs as you grew closer so you couldn’t wiggle away, he needed every second, every inch, every taste, every sound reclaimed for him. It was a conquest, a crusade, a burning need as he licked into your folds, pleasure and fire and love building in your core, fingers opening up to prepare you to take him, fucking into you and god, you were moaning for him.

“Tommy! Tommy please make me cum, please, I’ll make you feel so good, I’ll do anything you want, just-”

“Lay there and take it, princess, that’s all you gotta do.” His head dived back between your legs and eagerly devoured, lips latching on your swollen mound, sucking noisily, soaking your as promised. Two fingers turned into three, and while his lips sucked his tongue flicked at your clit, causing your legs to shake. You entangle your fingers in his long, dark locks, having grown longer since you’ve seen him last and yank him towards you. You didn’t need to guide him, you didn’t need his tongue deeper inside you; he knew what he was doing. What you needed was something to grip onto as your world shattered around you. Tommy was always who you reached for. Everything you needed, Tommy did his best to provide, and when you were terrified, as Joel dragged you away to kill you, all you wanted was your Tommy. You screamed his name as you did now. Gushing cum on his face, you yank at his hair and fuck his face while you ride out your orgasm on his still moving mouth.

Vaguely, you register him kissing his way up your body, laying around you as he couldn’t lay on top, Tommy kissed you back to life, finding his soft eyes staring at you as you open your own… 

“You still want me?” He asks, a rough but caring hand stroking your face.

“More than anything.”

He was careful, he always was with you, treating you like a fragile porcelain doll, but you promised him you could take it and he sped up, fucking you, really fucking you the way you had wanted for months after you grew comfortable in that house. He knelt before you knees on the hard floor but showed no signs of pain as his hips snapped into you, your moans growing louder.

“Tommy!” You call out for him, ecstasy building inside you like the sweat on his forehead.

“Right here honey, I’m right here.” He rubbed your knee that he had braced himself on. “Neve gonna leave you again, I promise.”

“You- you promise?” Looking up at him from this angle… he looked god-like. Tan and strong, but handsome and kind… you wanted him forever, you wanted only him and for him to have only you. He filled you up over and over and over, your hips canting up to meet him.

“Promise, princess. I’ll never leave you, ever. You’re mine.”

His.

“I’m yours” You whine for him, on the precipice of your climax, you just needed…

“And I’m yours. Now, I need you to come, and when you do, I want you to scream my name, okay? Can you do that for me, beautiful girl?” His hand was on your hip, large and rough and covering Joel’s initially branded on you.

You’re panting heavily, so, so close when he sets a brutal pace, spilling you over. 

Tommy thinks this is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. All the times you called for him when you needed him, when Joel was done, when you were hungry or needed to use the bathroom or just were lonely, none of it compared to this…

You scream for him, crying out loudly as he continues to thrust into you, talking you through it like he had the panic attack that had overtaken you when you gave him your virginity.

“Just like that, honey, good girl.” He coo’s, ever letting up on your sensitive cunt. “So pretty coming on my cock, love when you scream my name… there you go, pretty little thing…”

Tommy was right. He made you scream his name louder than Joel’s.

When he came inside you, claiming you as his in a primal, animalistic sense, the cold began to settle on the sheen of sweat between you, and Tommy pulled a blanket over you. A little rest before heading out.

“Did you mean what you said?” You ask.

He didn't need clarification. Tommy knew you well enough. “Yeah, I did. I’m gonna stay with you, honey.”

“What about Maria?”

A fair question, but Tommy sighed nonetheless. “I’ll send word I won't’ be come’n back… I think… I think she knew, she knew before I ever did.”

When the two of you set out on the road again, you wanted to walk for a while. All the riding the last day made you sore and you just walked to stretch your legs, aching joints and pregnant body needing movement. You and Tommy talked, really talked about the future, what it would look like in Boston, wherever it is exactly Lorenzo and Zach had for you… Someone Tess knew? A couple who had been a ‘doomsday prepper’ before… You wouldn’t live on their farm, but in a house nearby. Somewhere fairly safe for you and your baby, and Lorenzo, Zach and Tommy to protect it… Tommy confirmed what you had secretly hoped but could never ask. He’d be your baby's father, he’d raise them with you, loving it as his own.

“Well ain’t that sweet.” You freeze in place when you hear Joel’s voice, the older brother stepping into sight from a tree, gun pointed at you and Tommy. “Fucked my wife, stealing my daughter,” he looks at Tommy. “I can’t believe you’d sink this low, Tommy.”

The irony of who was sinking low was lost on Joel, Tommy was aware. There was no point fighting it. One hand held the reigns of the horse, his right was in the air as yours were. “Joel, c’mon, I know damn well you aren’t going to hurt either one of us so just let-” He was cut off by his own scream, falling against the horse and gripping his upper arm.

“TOMMY!” You scream for him, rushing to his side before Joel shouts to get away. You want to help Tommy… but you had a duty to your child, a duty you knew Tommy would understand. You cried, looking him over. He was still standing, clearly in pain, but blood shooting out of his arm. Nothing vital.

Joel only looked at you. “That’s right, scream his name, little one. Always his name, isn’t it?” Joel stepped forward, ignoring Tommy’s anguished plea’s for him to stay away from you; Joel’s sights were on you and you alone. Nothing else existed, not even his bleeding baby brother. “Sceam’n for him when you think I’m hurting you, when you think I’ve been cruel, when you want his company because I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH”

You barely registered your own tears, the trembling in your stance, knowing there was nothing you could do.

“That’s how I found you, heard you screaming my own fucking brothers name like a whore in that cabin while pregnant with my daughter!”

Shaking your head, you take a weak step back. “Joel, please, I was scared. I was so scared, you tried to kill me-”

“Is that what you think that was?” A cruel, mocking laugh escaped him in his mania before turning to Tommy. “Is that what she told you, Thomas? ‘Oh Tommy!’” His voice was light and girlish as he mimicked you. “‘Oh Tommy, Joel’s so mean to me!’ Well that ain’t the truth. She’s a cheating whore, and she needs to do better for Sarah, so I’m trying to teach her.” 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the visible confusion on Tommy’s face turn into shock and horror. “Sarah? Jesus Joel! Is that what all this is? You’re trying to recreate Sarah? Or is it the picket fence two parent household you never got with her?” 

“Don’t talk about her!” Joel screamed at the younger man, his attention turning to Tommy, and you watched for your chance.

“SARAH IS DEAD! SHE’S DEAD AND SHE’S NOT COMING BACK!” His next words… Tommy didn’t mean, not one single bit, he witnessed himself how much Joel tried to save his child, the little girl who was the entire world to him… But he needed Joel’s attention on him, he needed to be the focus of Joel’s anger. “SARAH IS DEAD AND IT’S YOUR FAULT!”

You take a step back.

“SHUT UP!” Another scream from Joel.

“MY NIECE IS DEAD BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T LOVE HER ENOUGH TO TRY HARDER-”

“SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH!”

But Tommy already moved, Joel’s teary eyes and blinding anger slowing his perception and Tommy moved the barrel of the gun away from him and you before Joel took the shot.

“RUN!”

And you did. You didn’t know where to, but you ran for your life, for your babies. Hearing a gun go off again, you stop briefly wondering if you just heard either the man you loved or the father of your child die… but there was no time to mourn or think, you needed to go. 8 months pregnant, you do everything you can to keep running, but you are stopped by a blinding pain in your stomach, causing you to scream before you can even stop yourself.

When it fades, you open your eyes to see an infected.

There was no time for pain.

Contractions going again, you prayed for another round of braxton-hicks and not actual labor, you prayed Tommy was alive, you prayed the infected behind you couldn’t move fast due to one thing or another… but you couldn’t stop to look. The adrenalynn did most of the work, as did sheer willpower. You didn’t think you could power through running so fast and so long if it was just you, but the mother instinct to protect this baby went above everything. Like a blessing, you see the cabin you had stayed at and took off towards it, infected at your heels, horrific noises that you shall surely hear the rest of your life should you survive this letting you know there was no time to even wince at a particularly sharp contraction. They were not spaced… and if Lorenzo was right, and if this wasn’t braxton-hicks…. You were going to give birth in this cabin.

The slam of the door behind you did not save you, as soon you found yourself sitting in an empty room with a chair propped against the door as the infected tried to get in, your switchblade gripped in your hands, as the baby tried to come out.

You can’t help but scream in pain; the infected already knew where you were, it was only a matter of time until it came in and you had to be face to face with it for the first time. You’d seen them from afar of course, but you had never been close; someone always protected you, Zach, Lorenzo, Tommy, Joel… you’re whole life you had depended on men to save you from other men and a litany of evils in this world and none of them had been able to stop this. No one stepped in between you and your dad, no one stepped in between you and Joel, and no one would step between you and this abomination… 

But you’d try your damndest to step between your baby and whatever might harm them, and if that meant facing this infected, you’d do it.

When it burst in, you don’t bother hiding our scream; they looked horrific and the sounds were just as bad, but god, the smell was nauseating to your pregnant senses. None of that compared to the genuine fear as you fought for your life and for this baby. The creature was right in your face as you stabbed him, the jackknife now successfully ending two threats to you; the infected and Nick.

The moment you have to breath is gone when you hear the cry of your baby on the floor. You had given birth to a baby girl, just as Joel wanted, alone, with a bite on your leg.

You were infected, and this baby would grow up without a mom and with a psychopath rapist and murder for a dad. Tommy was surely dead, and even if Joel found you in the cabin she’d grow up with Joel. You didn’t believe he’d sexually abuse her, but physically? She’d be lucky if she made it to 10, not the mention the other men around her…

There was no time to cry or to smile, you couldn’t rejoice in the birth of this little girl or cry at the circumstances, you thought back to what Maura instructed you, Joel, and Lorenzo to do in the event you gave birth without her. Using that knife, you cut the cord and tie it.

Had you given birth before the bite? Was she infect? Had all your efforts to protect this innocent been useless? You once again kick yourself for not leaving with Zach any of the times he offered…She’d suffer because of you, if she lived at all. 

As your daughter screams, you scream too, loud and anguished and nameless. You didn’t cry for Tommy, for Zach, for Joel, for Lorenzo or June or anyone that had ever shown they wanted to help… no, you just screamed, because there was no other option.

Tommy had seen you run and tried to follow you, tried to call to you, but you either couldn’t hear him or could defier his voice from Joel who was currently crippled with a shot leg… Tommy couldn’t bring himself to kill Joel… he couldn’t. No matter how much of a big game he talked, Joel was still his big brother, and despite the telling signs of aging and the obvious way Joel was no longer Joel behind those eyes… They were still he eyes, and as Joel looked up at Tommy pointing the gun down on him, Tommy couldn’t fire. He couldn’t fire at the man who had saved his life countless times, the father of his niece, the father of the baby he had swore to raise as his own, and despite the way Joel had clearly lost his mind, lost all sense of reality… Tommy couldn’t kill his brother because yes, that was still his brother.

When he found you, it didn’t take long to figure out what happened, with the baby in your arms and the infected on the ground… your bite was clear and prominent.

“Oh honey… no…” Tommy dropped the gun on the floor and likewise dropped to his knees as he walked to you and the child. A little girl… 

“Tommy, please, please take her. If you don’t want her, take her to Zach and Lorenzo, just please take her-”

“I’ll take her, I’ll raise her, I swear.” Maria and him had talked about kids before… would she want this? Tommy couldn’t stop looking you over, he couldn’t process that you had been bit… this wasn’t a rattlesnake bite, there wasn’t a way to get the venom out… it was over. “I’m sorry.” He cried, tears flowing over before he registered they were coming. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, I’m sorry-”

“Tommy” You stop him, tears matching his. “Tommy, it's okay. Just protect her, okay? That’s what matters now, her.” Everything hurt, and you could swear there was something already changing in you, but maybe it was in your head.

Heavy boots clomping on the floor. “Get away from her.” Joel spoke, his voice low and dark, despite being unarmed. You notice his limp and the blood… Tommy hadn’t shot Joel to kill… and had greatly underestimated what Joel would do to get to you, including walking on a shot leg.

Tommy didn’t even turn around, still holding you and his, yes his baby, because there was no way in hell Joel was walking out with her. “She’s infected, Joel.”

Joel didn’t reply, and you looked up at him over Tommy’s shoulder, confirming it. You nudge Tommy to move, revealing his daughter. You speak before Tommy does. “I cut the cord before I was bit.” Your eyes dart to Tommy. “Before.” You lied, and you knew it was dangerous… but you needed your daughter to have a fighting chance.

Joel shook his head. “No, no we’ll get you help, theres gotta be-”

Grabbing his gun, Tommy turned around. “THERE’S NO HELP, JOEL!” He shouts. “This is your fault! This is all your fault and you can’t fix it!” His steps were long and quick, pinning an unarmed Joel to the wall gun to his head. Tommy was shaking, but you didn’t need to aim to shoot point blank. “I’ll fucking kill you for what you did to them.”

For once, you believed it. 

And it seems Joel did too. “That’s my daughter, Tommy. Yuh ain’t take’n her.” But Joel’s voice was weak, small… 

“Yes he is, Joel.” You speak from the floor. “He’s taking her, and one of you needs to kill me.”

Both of Miller brother turn to you at that, anguish and pain in Tommy’s eyes. “I… I can’t do that… I can’t… Honey, no…” You knew how badly he was hurting right now… but you didn’t want Joel dead, and someone needed to do it. You didn’t know how long you had.

“I know, Tommy. I know.” You smile sympathetically at your lover, and beckon him towards you. Tommy gives Joel a warning look, but takes the pistol off his brother and comes to you. “I know. I know you can’t and that’s okay. You take he, that’s what you need to do for me, okay?” Looking down at the crying baby in your arms you give her a kiss and whisper that you love her before pushing her into Tommy’s welcoming arms. “I know you feel guilty…” Reaching up to touch his face one last time, you smile as he leans into your touch. “Sweet, sweet boy… you have nothing to be ashamed of, you’ve always done right by me. But if you feel you need absolution, this is your chance.”

Tommy looked at the little girl in his arms… she was so small, so fragile… but he would protect her, he would do right by her the way he couldn’t do to you. She was his baptism, his new life, a fresh start. He was a father now. “I will” He looked at you again.

“Her name is Ellie” Fimly, you spoke it into truth. “It’s not Dorthy, it’s not Dolly, its Ellie.” Looking up at Joel, the hurt clear on his face at the erasure of what he wanted to give her, you offer a small mercy, the middle name he agreed on, named after the singer he liked so much, and your friend back home. “Ellie June.”

Tommy nodded. “Ellie June, it’s beautiful.” He touched his forehead to you softly and you slipped your hand to touch Ellie’s little toes. This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none, and this little piggy cried wee, wee, wee… “I’ll never forget you, and I’ll make sure she knows about you, okay? She’s gonna know who you are.”

“Zach… please, get word to Zach somehow, tell him he’s an uncle.”

“I will, I swear.”

“And Lorenzo, Lorenzo said he’d be the godfather. Please thank him for everything he’s done for me.” You sob thinking about your best friend.

“I will, I’ll tell him.”

“And Zach, please tell him I love him so much, and thank him for being my big brother.”

“They both love you, hermosa, I know they do.” He stroked your hair with his free hand.

“Tommy, one more thing?”

“Anything”

“June, please, can you find her? Tell her I loved her, she’s Ellie godmother in spirit.”

“Abslutly, is there anyone else? I’ll do it.”

You shake your head, tears flying as you do. “No, those three… they are all I know- wait, Maura and Jack, Jack risked everything to help me escape, and Maura with my pregnancy” You chuckle a bit. “Who knew dying had so many many loose ends to tie up” You hadn’t realized… you had grown a small community. It had taken a village to keep you and your baby alive.

He smiled. “I’ll tell them all, honey, I promise, especially Zach.” Tommy had an older brother too, and a;thought his had turn into a monster, he understood the love of a protective brother, and would not be who he is without Joel in their childhood and youth.

You whisper a thank you, before sealing his promises with a tearful kiss. When Tommy pulled away, you knew it was time…

“Goodbye Ellie, mommy loves you.”

Then, it was just you and Joel. 

“I never wanted this, little one.” He spoke, voice filled with sincerity and pain. “I know you think I hate you, that I want you to hurt-”

“I don’t think that Joel.” You deny his accusation, but you are honest. For once, you can be honest. “I think you’re a broken man who doesn’t know how to love, but I don’t think you hate me, and I don’t know you never wanted any of this.”

“I loved you! Everything I did was for you!”

“You almost killed me-”

“THAT WAS FOR YOU!” He screamed at you, but it wasn’t rage or fury, it was wretched and broken and him. A heart broken father who had lost his daughter, and is now about to lose his wife, and if Tommy can help it, his brother and baby.

Closing your eyes, you move on. “You can’t have her, Joel.”

He steps closer, boots loud against the creaking floor. “Tommy ain’t taking my daughter, I ain’t losing her.”

A dry laugh. “I’m not sure you ever loved Ellie-”

“Her names not Ellie, it’s Dolly-”

“You loved Sarah, and Ellie was a replacement. What if we had a boy, Joel? C’mon. Let her be, let them go.” Couldn’t he give you this? A deathbed wish to save your baby… 

“No.” But you could tell he was wavering. “That’s my daughter.”

“What’s your plan then? You don’t have day care. The only raiders you could have trusted with her are Tommy and Lorenzo and they are gone. You can’t do it alone… You’ve seen those men gang rape women, you think they won’t rape Ellie?”

“Stop calling her that.”

“You think they won’t beat her, touch her? Even if they don’t, is she suppossed to grow up around violence and rape? You gotta think this through, Joel! There’s no day care, no PTO, you’re two top men just left you, you can’t keep her safe! You can’t protect her, she’s gonna die like-”

“Fine!”

There's a long, shocked silence between the two of you, the gravity of what he’s agreed to give up… You weren’t sure if you believed in god, and if you did, whose god it was… you weren’t sure you believed in an afterlife, or anything of the sort. But if you did… you could be convinced that Sarah’s spirit touched Joel, breaking through his obsession, his mental illness, the delusions he had… to keep her little sister safe. 

“I’ll… she can go with Tommy.” Heartbroken, Joel acquiesced, then knelt in front of your exhausted body. “I know you don’ think I loved you, but… just know I cared, okay? I just-”

“I believe you.” You took in his scent once more. “For what it’s worth, I think maybe we loved each other in our own sick way… It was always gonna end like this… ” You push the jackknife into his hands.

“Where did you get this?” Joel referenced the knife with wooden encasing. 

“Nick’s skeleton.”

Joel couldn’t help but smile “Brave girl” He kissed you, and you allowed it, wanting to taste him just one more time. 

Knife in grip, you taking rough hand and bring it to your throat, tucked under your chin just beneath where your wet faces pressed together, foreheads and noses and lips melding into one as he could consume your soul, bring you into him forever.

“I love you, little one. Always have.”

“And I loved you, Joel.”

“What’s that song you like?”

“Red River Valley”

“Yeah, that’s the one. How did that last line start?”

You smile, eyes closed, and start singing it. “Come and sit by my side if you love me…”

Joel joined in the pair of you singing together. “Do not hasten to bid me adieu, but remember the the red river valley” You’re voice choked up so bad on the last word, you couldn’t finish it.

You think back to the night Ellie was conceived, the night Tommy left, they way Joel fucked you, words uttering into life the possession he had over you. It was foolish to think you could be free of him in this life. That pain? The pain is mine. Your cries are mine, your cunt is mine. And if you bleed?

Joel sang the last line for you, voice as soft as a whisper.. “And the cowboy who loved you so true.”

His lips pressed a final kiss and you felt the sharp pain and oozing liquid leaving you, your gasps and cries of pain stifled by his mouth. Eventually, the warmth of the blood enveloped you into darkness, and the agony of this life you were subjected to since childhood ended.

If you bleed? Your blood is mine.

Joel inhaled your last breath into his, sucking in the evidence of your life with his lips attached to yours until his head grew dizzy from lack of oxygen. Your blood was cooling on his body.

Joel limped out of the room, covered in her blood, only to find Tommy rocking a baby in one arm and a gun aimed at Joel with the other, tears streaming down his face.

“You killed her.” Tommy stated the obvious.

Not even bothering to raise his hands, Joel replied. “The infected killed her, Tom-”

“No.” The low tone of voice warned of something serious, and Joel pondered if Tommy was capable of actually killing him. “You did this. All of this. This last year you beat and tortured and raped her and made her think this was love. Calling her your wife, Joel?” Tommy shook his head in disgust. “I didn’t think you were capable of this, even after everything.”

Joel glowered his eyes at Tommy, not happy to have this talk again. “I didn’t see you ever stop’n me, Tommy.”

“No.” Tommy’s answer was candid. “That’s my cross to bare. And she-” he needed down to the sleeping baby in his arms. “She’s my vindication, and I’m gonna do right by her.”

Joel held out his hands, causing Tommy to step back. “Give me my daughter, Tommy.”

Worry crossed his face. “You promised-”

“I just wanna say goodbye” It was rare Joel spoke like this… so quiet, so soft… But Tommy didn’t trust him. “No, you-you’ll hurt her.”

The way Joel looked in Tommy’s eyes was earnest… so much hurt and sadness Tommy felt like he was actually looking at his brother again… “I’d never hurt my daughter.”

Tommy believed him. “Gun to your head the whole time. You try to take her away, I shoot you.”

“Okay.”

He was right, the gun was pressed to his head as Joel said his goodbye. “I love you. No matter what anyone tells you, I love you, and I loved your mom. She’s up in heaven watching out for you, she’s there with your big sister, your grandparents, everyone. They love you, just like I do, just like Tommy does. I’m gonna protect you still, okay? Jackson is under my protection, nothing bad’s gonna happen to you or your family.” Joel will protect his daughter with his life, and that means protecting those who care for her. Tommy, Maria, all of Jackson. As long as she's taken care of they are safe. “I love you, baby girl.”

Hesitantly, Joel handed Ellie back to Tommy, her new daddy, and he felt like he was letting go of a peace of himself. Nother brother bothered hiding the tears.

“I never want to see your face again, Joel. Do not come near me or my child ever again.”

Joel wanted to argue, to say it was his daughter, and he could take her whenever he wanted… But she was right. Ellie was better off with Tommy. Tommy could provide a stable home, with a mom and a dad, a community to make friends, school, church, and most importantly, safety. Tommy was younger, he could keep up with a child, fight off what he needed to… Tommy was a good uncle to Sarah… he’d be a good dad to her.

“Tommy, wait” But Tommy kept walking. “Wait!”

“SHHH!” Tommy whipped around, whispering harshly. “You’ll wake her!” 

As if Joel didn’t raise a whole child himself. “Just… here.” Joel cleaned of the knife and handed it to a nervous Tommy. “For her.”

Tommy glared at the gift. “You want me to give her the knife you killed her mother with?”

“She killed the infected with it, and that’s what I killed Nick with… I used it to ortect her, and she used to to protect… Ellie.” Joel said her name outloud now. “You don’t have to tell her about me just… I want her to have something, please?”

Tommy stared at Joel for several moments. He hated Joel… but he’d always live him. Joel raised him most of his life, and they raised Sarah together. Joel was his brother, always, and the reason his now-daughter existed. “I’ll tell her about Sarah. I’ll… She’ll know she has a sister.” A fresh tear escaped, Tommy wiped it with the sleeve of the arm holding the knife as he sniffled at the mention of his precious niece he loved so much. “I dunno how I’m gonna explain the rest, but she’ll know she had a sister.” A deep breath. “And she’ll have her knife, so no matter what… you both with be protecting her, okay?”

Joel nodded.

“But you can’t go after the others. Zach, Lorenzo, Jack, Maura, got it? They are gonna suffer enough. With this news, just… leave them be.”

Joel agreed, then explained his horse is out front, a quick ride back to Jackson. Joel would walk back on his wounded leg. “Thank you, Tommy. I love you. I’m always gonna love you, even if you hate me.”

Turning on a heel, Tommy walked away, carrying little Ellie, taking off his scarf to wrap around her in the cool weather. It wasn’t anything too cold, the sun was out and shining at least, and no wind. Tommy was dead set and determined to walk away, to never speak to his brother again… but he stopped. He didn’t look back, but he spoke, quiet but just loud enough for Joel to hear. “I love you too, hermano.”

With that, Joel watched the only two things left in this life that he loved, walk away.

***********

Joel at the end, what Tommy see’s as Joel exits the room after murdering little one

Art my @melodymakesart

Continue the story 16 years latter with Ghost of You, Ellie’s journey in finding out the truth

Wow. WOW. I cannot thank you guys all enough for how much support i've gotten on this series. Biggest thank you's to the-fox-den, dinsbaby, foggymoonbanana, primos world, Fen, my dear maura, miraclesabound, not a unique snowflake blog and koshkaj for always leaving such nice comments! (everyones comments are appriacted and loved i just see these guys do it every single chapter without fail.)

also thanks to everyone who reached out about the bomb threat. we are all doing much better now.

I love you al so much and cannot ever express how much the reaction to this series has touched me.

That's right, the baby is Ellie.

I do want to say, that in this series, since reader isn't Anna, this means Ellie can look like anything, no matter the race. It just matters she's ellie and she's immune. Little one isn't a great reader, she's largely oc but i wanted to keep things as inclusive as i could instead of an OC

and i did say major character death ;-; good bye little one. You deserved better.

THOUGHTS?!?!?! shout out to spadesjade on ao3 who correctly guess that little one dies and tommy and maria raise the baby!

Remember, there's still the alt ending! This one will be a bittersweet, happier ish ending.

As always, if you hate both endings, my fics are open for you to write your own version of the end or use this universe in anyway. And if you'd like, i'll add it to the masterlist for additional reading!!!

In the mean time, come read Dirty Little Secret, my dark!joel one shot

LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!

Remember, reblogs spread the work, comments motivate!!!!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana@dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld@marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

[pastelvelvett-2nd]

Yandere!Harper x GN!Reader

[♡] Last chapter

Chapter 2: Only human

Summary: A week has past, and your second tutoring session with Harper is today. It's rather inconvenient that the entirety of the night, her mind is far too preocuppied with thoughts of you to sleep, even the slightest bit. The perfect mask she built slipping in front of you would be her worst nightmare, and in all likelyhood, it probably would happen today, given her current state.

Word count: 5,230 words

Note: this version of the chapter is with gender neutral pronouns and terms. I'll be posting versions with male and female pronouns soon, so please keep an open eye for that! Also, I'll be adding all my Harper works to the 'Yandere!Harper chapters' tag, so search for that on my blog to read the previous chapter for the clinically depressed people pleasing cinnamonroll (aka Harper). Juuust one more thing, if you wanna give it a listen, here's a playlist I made for her. Anyway, enjoy!

What did Harper truly care about in the world? It wasn’t directly related to what she was doing, like it tends to be for a lot of people. She couldn’t think of many things she did at all that came from mere enjoyment. The girl did everything she did not for the act of it in itself, but what she would gain from going through with it. Often, it felt like even small decisions and actions on her day to day life were strategies, as insignificant as they may have looked to those around her. Small actions and decisions that build up to make a portrait of herself others could enjoy. That’s why, her newly found, constant thoughts didn’t make sense to her. For nights in a row, she’d tumble and shift in bed incessantly, thoughts burdened and confusing. They didn’t start off as something she was bothered by, though. First, she had a fuzzy feeling inside of her as she thought back to your first tutoring session.Your entrancing frame and beautiful face burrowed itself in her mind, laid their eggs that would lead to more, to the point it was the only thing she could see whenever she closed her eyes. Your words, your tone, soft and comforting like a lullaby, replayed themselves in her head. Except, of course, unlike a regular lullaby, it just had to have had the exact opposite effect on her, about as damaging as three cups of coffee back to back would be at this hour. That’s where her pleasant thoughts started seeming to be more concerning, than anything. Why was she considering something so intently, when she didn’t have any real conclusion to these thoughts? Harper had gotten obsessed with things before, it was pretty much an integral trait to her already, but it was always for the sake of gaining something. The fact she didn’t understand what was happening to her was concerning in its own right. The girl let out a shaky, unnerved sigh as she, in a brisk movement, got up to a sitting position on her bed. Harper peered downwards at her soft blanket. It had a childish print; A repeated pattern of a cute, chibi cat sleeping, the whole thing being colored in varying shades of pink. Thinking back at everyone she talked to on a regular basis, it was clear as day they’d think she’s immature for secretly liking this sort of thing. How would you react, though? Would you be disappointed that she’s not truly a mature person, or would you be okay with that? Something told her you weren’t like them, preoccupied with what looks socially acceptable. 

“Oh, crap…” Harper gritted her teeth, leaning forward as she covered her scrunched up face the second she realized. She couldn’t believe it. Her mind wandered to something other than you for one second, and that thought was so quick to turn right back to you. This clearly wasn’t something she could push out of herself by just laying down in bed, maybe if she did something, she could take her mind off of it. The girl looked up, her lavender eyes rapidly darting from her left to right to identify where on Earth she left her phone before she started sleeping. Or… Trying to, anyway. Ah… On the end table next to her, of course. Did she ever leave it anywhere else? Why did she even ask herself where it was to begin with? Harper stretched her body to the right to grab onto her phone and pull it from her charger. It was still warm to the touch from having charged for- she didn’t know for how long. Her eyes, used to the darkness of her room, tried adjusting to the bright, unnatural light the phone gave off as soon as she turned it on. Admittedly, the overly cutesy brightly colored wallpaper didn’t help much with this achieving this.  

Oh… 

Crap again.

Harper cringed at the sight of the time, 5:49 AM. It took her a full hour drive to get to college, so really, she only had an hour at her disposal. She couldn’t remember the last time that she stayed up the whole night without realizing it, if it ever happened to begin with. Normally, she goes to bed at 10PM sharp, and falls asleep only a few minutes later. Just what had you done to her?

Surely it wouldn’t be surprising to say that Harper couldn’t sleep in the one hour she had left. Instead, she worried incessantly about how that day was the second tutoring session she had with you, and the only thing she was running on was anxiety that kept her more or less alert. Still, the lack of sleep made her nowhere near as sharp as she’d hope to be for it. If anything, in her current state, you’d be the one able to teach her. Still, she had to put her best foot forward. She managed to get through the school day, yes, with a few weird looks from people that knew she was behaving strangely, but she was still able to jot down notes with… Some readability to them. 

As Harper waited for you to join her in the back of the library, she lowered her face to get a better look at what she now recognized as being hieroglyphs that were intended to represent the English language in her notebook, coming to the morbid realization that she was deluding herself into thinking she’d been doing better than she actually was. She supposed she didn’t do very well with lack of sleep… Maybe because she was always strict with herself on getting a full night of rest, like her parents were with her while she was growing up.

—

Second week, second tutoring session with Harper. You had to admit that you were incredibly nervous, but thankfully less so now, since you noticed how approachable she was to you the last time. A part of you was fully expecting her to be the type of popular person to act incredibly sweet to some people, and horribly nasty towards those that have a less than stellar reputation, like you did. If anything, she seemed even more genuine and brighter when you talked to her one on one than in a classroom setting.

You inhaled then exhaled, paused in front of the library door, trying to remind yourself of these things. You’re fine. Just focus on learning, she wouldn’t judge you for being incredibly stupid (even though compared to her, you clearly are).

The library was very quiet, which was certainly a good thing for you. You could only see one person reading in a chair relatively close to the door. Not someone you recognized, from what you could tell. The guy gave you a weird, slightly judgemental look for just a second, which was enough to make you shrink and wonder if you did something strange. You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid, it wouldn’t be the first time you imagined someone judging you. God, just focus… Find Harper. She’s chill. You’ll be fine with her. You hurriedly went deeper into the library, the stacks of books you needed for today held tightly against your chest. You were quick to spot her, sitting at the furthest table and staring down a notebook. Her face was pale enough that she looked like she saw a ghost, and unlike you, it didn’t seem like she spotted you nearly as fast.

She narrowed her eyes, nearing her face to the paper to get a better look while also lifting it. You had to wonder what made reading what’s there so difficult. It kind of looked like someone else’s handwriting, from what you could see, so maybe she borrowed someone’s notebook for some reason and was having some trouble reading it because she wasn’t familiar with the way they wrote. Another thing that was interesting to you- Harper tended to be… How should you say this without sounding rude (because though you’re obviously the only person listening in on your thoughts, you still would feel guilty if you thought something mean about someone that only treated you with kindness so far). She was always more attentive to the world around her than this, let’s call it. While you were 100% the type of person to look around disoriented when you go to meet a friend at any location, you always thought people like Harper were exempt from having those kinds of moments. Well, Harper is human, afterall… Like anyone else, she can get distracted.

You guessed that calling out to her would be a better idea, since you were starting to feel a bit creepy just looming over her. You didn’t doubt it would look suspicious if anyone saw you, they’d most likely think you were stalking her (and doing a pretty bad job at it, honestly).

“H-Harper, hel-”

The second you spoke out with a shaky voice and an awkward smile, she jumped up from her seat with a dramatic gasp and looked up at you wide eyed like you’re about to attack her. She dropped the notebook on the table in time with the gasp, making it fall and slide further to the other side of the surface, where you were. You looked down at the notebook that was just in Harper’s grasp briefly, which was enough to make her panic further and take it, sliding it in her backpack hastily. That was… Strange of Harper. You never once saw her like this, or heard of anyone seeing her like this. It looked like she was hiding a murder plot that she wrote about or something, though that was obviously not possible. Plus, you doubted the notebook was even hers to begin with. Maybe she wanted to copy someone’s notes or homework and she was ashamed she’d get caught…? But then again, why was only this mystery person’s out, and not Harper’s, too?

“OH! Y/N!” Harper exclaimed, a bit too loud for something she’d say in the library. “Hi! You’re…” She looked up to the clock with squinted eyes. …Maybe she needed to get new glasses, and that’s why she was squinting at that notebook, too? “Oh. Exactly on time.” Ouch.

“Haha… Surprised? I wouldn’t want to waste your time making you wait for me, Harper.” You laughed nervously, pulling out a chair to sit down next to her, careful to not place it too close to hers. She was already pretty jumpy, by default, the last thing you’d want to do is worsen her emotional state. Something… Clearly must’ve happened to cause her change of behavior. You didn’t think you had it in you to pry. The two of you weren’t terribly close or anything, afterall. That would probably make her uncomfortable. Harper was much quicker to reply to this than she was in noticing you.

“Oh, wait, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that… I meant I thought it was earlier than it actually was, so when I checked the time, I got surprised!” The pink haired girl tried her best to explain, as fast as humanly possible, so you wouldn’t have a misconception about what she meant for much longer. You eyed her in concern, studying her face. Upon closer inspection, beneath her eyes were dark bags that certainly weren’t there the day before. It didn’t look like she slept one bit last night, or if she did, she had very little. Maybe something was bothering her, and she couldn’t sleep? You didn’t know her personally at all, so you had no clue what could’ve happened. Interrogating her about it couldn’t be a good idea, so maybe giving her an easy out from having another tiring thing to do after uni would be the kindest course of action.

“You look… Pretty tired, Harper. Do you want to change the tutoring to tomorrow, or maybe some other day of the week? They should allow that, it’s still a tutoring session a week-” You couldn’t properly brace yourself over how immediate her response would be, even if you somehow knew about it ahead of time.

“No. No, we can do it today.” Harper’s voice was strangely firm, almost as if it was an order, rather than a confirmation. A few seconds of eerie silence passed before her different, frankly unusual demeanor melted away. “S-Sorry, I meant… I’m not really one to put things off. It’s a vicious cycle.” Oh, how nice it would’ve been to be her, and not your procrastinating self. It seemed like Harper was putting a genuine effort in pulling herself together, as evidenced by her straightening her back and clearing her throat. Her nervous, taken aback expression was turned into a calm and composed smile. Just how can she flip so quickly from one way of acting to another? It seemed like she’d be fairly good at something like improv acting or playing DnD, but you weren’t sure she was interested in either, or would be if she gave it a try. “Okay, sorry for the delay! We can start!” Realizing you still hadn’t sat down, you awkwardly shifted and moved towards the seat next to her, fighting off your immediate instinct to sit across from her instead. You supposed sitting right next to her was a lot more nerve wrecking of a concept, it was closer to her after all, so it made sense. 

With Harper even closer, the marks under her eyes seemed far more pronounced, making your guilt over putting her through this deepen. Still, she was obviously doing this for the extra credit, so it was her own decision if she wanted to sacrifice her own comfort to get that week’s session out of the way. Harper was the type to take everything she did seriously, which was incredibly respectable to you.

As she introduced the subject of today’s focus (still under math, because God knows you needed it), you could see the energy and brightness she put forth just a few minutes earlier dissipate gradually. Harper’s speaking was slower, her pauses more frequent, and eventually, she even struggled to have her eyes be any wider than half lidded. Even more distracting was that her writing seemed a lot sloppier than I saw it be last week, enough for it to be very possible that the notebook she had in front of her earlier was actually hers. This wasn’t something you could commentate on openly, at least not if you pointed out the specific telltale signs she had of being sleep deprived. But maybe if you insisted you end the tutoring session early after a bit of time had past, she’d be more likely to accept it.

“Okay, so now that you know the formula to that, let me just write down an example before you try one on your own.” The pink haired girl slid her math notebook closer to her side of the table and began writing down a math problem, tired eyes deeply focused. Then she started solving it, her mouth twitching slightly at some point, followed by her eyebrow doing the same. It really seemed like Harper was unsure of what she was writing down. You knew she probably meant for you to look at it after she was done, and peeping would be a bit mean, but your curiosity simply couldn’t wait. You scooted closer, making Harper’s body freeze like a deer caught in headlights the second that she finished writing the final result. Your eyes narrowed and studied each line of calculations. It… Didn’t really sound right. At all.

”Oh… I kinda thought it would be something like this.” Harper allowed you to take the notebook from under her and watched you attentively with no readily apparent emotion. You quickly wrote down the solution that you thought would be correct right below hers, looking to her when you were done for some sort of feedback. Harper seemed the slightest bit horrified, her mouth opening wordlessly and her eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Is it… That wrong?” Harper blinked a few times, looking bewildered as she took the notebook back and read through my solution several times over rapidly.

“No… It’s correct. I…” Harper gulped nervously, seeming not so eager to continue her sentence. She looked up towards her own solution, silent for a bit longer. “I was completely wrong. This… Is completely idiotic, what’s wrong with me? It’s like if an elementary schooler tried to solve this!” Harper’s tone raised, and her breathing quickened. Her concern from earlier was a bit more than you expected, but this state of panic was way beyond that.

”Harper, it’s okay, really! Everyone makes mistakes-“

”Not me!” Harper’s head was lowered in shame, hands shaking to the point she was barely able to hold the notebook properly. Tears quickly welled up in her violet eyes, and it took no time at all for them to drip down her face and for her to close her lids, probably from the stinging effect her tears left in their wake. She sobbed and sobbed, leaving you speechless. “I… Can’t. I’m not allowed to.” Her voice was weak and quieter this time, the slightest bit rapsy from having raised her voice earlier. You had no clue how to comfort her properly, not knowing her well enough to know what worked and what didn’t. Everything you could try would be a shot in the dark.

You were so caught up in Harper’s emotions that you didn’t notice that the librarian had walked up to her. The middle aged brown haired woman placed a hand on Harper’s shoulder in a motherly way, and you could only hope that would be enough to make her feel at least a little bit better, because then you would know what you could do. “Honey, are you okay…?” Then, to your surprise, the woman moved her gaze from her to you, now far less compassionate and more pointed, more accusatory. “You didn’t say anything to her, did you?” Did it… Look like you were an awful person? You had no clue why so many people here expected the worst of you. Even the staff, apparently. Still, you felt an insane amount of guilt for not doing something to comfort her up until now. You wouldn’t be surprised if Harper would come to resent you for seemingly not caring, despite her trying to tutor you every week, even when she was so exhausted.

”No, t-they didn’t.” Her current state made the fact that she actually responded for you even more shocking. It was noble of her to think about how you were perceived, even when she seemed to be going through a panic attack. “I-I’m sorry for making a scene. This is a library, I s-shouldn’t disturb-“ 

“No, no honey. Please. Don’t think about that right now. Just focus on feeling better.” The librarian let go of Harper’s shoulder and looked towards me. “Y/N, was it?” You felt pretty bad that you didn’t remember her name, despite her remembering yours. “Please take Harper here to the counselor.”

”It’s a-alright, Mrs. Moore, I can go on my own.” Oh well, at least you knew her name now, that’s something. Harper stifled her sobs, making occasional sniffing the only obvious sign of her crying, besides of course, the tears streaming down her face. The girl took her notebook and stuffed it in her backpack quickly, slipping it onto her back. It seemed like Harper was trying to rush away before either of you could have the chance to protest.

“Wait.” You got up too, and grabbed onto her hand after she took just a few steps away. Immediately, as you looked down at her hand that was stiff from shock, a result of your sudden and probably socially unacceptable action (given how little time the two of you spent together), you came to regret that decision. Then you looked up, which was perhaps even worse, because you saw her staring at you with a confused, teary face. “Sorry for that, I just…” You tried taking your hand away from hers. This time, it was your turn to be shocked when Harper refused to let you go, holding your hand tight. You’d feel rather awkward bringing that up now, especially with Mrs. Moore being right there still, so instead, you decided to continue what you were meaning to say. “I really want to do something to help. Taking you to the counselor is the least I could do.” Harper just stared at you in shock for a few good seconds that might as well have been an eternity, given how bad your perception of time was after her sudden show of emotion earlier. Then, she chuckled, smiling. Her eyes brightened, and her breathing seemed to be steadier than it was before. It was pretty interesting, because she didn’t give Mrs. Moore this look of gratitude and happiness after she tried to comfort her. First, you assumed maybe Harper just didn’t feel that okay with physical touch, so her putting her hand on her shoulder didn’t help. Still, she talked to her, too, and she had a more gentle tone that should’ve had more of an effect, yet it didn’t. Maybe Harper didn’t much like Mrs. Moore? That was your best guess.

”Thank you. I-If… You’re okay with that, I’m okay with that too.”

You didn’t really expect Harper to immediately say yes, but needless to say, it made you relieved. You weren’t really one to insist with anything, it was too nerve wracking to demand something of anyone. Still though, you were pretty sure that demanding to go with her, a grown adult that barely knew you, was an objectively morally wrong thing to do that you wouldn’t have done even if you had a backbone.

—

You started leading Harper to the counselor’s office, the both of you incredibly quiet. It honestly felt a tad bit awkward for you to be leading her somewhere on campus, when you barely started going here a few months ago and still get lost sometimes, even now. You weren’t sure for how long, but Harper probably had been going here for a significantly longer time than you. It seemed like she knew the layout pretty well, even now, in her sleep deprived state. If anything, you were there for emotional support. You felt rather useless for not being able to give that emotional support, and instead be completely quiet.

“I’m sorry for-“

”I’m sorry for-“

Much to your shock, you both apologized at the same exact time, causing you and her to stop dead in your tracks. After a few seconds of bewilderment, the two of you laughed a bit at the coincidence. Not in a boisterous way, it was rather impossible to be too cheerful with the things weighing on both of your minds. But it was a soft, content laughter. You didn’t know about her, but it made you a bit more comfortable at that moment. This and her show of emotion earlier made you realize that as different as she may look to be from you, you may have more in common than you first assumed.

“That was interesting. …What are you sorry about?” You asked her, smiling and beginning to walk again. Harper began stepping forwards immediately, herself. You looked to your left and saw her looking downwards at the white, well cleaned tiles of the hall. You supposed what she wanted to say made her uncomfortable enough to want to avoid eye contact.

“For ruining today. For all I know you could’ve had a normal, happy day, and I just ruined it for you. Or, possibly even worse, maybe you had an awful day and I made it even more horrible.” Harper breathed out, seeming to be even more tired out by her own emotions. “I stood in the way of things being normal.”

”Harper…” You eyed her with sympathy, initially unsure of what to say. “It’s not your fault. You must’ve gotten no sleep at all, and there has to be something in the back of your mind upsetting you that was worsened by how tired you are.”

“It is my fault. Who else’s fault is it that I didn’t sleep last night like a normal person?” It looked to you that Harper was trying so very hard to maintain “normal”… Her idea of what a normal person was seemed to be pretty warped. 

“Normal people have bad days, sometimes you can’t get sleep. Some things just… Aren’t anyone’s fault at all.” Harper’s brows knit together, and she searched your face for an answer to a question you weren’t aware of. A few seconds later, she smiled, humming softly and looking forward again. 

“I appreciate that… Um… What were you going to apologize for?”

For a moment, you forgot you even apologized at all earlier. You got far too caught up with her apology to continue thinking about it. Her apology was about something pretty complex actually, as simple as her opening for this topic was. It made you realize that your reason for apologizing was so much smaller, to the point it would be fairly accurate to say that it was pretty much for filling dead air. You chuckled a bit. “For being quiet.”

”Oh no, there’s no reason for you to apologize for that. I understand why you’d be quiet… You probably don’t know how to react properly after my outburst.” Harper looked downwards with a subtle sadness. Earlier, she seemed to have liked when you held her hand… Would she feel better if you did it again? Before you could argue yourself out of doing it because of your anxiety over making her uncomfortable, you just did it, reaching out and gently holding her hand. That time, Harper didn’t seem quite as shocked. Instead, she welcomed the touch immediately, even holding onto your hand tighter as if she was afraid of you letting go. The very same way as she did previously. She smiled, though she still refused to make eye contact.

”It’s okay. Really. I’m not judging you for being human.” Harper’s smile dropped, and you immediately began to worry you did something to upset her. Even worse, that was the moment that she chose to look at you. In her eyes was a strong, burning emotion that you couldn’t pin down with any real certainty.

”Y/N…” Harper still faced towards you, but her eyes darted elsewhere. “I have to tell you something.” She paused, and built the courage to look back to me after a bit. “I wasn’t going to go to the counselor’s.”

”Huh…?” You raised an eyebrow at this and stopped walking again, Harper deciding to do the same. Why on Earth didn’t she say so? She could’ve told you the second the two of you left the library, if she was just worried about the librarian pressuring her about it.

“I was going to walk with you until the beginning of the hall the counselor’s office is in and tell you I can walk to it from there. Then I’d wait for you to leave. I was going to go out to get some fresh air on my own, get everything out of my system and continue with our session.” Would that… Really work? What if you decided to stand there and wait for her to get in before you left? Your face was marked with confusion as you tried to make sense of why it would be a big deal at all for her to refuse to go somewhere.

“I… Understand that you probably didn’t feel like you needed to go to the counselor anymore, but I just don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me. Did you think I’d get disappointed with you if you didn’t go?” Harper paused, biting her lip uncomfortably. You weren’t her parent, and even if you were, you would’ve understood that she didn’t need it.

”I don’t know if I really need it or not. I just don’t want it, and that’s all I was thinking about. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but… My parents put me through therapy at some point growing up, and I can’t say it helped much, to say the least. Anything that reminds me of that could only make me feel worse.” It seemed like she didn’t want to respond to your question, but from what you could tell based on her reaction, you most likely hit the nail on the head. “You must think I’m a pretty awful person for wanting to lie to you like that… But I realized how little you deserved to be lied to, and how uncomfortable I felt about doing it to begin with, so I just had to tell you.” Harper sighed out, body language seeming a bit more agitated now than before. When she noticed you weren’t responding immediately, she looked towards your eyes with unmistakable panic. “I’m really sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, really. I’m not mad.” After you gave her an encouraging squeeze of the hand, her eyes lost some of the anxiety it held in them. You were incredibly relieved to see her calm down a bit. “Let’s go together.”

”Outside…? Oh.” Harper blinked in surprise. It seemed like she didn’t think you offering that would be a possibility. “Yeah, we can go... I’ll be honest, I’m a bit surprised you still want to spend time with me after the way I acted.”

”Acted like what, a normal human with emotions? I get it, I’m human too, regardless of what some people may say.” You tried to joke around to brighten her mood, hoping it would work, as admittedly awkward as your attempt felt. Thankfully, she giggled, marking this mission as a success.

Oh, how did Harper wish that other people could be like you were. You were understanding of her faults and mistakes, her humanity, something she never felt from someone else. At the very least, not in a sincere form. Memories of the fake kindness she received back when she went through therapy flooded her mind, and it made her want to vomit. Actually… Maybe she preferred this. Maybe she preferred it because it made you so much more special. It felt like in her eyes, you started growing more and more, and she realized what a unique, beautiful person you were. She was deeply terrified that unlike her, you began seeing her as pathetic, as the small, scared child she saw herself as every single day. Maybe if you knew about the way she thought about you last night, you wouldn’t be so kind any longer. 

But surely, you weren’t fake. Your empathy was a sincere one, and finally, she found someone she could trust. Still, Harper was afraid. As much as she already trusted you, she knew it wasn't a good idea to be hasty, when she reconized it wasn’t exactly normal to get attached to someone so quickly. Letting the relationship develop naturally would be for the best before she could voice this part of her. It was a shame that keeping these obsessive thoughts to herself was already becoming irritating to her.

[peachjagiya]

https://x.com/Chivie__/status/1816094803953606869

This person spoke so well of the issue. I really wonder why a lot of US army's have problem with Taehyung. I don't think it is the issue of promotion. Their hatred has been reflected in their jokes about him, forgetting him in playlist etc. from quite some time. Earlier I wondered maybe it's because they don't understand the nuances of Korean culture and take skinship as something real. But so does other cultures which varies from Korean. Though every country has antis, but not at the scale of US.

I also thought maybe hybe focus is always on US maybe that's why they entitled to do hybe's bidding but that can only happen if company indirectly asks fans to do their bidding. Do you have any thoughts about it?

This person makes very sound points.

Here is Unicef's page on Sudan.

Here is Unicef's page on Democratic Republic of Congo.

And here is Unicef's page on Gaza.

Anyway onto Tae, it's funny I answered an ask about who I biased earlier because it took me two months to get my first idea that Tae was awesome.

I was a Jimin girly at first. I also very very temporarily thought Jikook were a couple. I also didn't like Yoongi because he was grouchy, thought Jungkook was a himbo, thought Joonie was too serious to be enjoyable... And yeah, I thought Tae was aloof. You see where I'm going with this?

Guess what content I was mainly devouring? The western mainstream content that was easily accessible. I wasn't diving hard for content, I was just bobbing on the surface forming these opinions. And that's where the negative opinion of Tae lies, I think.

Thankfully I've always been open to new ideas. When I saw Le Jazz De V in the June and I was like wait hang on wait and absolutely imprinted on this smart, funny, kind, soft and sweet, irreverent, creative and interesting brain with influences and tastes almost identical to my own.

It got me thinking "well why did I think he was anything else then?" and started viewing things through the lens of being a Tae enjoyer. It is kind of frustrating to see what feels like a smear campaign sometimes.

Theoretically everyone could change their minds and look beyond the smokescreen, right? Not so much though. A lot of people are just content in the first opinions they form. Then they build up community around that opinion. And it gets harder and harder to accept you maybe got played. So you double down and just go in harder on the negative opinion until you're a fully fledged hater.

And unfortunately I think the international mainstream easily accessed content is so skewed against Tae that a lot of people's first opinions stick.

That's all just my opinion. There might be others whose thoughts vary!

Thanks anon 💜

[miradanii]

Cyberverse series complete!!!

A Review:

If you want a Transformers series that not only doesn't have any humans and later on has a good amount of Cybertron lore and enjoy a series that smooths out over the last few seasons AND AND do a banger job by the finale then I do recommend this series.

Just know it is geared towards a younger audience so it won't be as outwardly dark as Transformers Prime or really deep diving in a character's emotional trauma. It is possible to do that in a 10 minute episode but it's very clear where the shows priorities are in the episodes that were made.

Knowing what to expect made it a much more enjoyable watch that seriously helped those turning point of events caught me off guard.

The fun part I did not expect is when they keep adding more characters to the show, even towards the very end. However, somehow, it just kind of works out. There's the very obvious main characters such as Bumblebee, Windblade, Optimus Prime, Megatron, Soundwave, etc. Yet, this show let so many of the characters they added shine. Even if their screen time is very brief, personally quite a few of the minor characters stuck out to me compared to part of the main cast.

I gave this series a second chance due to a few clips I saw online. Preceptor's comedic falling, Shockwave and his little guys doing a lil dance around Wheeljack, and especially Soundwave doing a funky lil dance with his eventual backup dancers...that got me.

Where I really started liking the series was in Season 1 episode 8. Season 3 and 4 is the strongest in terms of characters and story (I've seen others agree on) but it doesn't feel like a drag to get there once you settle your expectations and start enjoying the show.

More thoughts down below if you just wanna know...

If you've ever passed up on Cyberverse maybe try again. 7/10.

Btw spoilers and personal opinions

I remember season 1 coming out on Netflix in 2020 and I was still in the mindset of wanting a emotionally invested Transformers series ever since I finished Transformers Prime back in Highschool?? (Back when I was able to buy the Shockwave commander figure at Target I think) Robots in Disguise was whiplash of lighthearted fun (I couldn't finish. Bumblebee's design was....hmmm) while War on Cybertron was too dark and overly serious (I stopped in Kingdom. didn't finish). I hadn't considered the comics at that point. So when I began watching Cyberverse, I didn't set my expectations, skipped around and didn't give it a proper chance. Which sucked because I really wanted to get to know Windblade (yes I know there's comics but at the time I didn't have the money nor considered trying to find it online at the time. Last time I did consider getting into the Transformers comics I bought Dark Energon and got really confused because I wasn't sure how many issues back before getting to Windblade's issue. I didn't use reddit nor look up any forms to even find the information of where I should start or read as a solo issue. I do now though. Really enjoying MTMTE).

Cyberverse S1 has a good concept and had moments that caught me off guard but after seeing the entire show if you want to convince someone to watch it they got to really look past that first season. Episode 8 I believe with Blurr and his ENTIRE PLANET DYING and the backstory with Shadow Striker, I felt there werent any good hooks. Even with Windblade as a main character, it still wasnt interesting.

Seeing comments on videos and forms I agree that sort of after season 2, episodes start hitting better and every episode is either a bottle of fun or a oh shit that happened??????

The real turning point for me was in S2 with the Arcee and Grimlock solo episode. I think Cyberverse can write some genuinely fun character interactions. And that was one I kept craving for each season.

The good thing about this show I'd like to make clear is that there are a lot of femmebots in Cyberverse (Clobber being one of my favorites. She's such a delight on screen). However, when it comes to having any autobots on screen, one of my gripes that was it felt like there was a rule of one femmebot per episode or an autobot group mission. They kept switching them out and I know they could at least have Chromia and Arcee go on a mission with Bee, Grimlock and Hotrod or something. During S2 when the Autobots are on their journey back to Cybertron, I had noticed Arcee and Windblade got to a point that they were never on screen at the same time, let alone interact for a 5 minutes or a minute at least. It could possibly be that as characters they aren't close friends with one another but come on. They're stuck on the same ship...It was distracting but by no means was a show ruiner. It was something I happened to notice through the rest of the seasons. Sure there were probably some other interactions I could go back to but I wouldn't have this entire paragraph here dedicated about it now would I? (Oh well, we have EarthSpark so that need is fulfilled).

Stand Out Characters That I Personally Gravitated To In No Particular Order:

Clobber: Her side conversations with Lockdown stuck with me. Being a character who didn't want to fight but was always ordered to and eventually joined the Autobots. She's so cute.

Soundwave: The writers gave him a lot to work with and it shows. His reaction to Hot Rod getting the shit beat out of him in the finale was so excellent as a call back when they were forced to work together during the Quintesson invasion. They hadn't had any episodes with any notable interactions since then but I felt like it was a smart choice, though it took me a second to remember why. Soundwave Superior. Rip.

Grimlock/ and Arcee: I just really like their dynamic and the show kept giving me crumbs after their own solo episode together. Out of all the friendships in Cyberverse, this stood out to me the most. They had really good vibes I'd love to see more of in other iterations of Transformers. Arcee was one of the front characters in the opening so I was surprised they didn't put her in as many episodes as they could have.

Dead End/ and Astrotrain: That was also another dynamic I really liked and had very small crumbs for. Gotta love a ship pissing off a grumpy character. Why do they hate each other? Who knows but it's funny and I can only imagine more...

Dead End is a new character I gravitated towards right away. I wasn't sure if it was a popular character or not in the Transformers franchise as a whole. I love a character that is unexpectedly smart in a selfish kind of way. He didn't give me "evil vibes" which the majority of the Decepticons were giving off in the show. Man just wants to live. Like Lockdown, he was really caring towards his fellow Decepticon, Clobber (which now I remember I do also like their interactions too. Seeing if they need to deactivate Shockwave comes to mind). Dead End is also is a very funny reactionary character towards the rest of the cast during the 3rd season. In the finale, he's become a bit more of a background character after Astrotrain died (rip Astrotrain :(((), but at least Dead End has a nice development on not choosing the option to save himself for once (In part one of the special I was sort of shocked they didn't give him a line about hating parades. I mean we see he doesn't like it, but that's just a me thing).

Megatron: Still made him a pretty complicated character, I just wish I had more episodes to see it.

Shockwave: I'm always a fan of Shockwave but I felt bad completely forgetting he offed himself while I kept wondering where he was before the Meteorfire and Cosmos. Oops.

Hot Rod: After I got used to his "dude bro" voice I was enjoying his development and becoming a main character in the 3rd season. I was wondering if he would ever become Rodimus Prime at some point other than having the temporary paint change but I mean I guess if you know then you know. He was a good central character with the team he has to work with. Made it a great change of pace.

Sky-byte: I cant help but laugh he has the Skeletor voice. The episode where he and Jetfire are introduced I really thought it would be an episode where the Decepticons and Autobots really see they shouldn't be fighting due to the insane amount of constant planetary damage their war with each other causes. But they didn't. So it landed in parody territory. I have no idea whether it was because it was time or intentional. But yeah Parody territory. Also later on after the peace treaty you don't see Sky-byte or Jetfire interact with each other in obvious friendly terms. I find this hilarious when I noticed Sky-byte was getting more screen time.

Wild Wheel: This man is the background after his solo episode. We're close to the end of the series and Cyberverse sneaks in a Western. As if Cyberverse wasn't already insane as it is. The good thing about his episode as it answered who was in one of the lost pods from season 1 aside from Grimlock and Bumblebee. AND Optimus is a sick shot.

Meteorfire and Cosmos: AUSSIE AUTOBOT. I guess it answers what other shows Cybertronians watch beside Cube??? Somehow also a banger solo episode. It's so silly and there's a random ass scene that is now in my core memory. The show may say "Bumblebee's Cyberverse Adventures" but it was an episode where a new character that eventually goes into the background steals the show. Also Cosmos was very cute. She's toe to toe with Weird Al Cosmos for me.

Perceptor: The character with one of the clip compilations that steered me towards watching the show. He is incredible. What a guy. Has an exceptionally high tolerance for his arm getting ripped off, going blind, and falling really far distances.

Teletraan-X: He's just a little guy, and I like his attitude. I was happy seeing him again in the finale with Windblade.

Tarn: I now know who Tarn is. Wowza scary guy.

Overall I'm glad I watched Cyberverse. I do agree it's underrated. I had a lot of fun watching, maybe I'll draw Dead End one of these days.

Up Next. Transformers Beast Wars...which I already started. I'm on episode 3.

[laventadorn]

Hi music anon again 🤗

I know what you mean about never knowing what music Snape listens to. It's sort of tough, isn't it?

I feel like the instinct is for classical and I don't doubt that he enjoys classical music, but I also think his Muggle upbringing would surely play a role in his music taste no matter how much he rightfully despised his father and his crappy childhood in general.

Now this may way be controversial, but I sort of headcanon teenage Snape secretly listening to Fleetwood Mac or T-rex or The Stones with black painted finger nails and cigarette in hand and sort of think he probably never stopped? I mean the painted nails probably didn't hang around after he started teaching (or maybe he did and he just used a glamour though that might interfere with his potions lol) but I could still easily see Harriet's Snape listening to You can go your own way or Paint it black in his chambers when he thinks hes mostly certain he has a few private minutes to himself...of course, I now I have the image of Snape listening to angry girl indie music in my head i dont think that's leaving any time soon 😄

it certainly is rough! also it's very hard not to give him our own music taste in some way (that is, the taste of the person headcanoning about it), which is only natural, both because we like our own taste and because we interpret our blorbos through some prism of self.

also music, more than probably any other art form, seems to get tied up with this performance evaluation of our personal coolness. there can be a lot of "i don't listen to that" about music, and everyone shows off their spotify wrapped at the end of the year (some people apparently... put cooler songs on mute and play them to jazz up their list?? is that real????) so, going off what you said about his Muggle upbringing, and music as a form of teenage rebellion, this complicates the Snape Playlist because one would imagine him hearing Muggle music at home and, whether he liked it or not, rejecting it because it's Muggle. or maybe embracing it, at least on holiday, because his dad hates it and he hates his dad. or! maybe some of it reminds him of lily, so it likes it for that reason, at least for a while. (secret fourth option: i’m way overthinking it!)

the another complication is that we don't know what the heck kind of music wizards listen to. we only know the Weird Sisters, which is rock. are they the wizard Iron Maiden or Nirvana? or maybe Vivaldi was a wizard or something. then young, desperately-trying-to-not-be-too-Muggle Snape could listen to these safely.

but in the end, i just wonder if... snape wouldn't listen to anything? i wonder if the reason it's so hard to nail down something for him to listen to is because i can't imagine him actually... doing something for simple enjoyment? he's so uptight in this way and self hating in that way... the result of asking myself "what would snape enjoy" is really the answer "nothing!" he won't let himself. he can read depressing books and dry potions journals but for music you just have to relax and enjoy the noises and i just... have a hard time picturing him doing it. he can't relax. he can't enjoy himself. he can't appreciate a nice tune. not yet.

this tangled web of questions is the answer i've come up with for myself, so far :)

[glareandgrowl]

you know what?! NO! I WON'T just stop there!

This has really frustrated me as a creator who puts pride and effort into the characters I create. I'm giving myself until the end of this 30 min playlist to put my thoughts together so forgive the mess it will inevitably cause.

I have seen the take many a times about Dangan games and it's characters that fans and enjoyers are upset their special guy didn't get the screentime they deserved due to whatever reason; It's understandable really. You see a character that has such potential in your eyes its a shame its all wasted away. But I have seen the idea thrown around that the lack of care for a majority of characters' deaths and roles in the story is based on the sheer number of bodies and stories to tell. With so many characters there would never be enough room to allow all of them to flourish before they die! That's just the curse of these types of stories.

I am here to tell you that is BULLSHIT! It's bullshit and I refuse to believe it!

I, for the longest time, have hated the writing of the dangan games. It has always seemed sloppy, rushed, and far too drawn out for its own good. And no, that's not because the trials can be a little funky and rough around the edges when it comes to details. Though, that does coorelate to the negativity I have towards them as a whole. No.

I full-heartedly believe what is to blame is the free-time events. In Dangan 1, it was a fun gimick. Theres a large cast of characters, it only makes sense that a select few would stick out to the player as an interesting one, with a desire to learn more about them.

Shoddy writing of THH aside, I do feel it was a bit of a bandaid on the issue of a too-large cast. If there were optional ways to spend more time with certain characters, they didn't need to spend all that valuable plot time giving them exposition and relevance! The players can find the relevance on their own!

Except... Instead of using the plot time they saved for making a better, more cohesive story, all they did was fill it with dead air, bloated trials and a clear favoritism for the few remaining survivors. (IE in THH Byakuya, Kyoko, Makoto (obv hes the mc I can't complain there.)) Instead of focusing on the group as a whole, its dynamics amongst the survivors at the time, the plot instead magnets to favorites in an attempt to make you like them more.

I know its been mentioned a million times, but the game makes it incredibly hard at times to imagine these characters as once being friends.

(I will say from what I have seen of the next two games they do remedy this at least a little bit, with the group dynamic at least being tolerable to borderline good in v3 (yes before you come for me goodbye despair was good too.))(it also does seem, imo, to be a problem specifically with THH, as the next two DO do a better job at characterization, aside from the rogue one or two "mystery" characters that are put WAY too much emphasis on. (cough cough Kokichi, Rantaro, Kyoko, Byakuya to an extent) Most of whom I don't really care for due to that specific emphasis put on them. Not that their characters are bad, the games just reaaaallly want the player to care about these guys. Which makes me not want to.

Back to individuality.

The argument of a too-large cast as the reasoning for characters being left behind in terms of narrative importance, i feel, would be easily remedied by removing free time events entirely. No more backstory exposition dumps and underwear gifts for friendship points. No more mono-mono machine. If the writers were instead FORCED to give each character their time in the limelight, if they were forced to actually give a shit about each individual personification as much as those freetime events lead you to believe, then the plot would grow to accommodate.

Half the shit in the trails is unnecessary. Half the shit in the plot is unnecessary. Half of it is pandering, or shipping bait or funny haha jokes! We're so quirky!

The plot needs to care about your characters as much as the writers do. Which should be as much as your audience does. And if it doesn't. if the plot only cares about giving the audience a reaction, or if it only cares about its surface level motivations and schemes, then all you're going to get is surface level, unmotivated, wasted potential characters.

Now. I've ragged on about dangan for a bit. Does that mean I hate the games, the stories and the characters? Hell no. Of course not. If I did, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't spend my time making fanart and writing fanfiction. I like the games. They're interesting, funny at times. The writing has its moments of sincerity. It's made me cry once or twice. I LOVE the ending to goodbye despair. I think its the best in the series by far.

I guess what I mean to say in the ending of all this, the TLDR if you will, is that the dangan games COULD have made the characters work. It could have made you believe each one was special and important to the story. If it cared enough to. It's no excuse, though.

(Also yes this is about Taka and how he was robbed. You could say the same about a fair few characters. I just spend hours a day thinking about his character anways so this is it's natural conclusion.

[spiralstereo]

intro.

[my beloved partners- @clovergeneral, @tobywizardb]

[pronouns page] [better pronouns page]

// im in my change era \\

Herez a cool playlist!!! 🪩🗯️🎧‼️

\\

･ ｡ ☆∴ ｡　* 　･ﾟ *｡★･ 　　 ･ *ﾟ｡　　 * 　 ･ ﾟ｡･ﾟ★｡ ☆ﾟ･｡°. *　　ﾟ｡·･｡ ﾟ 　　 　ﾟ *.｡☆｡ ★　･ 　　 * ☆ ｡･ﾟ*.｡ 　　　 *　★ ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 　　　　 ･　　ﾟ☆

[❓] What is to be expected here?

[❗️] I'm an artist & writer, so expect mostly that type of content!

I have a tag system btw!! It's fairly new (except for my art tag) so don't expect there to be much on there.

#☆ kais art! ☆ will be used on art

#asks 💭 will be used on asks (i also have an askbox game thing scroll down)

#kaiju posts will be used on normal posts

flavors of posts

🍃 trotting around! // therian stuff

📓 yearbook! // pictures, images, not art

#roleplaying shenanigans 🌀 will be used on me roleplaying...

#kai yaps will be used on ramblings & lore fun facts

flavors of yapping

🍤 shrimp flavor // lore drops, explanations

🍱 bento flavor // updated lore, changes

🍡dango flavor // fun facts, little bits

🍛 curry flavor // lore with designs, art!

🍙 rice ball flavor // just yapping

#kai stinks!! will be used on vents & rants

#announcement! will be used on, you won't guess what (/sar)- announcements.

flavors of announcements

💬 just a heads up... // minor announcements

🔈 /srs // serious announcements

🔔 reminder! // announcement for lore

#reblog!! will be used on- you guessed it! reblogs.

flavors of reblogs

📂 ooh! // will be used on stuff i find interesting

💌 yay! // will be used on stuff featuring characters i like/love

🎉 yippee! // will be used on reblogging announcements with a /pos tone/context

🗯️ frowns // will be used on reblogging announcements with a /neg tone/context

#📊 poll! will be used on polls

#blorbo posting! (+ an emoji for each character) will be used for me yapping & posting about my blorbos

blorbo tags

blorbo posting! 👻 // ghostwalker phighting...

blorbo posting! 🐍 // DARKHEAR...

There will also be a fair bit of me being silly & rambling. I also try to keep my blog free of political & controversial topics. I do not want to be involved, so please keep it away from here.

Alot of my writing & AU stuff contains sensitive & disturbing topics that may make people uncomfortable. I am a proud horror & angst enjoyer- so I tend to get extreme with it sometimes. So please keep that in mind & be cautious if you're triggered by said things.

Adding onto that, please let me know if you don't want angsty roleplays on my blogs. I rarely ever to fluffy stuff, so if you're uncomfortable or annoyed with it please tell me. I do not pick up on hints about that I am so sorry.

Speaking of my au & stuff, I have some ask box games going on!! Here they are!! (Send me asks pls)

[❓] What are some basic things about yourself?

[❗️] First of all, I'm bodily a minor. Please keep NSFW & that gross icky stuff away from me. I am fine with suggestive stuff- & there might be suggestive things here & there.

I'm a system!! Not plural all the time, kinda new to this... but yeah!!!

We don't have something we go by collectively yet... so- just call us based on who's fronting? It's usually Hexx

We might change up our tagging system to make it more accurate, its kinda outdated

I am a pretty private person. I have trust issues & therefore I like having my personal life separate from my online life. This does not mean you cannot ask what I did today or how my day was, but just expect me to be vague &/or hesitant.

I'm autistic!! I don't always understand &/or get things so tone tags would be appreciated. I don't fully understand them myself yet, I'm still learning, so I don't use them all the time! Here is a masterpost/masterlist of tone tags if you have trouble understanding them..

[❓] What are your interests?

[❗️] As of right now, I'm hyperfixated on PHIGHTING! My favorite characters are Darkheart, Ghostwalker, & Subspace in that particular order.

I make a lot of OCs for things I'm obsessing over, & that also means making my own AU & writing my own lore for it! Please ask me about it!! It makes me so happy.

I have an unnamed PHIGHTING! fanon that I'm making/have made with one of my beloved partners, @clovergeneral. I have a community for it!! It's here!!

I also have a lot of original stuff that I probably won't talk about much, but I might share it with you guys when I properly write it. I've shared some things about it so far, & it's called 'Glitch! Trio'. I have a side blog about it, @glitch-trio. They mean sm to me....

As for other interests, I'm also interested in Pokemon, Pokepasta, ULTRAKILL, Regretevator, IHNMAIMS (I Have No Mouth & I Must Scream), Mystery Flesh Pit National Park, Iron Lung, Project Moon games (more so Library of Ruina & Lobotomy Corporation), Item Asylum, Mandela Catalogue, The Walten Files (TWF), & Jujutsu Kaisen.

Notable mention. I fucking love keytars. They're so fucking cool I love them.

[❓] What are the rules for this blog?

[❗️] First of all, use common sense. It shouldn't be hard in the first place. Think before you speak or ask, that stuff.

I am a person too. I have a life, goals, feelings, etc. So treat me like a person. I'll respect you, please respect me back.

Basic DNIs. Homophobes, transphobes, racists, xenophobes, zoophiles, pedophiles/maps, proshippers, comshippers, anti-furries, anti-therians, or any other creeps. I will block you if I feel like it or if I'm uncomfortable.

Again, please do not bring up political &/or controversial topics. Religion is....okay. I prefer not to speak too much about religious stuff because I myself am an atheist, because I don't know all that much about other religions & I don't want to say anything that will get me in trouble. I respect all religions though.

[❓] What are your other blogs?

[❗️] Here is a masterpost of all my side blogs. I have an addiction to making new blogs to expect the number of them to grow.

[❓] What else do you do here?

[❗️] I do silly stupid shit, & I also roleplay as characters on this blog because I either haven't made a blog for them yet or I just feel like it. Oh also there's some 'events' that happen.

For example- it's kinda an inside joke between me & my partner Clover but I'm gonna explain it real quick. I was keyboard smashing & I accidentally pressed the British flag emoji (🇬🇧) so I thought it would be funny if I pretended to get 'colonized' so. yeah

I'm making a tag for it because it's funny. Uhhh uhhh it's #🇬🇧🇬🇧 GOD BLESS THE QUEEN 🇬🇧🇬🇧 (im so funny haha. im funny right. right guys)

I have AUs & lore specific stuff for the fandoms I'm interested in!! I'll list them & the tags right here

PHIGHTING!

D-Sides! (#d-sides!)

Pirmer! (#🐚 pirmer! 🪸)

Post Justice! (#post justice 🪬)

POKEMON

Frozen Unova (#frozen unova)

･ ｡ ☆∴ ｡　* 　･ﾟ *｡★･ 　　 ･ *ﾟ｡　　 * 　 ･ ﾟ｡･ﾟ★｡ ☆ﾟ･｡°. *　　ﾟ｡·･｡ ﾟ 　　 　ﾟ *.｡☆｡ ★　･ 　　 * ☆ ｡･ﾟ*.｡ 　　　 *　★ ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 　　　　 ･　　ﾟ☆

[best-fnaf-song-competition]

Tilt-A-Whirl propaganda (mostly taken from my own tags in the reblogs)

Tilt-A-Whirl has gone from dying to tying with Freddy You're Supposed To Be On Lockdown, we can make it!

Now I totally get why Freddy is going so strong, it's a silly catchy meme song made by a very talented artist (seriously go listen MiatriSs' other fnaf songs theres so many bangers, they're kinda scattered around but theres a playlist on their channel)

But! Ultimately it is still well a meme song, and while no doubt enjoyable, its kinda slightly devastating to see it sorta crush a super unique song in the very first round </3

Tilt-A-Whirl is such a beautiful SL song! Its so so fun and it really stands out! The singer for Baby really did such a fantastic job and the song itself!!! Just!!! Augh!!! It sounds like a carousel organ!! It sounds like something that'd be playing in a circus! Certainly Circus Baby's Pizza!! It's so whimsical and playful and it spins you around. I feel like I'm at the actual fair or dancing around with circus baby. If I could find an instrumental trust me when I say I'd try to make that play in my room near constantly

It's so fun to hear Circus Baby singing her own song to you, making it so playful while she's trying to kill you

And the lyrics augh!! This whole song!!! I love it so much!!! It really gives you the feeling of a carnival! Gosh I have so much fun thinking of what animations to this song could be! What story could be told!

And!!!! Oh man I like cannot stress enough what this song does to me. Listening to it before voting in this poll was the very first time I had heard it. And man it hooked me IMMEDIATELY. I went from kinda sleeping listening to all the songs while doing to sketches for a request to like. Focused in. I couldn't possibly put it into words. So here's literally just a screenshot of my tags immediately after hearing the song

(I proceeded to fast reblog the poll like 2-3 more times)

Extra propaganda: I kinda ran out of bribes after the main song competition! So all I can really offer is letting yall see my Steve Raglan cosplay. My face would be obscured though so you just get to see the outfit 👉😎👉 man I am so good at this bribery thing

💜

[hrodvitnon]

Are we seriously dogpiling on KOTM all over again? Are we forgetting that while the box office leaves a lot to be desired, it still made made money via merchandise and also became top 1 seller in DVDs back then? Box office is important, but box office isn't always the end-all be-all either, otherwise going by that logic, The Iron Giant deserves to be shunned.

Not to mention, it's still the most beloved MV movie by the Japanese fandom and Toho themselves consider it as one of the main movies in the entire Godzilla franchise, as seen in these tweets.

Yeah the movie isn't perfect, but not a single MV movie is perfect either, all of them had their own pros and cons. I swear people act like KOTM is like the literal antichrist, and it really sucks. You just can't escape that because it's literally everywhere. And it's now further amplified now that GxK is out. I like GxK a lot too, but it doesn't make sense comparing the movies when they're both about the same when it comes to their pros and cons.

This is why I don't enjoy engaging with the fandom at all and this blog is one of the few comforting spaces for it. But now, I'm not so sure if I can stay here either.

Sorry for the sorta rant there, but yeah. I hold this movie near and dear to my heart, and while I get the flaws and gripes, they just don't bother me that much at all and the human plot isn't that different from the usual Toho Godzilla movie anyways.

I'm not dogpiling on it! And if it comes off that way it's not my intention! I like KOTM, it is one of my favorites in the MonsterVerse, but I'd be remiss in not acknowledge its flaws, because it's a flawed movie but still an enjoyable one! It'd be hypocritical of me as well, because I play Bethesda games, and goodness knows they're a hot mess. Yes, human characters whether good or bad or barely characters at all have ALWAYS been a part of Godzilla movies, they just wouldn't be the same without humans! It's just that Mark and Emma in particular pissed me off and it felt like Mark being a dick with plot armor was favored over a more reasonable and likeable character like, oh I don't know, Vivienne! This is just an instance of Your Mileage May Vary!

I'm also not saying its poor box office performance automatically makes it a bad movie, I'm just agreeing that it didn't do great at box office! At no point did I insinuate that "bad box office = bad product" because, fuck's sake, that's like saying Kubo and the Two Strings is bad because it didn't make enough money! I'm the same person who, when an anonymous asker told me to watch a video series called King of the Blunders on YouTube, said "lol no" because I ALREADY KNOW it's a flawed movie and I DON'T NEED some CinemaSins Director's Cut playlist detailing every single minute gripe! Am I not allowed to point out flaws in something I like?

...me being tired isn't helping, so I'm going to drop this subject before it turns into another Talking In Circles About Godzilla Characterization.

Yeah, same.

I'm going to bed now.