#i dont even want to get into detail it bc it was just completely awful ..... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

commanderquinn · 1 year ago

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Good Space Chapter 5: Stuck In The Middle With You

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

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master list / ao3 chapter link

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consistent formatting? nah. in this house we believe in Convenient Formatting 🙏 rapid fire and no flashbacks again (when they start to get Super Painful later on you’ll mourn the days when i skipped them for extra fluff) we’re Zeroed In on the nerds for another hot minute. this is what happens when you get hooked on a fic by an idiot that’s more inspired by screenwriters than authors, srry ❤️

also this chapter (and probably quite a few throughout this fic) is specifically for the babes that have had to pick themselves up from the dirt after a romantic crash. i cannot tailor this in a vague way that lets anyone picking this up have their own catharsis here, right? mega impossible to one size fits all that. but what i CAN do is use the bundle of greek myth references that is ava’s concept to tell a story about regaining personal power after a total shitass tricks you into thinking youre not completely bitchin as you are ❤️

and i guess make a bunch of canadian jokes bc those are really funny to me tbh. thank you donnatella moss for the inspiration. the best accidental moose canada ever had

anyways. sit. get comfy 😌 think of the ex you reallyreallyreally wanna stab 🥰 and then go project that exact motherfucker onto alec ❤️

—

"Put it on."

"No."

"Put. It. On."

"Nope."

"It's going to look good on you."

Bucky flicks his eyes up from the news article open on his tablet. "Yes, it would."

"Great. Your head is still gigantic post-defrosting. Good thing the one I picked comes with buttons. Leave three of them undone—"

"I know how many to leave undone." That was a misstep. He knows it the second the words leave his mouth. She's going to use it as if it's compliance. It isn't.

"And I'm sure you remember how to get your arms through the holes, too. So, let's go." Natasha repeatedly taps her hand on the kitchen table, making her rings knock against the aged wood. "Make with the wardrobe change."

"I'm not wearing that, and I'm sure as hell not going anywhere," he counters blandly.

"Yes, you are. Get up."

"Eat dirt, Romanoff. I have this thing called a will of my o—"

"So, you don't want to go?"

"Correct."

"Nothing could convince you to change your mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"Who do you think is going to be more disappointed when I repeat that at the bar, Wyatt or Ava?"

Bucky's eyes close slowly. Gently. The movement is a stark contrast to the anger swirling in him, the majority of which is aimed at himself, not the Russian seeking to ruin his life. This was so easy to spot coming. So easy. And he walked right into it.

"Have you given—" Steve attempts around a mouthful of food, cutting off when Natasha hits him in the back of the head to make him stop. He takes a moment to wash down the Coco Puffs with a gulp of fresh coffee after that. "Have you given Wyatt an autograph yet? I gave him one. Super nice guy, you'll like him."

"Why is the brain trust suddenly invited to a night out?" Bucky demands. This is a fucking trap. There is no possible way that this isn't a fucking trap.

Natasha rolls her eyes at him. "We're plying them with booze to try and keep them from suing us into the ground for inflicting you on the populace. Now shut up and go change. You're not wearing those pants."

"I'm—" He cuts himself off mid-refusal. There's not a chance, not even a fraction of a percent of one, that Ava would take offense to him not wanting to go. He's told her, on multiple occasions, that he hates getting dragged out to these things. His friends are awful, and they just do this to torture him. He's not inclined to entertain that most weeks, and Ava knows that. "I don't have any other pants aside from—"

"Yes, you do."

"I'm not wearing tux pants to a—"

"The leather ones you keep for long rides."

Bucky stops, and not because Natasha just revealed knowing another secret he hasn't told her. That shit doesn't even phase him anymore. His eyes move down to the blue button-up she's trying to force him into, his lips pursing slightly. The leather pants she's not supposed to know about are worn to hell and back at this point. Heavy weathering, a hole or two at the back of the heels, more than a few deep scratches that'll become holes if he's not overly careful. Not the kind of thing that would usually be suitable for a night out.

That button-up is new, though. Looks expensive, too. Good quality silk. It'll look more natural on him under a jacket. Less like a significant effort and more like something he got roped into. Which is precisely what's happening.

Bucky sighs deeply, looking back up at her in resignation. "I have some ground rules."

"You're allowed to have approximately one."

He looks over at Steve in frustration. The bastard shakes his head with a cackle, a fresh scoop of Puffs halfway to his mouth. "Ooohoho, no. Nah-uh. There's a captain on deck tonight, but it is not me." He stands up, chewing quickly, a big dumb smile on his stupid face. "I'm being a good boy and following her orders."

Natasha knocks on the spot of hardwood directly in front of Bucky obnoxiously. "Name your singular rule. I still have to do my hair; hurry the hell up."

Her sass reminds him that he has to figure out what the fuck he's going to do with his hair. "I'm not dancing, for starters—"

"Great. None of us will hound you about dancing; you have my word. Go get dressed. We leave in an hour, and you'll be really embarrassed if I have to drag your unconscious body through the tower." Her eyebrows raise expectantly as she stands up, looking between him and the shirt. To add insult to injury, she taps her nails along his head on her way out of the kitchen.

Steve doesn't look over from where he's raiding the fridge for another snack. "For what it's worth, she sounded excited about the invitation."

Bucky's eyes squint suspiciously. "You invited her?"

"No, Nat did," he replies far too casually. "I was just in the room when she made the call."

"See, your fuck up here is that now I know—"

"I have information you can try to weasel out of me? Thanks, Buck, I appreciate that, seeing as I'm entirely inept when it comes to interrogation and spycraft—"

"Only for the most part. Was this your push or Nat's?"

"Are you asking to be a pest, or are you asking because you need to know?"

Bucky grinds his teeth. He can say the latter, and Steve will never know the difference. "I don't need to know, but—"

"Then fuck off." He shuts the fridge door with a gentle swing and a bright smile. "I have to go get dressed. So do you." He flicks at the bun resting against the back of Bucky's head on his way out. These fuckers are always touching him, and they don't pull the Canadian routine about it. "Should do something with your hair. It looks like it has blood on it."

It probably does. His last mission was designated complete all of twenty minutes ago, and he definitely bled through some of it. Bucky can't really tell on his end; he's still coming down from the adrenaline rush. Something Natasha used to her advantage, no doubt.

"You fuck off," he grumbles long after Steve is out of earshot.

—

"I'm completely serious."

"No, you're panickin', ya big baby."

"I mean it."

"I'd like to go ahead and remind you that I was there when you purchased most'a your wardrobe. Both times. I think I'd know if y'didn't."

"I can't wear any of that. It's one thing when it's my space—"

"You're allowed to exist in other places, ya dweeb."

"I didn't say I wasn't allowed. Just that...." Ava trails off, her nerves finally catching up to her. The argument had felt like a funny joke when she poked her head through the doorway to start it. Now it's not feeling so funny anymore. Paige is doing that awful, shitty thing where she makes sense. Leaning against the frame and glancing down at the master bedroom's carpet, Ava feels small. "I don't know. The stuff I wear to conferences is too—prim. Most of it's ballroom shit and wouldn't work, anyways. All of my usual go-to's just... It all feels... stupid."

The energy drink chugging champion that is her best friend props herself up on her elbows where she's laid out on her bed. The headband she's wearing has two miniature alien heads poking up from it that wiggle with the motion. "Well, hey there, Alec. Long time no see, ya son of a—"

"Yeah, yeah," Ava waves her hand dismissively. The reminder does knock some of the pity party out of her, at least. There was a time when she made decisions for herself and herself alone. Those were damn good years, and Ava is trying like hell to get back into the mindset. The one she proudly lived in before she let someone talk her into being ashamed of who she is. "Let my freak flag fly, whatever. I still don't have anything to wear." Nothing that doesn't feel crushingly laughable, anyways.

"What about that lace skirt you've got, the one with the swirly patterns? That one's so cute."

Ava frowns. She's not looking to get squished in hosiery tonight, which would be the only way to save herself in something that short. "For dancing?"

"Mmm. That's, ya know, that ain't a bad point. It ain't exactly built for the breeze." Paige tilts her head to the side, making the aliens go wild. Her face pinches like she's brainstorming. Then her eyes go wide with excitement. "Oh! Wear that—the, the thing!"

"Gonna need more to go on." She snaps her fingers as Paige smacks at her own bedspread.

"The wrap dress!"

"You're out of your mind," Ava laughingly insists. Now that she's caught up to her best friend's train of thought, she's almost startled. "That's—first of all, I think it's technically a sun dress—"

"Who gives a shit? Ya look great in it."

"I look—that's beside the point. It... it's not too...?"

"Too...?"

"Shit, I don't know." She folds her arms over her chest and chews her lip for a few seconds. "What do I wear with it?"

"Nothin' but heels." The smirk on Paige's face is devious.

"You know what else isn't built for the breeze? Me. I'm not looking to flash the Avengers tonight, thanks." The words make her instantly think of Bucky, shamefully enough. He's not even going to be there tonight. She's absolutely sure of it. He's told her how much it takes to convince him to go out these days.

The manic pixie rolls her eyes. "Alright. The dress, the heels, and somethin' stringy."

"How about a jacket?" Ava reasons, already turning to go back to Paige's guest room, the one that's been unofficially hers for years.

"Pick one that's sheer, ya chickenshit," she shouts down the hallway behind her.

"That's a lot of sass coming from the woman who can't look America's Sweetheart in the eye!"

"You'll thank me when you don't wake up here!"

Ava gets hit with the mental reminder that a certain sergeant has been threatening to fly her home for over a week. She hip-bumps her unofficial door closed with a huff.

Bucky's not going to show up tonight.

Even if he was, the man's a serial flirt, and she's his—the primary neurosurgeon on his case. Not-flirting through his appointments has been…. She's been trying to think of it as a bedside manner. A very unprofessional bedside manner. The kind she wouldn't have the balls to admit to out loud.

Natasha didn't mention him directly during the invitation call, only his case. All she said was that the whole team was welcome, including the duct rat, Findley. No mention of other attendants. It would have been brought up if he were going to be there; Ava's sure of that.

Natasha did mention getting Paige home on time, which was suspicious. Tomorrow is the engineer's first mission assigned to the Avengers as support, sure, but they don't seem like the type to need a pre-check. Ava's only seen a handful of SHEILD agents listed in the medical reports from Bucky's missions, and he never mentions any of them directly. She's always gotten the impression that assigned agents are an unknown hand in that machine.

If Steve ends up tagging along, she'll have her suspicions about the Russian's intent with this whole thing. She might have an ally in the fight to push her best friend that she didn't know about.

Maybe she'll go to the tower after Paige is home safe. Ava's brought up the idea of switching to night appointments before, and she doubts Bucky would say no to a quick ten minutes on the roof. He might even stay for a while without having the excuse of leaving her to her work.

She could pick up some late-night bagels to bribe him with. Her favorite shop closes early, but they work til midnight sometimes just for the baking process. Ava does the yearly medical work for the owner and his family without charging him. In return, he lets her sneak in after hours for cream cheese and salmon. With that and a quick stop to her office for a handful of lollipops, she's got herself some super soldier bait.

She might not even stop to change back out of the dress. She'll grab the lab coat, though. Bucky looks more at ease whenever she has it on.

—

He wants to leave already.

It's been eighteen seconds since they coraled him through the front door. He's very proud of himself. He didn't think he'd make it to half that before the urge hit.

Bucky looks around the crowded bar with the sourest face he can muster. It's loud, it's cramped, it's loud, he's already hot enough to know he'll be sweating at some point, and it's too fucking loud. The checkpoint out front is a disaster. He's not real clear on what the standards for a bar security chief are, but that pick-up artist with the handheld, battery-powered metal detector out front doesn't fit his definition of competent. Not by a long shot.

The Avengers haven't rolled out with the full roster tonight. Tony, mercifully, is away with Pepper, Barton fucks off to god knows where, and Rhodey's as much of a workaholic as Bucky is. He tries not to think about where Thor goes. That particular can of worms is pretty full. He's still trying to get used to the fact that they've got a Quinjet that can just go to space. Whenever he—they want.

The ones that did come don't give him any shit when he breaks off to do his walk-about. They all figured out pretty early on that it's a sensitive subject. Bruce doesn't even notice him leave half the time. Steve used to do a piss-poor job of inconspicuously following him back when Bucky was primarily non-verbal. Natasha never mentions it.

The building is two stories. There's a halfway decent camera set-up that he can tap into through the wifi. No windows in the bathrooms. The roof access isn't wired with an alarm. All the emergency exits are, though. The owner's room was locked before Bucky got to it, but the staff areas are open to whoever turns a handle. They've got a round of code inspections coming up at the start of next month. They'll fail at least two of them if they don't unblock that rear door.

Sam silently checks in with an offered fist bump once he's back at the table eight minutes later. Bucky doesn't hesitate to reciprocate it. There's already a half glass of whiskey sitting on the table waiting for him. He doesn't hesitate to get his mitts on that, either.

Wyatt and Hannah show up before Ava and Paige do. It's the first time Bucky's been faced with meeting them since Ava offered that one time. She never pushed it after that. He's been meaning to get around to it. But the idea has been making his teeth buzz too much to go through with it.

Hannah is laser-focused on him from the start. She's just as conscious of it as he is, then. He can tell the moment that the realization hits Wyatt. His eyes widen with a flash of concern, his burly frame curling in on itself as if that'll make six feet of muscle look less threatening. It's almost heartwarming that he's worried about looking threatening to Bucky, of all people. The anxiety on the kid's face gets swallowed up by excitement. Seconds later, another wave of anxiety surfaces. It teeters back and forth as Hannah pushes him up to the table through the crowd.

Bucky watched Atlantis the other night after one of his nightmares took away any chance of falling back to sleep. It saved him from having to wake Steve up for a trip to the supply store. He texted Ava about it once he spotted the sun through the small gap in his blackout curtains; she was thrilled. Seeing the baby-faced brain surgeon nervously approach the table makes him understand why she compares him to Milo, not Dr. Sweet.

Bucky's not looking to be the aggressive silent type anymore. At least not when it comes to the people working their asses off for him. He reaches out with his flesh hand, giving a reassuring half-smile to Wyatt. "Good to finally meet you, Combs."

The grin that stretches across the doctor's face looks wide enough to hurt. A stubby hand reaches out across the table for an enthusiastic shake. "It's an honor to meet you, Sergeant Barnes."

"I'll sign that journal Ava's warned me about if you promise to call me Bucky," he bribes, taking his hand back for another sip of whiskey.

"Y'mean it?" He's already headed for his patch-covered messenger bag with a hopeful look on his face. "I can use whatever makes ya comfortable. I'm not gonna make ya sign—"

"Hand it over." He glances over to where Hannah is sitting down across from Bruce. They trade an amicable nod when she makes direct eye contact again. "It's good to meet you, as well, Schuster."

"Barnes." He hears the sound of a boot being kicked under the table and watches Wyatt glare at the side of her head. She gives Bucky a strained smile. He's got a feeling it's usually strained. "Likewise."

Bucky likes her already.

As Ava warned, it doesn't take long for Wyatt to start asking about maps. He's bombarded with questions the moment he hands the journal back, with a fresh, chicken-scratch signature on one of its pages. The kid has a lot of trouble picking one at a time, and Bucky's trying not to shorten his answers out of habit.

He keeps a mental list of the information Wyatt's most interested in. A year ago, he would have done it out of ingrained habit. Tonight it's a deliberate choice. Bucky can get his hands on records the Combs family doesn't know about. The kind they can't make a legal request for because there's no official log of it.

Ava and Paige are the last to arrive. He's too busy trying to give Wyatt more stories when they walk through the door to spot them. Steve is the first to notice their entrance, pausing mid-sentence about a mission the Howlies went on that Bucky barely remembers. Looking away from Wyatt's face, he understands why his best friend froze up.

Good fucking god almighty. She's trying to kill him.

The doctor that haunts Bucky's dreams is walking through the crowded bar in an outfit that should be triggering the tactical analysis in his head. The analysis that, lately, only ends when his mind catches up to the fact that he shouldn't be thinking about being balls-deep in her while trying to make eye contact. It's probably—definitely inappropriate. But something about the thin, light blue fabric of her dress is shorting him the fuck out.

It's low-cut, which is the first strike. The second is the way that split up her right leg only stops when it reaches the top of her thigh. The third—the one that really knocks him flat on his ass—is the way the whole thing is pulled in to show off her hips. The ones he'd have a lot of trouble letting go of if she ever let him put his hands on her to begin with.

He roughly swallows around nothing but air. His eyes shoot up to Ava's face, desperate to stave off his bastard mind latching onto her outfit. The last thing he needs in his head right now is a full-scale plan for laying her out on the table to unwrap that thing like a present. She's smiling at him, genuine surprise shaping most of her expression. God willing, it's about his presence here, not where his eyes were a second ago.

"They let you out of the house now?" she sasses him over the roar of the bar. Her hand folds into a fist and props high on her hip as she stops at the table's edge, her other arm linked with her best friend's.

Bucky is so fucking hopeless for her. "Yes, ma'am. But only if I get enough green stickers that week."

"In that case, thanks for behaving. I didn't think you'd be here tonight." That smile of hers is still bright as the sun. Still aimed at him. Christ, he's never been happier about Natasha ruining his life. "I'm pleasantly surprised around you, for once."

Gimmie half a chance, and I can show you every kind of pleasant surprise there is.

If this were 1943, he'd still have the balls to say it to her. It'd be suicide to say it around his idiot friends, but he was a dumbass who wouldn't have hesitated back then. Not with someone like her.

It's probably a good thing it's not still 1943. "If I make all the surprises annoy you, you'll tell me to stop. I have to keep you on your toes, or you'll get bored."

One of her eyebrows raises at him, entirely unimpressed. It makes him want to hold her hand. "You do understand how cool my job is, right? You're also a literal cyborg I get to poke at whenever I feel like telling you it's medically necessary. What part of that am I supposed to get bored with, sergeant?"

Bucky folds with a shy chuckle, bringing up his glass of whiskey to hide his mouth behind. "You get used to the shiny parts."

"I'm sure he'll let you add more when he busts his ass again," Sam jokes from off to Ava's left. He's staring at Bucky with an overly satisfied grin. It makes him glare over his whiskey while Ava and Paige sit down.

"Sorry we're late," Paige says, her eyes moving to Steve and her cheeks turning slightly pink. "Gettin' through Bronx traffic is always fun."

"Ordered Ryder's usual," Hannah mentions, pointing to a tall glass of ale the waiter dropped off while he wasn't looking. "Didn't know what you were in the mood for."

"Somethin' fizzy." She rhythmically taps her mismatched nails on the table, humming to herself while she glances over the drink menu. "Or maybe somethin' icey."

"I went the margarita route if you wanna go halfsies tonight," Wyatt offers, nudging his frosted glass over to her. Paige perks up and leans over for a sip.

He looks over at Steve, who's watching the interaction with the sappiest smile. It nearly makes his eyes roll. Natasha and Sam sniffed out the captain's big crush a long time ago, but it's the first time Bucky's seeing it for himself.

Neither one of them has learned a goddamn thing. Not in a hundred years.

A much more gentle nail taps right in front of his arm, dragging his eyes back to Ava while she gets herself seated. "What made you decide to come?"

She would hit him with a question that blunt right off the bat. He tries not to notice Sam's silent laughter next to her.

"Heard the egg heads were making an appearance," he decides to be mostly honest with.

The pleased smile on her face takes on a softer edge. She really hadn't been expecting him to show. It makes him all the more glad that he listened to Natasha. "We convinced you?"

You did. "You're surprised? I'm not about to put in the effort for these assholes."

"He only does that for our birthdays," Sam tells her, leaning into her space slyly.

Bucky holds out his hands, mildly insulted. "And bank holidays."

Ava turns her head to offer her hand to Sam with a warm giggle. She looks so fucking good in the low bar light. With her neck muscles stretched like that, Bucky wants to kiss under her jaw just to see her reaction. "I've been hoping we'd meet again under better circumstances. Ava Ryder."

Sam barks a laugh, wrapping his hand around hers. "I'd say watchin' you hand Steve his own ass was great circumstance."

"Well thanks," Steve interjects, flipping him off before going back to drawing on a napkin with Paige.

The comment, and the gesture, gets ignored entirely. "Sam Wilson, but you can call me your favorite Avenger."

Bucky almost rolls his eyes again. Watching Ava's giggles get worse stops the urge.

—

She was wrong.

He came out tonight. To a bar. To spend time with them.

Ava takes another drink of her ale, watching the Winter Soldier over the rim of her glass. Wearing a dress that could unwind from her with a few strategic yanks on a couple pieces of string. And heels that could have paid a month of her first apartment's rent. In a New York bar.

If her parents could see her now, they'd croak.

Bucky is so goddamn attractive in his dark leather jacket that it's un-fucking-real. The bastard looks softer with his hair down like that, and there's chest hair peaking out from that button-up he's left open to a torturous degree. It keeps distracting her every time he turns to say something to Steve. His hand is the only shiny part on display at the moment.

The glory tales from Steve don't do the heartstopping aura justice. The fact that Bucky has had the nerve to lie—to her face no less—and say they're blown out of proportion makes her seethe sitting across from him now. No wonder he was prolific; how the hell could he not be with a face like that and the attitude to back it. Now that he's not in a professional headspace, the latter is coming out in spades. The super serum body is a mouthwatering, climbable bonus.

This is the man that keeps threatening to fly her home.

Ava takes a longer drink.

She hasn't been this in over her head since college. The familiar knee-jerk reaction of bullying him is the only thing that doesn't feel petrifying. Bucky is the last person that would make her feel unsafe, but good god, the man is intimidating. Trying to find something to say to him that isn't a joke is a lot harder than usual, with him looking that good.

Paige tuned out the moment Steve gave her meticulously outlined boxes to doodle in on an unfolded napkin. He's been adding detailed frames to them ever since while the two trade work stories. It makes Ava jealous. Her best friend might be oblivious, but at least she's not the one tongue-tied tonight.

Knocking her knees together under the table, Ava leans forward and tries another round of facing down the sergeant. "Worth the trip so far?"

Way to go, moron. Pressure him, why don't you? Of course he's having a good time; he wouldn't still be sitting here if he—

Bucky smiles at her, calming her nerves without even trying. "Every second." He looks down at the glass in her hand, then back up at her face. "You havin' fun, doc?"

She misses hearing him call her doll. It's starting to feel like maybe it was an accident the handful of times it happened. He hasn't done it in days. "Unlike you, I enjoy human interaction. Plus, the hippie thing makes me partial to loud noises." And sweat. And weed to make the loud noises sound better. And men with long hair and deep voices that would sound—

"I don't mind human interaction," he argues, folding his arms on the table and leaning over with her. "I'm just picky about the people I interact with."

"Awww," Paige coos at her side. "And we made the cut? I'm honored."

"You should be," Steve confirms with a smirk, his eyes never leaving the napkin under his hand. "He's not exaggerating."

"That's unusual for him," Ava jumps on Bucky with. She regrets it right up until he snorts and briefly covers his mouth with his hand. It's a real fuck up on his end; she takes it as an all-clear to do it to him again at her leisure. "The only people I've met with bigger heads are cardiologists."

"That's the second time you've brought them up," Bucky notes. She honestly can't remember the first, but it sounds accurate. They're fun to mock.

"Nice deflection, superstar." His eyes widen a fraction at her teasing, boosting her confidence. "Have you had the displeasure of meeting one? I'm allowed to be mean to them as a neurologist, by the way. Secret doctor pecking order and whatnot."

"If I have, I probably don't want to remember," he deadpans. Steve gives him a dirty look, but it makes Ava snort. The smug look Bucky gives her in return makes her stomach flip. "I wanna hear more about this secret doctor pecking order. How far up that chain are you?"

"I don't know, man. How far up is your brain?"

Bucky's eyes shut in pain, and he smiles. "It's so hard to be proud of your ego when your awful puns surround it."

"You'll manage," she assures in a supportive tone.

A low whistle drags Ava's eyes to one end of the table, where Natasha is getting up. "I'm going dancing. It's up to you losers who's coming."

A majority of the table, including most of Ava's team, moves to follow. She doesn't. Bruce and Hannah don't, continuing their discussion on a medical journal he read that morning. Bucky doesn't leave either.

He watches Ava as Paige leans over to kiss the top of her head. She's pretty sure he watches her all through their short yes, I'll watch your bag check-in. He's still watching her when she looks back at him, slowly circling his glass to make the whiskey inside it swirl.

"Not a fan of dancing?" he finally asks.

"I like dancing," Ava confirms. "I just like picking on you more." The words feel outrageously bold for how innocuous they are. It's the truth, but she feels a little stupid for saying it out loud. Whatever, if it means spending the night out with him, that's fine—

Bucky puts down his glass, a determined set to his posture. "Dance with me."

Her jaw almost drops. She doesn't catch her nervous burst of laughter in time to stop it. "I—what? You? Bucky Barnes, mister touch me and die himself wants to—"

"I let you touch me all the time." The tone he uses for the blatant—

Christ, is she ever in over her head.

She ignores his flirting like a coward, racing to hide behind professionalism as fast as her mouth can get her there. "The funny thing about that is I have your willing participation—"

"You've got my willing participation for this, too." He sounds like he means it, which is the worst part. It makes it impossible to bring herself to tell him no.

She hesitates one last time, primarily out of fear of embarrassing herself. "You're sure you want to dance?"

"With you?" Bucky stands up, allowing her to see the well-worn leather sitting low enough on his hips to turn her into a bigger wreck. "Yeah, doll. I'm sure."

Hannah leans over to slide the bag Paige left behind across the table, closer to her. She doesn't bother to stop talking. Bruce is smiling from ear to ear, stealing glances at her and Bucky. He's doing a terrible job of hiding it.

Standing up on nervous feet, Ava watches Bucky circle the table. He offers up his flesh hand when he approaches her, his signature Brooklyn smirk on his face. "Ready?"

Fuck no. She slides her hand into his, breathing deeply when he squeezes her fingers. "I really hope someone's given you the memo on modern dancing because I have no idea what the hell you people did in the 30s."

"I'm sure you'll help me figure it out." He's sounding more confident with every word, and it's scaring the absolute shit out of her.

It's innocent at the start. Bucky's a perfect gentleman leading her through the crowd. He spins slowly to face her when he finds them a wide enough space, pulling her in close. The pressure of his fingers is barely there when his metallic hand moves to her lower back. Ava brings both her hands up to his chest when he lets go of one of them.

"You'll tell me if you're uncomfortable, right?" she checks again, stretching up as close to him as she can. There's no way he has trouble hearing her over the music, but she doesn't remember that until she's all but hanging off him. It makes her cheeks feel warm.

His flesh hand moves over her hip, resting on it gently. Bucky leans down and turns his head in, getting right up to her ear. He's already starting to guide the direction of her half-hearted movements. "I will. You gonna do the same?"

"I will," she promises. Mirroring his words is the only thing her brain can come up with, given how unfairly good he smells. It's obliterating every train of thought she has.

It is… terrifyingly easy to let herself go in his arms. The movement of her hips gets more involved, following the tempo of the song and the direction of his hand. Hers go up to his shoulders, bringing him in closer a fraction at a time. By the time the song changes, she gives up and lets them wrap around the back of his neck.

Somewhere around the third song, when the bar's DJ is trying to ramp up into a faster energy, she ends up turned away from him. Ava isn't sure how it happened. It could have been his doing; she's not paying all that much attention. All she knows is he's pressed up against her back now, the hand on her hip moving towards her leg incrementally. Her head tilts off to the side as her eyes close, letting the Winter Soldier guide her.

His fingers stop their advance once they reach the top of the gap in her dress, the one that splits up her thigh. She gives him all of thirty seconds to figure out if he's brave enough to go further on his own. Then the ego boost from having Bucky—of all fucking people—trying to make a move on her wins out over her fear.

Ava lays her fingers on top of the hand hesitating on her leg, urging it down.

The first touch of his skin on hers makes them both suck in a breath. She can feel the tension in him against her back. He gets over his nerves faster after that. His hand glides down the length of her thigh, and his fingers curl under the fabric when it comes back up. Not all that far, but the intent is there.

In escalating boldness, she reaches for his metal hand, dragging it to rest at the top of her ribs. His nose comes brushing across her temple at that point, giving her an idea of how close he's keeping himself around her with her eyes closed. One of her hands goes up into his hair, and that's when things really go off the fucking rails.

His thumb moves in a wide arc, dragging across the underside of one of her breasts. Her fingers curl around his hair, and her head rolls in toward him. If she tilts it up, she could brush her nose against his; that's how far into her space he is. And then the hand on her thigh moves in.

The pounding music swallows up the slight sound it pulls from her, but she's willing to bet Bucky heard it. She leans back against him, making him freeze up momentarily. He's already moving again before her mind finally pieces together the why.

He's hard, Ava realizes.

With one hand under her tits and the other getting itself further between her thighs. With her ass pressed back against him. With his towering frame curled all the way around her.

Sergeant James Barnes is hard as a rock. For her.

—

How the hell he hasn't gotten his good arm ripped off yet, Bucky's not quite sure. It feels impossible that she's just... letting him do this.

Spinning her around really fucked him over. He had been behaving pretty well up until then. He'd even managed to hold off on putting his hand as far down her back as that fucking dress allows for. But then he'd been dumb enough to turn her, and her head had relaxed off to the side, and god, it took every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss the length of her neck.

Now she's leaning back against him, fully aware of how wound up he is, and he can't figure out where to stop. She isn't slowing down any part of his stumbling. There's no new tension in her now that she's in the know about the current state of his cock. Her hips are still fucking moving, and now they're moving against him.

She's going to kill him tonight, probably right out here on this dancefloor. He just hasn't figured out if it's going to be murder or manslaughter.

He lets his left hand get bolder, trying to test the waters one last time before he lets his right one go any further. He moves it up, his thumb brushing over her nipple. He hears her pull in a shaking breath while it skims back down the side. She doesn't stop him, making him want to bite at her neck all over again.

With no signs of her looking for an out, and not one shred of critical thinking or self-control left in his head, Bucky slides his hand further up the inside of her thigh. Her fingers tighten in his hair, nearly pulling on it at this point. All he has to do is hike up his thumb, and he'll get more information than he's probably ready to have. She could tell him to drop to his knees right here; he's mildly certain he'd do it.

That dress is so goddamn thin. There's no weight to it at all. He can't spot the outline of anything, but he knows from how high her tits are sitting that she's got a bra on, at least. Another inch or two up with his thumb, and he'll be able to tell for himself if she came out tonight with underwear on. He's not entirely out of the goddamn loop; he knows skipping it is a much more common practice nowadays.

Bucky's almost hoping his favorite hippie is the type. He's spent a lot of time fantasizing about ways to get her out of them. That doesn't mean he's not going to fucking lose it if his fingers don't find a strip of fabric between her legs.

The flash of a new fantasy hits him, one of Ava letting him pin her to the alley wall out back with his head between her legs. If he takes her around the corner, he won't have to stop when the kitchen staff come out for a smoke break. If she does have underwear on, he can leave it in her mouth to keep her quiet. Or reach up to make her bite down on his fingers. With the serum and her height, it'd work like a dream.

The curiosity becomes a burning need, driving his hand all the way up. When he first touches her, it's not with his thumb, and it's not a gentle brush. He pushes his middle and index finger along the length of her lips, coming into contact with lace that's wet.

"Fuck." The word is choked when it tumbles out of him. He's coated his hand to the thought of her so many times over by now. And here she is, pushing herself up against him and just as worked up about it.

Her hand grips his arm tight enough to bruise in reaction. She doesn't push him away. God fucking help him, she doesn't stop moving either. Still, there's something about her body language that's not sitting right in his gut. She's not pushing him away. But she's not pulling him along anymore.

That's not always a stop sign. Bucky knows that. Some people like leaving the significant steps in the hands of their chosen partner. She's silently urged him to keep going a few times already. Assuming she wants that to continue isn't out of the question. But he's not the kind of man who's comfortable with that leap. Not anymore.

He moves his hand down an inch, leaving it between her legs. Not on top of the lace he wants to bite at. If she's interested, she'll put it back. Simple as that.

Bucky waits, holding her close with his metal arm around her ribs and his nose pressed into her hair while they dance. She's hesitating now, which has him convinced he made the right call. He's not self-wallowing enough to take it as a rejection. It's not like he'd been planning for this to go anywhere near as far as it did to begin with.

Her hand pulls at his hair in a way that feels conflicted. She tilts her head up, her eyes finally opening to look at him. Yeah, there it is. Right there in her eyes. It's finally catching up to her.

"I..." she tries, her mouth opening and closing a few times. "We can...."

"We can keep going," he finishes for her, not backing off from his hold on her. "We absolutely can. Or we can head to the bar and watch them make something with a cherry on it. I'm more than comfortable with both."

He watches her chew over the offered out, her eyebrows pulling in. He doesn't push her; he's not looking to make the call for her. If she wants him to get her off right here on this dancefloor, he's pretty damn sure he'd be willing at this point, even with the threat of criminal charges. He's also ready to let go and spend the rest of the night doing something that doesn't make her look torn. Even if it means ending it early.

"We should probably go to the bar." Probably. She doesn't sound happy about it, meaning it's fueled by her professionalism. He understands why she has the line. He respects the shit out of it.

"We probably should," he agrees. He doesn't move his hands. She hasn't moved hers.

Her eyes move down to his mouth, and fuck does that do a number on his impulse control. He hopes she doesn't feel how it makes his cock jump. Ava Ryder wants to kiss him. It feels odd to celebrate that, considering where his fingers were a minute ago, but fuck. The girl of his dreams wants to kiss him.

"Let's go to the bar." The frustration in her voice almost makes him laugh. It definitely makes him smile as he turns his metal hand over to link with hers.

"You drink anything other than ale, doll?" He lets his fingers brush over the skin of her thigh reassuringly as he pulls it back out from under her dress. She looks so mad at the world, her face scrunching under her glasses. He wants to kiss her more than he's ever wanted anything in his life.

Ava takes a deep breath that she lets out with a huff. It looks like it cools off some of the annoyance. "My answer depends on how much of a narc you are, g-man."

He puts his arm around her shoulder, dragging her in close to his side. His friends will hand him his ass over this for a month, but he's not about to let her feel rejected. He's trying to respect a boundary, not ward her off. "Lucky for you, this g-man has medical strains growing in his room at the tower."

"There's no fucking way. You're telling me the Winter Soldier grows weed?"

"Are you tellin' me you buy yours? Chump."

She snorts hard enough to feel the need to cover her mouth. It makes Bucky feel damn good being able to make her laugh again that fast. "I can't believe I'm being ridiculed about the source of my pot by a senior citizen."

He holds back on reminding her that she was about to let a senior citizen stick his hand down her panties. "Has it convinced you to give up the inaccurate jokes about my job?"

"Inaccurate, he says! Don't you have a literal badge you can shove in people's faces?" Ava doesn't lean against the bar when they reach it. She stays pressed up against him while he leans on it, distracting the hell out of him. He looks down the line of people, searching for a bartender to give himself a second to refocus. "I think that's a pretty clear-cut definition of a fed."

"I think you're trying to find out if I've got a pair of cuffs handy." This is the other problem presented with her letting him go that far; it burned through what little filter he has. Now that he knows she's interested and not just humoring him, he's fucked. Hearing his own words still makes him wish he'd shut his damn mouth.

He hears her laugh in surprise again, but he's not brave enough to look at her yet. There's a momentary lull filled with the sounds of rowdy New Yorkers kicking off their weekend. Then he feels her head lean against his arm. "Something tells me you could improvise without them."

It's manslaughter. She's trying for manslaughter. By god, she's going to accomplish it if she says some shit like that again.

"I can improvise whenever you need me to." He finally looks back at her, catching her ogling his chest. Again. Her cheeks are a few shades darker. It's good to know he's not the only one reeling. "You should answer my question first, though. Unless you're looking to put in the order."

Her eyes finally flick up to his, and her smile turns shy before she looks away. "Surprise me. I burn more than drown. I'm sure you can think of a fun option to entertain me with."

Bucky should have guessed she'd give him a run for every cent he earned back when he still had his mojo. It feels like he's trying not to trip over himself while she's still getting warmed up. "One entertainment, comin' right up."

She gives him a look, doing a lousy job of holding back her amusement. "You don't get to complain about my puns if you're going to tell dad jokes like that."

"You're just jealous that mine are better." He finally flags down a bartender over her shoulder, throwing out an order for two Mai Tais. The only other cocktail he can think of off the top of his head is a Sex on the Beach, and he sure as shit doesn't have the balls to order that in front of her at the moment. A Moscow Mule is not a cocktail in his eyes. It's also not the kind of inappropriate he's looking for.

Ava's finger hooks into his front pocket, threatening to ruin every effort he's made toward getting his cock to calm the fuck down. "Some of your jokes are pretty great; I'll give you that. The dry ones make my day."

It feels backwards—and mildly alarming—to hesitate to brush her hair behind her ear for a moment. A few minutes ago, he'd been ready to go down on her in front of a room full of people. Now he's trying to find the nerve to touch her at all. Doing so gets easier when her eyes slip closed at the feeling of his fingertip moving down the side of her head.

"Seeing you makes my day," he murmurs, not caring about letting his mouth run. It feels less intimidating in the wake of her compliment. God knows it's going to sit in his head. Probably forever. The fact that she probably can't hear it over the music certainly doesn't hurt.

Her eyes open back up slowly, with her smile taking on a wicked edge. "You feel like showing me your stash, old man?"

—

They haven't talked about it.

It's been less than an hour since they stopped dancing. In under sixty minutes, Bucky managed to get them a drink and all the way through Manhattan to the Avengers Tower. On a Friday, no less.

No wonder they threaten to revoke his license. Ava thought she was a speed freak behind the wheel. Now that she's got firsthand experience as his rear passenger, Bucky being allowed to have a motorcycle makes her question SHIELD more than ever.

He let her go up to the roof without him. He made it sound like he was doing her a favor by not making her go out of her way just to raid his stash with him. She's guessing it's got more to do with not being down for a surprise tour of his space. It's not as if she's going to fault him for it.

The idea that she's actually going to let him fly her home after this is already hitting her nerves. If that's throwing her off, she has no clue where she's going to find the will to bring up the subject of—this. Tonight. What happened.

How far she was about to let it go.

He smells too good. She's decided to blame it on that, at least in her head. Mainly to make herself feel better about crossing that many ethical boundaries. It's easier than accepting that she was about to give a patient the go-ahead to finger her in the middle of a bar. Without so much as a word about it beforehand.

Ava pushes her hands under her glasses to hold her face, resisting the urge to scrub at it. She doesn't want to fuck up her makeup. Not while she still has to face Bucky. How stupid—and then she doubled down—god, now they're here, and he's getting weed—

"I was starting to think I'd never get you up here, doll."

The way his voice quells her anxious mind without any effort at all ties her stomach in a different kind of knot. She lowers her hands into her lap, giving him a half-smile. "I'd like to remind you that I'm the one who offered initially. And again tonight."

Bucky waves his free hand dismissively, his flesh one cradling a bag. "Semantics." He dumps it onto the wicker table she picked out herself. She hears glass hit metal, the sound muffled by the black cloth of the bag. "I didn't know if you were a bowl or a joint kinda gal. Figured I'd come prepared since I'm dealing with a degenerate commie."

"Steve was right about your manners," Ava insists, reaching out to open it with greedy fingers. She kicks her heels off under the table, getting distracted by the sight of him shaking his leather jacket off his shoulders. The man's tall enough to have to duck under the makeshift canopy built to account for Wyatt's height. "Tell me how many words you know for pot while I judge your choices."

"Are you forgetting they took me out for walks every few years?" Bucky walks around to her side and puts his jacket over her shoulders, surprising her. She looks up at him with a shy smile, momentarily forgetting the promise of weed picked out by a super soldier. He's such a gentleman that it's frankly obnoxious. One of his eyebrows raises at her. "Those walks included the 60s, young lady. I probably know more than you do."

"What do you remember about the 60s?" she goads as he sits down next to her.

"Plenty." Bucky props his arm up on the back of the couch, leaning into her space. She's grateful for it. Even with his jacket around her, it's freezing up here. The added warmth isn't the only reason she's grateful for it. "Personally, though, I think you would have had a better time in the 70s." He tilts his head back and forth a few times. "At least the parts of it I fucked around in."

The mental image of the Winter Soldier undercover in some sleazy disco hits her like a ton of bricks. It feels wildly inappropriate, even with him talking about it that openly. All the fantasies she has of Bucky do. Especially the ones she uses to get herself off lately.

"I'm going to take your word for it," she murmurs. There's so much potential there to poke at him. He's offering up the bait on his end. Hell, there's still the list of weed names to dig for. But she can't get her mind to latch onto any of it with him this close.

He nudges his chin in the direction of her hands, which are still hovering in his little heap of paraphernalia. "You should start us up so I can get you home at a reasonable hour. I don't know how fast you like to—smoke."

It's astounding how good he is at riding the line between being a gentleman and a terror.

Ava looks back down at her hands with a smile. "That depends on the accuracy of your warning about this couch-locking me. Technically I'm off tomorrow, so I'm not about to say no."

"Do you smoke medicinal strains?"

"On occasion. I started for anxiety, oddly enough. Then I noticed it helped with my mood overall." She shrugs, setting aside his box of hemp papers. There's a heavy-looking grinder and two different pipes further in. One of them's a goddamn steamroller. He sticks with quality from what she can see so far. "I feel like there's a bong that was held back from this collection."

"There's a lot that was held back. I'm not gonna parade all my ill-gotten goods through the tower." His pauses while she gets the last of it emptied out." You gonna show me how it's done or put me to the test?"

"Definitely the latter." She turns her head to smile at him innocently, pushing her glasses up her nose. It makes his lips twitch. "I don't see anything to assist rolling. Does that mean you're confident enough to show me your handiwork?"

Bucky scoffs, his expression becoming entirely unimpressed. He almost looks offended, leaning over to grab the papers and the grinder. "You're telling me you people need tools these days? After all the work I put into teaching Captain America how to do it properly?"

Ava's brows shoot up in shock. "You're fucking kidding. I figured the weed was a new development—"

"Nah, I've been smoking since my first job." He's not watching his hands much as he lays out the foundation of his work. He's primarily watching her. "Worked for a guy that owed a corner store. He had family that ran a not-so-secret farm." He turns the grinder lid enough to loosen it, then flicks it to spin it the rest of the way off with a cocky grin. "I was an outstanding employee. So was Steve once I got him hired."

"America's Sweetest Stoners," Ava coos, making him chuckle. He's not stingy about what he's rolling for them. It makes her wonder how many plants he's got set up. "Do the two of you still smoke together?"

"He doesn't bother much. Takes a lot to build up any kind of buzz with our systems, so he looks at it the same way he does drinking at this point. He still shows up whenever Banner drops off some new hybrid monstrosity for me to try." Bucky glances over at her quickly, his fingers never stopping their work. "This is from one of the normal plants, don't worry. I won't start you off that far in the deep end."

Ava shrugs. Banner's main lab is here in the tower, so there's no chance the process isn't documented. JARVIS wouldn't let her use anything that could do her actual harm. "You can if you want, but you're responsible for explaining to Tony why I'm passed out on his roof."

He gives her the most insulted look. "I wouldn't leave you up on the roof. I'd be enough of a gentleman to carry you inside."

He's ruining her life. There's no way she's going to be able to walk away from tonight without being completely wrapped around his finger. It makes her smile at him like a hopeless fucking moron. "I believe you."

Bucky brings the most well-balanced joint she's ever seen up to his mouth, licking it closed in one smooth stroke. His eyes never leave hers. It makes her swallow. The fucker smirks at her and twirls the joint between his fingers, holding it out for her inspection.

"Well?" he prompts, watching her intently as she plucks it from his hand. He's preening. Waiting for his praise.

Goddamn him, she's going to have to give it to him. The joint is so perfectly rolled it's mesmerizing. Even distribution, not pulled overly tight, and meticulously sealed. She can't remember the last time she managed to do a job half that good. Bowls have always been her go-to. It's clear that this is his.

Ava giggles at the absurdity of it all. It feels surreal to be a step away from lighting up with a cyborg PoW she first read about in primary school. "You're such a dork. Shut up and hand over the lighter before your head explodes from being over-inflated."

"Now I know I did a damn good job by today's standards." For the second time that night, she gets the overwhelming urge to kiss Bucky as he reaches for the lighter. She props the joint between her lips to distract herself and lets him light it for her when he silently offers. The flame does stunning things to the color of his eyes in the dark. "You only tell me to shut up when you're really impressed with me."

She doesn't miss that he waited until she started inhaling to make the point. It makes her roll her eyes in exasperation. Ava can tell from the first drag that his shit is going to hit harder than her usual. She turns her head to blow it away from his face, handing back the joint. He tucks it between his fingers and brings it up to his mouth in one smooth motion.

"Now look who's outright lying. I tell you to shut up for various reasons." The muscles in his neck look unfairly good when he turns to exhale. It makes her want to run her tongue up his throat. She looks back up at his face. Everything below his chin is hazardous to her health at the moment. "I don't remember any of them being because I was impressed until now."

His eyes flick back to hers, then down to her mouth as he smiles. His hand was up her dress. It was between her legs only an hour ago. And yet watching him stare at her mouth still feels obscene. "You've got a real funny way of stroking my ego, doll."

"I get the feeling you enjoy it," Ava counters, snatching the joint from his fingers. "I wouldn't do it otherwise. You're always welcome to suggest an alternative."

"No, thanks. I'm a pretty big fan of what you do to me."

Damn. Him.

Yes, the question was a check-in. Yes, she was trying to get a read on how far he wants this to go. Then he had to go and double down without hesitation. She knows by now what door he's trying to invite her through.

Ava is so not brave enough for this conversation. It's not—it's complicated. She really shouldn't be working on his case if they're going to go down this road, at least not as his primary surgeon. She'll have to pass it on to Hannah and have a few very embarrassing conversations with a handful of people. Ones that involve fessing up to wanting to fuck Bucky Barnes.

She's not saying no. But she's not brave enough to say yes. At least not tonight, up here on the roof.

Ava leans back against the couch, feeling his arm curl in around her shoulders. "Good. Let me know if that changes."

—

u dont get to yell at me for the edging, i warned u that im gonna leave an * on smut chapters. anything less than Full Fuckin aint gettin the badge 😤 i have a Standard to uphold in this house of sin

(tho if anyone feels there shoulda been a warning tag for smthing you can always lemme know bb 💞)

also ill never be able to properly articulate how much i love writing cranky old fart bucko. heartstopper is stupid fun, feral trauma man keeps me on my toes, but stick-shaking geezer mode??? mr. “kids these days with their MEMES” himself??? beautiful. fantastic. superb. his final form, truly 🤌 i yearn to write more of it

anyways there are writers on the internet that can make their slow burn wholesome. in all my years on this space rock of ours, ive never been one of them

even if i do write the longfic of the sunshine dweebs steve and paige, that probably wont be all that wholesome of a slow burn either ajdhdskjfdjsjf. they ARE my tooth rotting fluff ship tho. mmm okay so maybe paige is a tragedy in disguise but its ME so thats expected 😌 the babes that like their romance extra sappy and cutesy take a lotta shit and deserve a Safe Space and steve rogers fits that bill, imho

bucky is for the babes that like to verbally get their hair pulled before hearing ily 🥰

the good news is, i get a few more chapters in this fic to torture you with before i let bucko and ava do the Big Sin (not murder, the other one. no, not hand holding, the other other one) 😌💖💞

also PieAnnamay's comment reminded me that i never linked my fav buckaroo fic, safe with me!!! for anyone else that hasnt stumbled upon bitsandbobsandstuff, i cant recommend them enough. i HIGHLY encourage you to go read through all their works while you’re waiting for updates on this, the bucky and steve fics are 😫🤌 perfection (i promise when i finally have a day to really do tumblr stuff, ill make a list of my fav fics/writers in my pinned post. i promise i will try to get to it Soon, i still havent even caught up on chapter posts there asldhfsadf)

❤️ https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798047/chapters/31721565

#chapter update #bro why are these such a pain in the ass to make #no for real how the FUCK did the formatting of this website get worse while i was away #like H O W #not to mention the fact that i STILL have to go grab raw html from ao3 just to get this shit to copy correctly #its been over a decade #90% of the user base of this website is fandom with active writers #w h y is that st i l l a thiNG

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ajdrawshq · 2 years ago

Note

3, 9, 23 :D

u know u did smth right when i have to re-look up how to do readmores on mobile for an ask cksbxjsbn

3 - 1-3 games you've played in the past 12 months that you really enjoyed

Omori, Radiant Historia, and Octopath Traveler (in that order)!! and probably several more that im currently forgetting bc the last few months felt like years. i saw Omori on game pass n since i remembered seeing the occasional post abt it i decided to try it out and man!!!! good fucking game!!!!! i dont talk abt it often bc theres very little i can say abt it that hasnt already been said, but it means a lot to me - both the games messages and the world n characters. i even got some new mutuals out of it :3 then Radiant Historia.. i could say a million things abt this game and i Have (most of which is still in my drafts) but god i wish more ppl knew abt this thing. it has its flaws for sure but it does some stuff ive never seen in other games, or not quite the way they do it. n im super attached to the characters <3 probably one of my favorite time travel games by far. and then!!! Octopath Traveler!!!! my most recent beloved.. i did Not think id like it as much as i do but now im very not normal abt it. its such a gorgeous game both in story and the general Vibe of it all its just so <3

9 - A game you played completely blind with no prior knowledge of and enjoyed/loved

definitely octopath. i didnt know Anything going into this game other than that someone recommended it to me bc i also like radiant historia so there had to be some kinda similarity there. going into it, i wasnt sure how following 8 seperate characters and 8 seperate storylines would work nor did i think the endgame would tie them all togther that well, if at all. starting up the game wasnt the most interesting, like when ur going around collecting all 8 characters for the first time and trying to keep up with em all, BUT!! its the kinda game that gets good if u put the time and effort into it and before long i already had 100 hours in. after a while i got really attached to the main team id been using and the other 4 were just as interesting, even the ones i didnt expect to like much?? i adore all the different dynamics within this funny lil ragtag found family so much and all their individual stories.. and everything else is incredible too!! the music is SO fucking good its literally all live orchestrations (and all the musicians are credited too!!) and the boss themes and town themes and route themes are all gorgeous. the graphics are fucking ridiculous, like this game has the best water graphics ive ever seen and that is not an exaggeration in the slightest, and the snow is so so pretty, and the blur effects.. mwah. the overworld pixel art is cute and the enemy/boss pixel art is suprisingly beautiful and detailed. the level design for dungeon-esque areas made treasure hunting fun and i like having to search for hidden pathways in a game built in such a different way than im used to (tho i still have yet to find a way to certain treasure chests >:/). and the gameplay - ive never seen an rpg with set characters that is as flexible as this. u can literally build any character any way and it will be perfectly usable and that is so awesome to me. like theres definitely some optimized builds, but if u wanna make the heavy hitting physical tank guy into a magic dps machine there is nothing stopping u. and he Will kick ass. the gameplay is straight up made for u to do whatever u want with it. the whole world is entirely at ur fingertips. anyway very cute game highly recommend it <3

also worth mentioning are omori, 999, and kh3, but only to some extent bc i technically knew at least Some stuff beforehand for each game but not enough to like. Know. yknow

23 - A "wow" moment of awe

ohhh ive been wanting to talk abt this for a while now thank u for enabling me. in octopath traveler, a Big moment for me was entering the .. spoilery true ending area. ive played a lot of games by now. there are very, very few that have 1. made me genuinely worried about a side character ive met 3 times total n had little more than neutral feelings about and 2. made me feel Actual Dread upon entering an area. the vibe is incredible. first going to a place thats talked about only in tales of a recent tragedy, where there is almost no sound, no life, nothing but burnt, abandoned remains, a save point, and an entrance. and when you actually go inside.. good god. the music is haunting. just the very place is haunting - quite literally!! and the massive lore drops along the way,, man. Man. theres a fuck ton of stuff they just drop on you all at once (some ppl dont like the massive infodump style and im usually the same but i was so fucked up by it i actually absorbed it all lmao), but One Specific Reveal alone was its own wow moment and i havent fully recovered from it. and then the final fucking boss(es)???? hello?????? and the fact that within the eye you can even see (spoiler)........ oughhh. and thats not even mentioning the leadup to it all - the hints are somewhat obvious as you complete each characters ending, but they dont really tie together until you find the diaries. some are more subtle, like the previously mentioned reveal that continues to fuck me up whenever i think about it and i have yet to recover from the whole thing. yes the true endgame is ridiculous and hard as shit and everyone hates doing it. yes its one of the most awe striking moments ive ever felt in a game and i wish i could do it again without the literal suffering that comes with it. no its not even worth it but id do it. yes i am so fucking normal about this game

i also need to mention 999, aitsf, and stella glow here bc holy fuck the three of them deserve it. ive talked abt the first two at some point on their own (the safe ending........ that fucking safe ending!!!!!!!!!!) n i dont have it in me to do a whole thing on stella glow after that ^ so just. trust me on this. ill probably rant abt it at some point its really one hell of a game. oh also ffxv but specifically bc of like the first cutscene where it shows the chocobros getting ready to leave bc that was the first time since id played kh1 and kh2 thatd id seen such pretty looking graphics n characters

#can u tell that im. very into a specific game rn #octopath makes me feel so many Things i need to punch a wall #made my rantings as spoiler free as i could just in case someone following me wants to play it <3 very good game i highly recommend it #literally couldnt stop playing it for my entire first playthrough im so in love with it #ive been writing this for so long i had to block a bot midway #rants that make me feel like squenix should pay me for advertisement .#BUT. YEAH. THANKS FOR THE ASK LMAO <3 #ask #honrupi

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insertdisc5 · 3 years ago

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Hi!! I wanted to ask, in celebration of Deltarune CH. 2, do you have any updated thoughts and head canons about the game?? Like, y'know, similar to a previous ask about Kris in your Deltarune tag? Thanks!

thoughts on kris part 2 i guess???? (part 1 from ch1 here lol)

spoilers for deltarune like woah. this wont be kris focused just random thoughts on everything. thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk

not that many thoughts for this chapter tbh! EDIT LOL: this was a lie i have a lot of thoughts

-just in general i feel like the player isn't the only one controlling kris... like yes the player forced kris to do what happened in the snowgrave route but AT THE SAME TIME idk it feels like there's someone else too. just because of the terrifying voice i suppose. and also the jerky movement kris does every time they get their soul out? unless there's another reason for it... maybe getting your soul out means you walk weird lol

-BUT ALSO i feel like kris is 100% in control when they create fountains. idk it just makes sense kris would create them. to create another world, a better world, A WORLD WHERE THEIR BROTHER IS HERE PERHAPS? i do wonder why they get their soul out then though. i'm all for it sweetie! do whatever! i support you!

-(i am and will be playing deltarune with only kris' best interests in mind. i will not hurt anyone unless kris wants me to. dont worry my little meow meow im on your side! talk to me! no? okay ill stay under the sink its fine)

-speaking of asriel. SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER (starts crying) V-VACATION COLLEGE WHEN

-kris misses their brother so much it's so sad. if you make kris steal 5$ from asriel they take it "reluctantly"? talking to asriel online so often even alphys knows?? the google search?? GOING INTO ASRIEL'S GOOGLE SEARCH ROOM WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED BECAUSE THEY'RE CONVINCED THEY ALREADY KNOW WHATS IN THERE? THAT ONE IS LESS OF A MISSING THING BUT IM LIKE OH MY GOD

-the city walk with susie at the end makes it clear to me that kris really values susie's friendship... kris even sits with her if you spend long enough near the lake like aaaaah ;_;

-and even in snowgrave you spend your last acts with the final boss calling for your friends like YES there's a way bigger creepy aspect to this (kris as more of a Leader who Commands and commands their subjects to come) but still :'0 (and then noelle answers oh my god noelle im so sorry for the trauma)

-berdly. listen. listen. listen. liste

-berdly sucks but [berdly hurts his arm in the battle against queen if you don't save him because he doesnt want to hurt you] [berdly realizing smg's wrong in snowgrave and immediately taking steps to save noelle] berdly is my little crumb nugget. i will protect him.

-noelle. noelle. girlboss!

-like ooooh listen. hearing about the genocide path for undertale. made me go "that is SO COOL. i HAVE to experience it myself this is great. hehehe killing time" and like no regrets. i was fully enjoying the experience knowing i was an awful person. SNOWGRAVE THOUGH. i will never try this myself its too fucked up. casually grooming your childhood friend to murder people <3 and also acting like a weird stalker towards her <3 stockholm syndrome speedrun i will get all the info i can about this but i will never do this myself

-people remarking the kris/player>noelle relationship is similar to the relationship between player>chara in genocide path is like yes. chefs kiss. don't worry we just are making you stronger and everything will be fine "you made me kill my friend? and for what?" this is fine sweetie don't worry about it!!!!!!

-like the amount of details added to snowgrave, like if you equip noelle's watch she notices later? and her battle animations change as time goes on, she gets an ice shield and stops sighing in relief after battle? oh my god? oh my god.

-(berdly is not awake.) JUST KILL ME RIGHT HERE I HAVEN'T STOPPED THINKING ABOUT BERDLY NOT BEING AWAKE!!!!!

-also why didnt he turn into dust. so many possible reasons. is magic a thing in the normal world and perhaps no magic means no dust (theres graves). maybe he isnt dead. maybe hes braindead. maybe he'll come back. either way that boy is now in the closet big enough to put someone in

-also dess' name probably being december AND THATS WHY NOELLE LOST THE SPELLING BEE?!?!??! FUCK ME UP!!!!! JUST FUCK ME UP!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!

-also so many good pixel art this chapter. too many? i didnt need pixel art of cardboard noelle falling on the statue. like thank you but please. please it hurts my game artist brain.

-the expressions in this chapter were also top notch. all the unsettling noelle expressions like (i fall over face first)

-i threw away the ball of junk (which i already tried in ch1) and this time the game was like "ARE YOU SURE BC THIS IS A BAD IDEA" and kris felt bitter :'( (it deletes all your items in the dark world)

-i uh fucked up and skipped the susie+noelle scene bc listen last time ralsei mentionned seeing what susie is doing we missed some PRIMO LORE. turns out it just makes you skip the scene and you dont get anything new. welp

-speaking of ralsei well you know. he exists. but im stuck on him going "i just wonder what being ralsei-like even is...?" ralsei my dude there's so much i could say about this. do you feel like you can't be ralsei-like because you feel like you have to be asriel-like

-but also that makes no sense bc susie hasnt even mentioned ralsei looks like asriel. and i cant imagine asriel being so meek. so WHAT GIVES

-ralsei as kris’ “i wish i was a monster just like my bro and family and i’d look like asriel but with red horns [THE HALLOWEEN COSTUME] and my name would be something cool like ralsei instead of a boring human name like kris and im sweet and cute because thats how i act with asriel because ASRIEL MADE ME” theory because that would be cute.

-ASRIEL GOING TO THE CHURCH TO CONFESS HIS "SINS" WHEN "SINS" AREN'T A THING IN THE ANGEL BELIEF LIKE I KNOW THIS INTERACTION WAS TREATED AS A JOKE BUT WHAT THE FUCK ASRIEL?

-kris definitely has a connection with the big red door in the city, judging by what the kids say they probably went there... i feel like this place's dark world will be the Final Dungeon you KNOW some shit happened there. also the sounds you hear when you go there is the phone dark world call's sound slowed down? AND AFTER SNOWGRAVE APPARENTLY YOU CANT HEAR IT ANYMORE? HUWAH?

-speaking of songs the songs were all so good, My Castle Town rules, the berdly snowgrave music is stuck in my head, flashback is uwah wuahah, Until Next Time is so good, AND ALSO A FRIEND NOTICED THE DARK WORLD CITY THEME IS JUST tHE SONG 74 (MOST NOTICEABLE WITH THE SNOWGRAVE VERSION)?????? WHAT DOES IT MEAN????? it might be just "hey its just reuse" BUT MR FOX YOU KNOW WE'RE GONNA READ INTO THIS IS NOELLE THE ONE SINGING IDK BRO!!!!!!!!!!

-asgore dreemurr fired from the force what happun!!!!! game theory is that asgore is related to dess' death/disappearance but eh who knows

-you start the chapter at lvl2 and get to lvl3 after the final boss, a friend mentioned this is probably because we destroyed a world and im :0

-to go back to kris it's still so interesting to figure out who they are based on how they act/people mention them. like kris shaking the ferris wheel car? yeah makes sense i can imagine a pranking kid do this. kris' dance? yeah thats a little silly but i can buy it. doing cool anime poses? well i dunno this doesnt line up PERFECTLY but sure. BUT EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN SNOWGRAVE... especially >proceed like that is such a weird thing that i can't imagine them doing, but i can't completely see the "player" doing either (compare with going to sans -which kris doesnt know- and going "SANS!" because of course the player would know sans), like THATS one of the reasons i feel like there's someone else in there. the weird robotic merciless actions. if im going super meta it feels like there'd be someone else like writing the choices into existence for us to pick you know? gaster probably? god i need to read more gaster theories i completely sidestepped the gaster shit bc i wasnt interested. anyway just spitballing

-(looks at big shot guy) please dont make him the next tumblr guy i beg you

-obligatory "queen was great" mention if only because this part made me laugh a little bit too hard

that was a lot. thank you for letting me talk

#ask tag #deltarune #deltarune spoilers #snowgrave spoilers

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zushimart · 2 years ago

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quest spoilers below

quite literally why the hell did they do that. like why did they do that. it felt so unnecessary. like, erasing his existence from the world. i dont know whether it actually altered the timeline, and he genuinely did not do those things, or if everyones memory of the events including his own were removed and replaced with a different story. but either way, it felt like such… a copout to close his story. the most unsatisfying way to tie loose ends.

him learning about what actually happened to niwa… that WAS ENOUGH!!! like it was enough emotional manipulation from dottore to understand why scaramouche went back and killed everyone. ??? like , it felt so unnecessary to do all that.

BUT LIKE ??? oh my god. i know that it shows how scaramouche was fine with quite literally killing himself to correct his mistakes, and i understand that the quest is ultimately exploring how even if he tried to change the timeline, the events in tatarasuna could not be undone or avoided. but also… it just felt like such a freaking random, convoluted way to express that. i think it also… doesnt work to do that? because if anything, it’s like. “oh, it was going to happen anyway. even without my hand in it, it was going to happen. “ and almost CAN absolve guilt because it didnt matter what scara did or didnt do in that moment. like the evil thing he did… just didnt matter. which is awful, imo, bc the point of a mistake is that if you had not made it, things would have been different. like wtf??? like??? WHATTT ..

like, he couldve just as easily got amnesia or something after the fall. we couldve relived his experiences through him slowly remembering his past. and we couldve extended kindness to him after learning about his past. like idk the whole erase myself from existence thing had me stressed. it reminded me of that horror game soma… where people copied their consciousnesses into computers and things and it was pretty clear that where that consciousness began was a completely new person, even if it was an extension of a past person.

i was like … did we just watch scaramouche *die*. I WAS LIKE DID MY BOYFRIEND JUST DIE IN FRONT OF ME????

i would also love to know how the hell nahida was able to restore his memories. did she ever say?? i know she kept the story of scarameow, but how did she get the minute details of his life. his memories. how did she have them if everything about him was erased by irminsul. why is it even possible for some things to survive irminsul erasure. its so weird to me, like oh this was an exception. cheat code. etc. i don’t get it WREAAARGHHHARGAHRH.

this would have been such a good story of scara learning that he has worth simply by existing nd that he doesnt have to be useful to anyone and that although he may be useful to the fatui and the fatui may be useful to him , that isnt enough to substantiate a real relationship… and a real relationship is what he wants. not the worship of being a god , not the power of a harbinger, bht just to have actual meaningful connections. he did these things because he wanted to b respected, to be valued. he tried to do it through being kind , and then he tried to do it through fear. i just want him to learn to do things not because he feels indebted to you or because he needs to make up for past mistakes. not because of a ledger of give and take in a relationship.. i want him to know that he HAS VALUE SIMPLY BY EXISTING. tbey just BRUSHED PAST THATT. they just TACKED IT ON AT THE END. its literally just nahida being like “ohhh… have you tried simply Not doing that? not thinking that way???”im so f ukign . ….. shit was like cbt. The therapy AND the cock ajd ball torture.

:( childe doesnt even remember him. a kazuha & scara meeting would mean NOTHING bc kazuha doesnt even know who he is. Im sick. what tf was the point of it all. What was the point of anything. not only does he have to shoulder every mistake he made, but he has to do it alone because no one remembers. no one can offer him forgiveness, no one will recognize the change in his character and tell him that theyre proud of him for coming so far… because no one remembers. that is so evil. Im tired yall . What was the point.

#3.3 spoilers #meta

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subskz · 1 year ago

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oh sahar 😭😭😭 i had to reblog bc the word limit in the replies simply could not contain the lovebeam i am sending ur way!!!

i just want to start by saying thank you so much for not only taking the time to read this series w such care, but for taking the time to write out your thoughts after each part. i know i’ve said it a million times but i will say it a million more!! i’m sure that alone takes time and effort and i’m infinitely thankful for ur support!

the olive branch description!! i’m so glad u liked that line haha i felt like smth like that suited how minho goes abt reconciling in this story…he isn’t the best at opening up or apologizing but he still makes an awkward effort in his own lino way! you are so unbelievably sweet oh my god…u have no idea how honored i am to hear that my writing could inspire you but i also dont think i can accept such high praise from u! just from your incredibly thorough feedback, the connections you make in the story so seamlessly, the beautiful meanings you have drawn from it that i could never even think of, i can tell that you are an exceptional writer ㅠ i can’t wait to dive into ur masterlist and read ur works bc i’m certain you will blow me away!

“the drop that overflowed the cup” is such a perfect way to put it! i kinda wanted this story to be abt a situation where there’s not just one single problem to be resolved, more like a collection of fatefully-timed circumstances and personalities where everyone means well but in the end still make foolish decisions and accidentally hurt each other in the process…and lino is no exception hehe ofc he had a big role in adding to the reader’s misgivings, but as you said, ultimately the root of the issue lied in her and chan’s skewed worldviews. they were doomed to fail regardless if they weren’t willing to make that change! i also wholly agree w what u said abt the importance of admitting ur wrong! sometimes that (and the actions you take afterwards) can be worth even more than an apology

THE SENSATION IN HER THUMB! i’m delighted you caught that hehe but as expected u are as observant as ever! i couldn’t resist sprinkling that lil trope in <3 “no one wants to become strong until they are forced to by the hands of the ppl they once loved” just makes my heart absolutely ache 😞 that’s precisely it…being strong is so admirable, but ideally it would never have to get to that point where a person has to withstand so much on their own. maintaining that stubborn kindness and compassion for the world even when it’s been trampled on and taken advantage of is the strongest thing a person can do imo!

i’m so thrilled to know that there were parts in this chapter that could touch your heart ㅠ the “you are the moon” section especially is one that i really really wanted to include, so it makes me happier than anything that it struck a chord w you! also “pure love can only nurture you not drain you” PLEASE you always have the most beautiful things to say!! the note you made abt the intimacy of twin flames is also so precious to me thank you so much…it gave me the chance to write abt such intense emotions that i’m not used to describing, and though it’s surely scary and uncomfortable to not only bare yourself completely to someone, but to also see the deepest parts of yourself reflected in them, the idea of it resulting in an unconditional love and understanding is very nice to think abt ♡ i’m so happy you feel it suits channie as well!

from day one i have just been so in awe of your attention to detail and your willingness to become invested in bb…it truly is the most encouraging thing in the world when you catch these things and comment on them. every little note you’ve made abt a recurring theme in the story, or a subtle action that gives insight to the characters, or just a certain sentence that you liked has put me over the moon! you give every one of those easter eggs value when you point them out, and i just can never thank you enough for your big heart and brilliant mind! the way you seem to understand the message of this series and its characters inside and out is so fulfilling to me, and the fact that parts of it resonated w you personally and could bring you some peace of mind is all i could ever hope for! it makes my own heart feel at ease 💗

i’m so grateful that you took a chance on this series when you don’t typically delve into them! butterfly bandage was my first time writing smth like this, and you’ve without a doubt made the experience such an unforgettable one. i kinda can’t believe it’s over too HAHA but i will always cherish this lil period of time and every kind word you’ve ever shared w me throughout it! i’m also itching to finally get the chance to read ur works, i’ve been eyeing invisible thread for over a month now but i strictly told myself i should finish bb first before allowing myself to indulge since i’m a horribly slow writer…now that we’ve reached this point at last, i’m ready to feast hehe 😽

thank you again from the bottom of my heart! i’m wishing you all the best angel, i hope all the happiness you’ve brought me comes back to you tenfold!

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 05

note: this is the final part of a series (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of twin flames, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, themes of death/grief, more crying (sorry), nsfw scenes

18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, soft smut, mirror sex, lots and lots of praise, body worship, biting, marking, possessiveness, teasing, channie is very embarrassed, handjob, begging, just a little bit of crying, edging, reader and chan are kinda obsessively in love, unprotected sex, riding, cockwarming

word count: 17.3k

A call of your name from across the lab caught your attention, just as you were preparing to collect your materials and head out for the day. Fumbling with your bag, you zipped it up as quickly as you could and headed towards your lab instructor, already bracing yourself for a conversation that, based on your track record with her, was very likely to be disheartening.

She lowered the stack of papers she’d been holding as you approached her, revealing her smile—a rare sight for anyone who worked under her.

“Yes?”

“Congratulations,” she announced. “Your paper’s approved.”

Your eyes widened as she handed the stack to you, over twenty pages of blood, sweat, and tears. They felt heavy in your hands, heavy with the weight of everything that had been sacrificed for their completion. Just a few days ago, the news would’ve had you over the moon. It was all you’d been wanting to hear, all you’d been dreaming of since you’d first begun your studies. Now, it was nothing more than a shallow comfort, a single drop of sunlight that was immediately obscured by the shadows all around it.

“Great,” you said at last, flashing a strained smile. “Thank you, Professor.”

She gave you a pat on the back, and you tried to find solace in the proud shine in her eyes. “You did well,” she praised. “I’m sure you’ll excel in your next rotation, too.”

“My next…rotation?”

Your instructor glanced down at her clipboard, adjusting her glasses with a hum. “Since your research has been approved, there’s no need for you to remain at your current station. You’ve spent quite a bit of time with those binary pairs,” she added. “You’ll be doing interferometric imaging for the next few weeks. We’re a few people short.”

Something twisted inside you. “Really?”

She looked up from her notes, quirking an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

“I…” you trailed off. There was nothing you could tell her that would be meaningful enough for her to let you stay—nothing that wouldn’t get you laughed at or even potentially dismissed from the lab for the rest of the semester. How on earth were you meant to explain that a pair of spectroscopic stars had come to mean so much to you? How on earth were you meant to explain what they signified in your mind?

“No, nothing,” you said weakly. “I’ll transfer my things tomorrow. Thank you.”

Your instructor nodded, and that was that. In the blink of an eye, you’d lost the final piece of what you’d had left of Chan.

You adjusted the strap of your bag, bowing quickly to her and turning to leave. Your pace quickened as you exited the lab, a wave of inexplicable emotions rising within you. It ushered you to head home as soon as possible, like it was a race against time, like you had to reach shelter before it crashed into the shore and drowned you in front of everyone.

A cold gust of air billowed past you as you pushed open the doors to the physics building. You squinted against it, burying your hands in your pockets. The sky was still covered with that same, gray sheet—much darker than it had been earlier in the week. The closer you studied it, the more it looked like the clouds might break at any given moment. All the more reason to rush home; you hadn’t brought an umbrella.

Your phone vibrated against your hand, and you fished it out of your pocket without thinking. Anything to distract you from this.

bin 😑 (2:27 p.m.) hey

bin 😑 (2:28 p.m.) is everything okay?

Just as you were about to close the notification, another came.

bin 😑 (2:30 p.m.) did something happen with chan?

You stopped in your tracks.

Did he really not know? Had Chan still not said anything to him? Was he keeping it all to himself? Suffering in silence, even now?

You didn’t have to question it for long. Of course he was.

Against your better judgment, you typed out a reply, fingers stiff from the cold and—for some reason—thumb burning.

you (2:33 p.m.) i’m fine bin don’t worry about me

you (2:34 p.m.) please just be there for chan

bin 😑 (2:36 p.m.) where have u been??? i was worried

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

He wouldn’t be worried anymore when he found out the truth.

bin 😑 (2:38 p.m) pls talk to me

You wanted to talk to him. You so badly wanted to talk to him—not even about everything that had transpired over the past four days, just in general. You wanted to tease him, to laugh with him, to share a meal with him, to chatter about the most trivial, most mundane of topics with him because you could, because you enjoyed each other’s company and nothing else.

You missed your friend. But he was Chan’s friend first and foremost; Chan’s little brother. Losing Chan meant losing Changbin. The moment he’d find out what you’d done, how you’d hurt the person he admired most in this world, he would look at you with that same, dark glare that had unsettled you so much on the day you’d first met. Only this time, it wouldn’t be misleading, masking the kindness underneath. It would be real, intentional. He would mean every bit of it.

Minho’s glares were one thing. The thought of Changbin looking at you the same way was more than you could take. There was no place for you in his life anymore.

A droplet landed on your screen, splattering water across it and blurring the words of his message. You looked up at the sky. The clouds had broken.

You were going to cry.

It was for the best, probably. A pot could only withstand so much before it boiled over.

You pulled the hood of your jacket over your head just as the rain began to fall more steadily, sinking to the ground and settling on the curb of the sidewalk. You gave up on outrunning the wave. For once, uncaring of the people around you. For once, allowing yourself to be an inconvenience.

Vaguely, you felt another buzz in your pocket; repeating, persistent. Changbin must have been calling you. Pressure rose in your chest. A strange sound built in your throat, an unpleasant, unfamiliar sensation pricked at your eyes. But before droplets of your own could well up in their corners, before you could release, the feeling of rain pattering relentlessly against your clothes came to a sudden halt, like something had passed over you, shielding you from it.

You didn’t bother to look up, praying that whoever it was whose presence you felt hovering above you, they’d take the hint and leave you alone. Just a moment to wallow in your misery. Just a moment to feel without worrying about anyone or anything else. Even now, that was too much to ask for, it seemed.

Through the roaring downpour, you barely caught it—soft, airy.

“It’s raining.”

Your blood ran cold, chilling you more than any of the water seeping through your clothing, right down to your bones.

Of course. You almost laughed out loud. Of fucking course.

This had to be some kind of joke, the universe’s cruel finale to everything it had put you through over the past three years.

“Go away.”

“Aren’t you gonna congratulate me for learning how to use an umbrella?”

You peered up through the mess of hair and fabric blocking your vision, fixing him with a look fiercer than any of the insults he’d ever hurled your way.

“Go away.”

His stare didn’t waver, face unchanging as always. It must’ve been so easy, to be so unaffected. It must’ve been so easy, to care so little. He blinked down at you, and—despite the static swarming your mind—through it all, you couldn’t help but notice that there was nothing harsh about the look he was giving you. Not quite warm, not quite cold. It was far from the self-satisfied expression of someone who knew he had been right all along. Of someone who knew that he had won.

“Come with me.”

You watched him blankly, too appalled to speak.

When you didn’t budge, he tilted his wrist, leaning his umbrella forward so that it covered you completely and exposed part of himself to the rain.

“I’ll get sick if you don’t.”

“Yeah? Brew yourself some yuja tea.”

His lip twitched into the beginnings of a smirk. Not smug, not condescending. Just faintly amused.

“That was pretty funny.” He tilted the umbrella further. The rain began to land on his hair, darkening it, weighing it down. “But I’m really starting to get cold, now.”

“I don’t care.”

He clicked his tongue. Still, he made no move to leave, not even to pull his umbrella back over himself. You might’ve been swayed by whatever approach he was taking if you weren’t too preoccupied with figuring out just how the hell you could get rid of this guy.

“By the way,” he added casually. “Changbin gave me something. I think it belongs to you?”

You cursed yourself for perking up so quickly, so obviously. It was only for a split second, but he caught on—of course he did—eyes glinting like a cat that had spotted its target in all your loose threads.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s talk,” he said. “Come with me, and the pencil’s all yours.”

You gave in. For whatever reason, Lee Minho had suddenly decided that you were now worth his time.

He didn’t offer his hand to help you come to full standing, but he kept the umbrella steadily above you as you rose from the curb, allowing himself to get drenched in the process. It almost made you grimace more than his usual behavior, solely because it felt so wrong. And, maybe, because you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Not even from someone like him.

As he led you down the sidewalk towards wherever he planned to take you, you inched away from him, back into the rain. He made no effort to move closer again, but you did notice his eyes flicker your way once or twice.

You shuffled awkwardly behind him, focus kept firmly on the pavement, feet kicking up water with every step you took. It wasn’t until the warm, addictive scent of freshly-ground coffee flooded your senses that you lifted your head with a start, just in time to see Minho wiping the bottom of his shoes on the campus library mat. He shook out his umbrella and stepped inside, seemingly debating for a moment whether or not he should hold the door open for you.

An ache gripped your heart, somehow, stronger than anything you’d felt over the past four days. It ached and throbbed and pulsed when you processed where you were headed. The table right across from the entrance, at the very back of the library.

You half-expected to find him there—shrouded in black, hunched over his laptop, one set of fingers playing with his lips, the other set tapping along to the melody of his music. But his seat was empty. He wasn't there anymore.

You tried to control the sheer enormity of your anguish as you approached its source. You’d already humiliated yourself enough in front of the last person you’d ever have wanted to witness it. Even if he didn’t seem nearly as delighted with your downfall as you’d imagined, the fact that he’d caught you more vulnerable than anyone else had before, more than Chan ever had, made your skin positively crawl.

Minho sat down with a heavy sigh, ruffling his hair in a half-hearted attempt to dry it out. He slipped off his drenched jacket, giving it a disgusted look before dropping it on the table.

“Want some coffee?”

“No.”

“It’ll warm you up.”

You narrowed your eyes. If you’d had any semblance of rationality left in your system, you would’ve told yourself that it was just an offhand comment, that he couldn’t possibly have known just how devoid of warmth you truly were. But you were far past that point. Everything he said was a trap and everything he did was a taunt.

When he saw that you had no plans to respond, he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Where’s my pencil?”

“Oh,” he sniffed. “I lied about that.”

You bristled. “What?”

“I don’t have it,” he clarified. “I lied so you’d come with me. Get it?”

You reached for your bag, preparing to leave.

“You can take it from Changbin yourself,” he continued. “Once this is all fixed.”

For once, the absolute certainty with which he spoke, like anything that came out of his mouth was a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled, wasn’t used to stir doubt within you. You froze in place. Whether it was a flash of hope, or a stubborn indignation that kept you rooted to your chair, you weren’t quite sure.

“Once this is fixed?” you echoed, rife with hostility. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? Chan hates me just as much as you do, now. You win.”

“I don’t hate you.”

You scoffed, expecting the lie—because it had to be a lie, a jeer, a vicious way to kick you while you were down—to be followed by that same scornful sneer that had become all too familiar for your liking.

But it never came.

Your disbelief was only met with a sincere, unbreaking expression. No games, no underlying meaning. A complete contrast to everything you associated with Lee Minho.

“Are you serious?”

“You don’t believe me?” he feigned hurt, which you had half a mind to be infuriated about considering the many, many worse things he’d assumed about you. “I mean it. I don’t hate you.”

You blinked.

“I probably could’ve,” he added unhelpfully. “If what I'd thought about you turned out to be true. But really, I just didn’t trust you.”

You grunted to at least acknowledge his confession, unsure of how else you should react. If that was how he treated the people he didn’t trust, you’d love to know what his hatred looked like.

You’d long told yourself not to take it personally, but for some reason, there was an undeniable sting there. Maybe it was because Minho was eerily perceptive, so much that this whole ordeal had planted the idea in your head that he had to be correct. Or maybe, it was because you’d always felt like there was a bit of truth to his impression of you, even before you’d met him, even before his opinion of you had sunk straight into the gutter. Having someone else say it out loud had just forced you to come to terms with it.

That constant voice in the back of your head, etching guilt into your mind. Telling you that you liked hurting the people who depended on you, that you liked to build them a safe haven and then crush it before their very eyes. Exactly what he had claimed you’d done to him.

Exactly what you’d done to Chan.

“Am I making things worse?” Minho tilted his head.

“No,” you answered, and it was mostly honest. “Go on.”

He said nothing, eyeing you for a moment longer. It put you on high alert. Similarly to Chan, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was delving straight into your center—but unlike Chan, there was no comfort of being able to stare right back into his.

“You probably know this by now, but Chan is an easy target for a lot of people,” he began. Slow, deliberate, no playful lilt to it. “He can usually tell when he’s being mistreated, but even so, he puts up with it. He thinks he can make it all better.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your spot, concentrating on the rain droplets that hadn’t yet dried from your hair. “Yeah, I know.”

I know better than you. The petty side of you wanted to tack on. But you decided against it, instead choosing to foster whatever kind of tentative truce was coming to fruition here.

Minho paused again. “Right.”

“So, what, you thought I was one of those people?”

“Mm.” Blunt as ever. “Like I said, I've seen the type before. And if Chan wasn’t going to do anything about it, then I was.”

He’d changed his wording, you noticed. It had been your type before, uttered with all the contempt and venom in the world. You wanted to find consolation in that subtle difference, but it didn’t stop the memory from rousing your defiance all over again.

“You think he can’t make decisions for himself?”

It was a risk—hypocritical, too, when you knew firsthand what kind of decisions Chan made for himself, when you knew firsthand the powerlessness of trying to get him to stop—but you said it anyway. Minho hummed, leaning back in his chair, as if the challenge in your words hadn’t affected him in the slightest.

“Of course he can,” he replied evenly. “Doesn’t make them right. When you see your friend make the same decision over and over and get hurt every single time, wouldn’t it be cruel to just sit by and watch?”

He looked off to the side, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought that he was—God forbid—trying to prevent you from possibly catching on to an emotion of his.

“That’s what real insanity is—isn’t that how the saying goes? Repeating the same thing and expecting different results.”

You knew, deep down, that his explanation made sense, and somehow, that only stung more. You felt wronged, like the collateral damage for all the people who had harmed Chan in the past. The fact that Minho had treated you so coldly out of the goodness of his heart wasn’t much of a reprieve. In a childish sense, it made things even worse, because now, your own negative feelings towards him felt unjustified.

That didn’t even begin to cover the fact that he had been right.

Every part of you wanted to object to him lumping you in with all the others as the same decision, but in the end, you were just another name on the endless list of people who had hurt Chan.

When he saw how long you’d gone silent for, Minho spoke up again, looking unsure of himself for what may very well have been the first time in his life.

“I’m…” he huffed. “Look, I was wrong.”

As always, what he said was the polar opposite of what you’d been thinking. It was almost comical, how the wavelengths the two of you operated on were so determined to be different in every conceivable way.

His ears, you noticed, had dusted red at the tips—the exact same way Chan’s would flare up when he was flustered. You hated how it weakened your resolve, how his mere association with Chan had you more than willing to accept his olive branch, however awkwardly shaped it was.

“Chan’s done a lot for me—for everyone. I just wanted to protect him.”

That was the point of convergence, the one, precious point where your waves intersected. The desire to keep Chan safe. You understood it better than anything else, and so, for that fleeting moment, you understood Minho. Still, your pride—something you’d repressed far too many times in your attempts to reconcile with him before—wasn’t quite ready to back down.

“But you barely even knew me,” you protested. “What did I do to make you decide that you hated me all of a sudden?”

“Didn’t hate you,” he corrected.

You pressed your lips together into an annoyed line. “What made you think I wanted to…to hurt him?”

Minho looked contemplative, and you found yourself worrying that he may simply decide not to tell you. You wouldn’t put it past him. It would be painfully on-brand, actually, at least with the version of him that you’d come to know.

“Chan came home crying.”

Your throat went dry.

“What?” you rasped. “When?”

“Back in July. The morning I got back from summer break.”

The morning after you’d first slept together. All at once, everything snapped into place—pieces of the puzzle that you hadn’t been able to connect, pieces that you hadn’t even known were missing in the first place.

“So, he comes home from your place, crying, with those marks all over his neck,” he explained. “It wasn’t the first time something like that happened. I put two and two together.”

You felt sick enough that you actually feared you might throw up, right there, on the library floor.

“I thought he must’ve landed himself in a bad spot again. With someone who only wanted to use him.”

“Why?” You gripped your soaked bag to your chest, with so much force that residual water began to dribble out of it. “Why was he crying?”

How did I hurt him? You wanted to add. Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t I notice?

How could you have ever let this happen?

Minho hesitated, and you squeezed your eyes shut, not entirely certain that you even wanted to hear the answer.

“He was happy.”

Confusion. And then, relief. And then, confusion again. The turmoil must have been written all over your face, because Minho ever so graciously decided to elaborate.

“I didn’t find that part out until yesterday, though. Not much of a happy crier, myself.”

A fresh surge of anger overtook everything else you were struggling to comprehend. Thoughts of what could’ve been, of how it all might have turned out if it weren’t for the man in front of you. The man who had given you all the tools in chiseling your self-doubt to perfection, who had passed you the hammer to destroy what you loved most.

You wanted it to be his fault. It would be so easy to pin the blame all on him. But nothing was ever that easy. Nothing was ever that simple. Even without the right tools, you would’ve found a way to destroy it regardless. It was what you were best at.

“You didn’t bother to ask him!?” you snapped.

“Oh. You think I’m stupid.” A glimpse of his former sharpness. You had to stop yourself from saying yes, just to spite him. “Of course, I asked. More than once. But his answer was the same as always—he smiled and told me not to worry. He’d say it with a gun to his head.”

You frowned. It was too much to process at once, too much for your already worn-down brain to compute. All you could really make sense of was a gut feeling, an instinct, telling you that you’d made a horrible, horrible mistake.

“I talked to Chan yesterday,” he mellowed again, back to his usual, airy tenor. “He told me everything. He doesn’t seem to fully understand it, but I do.”

Minho locked eyes with you, deep, intense. No longer the look of someone that had decided you were guilty, but a look that warned you that he would know if you were lying to him.

“You care about him, don’t you?”

It sounded more like a statement than a question, but you nodded, anyway. Such a simple thing to admit to. How could such a simple thing have ever led to all of this?

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “That’s why I did it. I was afraid I’d end up…”

You took in a shaky breath.

“I just didn’t want to hurt him.”

“Ah, seriously.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and he laughed. Incredulous, dry, ending with an exhale. “You broke up with him because you didn’t want to hurt him? Do you realize how insane that sounds?”

Your face heated up. “You’re the one who thought I would in the first place!”

“But I was wrong.”

You were taken aback by how plainly he admitted to it, how that indestructible, stubborn pride of his was extinguished the instant he’d learned it had harmed someone he cared about. Even more troubling than that, was the fact that you could tell he was apologetic, even without him saying it outright. All of this, as annoyingly as he was going about it, was his apology to you. Changbin’s words—fond and reassuring and, now, truer than ever—reverberated in your mind. Soft at heart.

“People are supposed to help each other. You know that, right?”

You snorted at the absurdity of the question.

“Obviously.”

“So why are you so weird about it?”

“It’s different with Chan,” you insisted. “You said it yourself. He does so much—everyone takes so much from him. I didn’t want to do the same.”

“But that’s still not fair, is it?” he countered. “You’d just be giving everything instead. Chan doesn’t want that, either.”

You opened your mouth to argue, only for the words to die in your throat. There was no way to justify it without sounding ridiculous—maybe, because it was a bit ridiculous. But Chan was the exception, he would always be the exception. You would give everything to him because you knew he would never take it for granted. You would give everything to him because he’d already given everyone so much.

Because he’d given you so much.

Ah.

“God, you two are so—” Minho cradled head dramatically, sensing that you’d finally worked it out in your mind. “You’ve already got the hardest part figured out. Just learn to take once in a while. You’re not gonna die.”

“But he won’t change unless I do,” you muttered. “I know he won’t.”

He gave you a look of pure exasperation, as if the answer couldn’t have been more obvious.

“So, change.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

The feeling of your heart threatening to burst out of your chest, courtesy of Bang Christopher Chan, was one you’d become well-acquainted with over the past seven months. But of all the times you’d experienced it, it’d never been quite like this. This was something else entirely.

A day to mull everything over after your conversation with Minho, a restless night spent trying and failing to map out how you could possibly approach the situation, and over an hour of pacing restlessly around your apartment—all useless in ebbing the adrenaline that coursed through your veins. Before the clock had even struck 10:00 a.m., you’d not only felt like you had run a marathon, but that you could run another for good measure.

You’d spoken to Changbin first. He at least deserved to know what was going on. He deserved an apology, even if the very real possibility that he would never speak to you again afterwards made your stomach churn. On a more selfish note—you figured today was as good as any to start with that—you’d also just really, really missed him.

As it turned out, he’d more or less come to grasp the situation, even when being protected from all angles. Between what little Minho had let slip, Chan’s avoidant behavior (to the surprise of no one, he’d hardly let Changbin know a thing) and your vaguely ominous texts, he’d gathered up enough bits and pieces for his genius intuition to fill in the gaps. The sound of his voice once you’d revealed what had happened in full; compassionate, calm—not an ounce of the disdain you’d resigned yourself to be met with so viciously—had almost been enough to make you choke up.

“You should’ve told me,” he’d chided. “Why do you love doing that to yourself? What, you think I’m not strong enough to lean on?”

You’d let out a long exhale, heavy with all the apprehension you released with it; relieved, embarrassed, resigned. “It’s not that, Bin,” you’d mumbled. “I didn’t want to trouble you. Not when Chan and Minho both mean so much to you.”

“And you think you don’t? C’mon, you’re supposed to be the smart one here.”

Naturally, it only added to your guilt, that you’d created such an uncharacteristically cruel image of him in your head. This was Seo Changbin, after all. A great talker, but an even better listener, and as much as he liked to tease Chan for his age, he had a level of emotional intelligence far beyond his years. A wisdom that you would probably do well to learn from whenever it bothered to make an appearance.

At the same time, however, this was Seo Changbin, the one man show, Leo incarnate. Once the relief of hearing back from you had eased his conscience (as much as it could, knowing how horribly tangled up everything had become), the theatrics had ensued.

“Dating my best friend is one thing, but breaking his heart is off limits!” he’d complained. It was mostly light. No real anger behind it, just plenty of highly-warranted frustration. “Not only that—breaking your own heart too! What am I supposed to do with two brokenhearted best friends? Hang out with Minho!?”

After a slew of loud, nagging, reprimands, and a very serious threat that Cinnamoroll would be held hostage until further notice, Changbin had let you go. For the first time in five days, you’d laughed. You’d never felt more grateful, or more stupid, in your life. He made it all sound so simple. Lee Minho, quite possibly the most convoluted piece of work you’d ever encountered in this world, had made it all sound so simple.

You could only hope that you hadn’t crushed it into something infinitely more complicated, something beyond repair.

The trembling of your fingers, coupled with that strange sensation in your thumb that had yet to go away, made it difficult for you to type properly. Still, you persisted, throwing caution to the wind. Caution had ruled over you for far too long, anyway.

you (10:03 a.m.) hi

you (10:04 a.m.) i understand if you want some space right now but if you can, i’d like to talk

You prepared to lock your phone, not expecting a reply for some time—if any at all. Even under normal circumstances, he didn’t always get back to you right away. But, well, maybe the fact that the circumstances were anything but normal should’ve been enough for you to know better, because you didn’t even get the chance to swipe out of your messaging app before you noticed three little dots below your chat bubble.

Appearing. Disappearing. Appearing. Disappearing. Just a sign of life from him, and your palms had grown clammy. With fear, anticipation, dread. The dread of being met with anything but love, anything but warmth.

Then, at last, a single word.

channie 🐺 (10:08 a.m.) about?

you (10:08 a.m.) everything us

This time, it took him longer to respond. Ignoring every instinct that screamed otherwise, you typed up another text. There was no use hiding. There was never any use hiding with him.

you (10:12 a.m.) i don’t think i can do this

Almost immediately.

channie 🐺 (10:12 a.m.) me neither

Your heart leapt. You didn’t want it to give you hope. He had every right, every reason in the world, to not give you the time of day. He could get his closure and leave you, just as you’d left him.

channie 🐺 (10:13 a.m.) i can be over in 10?

A million thoughts sparked to life at once. The question of why he was already so close by. The urge to insist that you go meet him instead. The sudden realization that you were in no way prepared to see him so soon.

But all of it, overwhelming as it was, didn’t hold a candle to your strongest desire—a desire that could never be subdued by anything else. To put Chan first.

you (10:14 a.m.) okay, sure see you soon

Get here safe, Channie. You added in your head.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Chan looked tired when you opened the door. Eyes dull, drooping, littered with traces of pink and lined with dark circles. A few stray curls peeked out from beneath his beanie. You prayed that the black hoodie he was wearing wasn’t the same one he’d had on five days ago. He looked so tired. Tired and cold.

His gaze met yours. Just for a heartbeat, then it fell to the ground. You wanted to think it was because he felt self-conscious, you wanted to think it was that shyness—that hopelessly endearing shyness that got the best of him no matter how many times he looked at you. You didn’t want to believe that he simply couldn’t stomach the sight of you anymore.

“Are you okay?”

Chan tensed. Then, he caught you eyeing the bandaid on his thumb. He brushed his finger over it absentmindedly. He’d thought the pain had faded until now.

“Yeah. Just cut my finger.”

Your expression changed.

“On accident.”

“Oh,” you murmured. “Does it hurt?”

“A bit.”

You reached up to tug at your ear. He swiped his thumb over his nose.

“I—” you swallowed. The moment he’d stepped through the door, everything you’d so carefully planned to say, every point you’d spent hours trying to piece together into something comprehensible, was immediately tossed out the window. You had to navigate this in real time. There was no map for it—the path to something better. The only place you’d ever journeyed was your own destruction.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out. “I think I messed up.”

He lifted his head. For once, unreadable.

“What do you mean?”

He knew what you meant, you were sure of it. But he wanted you to say it—needed you to say it. He needed you to dare to open yourself up to him, just as he had to you.

You understood now. That was the most important thing you could’ve ever given him, yet the one thing you’d refused to give.

“I’m not used to this,” you confessed. “I don’t know how to get used to it. You’re…you’re so good, Chan. To everyone. To me.”

Already, cracks were beginning to form in your composure. You had to keep it together, just enough to fix this. Just enough to hold the mirror up to him before it shattered.

“When someone that good comes into your life, you wanna do everything you can to keep them, y’know? I wanted to do everything for you.”

Chan’s breath caught in his throat, audibly, and you knew a protest was building on his tongue. So, you barreled through.

“It’s exactly because you’re so good that I got so scared. Because you wouldn’t just let me do it all for you like everyone else does.”

There was a pause, long and heavy enough for you to debate if you should just keep going, to air it all out and pray that at least some of it would come out sensical. But before you could, he spoke up, attentive as ever in what he chose to focus on. He narrowed it down like second nature, sought out the most essential part. The root of it all.

“You were scared?”

You winced. “I…yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

Whatever remained of your heart from the past few days was effectively smashed into pieces. An apology from the last person on earth you needed to hear it from. An apology from someone who was owed so many apologies. From you, from himself, and from countless others who would never have to say it.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I drove you to this, didn't I?” he whispered. “I thought about it the past few days—talked with Minho about it. I put you in a position you didn’t want. It’s my fault.”

“Oh, Channie,” it slipped out so naturally, with such ease, you didn’t even have the chance to second-guess yourself. “Your only fault is the way you treat yourself.”

Chan didn’t appear convinced. He shuffled his feet from side to side, hands heavy in the pocket of his hoodie. Restless, ashamed. Still not looking you in the eye. You weren’t grateful for it anymore; you missed his gaze. Dark and reflective, kind and curious. Seeing right through you, even with all its flickering around.

“Maybe I needed to be put in that position,” you continued. “I was just too much of a coward to take it. B-because you were right. I try to be everything for people, then I end up being nothing. I was so afraid I was going to do that to you—or even worse. I was afraid I was going to be the one taking everything from you.”

“Why would you ever think that?” he sounded so helpless, like you were communicating in two completely foreign tongues. No room for speaking in riddles. “I saw every little way you cared for me. Always. Did you think I didn’t?”

Challenging him meant challenging yourself. You’d taken the plunge acutely aware of that fact, this time. Still, the panic rose in your chest all over again, the itch in your feet goaded you to turn and run.

“I know you did. And that’s more than enough for me.” You forced yourself to take a step forward instead, desperate to get through to him, desperate to reach him. “But when you do these things for me at your own expense…when you don’t tell me about it, don’t you see how that could scare me? As someone who cares about you?”

In all the time you’d known Chan, you’d never once have guessed that he could be so difficult. But if that unshakeable stubbornness would emerge over anything, of course it would be this. He would never make things difficult for anyone but himself. You still remembered how plainly he’d said it, how bleak and merciless and cold it had been: “It doesn’t matter.”

You could tell he sensed how on-edge you were, how laughably out of your element something like this was for you. But you were pushing yourself—for him. So, like a true reflection, he matched you.

“I guess I was scared, too,” he admitted quietly. “It’s been the only thing I know how to do for so long. I thought…I-I thought you’d leave if I did anything else. Because why else would you stay, y’know?”

You’d known it. Even before he’d bared himself to you, even before you’d had the knowledge to connect all the dots, you’d felt it, deep within you. But that didn’t make hearing him say it out loud any less devastating.

“I don’t love you because of what you can do for me, Chan.”

His eyes shot up at last. Wide, intense, searching. Realigning with you. A break in the fog that had been clouding your view of each other for the past five days.

It may have been unfair—cruel, even—to say now. But you needed him to hear it, even if this was the end of the road for you and him. You needed to at least plant the seed in his mind with the hopes that one day, with enough care, it might sprout into something beautiful.

“You’re worth so much as you are,” you tried to get a handle on the shake creeping into it. “You do so much for me just by being yourself.”

Chan blinked. Pupils darting between you and the floor, hands slipping from his pockets, face muscles twisting in an internal conflict. You could see him physically exerting all his willpower to not reject the idea—to dare to accept a love so unconditional, solely so that you might accept it in return.

“If I told you the same thing,” he began slowly. “Would you believe me?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “I can learn to believe it.”

His fingers flexed. You realized for the first time how close the distance between you and him had become—drifting towards each other involuntarily. That inevitable, magnetic pull, more powerful than any of the forces you’d studied in four years.

“Okay.” He was reaching out for you. “Then, how about we learn together, yeah?”

Your heart jumped against your ribcage. Over his words. Over the sight of his pinky, held out in earnest despite you giving it such little reason to ever do so again, waiting patiently to curl against yours.

You’d believe in anything that connected you to him.

“Together.”

Just as quickly as things had fallen apart, the foundation was laid out for them to be put back together. A steady foundation, built to last. Your belief that day had turned out to be true, after all. Everything always worked out when you talked to Chan. When you leaned into him. When you didn’t run.

Heat rippled through you the instant your fingers entwined, fiercer, more all-consuming than even the first time you’d ever touched. Still, neither of you pulled away. For the first time in five days, you were warm again.

The new, unspoken promise igniting to life between you reminded you of another; one that you’d let sit on your ledger for far too long. One you’d made so carelessly to the boy who deserved all the care in the world. The boy who treated you with all the care in the world.

“I’m going to be more selfish from now on.” You tightened your hold on his pinky, creating a fresh buzz of heat. “Because I want you to be, too.”

You thought you were hallucinating it for a second, the beginnings of a grin on Chan’s face. Soft cheeks rising, not enough to draw out his dimples or eclipse his eyes, but enough to make you certain of your decision. The key you’d tossed out a year and a half ago was in that smile.

“Guess I’ve got no choice but to mirror you.”

“That’s right,” any firmness it might’ve had was lost to a smile of your own. Exhausted, but tragically enamored with the boy in front of you. “Since you wanna be my other half so bad, and all.”

He giggled. Short, sweet, playing the strings of your heart like a harp. Or, rather, its melody was the sound of your heart.

“I’m gonna tell you some things,” you warned. “And they’re not going to be nice. Or good. Is that okay?”

“Anything.” He unhooked his pinky from yours, only to wiggle his sleeve back and weave all of your fingers together instead. Five fingers, one for each of the days you’d spent apart. Your palm pressed against his, pumping faintly with your quickening pulse. “Tell me anything.”

You inhaled. Better to start with something smaller, first. A test run in this whole emotional openness thing.

“About Minho…”

“He gave you plenty of trouble, didn’t he?”

You puffed out a soft laugh. “Well, I gave him some back.”

“I scolded him,” Chan mumbled. “A lot. Bin did, too.”

You tried not to feel too satisfied about it. The idea of Chan, so doting, so unabashed in his adoration for the younger boy, rebuking him, addressing him with anything but overflowing fondness. You would take it as a small, private victory—one that Minho didn’t need to know about now that you’d both chosen to bury the hatchet.

“But…I hope you won’t think badly of him. He means well, really. He’s—”

“Soft at heart, right?” you finished for him. “It’s okay, we talked it out in the end. I think."

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, he told me.”

You could’ve laughed. Lee Minho. You never thought you’d see the day where the mention of him wouldn’t be promptly followed by a wave of absolute revulsion. You wondered if he was the reason Chan had even agreed to see you today. You wondered if he was the reason Chan had only been ten minutes away from your apartment before you’d even sent him a message.

“I just wish you’d told me.”

I wish you’d told me. They were words you’d said to him so many times, words you’d wanted to say on even more occasions. But it was in your hands, now. You were in each other’s hands, now. You didn’t have to wish anymore.

“I know.” You gave his palm a squeeze. “But you can see why I didn’t, right?”

He nodded, sheepish, well aware that it was a pointed question.

“A lot of the things Minho did were to protect you,” you murmured. “But, a lot of the things he said were things someone else once said to me. I guess it made them easier to believe.”

Chan’s thumb glided delicately across the back of your hand. You knew he could predict where this was going.

“When you told me about what happened two years ago, I think I related to you a lot. I think it was one of those shared experiences you talked about.”

Each sentence felt like it was being dragged out of you, uprooted. But it was necessary. Clearing the weeds out to make room for something less parasitic—maybe, even flowers. “My last relationship was with someone who took a lot out of me, too. He needed someone to depend on. I…I wanted to be that for him.”

“I know you did.” Gentle, sad. A tenderness for you and, hopefully, himself. It gave you the strength to keep going.

“He needed so many things, felt so many things. All his emotions became mine until I didn’t have any for myself,” you were losing control of your voice again. “I didn’t understand how you could ever blame yourself for what that girl did to you. But, really, I’ve always blamed myself, too. Because I let him rely on me. I promised to be everything for him, then I left.”

“But he never let you rely on him, did he?” Chan didn’t miss a beat, like he already knew the answer. “He wanted you to carry it all yourself.”

You averted your stare. “M-maybe. And maybe I wanted that, too. Some people just need more support than others, y’know? I thought I could handle it.”

You always thought you could handle it, even when every past experience proved otherwise. That was yet another thing Minho had been right about. You’d driven yourself mad repeating the same cycle over and over again, deluding yourself into thinking it could ever turn out any different.

“Nobody needs no support at all,” he pointed out. “Not even someone as strong as you.”

Strong. Hearing the word come out of his mouth—his perfect mouth, in that light, melodic voice—pricked at your eyes. It was a term you’d never once thought to describe yourself with. It was the exact opposite of everything you’d come to believe about yourself. You wanted to reject it, to crush the idea before letting it get to your head. But how could you, when it came from the strongest person you knew? How could you do anything but cling to it, cherish it?

“I don’t know if I’m strong,” you muttered, blinking away what was sure to come eventually. “It’s just that every time I’ve tried to lean on someone, they let me fall. So it’s better to stand on my own.”

“Yeah. I understand."

You knew that much was true. You knew, painfully well, how much he understood. And you knew he still thought you were strong.

“I…” Everything had been put into place—or, rather, everything had been properly displaced—for the dam to break loose. Tentatively, lovingly, he was helping you pull out each log. It filled you with fear, down to every last fiber of your being, but you knew that you could break in front of him. He wouldn’t crumble with you. He wouldn’t shatter over the mere prospect of you expressing an emotion of your own. He’d let you release, and when it was all over, he’d help you pick up the pieces. Just as you had with him.

“I lost my friend last year.”

“Lost…?”

“I mean, she passed away—last summer. She was in an accident back home.”

Such a common way to die for someone who was anything but. Such a special person to become part of such an ordinary statistic. Chan’s face morphed into something heartbreaking, a look that told you he felt everything you were feeling in that moment. The gears were turning in his head, you could see it unfolding through your blurred vision. That was why you hadn’t wanted to return home over the summer. That was why you’d come back to him so soon.

“I’m so sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t only giving his condolences, he was apologizing for ever cornering you to reveal it. For forcing you to unveil the wound that had been festering for so long. Bleeding with no signs of stopping, neglected with no signs of healing.

“It’s okay, I—” A lump rose in your throat. “I need to talk about it, I think. Never really did.”

His hand tugged at yours, just barely, uncertain. Always hesitant to pull you as close as he really wanted. You leaned forward all at once, falling into him. And he caught you.

“Never?”

“I tried once.” You rested your head against him, and his arms locked securely around you straight away. No room for you to fear, even for a second, that he might let you fall. “I tried to tell him. He always said he felt bad that he wasn’t there for me like I was for him. B-but…” The wave was rising again. “He just left.”

You couldn’t see Chan’s expression, you weren’t sure if you wanted to. You didn’t want to know what anger might look like on such an angelic face. But you could feel it, his jaw clenching, his muscles tensing. You figured he must look something like you had that night in October, struggling to maintain the delicacy in your movements as he revealed things that had filled you with a protective fire.

“He left?” Chan repeated, strained. “He left you like that?”

“Yeah. I-I guess it made him feel worse to be there.”

His hand began to run slowly up and down your back; drawing out your pain and soothing it simultaneously. When he spoke again, his tone was softer. He’d put his anger to the side, just as you had that night. “It must have been lonely for you.”

Lonely. Something else you’d never once considered. Something else that became so obvious only once he’d said it. You’d always been surrounded by people, but they were all flocking to a version of you that didn’t exist. A version you’d let them believe was real, because that was so much easier. Maybe the version of you, in your truest form, had been lonely.

“A little.” You buried your nose into his hoodie. No scent of sweet citrus today, no vanilla cherry blossom. Just him. “I think she’s the only one I could’ve talked to about it. She…she was a lot like you, in some ways.”

Something seemed to dawn on Chan, because he gripped you a little tighter, pulled you impossibly closer. The realization that the universe had taken away the only person you’d ever come to rely on. Of course you would be terrified to ever let anyone take that role again.

“She sounds exactly the kind of friend you deserve,” his voice rumbled softly where you rested against his chest. “You can tell me about her. About it all. I’m here to listen.”

“I want to,” you took in a sharp inhale. “But I think I’m going to cry.”

“You can do that, too.”

The wave engulfed you in full. For the first time since the day you’d lost her, you allowed yourself to cry over her.

Given how long you’d been holding it in, it didn’t come out nearly as explosive as you’d expected. The tears slipped from your eyes and down your cheeks without a sound, but they came and came and came. Each hot stream was immediately followed by a fresh one, a buildup of all the sorrow you’d kept sealed inside you for the past year and a half, and all the years before that. You didn’t sob or wail or scream out, but with how tightly Chan was holding you, you were certain he felt every tremor, every subdued hiccup, every droplet soaking through his clothes.

“It’ll be okay, one day,” he promised. “You’ll remember all the happy times with her. That’s something you can never lose.”

You hoped it was true. You hoped that one day, you could step off the train in your hometown, take in the pine-tinged summer air, pick a chrysanthemum from that flower stall, and remember her with that warm, glowing ball of light you used to carry in your chest.

Chan didn’t stop rubbing your back the entire time you cried. He didn’t stop enveloping you in his warmth. He didn’t stop humming sweetly in your ear.

He didn’t leave.

The tears eventually stopped flowing, not because it didn’t hurt anymore—you just didn’t think your body could keep up. No amount of tears could ever live up to your grief for her. But your breathing slowed, your shaking steadied, and, as much as your head positively throbbed, a sense of tranquility came with it, one you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt.

“Thank you, Channie,” you mumbled. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

After everything you’d put him through the past five days, after he’d listened to you so intently and patiently as you poured your heart out, after he’d comforted you when he was still in such a fragile state himself, he was thanking you. It was hopeless. You would fall in love with him over and over again, every moment you spent with him.

“Have you…” he hesitated. “Have you ever thought about talking to someone? About everything?”

“No,” you choked out a sad laugh. “Not really.”

Chan hummed again, quiet. He rested his hand on the back of your head, as if to pull you so far into him that you’d meld fully together.

“You shouldn’t torture yourself anymore,” he murmured.

“Neither should you.”

So immediate, so resolute, it made him stiffen against you.

“My stuff doesn’t compare to any of this.”

“That’s not true. You’ve only told me the half of it, haven’t you?” You curled your fingers a bit tighter around his hoodie. “You've been through so much to become this strong, haven’t you?”

The peaceful drag of his hand finally stopped. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. He'd been holding it together up until now, for you, even if your every tremble and sniffle made his chest ache like your pain was his own.

“Maybe,” he rasped.

“So, let’s work towards something better. Together.”

“Together,” he agreed.

You raised your head at last, squeezing your eyes shut so that any remaining trace of tears trickled free. Chan reached up to swipe the droplets away with his thumb, soaking his bandaid. Still, neither of you let go. There were so many things to let go of, but not each other.

“I finished Placebo,” he said softly. “Do you want to hear it?”

The final promise that had yet to be fulfilled.

“Yeah,” you smiled. Weak, a piteous sight, probably, but genuine. “It makes me happy.”

You were lulled back to that day in April, seated next to Chan in the warm, coffee-infused atmosphere of the library, trying not to fall head over heels in love with him right then and there while he played the instrumental for you with a giddiness so uncontainable that he had to bite down on his fist. As you heard Placebo’s lyrics for the first time—lyrics that had gone through countless rearrangements, rewrites, and delays—you decided it must’ve been fate that it had been brought to completion now, of all times. You felt Chan in every line, every vitalizing beat, every nostalgic melody of the synth. You understood it better now than you ever would have back then.

But just as you’d predicted on that warm day in April, it became your new favorite.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

The sun had been shining for two days straight. Bright, unobstructed by a single cloud, bathing everything in gold. It filtered through the blinds of your window, casting a delicate pattern of light on Chan’s face and creating quite possibly the most breathtaking view you’d ever seen. And you were warm. Warm against each other.

His curls were free, messy, tousled as you combed through them. You relished in every ringlet dancing between your fingers, in each content sound he let slip when your nails grazed his scalp. You brushed his bangs back, revealing his face to you in full—droopy eyes, big, adorable nose, soft cheeks, faintly freckled skin, every feature illuminated with nowhere to hide—then allowed them to fall into his eyes once more. The dark locks moved as one, a fluffy unit. He wasn’t taking care of them properly. You wanted to wash them again, give them the treatment they deserved.

Chan watched you the entire time you played with his hair, curious, mesmerized. Every flop of his curls against his forehead made him giggle, and so, you did it again and again. You couldn’t help it. After five days without him, without that sweet, harmonious sound, you could listen to him laugh for hours on end and still yearn for more.

But his lips were getting poutier with every card of your fingers, his thighs were shifting beneath you more and more. Impatient, even if he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have to say a thing for you to hear him willing you to do it, begging you to do it. So, you leaned in and kissed him.

He sighed into it, just like he always did. But it was higher in pitch this time, involuntary, a neediness he typically tried to suppress until later down the line when it grew into something unbearable. He was already so vocal, so responsive, but today, he needed you more than ever. Every gap, every crevice between your bodies, he needed filled with you.

His lips consumed your senses, plush and plump and warm. They moved against yours seamlessly, encasing you in his softness, matching your rhythm, every part and pucker. So attentive, even through his haze of longing. It was familiar, the most natural thing in the world, yet still something you’d never get used to—something you never wanted to get used to. How his lips chased yours so insatiably, how they warmed you to your very core.

You were both breathless when you broke apart. That was nothing new either, you would kiss each other until your lungs cried out and then some. With the way Chan hardly pulled back, mouth ghosting just a centimeter away as you panted lightly in unison, you might’ve thought he needed to kiss you more than he needed oxygen. You took his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling delicately just to get a taste of him while the two of you caught your breath.

“Missed you,” he whimpered. “God, I missed you.”

Your chest ached.

“I know, baby.”

Giving his bottom lip a light tug, you released it. You could tell his head was starting to go fuzzy, it was far more important for you to speak clearly. You rested your hand on his curls again, trying to keep yourself composed for his sake—even if your body was screaming for you to take him back and take him back now. “I know. I missed you, too.”

“Don’t leave me, please?” For once, a selfish request.

He pecked the corner of your mouth as he said it, then your jaw, growing less controlled the further down he moved. He was getting lost in you, he wanted to lose himself in you and never find his way out again.

“Never,” you assured him.

“Promise?”

He nuzzled his nose into your neck, lips pressing urgent kisses to every spot of flesh they touched. Gentle and intense, hot and wet. They cooled your skin and set it ablaze, all at once.

You’d gone five days without each other before—even longer, on particularly hectic weeks—but it had never been anything like this. After the emptiness that came in your time apart, the holes that had been left behind where you’d ripped yourself away from him, you wanted every kiss absorbed into your skin, filling them up one by one. You found yourself wondering, for what was neither the first nor the last time, how you’d ever managed to trick yourself into thinking you could be without him. You couldn’t even take him in moderation.

“I promise,” you murmured. “I'm not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chan whined, opening his mouth against the edge of your collarbone, sucking, tongue flickering lightly against it. You allowed him to, petting his head, humming sweetly to him as he covered every inch he roamed with that irresistible heat.

His restlessness beneath you grew more obvious—squirming. He ran his hands up and down your sides, feeling and grabbing and holding onto you like you might disappear if he didn’t. His usual hesitance to touch was nowhere to be found today, far overpowered by his hunger for you. You adjusted your position in his lap, and the beginnings of his desire brushed against your thigh, adorably transparent as always. It made your own self-control slip just a bit. Suddenly, his clothes were forming far too thick of a barrier between you and him for your liking.

You pulled gently at his hair, catching his attention enough for him to lift his head from your neck. His lips were already swelling, deepening from that pretty pink shade into something even more addictive. His eyes were dark, dilated, and so hopeful, like he didn’t already know where this was going. Like he had no idea that you craved him every bit as much as he craved you.

“It’s getting warm, huh, Channie?”

“Mhm.” He rested his cheek against your palm. “You’re so warm.”

“Let’s get you out of this, then.” You reached down to dip your fingers under the hem of his sweater. Reluctant to let go for even a moment, Chan kept his hands close to you, wiggling around as best as he could to help you slip the garment off. He blinked his eyes open once you’d pulled it over his head, catching a glimpse of his reflection in your dresser mirror, directly across from where the two of you sat tangled up in each other. It made his stomach drop a bit. Hair unkempt, eyes sunken, face puffy from what was a concerning lack of rest over the past week, even by his standards.

His gaze averted, flickering right back to you the instant he took in his appearance. Brief as the action was, it wasn’t lost on you, twisting your emotions and resurfacing an idea in your mind—one that had been brewing ever since the day of the showcase, where Chan had avoided looking into the bathroom mirror like his life depended on it.

You cupped his cheeks, pushing them together just enough for his lips to pucker.

“You’re glowing, Channie,” you marveled. “You’re so beautiful.”

He furrowed his brows. “I’m not.”

You pressed your thumbs into his skin, chiding. “The light’s hitting your face so perfectly. You look like an angel.”

Chan’s breath quickened, another deflection building in his throat. You slid your hands down from his face, allowing the golden rays of the sun to fully illuminate him, just as they illuminated the moon.

“I…” he chuckled. “Th-thank you, but I’m a mess.”

You frowned, placing your hands over his. Panic struck when you urged him to unlatch his fingers from your hips, you could tell by the way he gripped you just a bit tighter. It was another pang to your chest. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, that reflex had been ingrained. But you weren’t going to leave him, not even for a second. You kept your hands firmly rested on his shoulders as you hoisted yourself off his lap and settled down right behind him on the mattress. Comforting him with your touch, reminding him that you were there.

You peered into the mirror from over Chan’s shoulder, met with the gorgeous sight of his bare upper half and, unsurprisingly, his head ducked in embarrassment. A mop of dark curls shielding him from himself.

“You should try looking at yourself through my eyes,” you suggested. “You might like what you see.”

He glanced up to meet your stare in the mirror, stubbornly set on ignoring his own figure. You dragged your hands along his tense shoulders, feeling up the warm expanse of skin, the curves of his muscles—taut, yet tender.

“Rather look at you,” he said softly.

Affection swelled inside you, but you were determined to maintain your resolve, even when faced with an opponent as formidable as Chan’s oblivious charm.

“Why?” You faked a pout. “You’ve already got such a pretty view right here.”

You lowered yourself to brush your lips against his neck, almost completely out of sight. He all but jolted as you pressed an open-mouthed kiss right below his jawline, just as reactive as your first night together. Just as honest and open and just as painfully cute. Your hand slipped over his shoulder to take hold of his chin, tilting it up, exposing his throat fully to you and encouraging him to look at himself.

“You’re a gorgeous boy, Channie.” Your words melted right into his ear. “Everyone can see it.”

You pressed another kiss to the juncture of his shoulder and neck—his weak spot. With how sensitive he was, every part of his body may as well have been his weak spot, but the sound he let out as you grazed your teeth over it was like no other. Sweet and pleading in the back of his throat. It spiked in volume when you closed your mouth over the patch of skin, unconcerned this time over whether or not the mark would show. He wanted it to. And, selfishly, so did you.

“I-I don’t see it,” he stuttered at last. “I can’t.”

Your tsk of disapproval was met with another shaky sigh as you ran your tongue over the fresh lovebite. It soothed his burning skin, fogged up any remaining space in his head. You took a moment to admire the blooming red ring before gliding your lips over to a new spot to sully. He was yours, even untouched, but you wanted to leave traces of yourself everywhere, to make him a part of you in every sense.

“Look at yourself, baby,” you ordered gently.

His Adam's apple bobbed under your mouth, swallowing down his misgivings and finding the courage to comply. Before he even locked eyes with himself in the mirror, his ears were already flushing at their tips.

“There we go. Good boy.”

The praise eased his mind a bit, but you could still feel his heartbeat racing under your kisses, pulsing beneath your traveling fingers. All simply because of the sight of himself—a sight you wanted engraved permanently into your memories, just as badly as he wanted it removed from his.

“Look at all these muscles. So big and strong.” You flattened your palms against his broad shoulders, trailing slowly, appreciatively, down to his biceps. Arms you used to dream about having bulge beneath your hands. Arms you had at your mercy, even in all their strength. Because it was a strength used solely to protect others, never to harm.

You wrapped your fingers around the defined muscles, too large to even close your grip entirely around. They flexed under your touch—a detail you found adorable, strangely enough.

“D-do you…” Chan licked his lips. “D’you like them?”

You smiled against his skin. Such an endearingly Chan question. Setting himself up for a response that he wouldn’t be able to handle; a response that was sure to set his face on fire and put a stammer in his speech.

“I might like them too much,” you admitted. “So pretty to look at. So irresistible to touch. So cute when I hold them down,” you mumbled the compliments between each kiss you peppered along his arm veins, protruding from his nervous hold on the sheets. “So strong, but so weak for me.”

Chan’s reaction didn’t disappoint, cheeks heating up instantly to match the burn of his ears, dimples making a timid appearance. Anything he attempted to say was lost in the shy, breathless laugh he sputtered out. You knew right about now that he was wishing he had some kind of cap, beanie—anything to pull over his face and hide away. To hear your doting words without having to face himself. Maybe then, he’d believe them.

“You work so hard, don’t you, Channie?” you cooed. “Such a strong, beautiful body for a strong, beautiful boy.”

“A-ah…please.” Chan fought back the impulse to cross his arms over his torso, solely because he didn’t want to lose the feeling of your mouth ravishing them. Instead, he squeezed his eyes closed, too flustered to bear. Your hands found his chest without warning, cupping his pecs and making him squeak. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, a split second too late in trying to mask the pitiful noise.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” You dug your nails delicately into his chest, just enough to make him shudder. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

To that, he didn’t object. “Yours, ‘m all yours.” It was eager, immediate, accompanied by a tilt of his head. Urging you to make it known, to leave marks of yourself all over his neck until it belonged just as much to you as it did him.

“All mine.” You rolled his nipples delicately between your fingers, earning a broken whimper that made heat pool in your stomach. “My pretty boy.”

Chan jerked forward, every intoxicating word of praise, every drop of your attention making his arousal skyrocket. With his eyes still shut tight, all his other senses were on high alert. The serene sound of your voice reverberated all around him, the deliberate care of your touch sent tremors up his spine. You roamed further down his body, fingertips dancing over his lean abdomen, tracing the outlines of his muscles. His stomach clenched as you did; exhilarated, rising and falling with each rapid breath. He felt so vulnerable—all his pleasure, all his comfort, all his worth in the palm of your hand. More exposed than ever, yet somehow, safer than ever. He could stay blind through it all and trust you to guide him to the other side.

“Open your eyes for me, baby.”

He pressed his lips together, protest cut short when you inched dangerously close to where he needed you most.

“There,” he gasped out. “There, please.”

Mischievously, you pinched the skin right above his waistband, satisfaction rushing through you when he throbbed in the confines of his sweatpants. “Where?” you questioned, deceptively innocent. “You have to look and see.”

You drifted further down, skimming the softness of his hips and stroking his tensed thigh. “Here?”

“No,” he huffed, face scrunching in frustration. “Please, ‘s too embarrassing.”

Your hum was full of sympathy, but your hand said otherwise, moving along his inner thigh and giving it a light squeeze. “How about here?”

You knew what was coming by now. So, you snaked your legs around his waist from behind, prying his thighs apart before they could clamp together reflexively. The added contact only made Chan’s composure weaken further, a low groan spilling out of him. Practically every part of your body was pressed against his—head tucked into his neck, chest rubbing against his back, hands grasping him wherever they slid, thighs resting on his—but it wasn’t enough. He needed more before he crumbled completely against you. Or, rather, he needed more to crumble completely against you.

His eyes snapped open at last, hazy, disoriented. He blinked a few times to readjust his vision, taking in the view before him. His puffed, rosy cheeks, his neck, painted with deep, crimson marks, his arms and torso, lined with the faint drag of your nails. Every part of himself that he chose to focus on was evidence of you on his body.

“Beautiful,” you said firmly.

“Ah…th-thank you.”

His reflection peered back at him, nowhere to hide. But with it, he found his other reflection, one he could admire so wholeheartedly, one he could never run out of things to love about. When at your side, maybe he didn’t look so bad.

Your lips were by his ear again, he felt your breath fanning softly next to it, saw your mouth opening unexpectedly close to his piercing—so close that he thought you may take it between your teeth again. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain himself if you did.

“Where do you want me to touch you, Channie?” you whispered.

His stare dropped to your hand, more than ready for any excuse to redirect his attention from himself. You rubbed gentle circles into his thighs, traveling upwards at an agonizingly slow place. Chan sucked in through his teeth, a fresh wave of embarrassment passing over him when his dick twitched again, as if it was crying out the answer for him.

“My baby’s so shy,” you remarked playfully. “But your body isn't.”

He squirmed between your legs with a sound of pure helplessness, too worked up to handle your teasing properly—not that he ever really handled it well, in the first place.

“P-please, need you so bad.”

You softened. “I’m here.”

His eyes followed your movements in a glimmer of hope, fixated on your hand like a puppy would with its favorite treat. When you came to brush over his bulge at last, his hips shot forward, pressing into your palm in a way that made your stomach flutter, and his twist with pleasure. He didn’t even have the chance to feel humiliated about it, not when you finally curled your fingers around him like he’d been longing for so intently, so fiercely that even thinking straight had become a challenge for him.

“Is this it?” you asked sweetly.

“Mmph, yes. There, please.”

You gave him a squeeze, feeling up the shape of his length through his sweatpants. So hard without a single touch to it, more than ready for you—desperate for you. It made the ache between your own legs take over in full. Restraint slipping, you dipped your fingers below his waistband to tug his sweatpants off. Chan reacted immediately, scrambling to raise himself from the mattress just enough for you to slide them down along with his underwear. You couldn’t even find the patience in you to remove the garments entirely, instead letting them rest halfway down his legs.

Chan’s gaze flickered back to you in the mirror, just in time to catch the way your eyes gleamed at the sight of his bare body. Length glistening with precum, pressed and dripping against his stomach. Milky thighs, dotted with delicate moles you could kiss endlessly. But you wanted to leave a different kind of mark on them, today. You ran your hands along his flesh—gentle, pacifying—then dragged your nails back up all at once, raking his skin and leaving a trail of pale lines that quickly deepened in shade. Chan inhaled sharply, throwing his head back against your shoulder, muscles constricting under your fingers.

“Pretty little thing,” you crooned. “You’re unreal.”

There was no time for him to recover—not from the delicious sting on his thighs, not from your doting words—before you took his cock into your hold at last. It sent a ripple of heat all throughout his body, almost enough to make him unravel right then and there.

You gave him a few careful pumps, delighted by the sheer amount of wetness that had dribbled from his tip, allowing you to move with ease. Using your free hand, you nudged his head from your shoulder to direct him back to the mirror. Despite knowing full well that the visual he’d be met with would turn his brain to mush, he obeyed. He would do anything you so much as suggested in that moment.

“You’re just like that moon you love so much,” you murmured. “You know that, Channie?”

It pierced through the lust occupying his thoughts, pulling him out from his haze just enough to string together a feeble response. “What—ah. What d’you mean?”

He tried not to let the sight of your fingers, sticky with his arousal, gliding up and down his most intimate spot, twisting and teasing in all the right ways like you knew his body better than he did, distract him from what you said next. If there was anything to focus on, it was you.

“The moon can only see itself reflected in the water.” You swirled your thumb along his slit, using your other hand to run the pads of your fingers tenderly along his cheek. The combination was enough to make him dizzy. So much love, so much pleasure. He didn’t know how to handle it. He would never know how to handle it. “It doesn’t see its own beauty or light. Just the way it gets distorted by the ripples all around it.”

Before he could even fully process the comparison, Chan’s eyes began to water. This time, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was happiness imbued in those tears. A happiness the both of you still needed adjusting to.

“So, look at yourself clearly, now,” you encouraged, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Look at your reflection when it isn’t broken.”

It may have been too much for him at once; such adoration amidst everything else he was experiencing. The stimulation to every last one of his nerve endings, the bliss consuming his body and mind, robbing him of any coherent thought. But you needed to say it just as much as he needed to hear it. You wanted all the pleasure, all the love he felt in that moment to be associated with himself.

“O-oh, wow,” he choked out. “I…I don’t…”

I don’t deserve this. You could hear it on the tip of his tongue, clear as day. But he was too awestruck to protest, too awestruck to even speak. You felt a tinge of protectiveness—he was so far gone.

“D-dunno what to s-say,” he stammered. You knew it was taking every ounce of his strength not to bury his face into the crook of your neck, to let himself go completely and forget about anything that wasn’t you.

“It’s okay, Channie. You don’t have to say anything. Just look.”

You studied him in the mirror, nearly melting when you noticed him blinking the few, fragile droplets from his eyes—listening diligently to you, clearing his vision from any water that might distort it. He drank in his reflection in full, stiff, uneasy, but relaxing slightly between your legs when you pressed another kiss to his cheek.

“So pretty, every inch of you.” Your hand resumed its stroking, sliding down to the base of his length, cupping him gently. “Even prettier when you’re filling me up.”

“Oh my gosh,” he gasped, jerking in your grip. Even with the mirror there to guide him, he struggled to coordinate his hand movements, pawing aimlessly behind him to find some part of you to grab onto, some part of you to anchor himself with. “Please, please. Wanna feel you.”

“I know, baby boy,” you shushed him. “You’re dripping so much. Poor thing.”

You dragged your index finger along the underside of his cock one last time before pulling away with a light flick. Chan barely stopped himself from surging forward, chasing your hand like an instinct. That, coupled with the mewl he let out when he registered the sudden loss of your body heat around him, tugged at your heart just as much as it spiked your adrenaline. You made quick work of removing your clothes, well aware of his eyes, wide as moons, watching you undress through the mirror, waiting for you to return to him. Restless, yearning, but obedient above all else.

He reached for you the instant you settled back in his lap, hovering over your waist for just a second before ultimately latching on, skin on skin, a whole new layer of heat. You took his length back into your grasp, turning your body so that you were both facing your dresser mirror. You could hear Chan’s breathing pick up behind you, feel his chest expanding against your back.

“See that, Channie?” You dragged the head of his dick along your folds, coating it with your own wetness. “Just looking at you gets me like this.”

If all you’d said wasn’t enough, maybe the physical proof of his effects on you would help do the trick. A sweet, desperate vocalization, so rife with need that you could practically taste it, was all he could manage. It morphed into a moan as you sank down on him all at once—loud, absolutely shameless. You would never think it came from the boy who couldn’t even catch a glimpse of himself without being reduced to a flustered wreck. Just as your heat engulfed him, his engulfed you. It came more intensely than ever before, more staggering than even your first time together, bolting through your veins and making you suppress a gasp. You clenched around his cock, relishing in the feeling of him pressed so snugly inside you, as close as physically possible. So comforting in its familiarity, so exhilarating in its return. It was something you could only describe as relief, relief in the warmth, the fullness, the completion you brought to each other.

Chan’s head fell forward with a whimper, chin resting against your shoulder, clinging to you so tightly that it was difficult to move. You weren’t even sure if he was aware of it, a subconscious desire to stay buried inside you, not wanting to lose the security of your walls wrapped around him for even a second.

“Missed you so much,” he slurred into your skin. “W-wanna stay like this forever.”

You reached back to cradle his head, running your fingers through his hair. “I missed you too, angel. Missed the way you fill me up so perfectly.”

You lifted yourself until just the head of his cock was left pulsing inside you. When you noticed Chan’s blissed out expression in the mirror—eyes fluttered shut, lips swollen against your shoulder, eyebrows knitted together—a golden opportunity presented itself. It took him a second or two to realize that you weren’t sliding back down, another soft plea rumbling in his throat, vibrating into your skin. You gave his scalp an affectionate scratch, prompting him to look. This time, he listened without question, driven solely by the need to feel your wet heat around him again.

“Good boy.” You took him back inside immediately, not keen on being apart for much longer, either. He gritted his teeth as you did, trying his best to keep his gaze leveled with his reflection for you, for your satisfaction, for your approval. But nothing could’ve prepared him for what came out of your mouth next.

“See how perfect you look when you’re inside me, Channie? See all the pretty faces you make? My pretty baby, feeling so good. Making me feel so good.”

At that, the precious little that had remained of Chan’s composure fizzled out completely. His hands flew up to cover his face, hot with shame, burning with arousal. The filthy sight of him pushing in and out of you, the wet sounds filling his ears, the teasing lilt of your voice. It was all too much. He shoved his nose into his palms, letting out a cute, mortified wail that echoed throughout the bedroom, mixing with your breathless giggles.

Even as you continued riding him, he stayed hidden behind the safety net of his fingers, shyness turned back up to full blast with no signs of disappearing. It only added to the pressure building up inside your abdomen to see him so overwhelmed, each muffled grunt and soft whimper of his spurring you on. Your words from earlier rang truer than ever—he was so weak for you.

You allowed him to stay that way for the sake of his sanity, petting his head with a gentleness that contrasted the steady pace of your bouncing. It wasn’t until you felt his cock begin to jerk inside you that he pulled his hands away from his face with a choked noise, reaching out for you once more.

“Can’t take it—mmph—‘m getting close! ‘M s-sorry!”

His fingers dug deep into your flesh, igniting heat at every point of contact. You basked in the feeling for as long as you could, then halted your movements altogether, pulling off of him in one fell swoop. The loss made both of your bodies cry out in protest. Chan hiccuped pathetically, mouth falling open, confused blinks reflecting in the mirror when your softness, your warmth, escaped him without warning.

He trembled underneath you, tugging at your waist as he tried to get a handle on his voice. With care, you turned in his lap to come face to face with him again, moving slowly enough as not to break his hold on you, not even for a moment.

“Did I…” he panted. “Did I do something wrong?”

You brushed your thumb over his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had begun to accumulate. “No, baby. You’re doing so well for me,” you assured him. “But you wanna finish together, don’t you?”

It was almost funny, in a sense, how the way Chan’s face lit up—how his features flooded with pure delight—made your heart flutter more than anything else. More than any irresistible sound he let out, more than any way he let you use his body to your heart’s content. You were just as captivated, just as endeared, just as hopelessly taken with him as that night in May, walking home alongside him under the moonlight and knowing your fate was sealed.

“Y-yeah, together. Together, please.” He leaned forward, nose finding your neck, taking in your scent. “Can we stay like this? Wanna see you.”

Your hand found his length again, wrapping just tight enough around it to make him jolt. “Hm…you can see me in the mirror though, can’t you?”

“Please,” he repeated, pouty lips brushing against your skin. “Only wanna see you. Need you.”

You relented. Regardless of how badly you wanted to get the message across to him, regardless of how addictive you found the sight of him on display in ways you’d never seen before, you knew he’d just about reached his limit. And, well, maybe you needed him too. Needed to watch him fall apart right before your very eyes, needed to have every bit of your skin pressed against his, needed to kiss him when it all became too much for his foggy mind.

“You’re so cute. I’ve got you, baby.” You tilted his chin up with your free hand, half-lidded doe eyes finding yours. Knowing him, the eye contact wouldn’t last long before he was ducking away again. So, you took advantage of it, realigning him with you and watching his features flood with pleasure as you sank down on him once more. He had to stop himself from bucking up into you, body stiffening with effort, a breathy, grateful moan, nothing short of angelic, slipping past his lips.

“You’ve gotta hold on for a bit, alright?” You gave his shoulders a squeeze. “Let me know when you’re close. Can you do that for me, Channie?”

His arms wrapped around you in full, no longer content with just his hands on your waist. “Mhm.” He barely mustered up a nod, pulling himself closer to you in a way that burrowed his cock impossibly deeper inside. “Promise. W-wanna make you feel good, too. Wanna be a good boy for you.”

“My good boy,” you cooed. “See how well you fit inside me? See how good you make me feel?” You clenched around him as you dragged yourself up his length, snapping back down with a delicious speed. “You were made for me.”

“M-made for you,” he agreed, head falling forward to nestle into your chest. “Ah—fuck! You’re so warm. Feels s-so good.”

You dug your nails into his muscles, using your grip on him for leverage as you began working your way up to a pace even more vigorous than before. Immediately, the new angle took a toll on Chan. It allowed the head of his length to rub directly against your sweet spot with each rock of your hips, making the both of you shudder. You could feel his mouth fall open against you to let out an especially sharp cry, nibbling mindlessly at your flesh, matching your rhythm.

“You’re mine, t-too, right? Gonna stay with me?” he babbled into your skin. “Please, tell me you’ll stay. I’ll be good for you. P-please.”

The coil in your chest twisted just as tight as the one in your abdomen. You knew his thoughts were muddled, ridding him of any filter and making him ramble in the heat of the moment. But you also knew it stemmed from a very real fear, one that you would never feed into again.

“You’re already so good for me, Channie. You’re perfect. My perfect boy,” you spoke as steadily as your erratic movements and shaky breath would allow, ensuring that each reassurance found him. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m here ‘cause I love you.”

Chan whined, ringing out loud and clear even through the softness of your chest. “Love you. I love you so much.” He nuzzled further into you, strengthening his hold around you, hands pawing at your sides. The words seemed to have opened the floodgates within him, like he’d been waiting to hear them—the catalyst for him to lose himself in you completely. “Love you, love you, love you. ‘M almost th-there.”

This time, there was a short delay before you could bring yourself to stop. You didn’t want to let go of him again, no amount of time would be tolerable enough. So, you stayed perfectly still, indulging selfishly in the feeling of him inside you without snapping the final thread just yet. Chan lifted his head, disoriented, biting down on his bottom lip to fight back a pathetic groan as his climax was denied once more. You could feel his thighs quivering under yours, his arms flexing around you, his cock twitching wildly against your walls. Every bit of his energy was being expended to hold himself together, to endure it however many times you saw fit.

“You’re doing so well, baby boy. Lasting so long for me.” You twirled a lock of his damp curls around your finger, hoping to keep him grounded enough to hang on just a bit more.

“Y-yeah? ‘M doing okay?” He brushed his nose against yours, a silent plea that you understood all too well by now. “Making you feel good?”

“So good, Channie. I’m getting close, too.” You closed the gap between you and him before his wordless request became another whine, taking his swollen lips between yours. They were hot, pillowy, unbelievably wet. You tried your best not to flutter around him, but it was impossible not to when he was humming so eagerly into your mouth, kissing without an ounce of self-control left in his system. His movements were sloppy, uncoordinated, but each messy slide of his lips sent another jolt through your senses. The hug he’d enveloped you in loosened at last, hands wandering obsessively over your body until he found your chest. He paused for a moment, mumbling out something that made drool drip from the corner of his mouth.

“Mmph, c-can I? Wanna touch, please.”

Even now, he was clinging to the last few shreds of his rationality for you, thinking of you above all else when the promise of his climax was dangling right in front of his face. It took the arousal coursing through your veins to a whole new degree, so intensely that you had to stop yourself from sinking your teeth into his lips out of raw affection.

“Go ahead, baby,” you murmured.

Chan cupped the soft flesh in an instant, sighing like he was slipping into a dream. His kisses became near-frantic, so drunk on you that he had trouble staying confined to just your lips, landing on the corner of your mouth, all over your cheeks, pecking and sucking any spot he could. Despite that, his hands were gentle, kneading at your flesh in a delicate back and forth pattern that calmed him and kindled a fresh warmth in your body. He was doing so well for you, trying his absolute best for you. You wanted to give him everything. You wanted to take his heart that he offered up to you so willingly, and give him yours in return.

“Ready to keep going, Channie? Can you take it?”

“Y-yeah. Yes, please,” he breathed. “Gonna do it for you. I’ll do anything.”

“My sweet boy.” You cupped his cheeks, steadying his clumsy kisses, but holding him just close enough to keep him content. He hissed softly as you began moving again, rolling your hips down so that his length grinded against your walls, stimulating every nerve-ending inside you. The heat building between your bodies became much harder to ignore, filling the air around you and seeping into your skin. It was heavy, thick, but it made you feel lighter than ever. Your high was drawing near, and, judging by the way Chan’s hips stuttered with less and less restraint, you knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer either.

The pads of his fingers dug into your breasts just as he let out a warning moan. “Oh God, ‘m sorry. Please, don’t wanna finish without you. So—ngh—close.”

You grinded down against him, spine tingling when Chan yelped in response, so sharp it almost sounded like he was in pain. “Mm, just a little more, baby boy. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“I-I…oh, please,” he swallowed hard, eyebrows scrunching together as you dragged yourself all the way up his length, mind-numbingly slow. “Yeah, I can do it. I’ll be g-good.”

Your hands traveled up to his hair, tangling in his curls and pulling at them just hard enough to make goosebumps rise at his nape. “Channie listens so well,” you purred. “You were made to please, hm? Good boy, good boy.”

If your honeyed praises weren’t enough to push him alarmingly close to the edge, the way you squeezed around him as you sank back down, wrapping him in your heat all the way to his base surely was. Chan surged forward with a sob, head falling into your shoulder, fingers grasping at you helplessly.

“Your good boy,” he whimpered. “Please, please, ‘m not gonna l-last.”

You cradled the back of his head. “It’s too much, huh angel?” you pouted. “You can let it all out, now.”

“Together?” You could hear the strain in his voice, mere seconds away from losing it completely. “Together—ah—right?”

“Together.”

At that, you gave one last sloppy glide along his length, snapping the tension in both of you at once. Chan cried out, teeth grazing against your shoulder, hips surging up to push as far into you as your bodies would allow. A delicious heat seared through your senses, only amplified by the flood of his release coating your insides, stronger than ever from how long he’d been holding back. You tried to keep your own sounds under control, far more entranced by the ones slipping from his trembling lips. Mewls of your name, slurring out how much he loved you, chanting his gratitude like a mantra as you guided him through your shared high.

Minutes or hours could’ve passed and you wouldn’t have known the difference—you wouldn’t have minded either way. Eventually, the shivers in Chan’s body faded out, his panting evened into softer, more peaceful breaths. When he finally found it in him to pull his head from the comfort of your neck, droplets had begun to form in his eyes again. Not enough to spill down his cheeks quite yet, just enough to glaze his pupils over with happy tears, just enough to make them shine.

Your fingers danced absentmindedly in his hair, serving as a different pleasure from the kind that had just rocked your bodies. “You did so well for me, Channie. I’m proud of you.”

He blinked up at you. Slow, lazy, a dreamy smile tugging at his lips. “You’re s’ beautiful.”

“Sweet baby,” you murmured. “I hope you think the same when you see yourself.”

Anything he planned to say trailed off when you reached down for his hand, bringing it up to your lips. He was still buried deep inside you, hypersensitive to every little movement, every little touch, but he did his best not to squirm as you pressed kisses to his fingertips, paying extra attention to the fading cut on his thumb. The pain was long gone, now. Still, it made a few glistening tears trickle out delicately. You kissed them away, too.

“You’re still my favorite reflection.”

Shy, barely audible, but spoken with all the sincerity in the world. Butterflies erupted in your stomach. It was a start, at least. Maybe the parts of yourselves that you loved in each other, you could eventually come to love in yourselves.

“Can we—?”

“Stay like this?” you finished for him, a smile creeping up on your lips. “Yeah, we can.”

He bumped his forehead against yours, letting out an exhausted giggle, eyes crinkling and dimples flashing. He was glazed with sweat, skin sticky, damp curls pressed to his forehead, but he shone with every ray of light that slipped through your blinds.

The urge to check on him, to fuss over him, to care for him, still nagged at your mind. That was something that would never change. You wanted to clean him up, wash away the soreness and soothe the marks all over his body. But he didn’t need any of that right now. He just needed you. That was it. From day one, it had been as simple as that. You didn’t need to do anything. You didn’t need to prove anything. You just needed each other. Maybe, you could stay wrapped up in the mess you’d left on each other’s bodies for a while—bask in it, even.

Chan’s innocent nuzzles inevitably led to another kiss. Soft, but just as hungry for you, just as desperate to stay immersed in this moment. You shifted slightly on his lap, making your heart jump and making him jolt against you. The poorly concealed sound that built up in his throat might’ve made you giggle if you didn’t need him just as much. No more limits. No more restraint. You didn’t have to worry about taking him in moderation.

You wanted each other endlessly. You fell into each other again and again.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

A sudden buzz against your nightstand cut through the tranquil rhythm of breath that filled your bedroom, pulling you from the haze of sleep that had been pricking at your mind’s edges. It was a brief, low vibration, but still loud enough for you to worry that it may wake the boy in your arms. For once, you allowed yourself to be unavailable, not daring to disturb his peace for even a moment to roll over and read the notification. You already had a good idea of who it might be, anyway: Changbin, triple checking what time you’d all be meeting up for jjajangmyeon on Friday. The thought alone made fondness bubble up inside you, lips curling into a private smile. After four years of tardiness, absences, and missed deadlines, this was the one thing he was determined to be on time for.

Graduation was two days away. You and Changbin’s class ceremony would take place in the early morning, while Chan’s was scheduled for later that same night. Timed seamlessly with the rise of the sun and the moon. The finish line that you’d been terrified of for so long was a mere few steps away, but when viewed up close, it wasn’t quite so daunting anymore. Even if the path you walked next was still unfamiliar, uncarved by anyone before you to clear the way, you knew who you’d be walking it with, and you knew where it would lead you. You’d walk side by side with Chan, towards something better.

His family had flown in from Australia earlier in the week to visit, to attend his ceremony—to celebrate him. An occasion that was just as precious to them even with the bitter memories that surrounded it, even in its delay, even if Chan had spent the past two years convincing himself otherwise. He’d been a nervous wreck before leaving to meet with them when they first arrived, you could see it in every awkward shift of his feet, every subconscious rub of his neck, every unnecessary adjustment of his clothes. However much you’d tried to comfort him beforehand, however many grateful smiles he’d given you, you’d known that there was no real way to ease his apprehension. He hadn’t seen them in person for over a year, and, even prior to that, it’d been two years since he’d had an interaction with them that wasn’t engulfed in shame.

But when he’d returned, he had a smile that almost reached his eyes; hopeful. It hadn’t been perfect, everything wasn’t okay yet, but the seed had at least been planted for it to blossom one day. He’d missed them so much. It made your heart sing and ache at the same time. You only wished that he’d believed he deserved to see them before now—to stand in front of them as the son and brother that they loved, not as the collection of faults and disappointments he saw himself as.

Though, you supposed you weren’t exactly one to talk. Your family would be coming into the city on the day of your ceremony as well, a very blatant reminder that you had yet to visit your hometown again like you’d promised them over the summer.

You weren’t quite ready to return yet. But just like Chan, you would be, one day. And you would try again. Of all the things you’d come to learn in your time with him, the value of upholding a promise was undoubtedly the most important one. You weren’t going to run. You would try as many times as it took until your home felt like home again, until you remembered all the good times, until the memories laced in every crack and crevice didn’t add to the sting in your skin, but eased it.

You eyed Chan’s form through the darkness, nestled against you with his head buried in the softness of your chest—sound asleep, for once.

Your arm was still draped over his waist, lingering at the small of his back where you’d been rubbing as he drifted off. In turn, his muscular arm was wrapped securely around you. Holding each other, protecting each other. An endless cycle of drawing strength from one another without growing any weaker in the process. You could give him everything, and not lose a single drop of yourself.

For the first time, you could hold someone in your arms without that underlying sense of dread spreading its roots in your mind. For the first time, your heart was still. A calm and clear surface of a lake, one that you hoped could reflect Chan’s light in its truest, most unbroken form.

You were no longer held together by a butterfly bandage, an ill-fitted adhesive, forcibly closing your wounds without giving them the chance to heal properly. At last, you were stitched up. Stitched up by the very same thread of fate that had brought you and Chan together.

You didn’t have to ask to know that he felt the same. You could feel his emotions like they were your own, after all.

#💌#youve had me in shambles every step of the way…i’ll be spending the next few months glueing myself back together heh

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

VALERIE - Part IV. (Harry Styles)

hello loves!! thank you so much for the feedbacks on the previous part, i love to see your thoughts at reactions so please keep them coming for the upcoming parts as well! i was informed that the posts weren’t showing up under the hashtags bc i had an extrernal link to the spotify playlist, so that won’t be available in the next parts, but you’ll always be able to find it in the masterpost if you’d like to give it a listen! those were the songs i listened to while writing the story! now, i dont want to keep you up any longer, here is part 4, one of my personal favs, and im excitedly waiting for your feedbacks on the post! have a wonderful reading!

word count: 4.5k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Valerie is curiously watching her dad work on the portable bed they’ve brought over for the night, her little hands clutching onto Rosa’s shirt as she is telling you all about the list she has made for you. It’s not a long one, but you try to focus on every word she says, making sure you won’t mess anything up.

“I put an X behind the important ones,” she explains pointing at the paper and you nod, eyes roaming down on the few X’s on the list. “The other ones are just suggestions, things I thought you should know.

“Got it,” you nod again, biting into your bottom lip. Bath time, feeding, sleep time, everything is covered in the list and you’re happy she even mentioned the smallest details. Some things might be natural for her as she’s been doing it for months, but it’s your first time completely alone with a baby. You surely don’t want to mess this up, especially because you want her to trust you and let you look after Valerie more often. They deserve a break now and then.

Steven finishes the bed and backs out a few stuffed animals along with two blankets into it, making it look cozy and familiar for Val.

“But most importantly,” Rosa starts and you look her in the eyes. “Call us anytime if you need help or want us to take her home, and I mean it.”

“Not gonna happen,” you shake your head, earning a sigh from your sister.

“Y/N, I’m serious. We are thankful for the help, but it’s not your duty, alright? Just call us anytime, really.”

Nodding your head you flash a smile at her, knowing well nothing on Earth is gonna make you call them tonight. Okay, maybe there are some cases when you would call, but those are quite unlikely to happen.

She hands Valerie over who curiously eyes you before grabbing a handful of your shirt and making herself busy with the fabric.

“It’s gonna be fine. Have a great night, you deserve it,” you smile at them. Steven straightens up and curls an arm around Rosa’s waist as they watch Val in awe, clearly a little worried they are gonna spend an entire night without her, but you can tell they also can’t wait for some alone time.

“Alright, we should get going,” Rosa sighs and stepping closer she kisses Valerie’s head and then your cheek as well. “Have fun with your aunty! We’ll be back for you in the morning, Sweetie.”

She runs her hand over her little head and Valerie smiles at her happily, completely oblivious to what’s really happening. The joys of being just a baby!

Steven says goodbye to her as well and you all head to the door.

“So, we’ll be here around eight, she is usually up by six. Do you want us to pick her up sooner?” Rosa asks standing at the front door.

“Sooner? I was about to tell you to sleep a little longer, you don’t have to come so early.”

“But we don’t want to take away your whole day, you need to rest too,” Steven explains, worry all over his face.

“Stop worrying about me, I’ll be fine. Just enjoy your night off! Come on, I’m throwing you guys out, time for the sleepover to start,” you tell them, shushing them out the door.

It takes some time to finally get them to leave, but they eventually do. Then it’s just the two of you, alone for the first time.

“Ready for your first sleepover, Val?” you ask her, standing in the hallway of your apartment. She just stares back at you, saliva drooling from her mouth but even that looks cute on her. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You braced yourself for the worst. Thought about all the possibilities how the evening would go, but you hoped they wouldn't become reality. Unfortunately, baby Valerie had different plans for the two of you.

The first hour goes by fine. You feed her, have a little play time, reading her favorite book to her, but slowly, you notice her losing interest in anything and everything. Soon enough, you see her face distort into a grimace and a few moments later she starts crying and it’s straight downhill from there.

Nothing can get her to stop. No food, no toy, absolutely nothing. You clown around, trying everything that pops into your mind that would calm her down, but it doesn’t seem like she is about to stop anytime soon.

You start to panic. Rosa told you how fussy she is because of her teeth coming, but you didn’t think it would be this bad. When she’s been crying for an entire hour straight, for a split second, you think about calling Rosa.

“No, not gonna do that,” you say, while Val is still screaming in your arms. “Valerie, what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you, I promise! Just please stop crying!” you whine desperately, but, no surprise, no answer comes from the screaming babe in your arms, just more tears, puffy eyes and red cheeks from all the crying she’s been doing.

Trying to rock her into calmness you are moving around in the apartment when you hear your phone ringing. You instantly think it’s gonna be Rosa, wanting to check in on you, but how are you gonna answer the call when Valeries is screaming from the top of her lungs? She’ll come to pick her up straight away, no doubt about that.

Rushing into the kitchen you are relieved to see that it’s just Harry calling you.

“It’s not the best of times, Styles,” you sigh as you answer the call and put him on the speaker, leaving the phone on the countertop, so you have both your hands free for Valerie.

“Hey, I was just-- what the fuck is happening?” he asks hearing the deadly cries of Val through the line. “Is that Valerie?”

“It is! I’m looking after her so Rosa and Steven can celebrate their anniversary, but she just wouldn’t stop crying! I don’t know what to do!”

You’re absolutely desperate. It’s so bad you can feel your throat closing up, nearing the edge of your patience, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, but you tell yourself only one of you can cry at a time and Val has taken that spot quite some time ago, not even giving you a moment to let loose.

“Text me your address, I’m leaving now,” he orders and you snap your head towards the phone.

“What? No, Harry--”

“Just text me the damn address, Y/N!” he barks and the line cuts off right away.

Your desperation pairs with shock now, not knowing what to think about this short, but quite eventful conversation you just had with him. It takes you a few moments to collect your thoughts, but you end up sending him your address.

Nothing changes in the twenty minutes while you are waiting to hear anything from Harry following your text to him. Valerie keeps crying with three seconds of pauses when she takes a few deep breaths only to start screaming once again. Aside from the headache she is causing you, it’s becoming pretty impressive how long she’s been doing it. You probably would have fainted by now, but it seems like Valerie is running on an endless battery.

“You are really making it hard for me to be a cool aunt, Val,” you mumble, the baby still in your arms as the tears keep rolling down her face. Your light grey shirt is now soaking wet, both from her tears and your sweat from the anxiety she is giving you, mixed with some other things you choose to ignore where they came from.

The doorbell makes you jump, but Valerie doesn’t even bat an eye at the sound, she just keeps going.

“You need to teach me how to have this much energy,” you mumble under your breath as you walk over to the door.

Opening it you find yourself staring up at Harry who is wearing a brown coat, dark jeans and a black hoodie. If you had to guess what he was doing on this weekend evening you would have said he was out with friends somewhere, picking up girls, but he surely doesn’t look like he was anywhere else than his home, the clothes are hanging messily on his frame, like he just threw them on in a rush.

His green eyes look straight at you at first before moving over to the crying child in your arms. You fully expect him to say something along the lines of “this is the kind of effect you have on others” comment, but it seems like he notices the fear and despair in your eyes and he keeps his mouth shut.

“I honestly have no idea what to do,” you choke out and the tears start flowing from your eyes as well, making Harry have to deal with now two crying human beings.

“Oh my, please don’t cry, I can’t take two crying women at once,” Harry begs as he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Turning to face you he reaches for Valerie, you hand her over to him, hoping she would magically stop the crying, but she clearly couldn’t care less.

“Why, can you take one?” you ask with a bitter chuckle as you wipe your cheeks.

“Not really,” he admits, making you smile. “So what have you tried?” he asks as he starts swaying and rocking Valerie in hopes of getting her to stop, but not even Harry’s charm stands a chance with her right now. Deep down you’re happy you weren’t the reason she got so fussy and upset, would have been pretty awkward if she stopped the moment Harry took her into his arms.

“Literally everything,” you huff, shoulders falling forward. “I went over the list Rosa gave me, tried everything, but she wouldn’t stop. She’s teething, but this is… It seems like there might be something else maybe?” you tell him worried that something serious might be behind her behavior. You really don’t want to call and bother Rosa, but you are nearing the point where you’ll give up and ask for help.

“Maybe she needs to be changed?” Harry suggests holding her up, giving her butt a sniff, but you roll your eyes at him.

“You don’t think that was one of the first things I did? She is as clean as she could be. Maybe I should just call Rosa,” you sigh in defeat reaching for your phone but Harry snaps at you.

“No! Don’t, we can figure this out. Steven has been so excited to have a night off, we can’t ruin this for them. Come on, we have to have the slightest parenting skills and solve this without them.”

Nodding you agree with him, but you’ve completely run out of ideas.

“So what do you suggest?”

You can see the gears turning in Harry’s head as he is trying to come up with a plan, but it’s not like either of you have any experience with babies. The idea of calling Rosa is starting to burn in the back of your head, fear of failing this challenge taking over your thoughts.

Then Harry looks at you with a look that screams that he has an idea. You’re just about to ask what came into his mind when all of a sudden he starts to sing.

“Well, sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water, and I think of all the things what you’re doing and in my head I paint a picture…”

You instantly recognize Amy Whinehouse’s iconic song, the one that’s also behind Valerie’s name, you know that for sure. Rosa was obsessed with the song growing up, she would sing it on the way to school, in the shower or while making dinner. You weren’t surprised she chose this name for her first daughter.

What surprises you that Harry sings like a literal angel. He hits the notes perfectly, nailing the lines like not many can and you listen to him with parted lips, eyebrows raised. This was the last thing you expected from him, but then again, it’s not the first time Harry has surprised you through the years of knowing him.

Valerie stops for a moment, her hiccups shaking through her body as her tear-filled eyes look up to Harry, and you both think this is gonna be the moment when she finally calms down, but he doesn’t even reach the chorus before she starts crying again, a defeated sigh erupting from him.

“Maybe she wants it instrumental,” you suggest and Harry gives you one of those ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ looks as you leave to run down the hallway, right into your bedroom.

“How am I supposed to make it instru-- what the hell, Y/N?!” He gives you a weirded out look when you return with a guitar in your hands. “Since when do you play the guitar?”

“Since like… eighth grade,” you tell him as you sit on the couch and holding the guitar on your lap you try to find the right accords. “I told you, you know nothing about me.”

Harry nods with a surprised but amazed look on his face as your fingers strum against the chords. It takes a few minutes but you figure it out and glancing up you give a questioning look to Harry.

“From the start?” you ask and he nods his head, continuously bouncing up and down to try to calm Val down.

You start playing the song and soon enough Harry joins you with the singing, the two of you perfectly nailing it even without any practice.

“Stop makin’ a fool out of me, why don’t you come on over, Valerie?”

Maybe it’s the guitar, maybe it’s the singing or maybe the fact that the song has her name in it, but by the time you reach the halfway point in the song Valerie’s crying slowly starts to fade. You instantly share a look with Harry, but don’t stop, fearing that she might start again if the music stops.

Her tear soaked cheeks smooth out as she is not screaming anymore and you can actually see her irises finally, her long lashes are sticking together from the salty tears and you know it’s gonna take some time for her to regain her normal state, but at least the crying has stopped.

“‘Cause since I’ve come on home, well, my body’s been a mess. And I’ve missed your ginger hair and the way you like to dress…”

You tear your eyes off Valerie for a second, letting yourself wander over Harry’s features as he sings. He slightly furrows his eyebrows focusing on the lines, so his forehead has a few creases on it. His lips form the words so clearly and elegantly, you wonder how often he sings. Is it something he only does when he is on his own or he likes to perform as well?

The only time when you heard him sing was at the bar when the two of you slayed the karaoke machine with that Avril Lavigne song. You were smashed by then, you remember that he had a nice voice but it was the last thing you paid attention to. Besides, he was kind of equally drunk as you, it was all for just fun, but now is a completely different situation.

It’s no surprise Valerie finds his voice soothing, you’d probably stop whatever you were doing if you heard him sing. There are people with a good voice and then there are the ones that not just have a good voice but also that small something, that extra magic in them that makes you melt as their voice caress your ears. Harry is definitely the second case, for a moment you forget where you are or why he is there singing. It’s just his voice and the gentle strumming of your fingers on the chords.

At the end of the song he starts repeating Valerie as the song slowly fades into nothing and you both stare at the little girl in his arms, clearly afraid she might start crying again. Unfortunately, your reservations become valid when you see the corners of her mouth curls down and you and Harry share a shocked look immediately.

“What else can you play?” he urges as Val whimpers in his arms, letting you know she does not appreciate that the singing has stopped.

“Shit, shit! Um, something from ABBA?” you propose and Harry nods quickly, not even asking which song you know, so you take it as a sign that he probably knows all of them.

The first song that comes to your mind is Andante, Andante and you don’t hesitate to start playing again, just in time. Valerie was just about to start crying again, but as soon as the melody hit her little ears she calmed down and listened to it with tired looking eyes.

“Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze…” Harry sings the words and you can’t hold a smile back as he, once again, hits the notes just perfectly without missing a beat.

You’re convinced there’s not one person on Earth who has never heard a single Abba song, most of the population knows them by heart, but somehow you couldn’t really imagine Harry to be a person who knows the lyrics to the songs as well. But he does and sings it without messing it up even just once. It’s hard to imagine a younger version of Harry singing ABBA songs when they come on the radio, but the more you think about it the more the picture paints itself in your mind.

Valerie lays her head to Harry’s chest, stuffing her thumb into her mouth as she listens to the performance. She is probably enjoying the vibrance of his voice shaking through his chest and maybe this is what brings her the peace she’s been looking for all this time. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of them.

Harry glances at you, eyes so soft you melt under his gaze. However nerve wrecking it was to have Valerie scream for hours, she is still the cutest little thing ever as she rests her head on his chest, her long blinks giving it away she has definitely lost most of her energy.

You don’t dare to stop the singing and playing. When you near the end of a song you quickly think of something else and whisper it over to Harry, who then gives his feedback on it with either a nod or a shake of his head. Most of the time he knows the songs you suggest so the show continues without a stop.

Half an hour passes by when you see her eyes slowly closing. You still don’t stop though, only when Harry tries to listen to her breathing and he realizes that it was completely slowed down. She is out.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out quietly, your fingers feeling numb from the playing. You haven’t had a guitar in your hands for this long in a while, probably for years. Harry shares your relief, his throat has completely dried out and he is happy to finally breathe evenly, not just sneak a few breaths in between lines.

“And now what?” he mouths as he is still gently swaying around with the sleeping Valerie in his arms. You put the guitar aside and check if she is for real asleep. Her long lashes are spread out on her puffy cheeks, gently snoozing into Harry’s chest as if she weren’t screaming for dear life just an hour ago.

“Let’s put her down,” you whisper and nod at him to follow you.

Reaching your bedroom you only switch your bedside lamp on so the light doesn’t wake her up. Pushing the stuffed animals to the side you grab the blankets and let Harry do the critical job. Leaning down he oh so slowly starts to pull her away from his chest, careful not to move too suddenly, it all feels like in those action movies when they are trying to get through the lasers without triggering the alarm. One bad move and the screaming threatens to start again and that’s the last thing you want, after all you’ve done to calm her down.

You don’t even realize it but as you watch her little head reach the mattress you hold your breath, almost wincing upon seeing Harry’s hands slide out from under her sleeping frame. As if you wait for something to go wrong, both of you freeze for a moment, expecting her to start moving around and wake up, but she stays still.

Eyes snapping up to Harry, you exchange a look and then you both head to the door, careful not to make any noise that can possibly shake Valerie up from her dreams.

“This was more tiring than running a marathon,” he huffs, throwing himself to the couch and you do the same next to him.

“Have you ever run a marathon?”

“No,” he confidently answers and you look over at him with a puzzled look. “But I can imagine how tiring it is.”

You let out a chuckle, letting your eyes close for just a little bit. You haven’t even had the chance to realize how much this whole struggle with Val sucked the energy out of you, but now that you’re half lying on the couch it hits you all at once.

“I should get going,” you hear Harry mumble, clearly just as tired as you are, but he doesn’t move.

“Mhm,” you hum, feeling yourself drift to sleep.

Neither of you moves and it doesn’t take a whole five minutes for the both of you to completely doze off.

The next time you wake up you feel an arm curled around your waist and someone is definitely pressed up against you while your back is against the back of the couch. It takes you a couple of moments and some blinking to realize it’s Harry you are all snuggled up to and the reason why you woke up is because Valerie is crying again.

“Shit,” you mumble to yourself, mind still groggy from the sleep as you push yourself up on the couch. Just moments later Harry’s eyes flush open and you’re not sure it’s because of the crying or because you moved next to him. His arm slides off you as he looks around a little confused about his surroundings.

You don’t have the chance to think about how the two of you ended up cuddling on the couch, though it lingers in the back of your mind. Basically crawling over Harry you rush into your bedroom where Valerie is lying in her bed crying. It’s a different kind of cry, not like the one you were stuck with for hours before and you know she must be hungry.

“Ah, come on, little girl. It’s alright,” you coo at her scooping her into your arms. She immediately cuddles to your chest hiccupping against it, her little hands fisting your shirt. You leave to go to the kitchen and feed her, but just as you’re about to step out of the room you bump into Harry.

You bounce back from his chest, but his hand immediately reaches for you and grabs your arm, holding you in case you might fall back.

“Sorry,” you breathe out, thoughts still foggy a little. “She’s… hungry,” you explain, but he is standing so close to you, you can feel his body’s warmth and it instantly ignites the memory of being pressed against his side on the couch just moments ago and you can’t stop yourself from inhaling a shaky breath.

“Let me help,” he croaks out and the two of you walk into the kitchen. Putting on her bib you hand her over to Harry who sits with her on his lap on a stoop as you get the baby food, warm it a little before joining the two of them and you slowly start feeding her.

“What time is it?” you ask realizing you have no idea how long you two have been asleep on the couch.

“It’s three am,” Harry answers before smiling down at Val. “Good job, Val!” he hums watching her take the spoon into her mouth.

You finish up feeding her, then give a try at burping her even though Rosa said it’s not necessary anymore. She just hums to herself so you head back to the bedroom, her eyes already threatening to close. By the time you put her back to the bed she is out again, so no private show is needed this time.

Walking out of the room you see Harry putting on his shoes and coat. For a split second you feel disappointed that he is leaving, but then your rational side puts you to your place. Of course he is leaving! Val is fine now, there’s no other reason for him to stay, right?

“Harry,” you softly say and he looks at you. “Can you please not tell Rosa and Steven that I needed help with Val?” you quietly ask, though there’s no doubt your eyes are practically begging him.

“No way I’ll ever admit to Steven that I sang ABBA to his child, so don’t worry about it,” he chuckles making you smile as well.

“Thank you. And for helping me as well. I was really close to giving it up,” you admit folding your arms on your chest as Harry stands at the front door, hand on the door knob as he is looking back at you.

“No problem. Now you owe me one,” he smirks and you can’t hold yourself back from rolling your eyes.

“Sure,” you say with an airy chuckle. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he smiles at you sweetly before opening the door and walking out.

You take his place at the door and watch him walk down the eerily quiet hallway. He turns back to you one last time waving in your way and you nod back smiling before he disappears around the corner.

Closing the door you lean your back against it, taking a deep breath. Your eyes wander over to the couch where you and Harry were sleeping not so long ago. The feeling of his arm around you is still burned into your mind and you breathe in shakily as a memory snaps into your head of the exact same thing, only years earlier.

You lied almost exactly like that in his hotel room that night. His strong arms wrapped around you as you had your head laid on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was slightly faster than the normal. Though you were still quite drunk, this feeling imprinted into your memories, because you felt so safe with him. Like nothing could ever hurt you if he was there with you.

Unfortunately, that feeling faded into nothing when you woke up in the morning quite fast. But this time, instead of disappointment and disgust, the only thing you still feel is the emptiness at the lack of his touch.

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saintobio · 3 years ago

Note

the new chapter is amazing. not you making yn have a disease and make her suffer more than she already has😭😭 if i was in her shoes i wouldn't know what to do, it's just pain after pain after pain.

GOD you have no idea how good it felt to see yn ignoring gojo when he tried to apologize to her. he truly deserves that. fuck him.

also, it's really awful how sera completely dismissed how he felt about his mother leaving him like come on how are you so desperate to be with him but you couldn't accept that side of him????

also i'd like to know if she has always been that awful to her mother and siblings? i know she struggles all her life but she seems really ungrateful...

bsjdnsj dw yn’s got this :’) hopefully she’ll pull through in the end. if not <//3 as for ur question, sera’s not always like that w them but she does frequently blow up these days bc of work-related stress, pressure, and gojo lmao

Anonymous said

Can I please take my bags and go live with Toji? megumi needs a stepmom💞💞💞💞✨✨✨

I would like to point out many points but I do not think I am capable enough to detail all things😭 Just imagine if s*ra became pregnant and refused to abort it ☠️ I think that Mr. Gojo is that man who would force her to do it and pay her a good sum of money to keep the silence idk

Incredible chapter! please take good care of yourself, drink plenty of fluids and rest well🥺 Thank you for writing this masterpiece, I screamed in several scenes and cried in some gshdhhshs I send you a lot of love from here, Ai 💕💕

Sorry my bad English

guroyeu said

tw // sexu*al assault and hospital/illness things

waaa i can officially say that this was the second time where i actually teared up!! having yn remembering about the death of her mother was what got me. i’ve had a similar experience, except my uncle did end up making it after a few months. the first time was when i read about yn getting sexually assaulted cause it made me remember about my experiences with it back in highschool and middle school (and from my best friends at that time also 😟 humans suck sometimes)

so, we learn more about sera and her point of view with everything that is happening in her own personal life inside her own small apartment she got for her family. i empathized with her SO much from the beginning because my family was also not very rich. but all i can say from sera’s pov is that she’s a fucking bitch. from her pov, there was a statement that said, “See, this was the difference you and her. You didn’t experience this much hardship in life for you to complain about not winning Satoru’s heart.” honestly, fuck her. the hell does she know about yn and her personal problems?? how is she gonna complain about yn not having problems and also refuse to listen to her own boyfriend that she probably doesn’t even genuinely love?? i’m pretty sure she only likes him cause of his reputation?? idk. when satoru was showing his flawed side (when he was all stressed) then sera seemed to really hate it. she obviously doesn’t want to listen to satoru’s problems because she wants to view satoru as this one oh so strong man that she can always lean on. like satoru isn’t always going to be perfect. he’s literally in love with u. there is just so much to say about sera, but i’m sure ur other asks have that covered ;)

my feelings towards gojo have been going up and down and up and down. now we know for sure he really wants to treat yn well, and that’s good!! that’s really good. but should she forgive and accept his actions? uh no lol. but i also feel bad for gojo BUT I DONT WANNA HELP SNAJNS

again, i am so so so grateful for ieri and suguru in this chapter. both of them make my heart go brr 💓💗💕💞💘 also, toji was really nice!! i’m so glad he’s yn’s comfort character in her life cause he really does make her feel at ease <33 AND I AM SO SORRY I JUST SUBMITTED MY ASK FROM WHEN I READ CHAPTER 8. i always start reading ur updates at 12-1am (when i get in bed) since my day is too chaotic for me to start reading at 7pm since that’s when it updates here. so i basically sent u 2 asks today which i am so so sorry for cause ur ask box is constantly piling up. thank u so much for this chapter ai!! i feel like yn is really doing better at letting satoru go now and i just hope the best for the best girl <3

@primmaa said

bae, i have no words. i was screaming the whole chapter AAKJSSNSBSBSBS. i hope sera actually took the plan b(wouldn't be surprised if she didn't tho). this chapter was really the turning point for all three of them. sera's true colors are starting to show, gojo's realizing his stupidity & mc is starting to put herself first now. i hope we get to see her actually be happy now that she's realized she needs to prioritize herself more.

as always ai, ur writing is amazing! please make sure u get enough rest & that u eat properly. take care!

Anonymous said

i didn’t find chapter 8 sad so i wasn’t expecting to find chapter 9 sad but i cried so much. i also can’t help but feel for sera, like yes she’s a bitch but her life is genuinely so bad and now i kinda get why she’s so jealous. also i have a feeling that after this chapter, toji will not have an important role in the story at all and might not even be in it. you mentioned a while ago, that you didn’t want to do another main character death (but u might’ve changed your mind) so i hope that y/n doesn’t die. i loved this chapter so much, make sure u take care of yourself <3

(also can i be 🪆anon if it isn’t taken plz)

@japanesevenom said

GODDAMN IT IM CRYING ITS THREE IN THE MORNING IM DYING GODDESS AI PLEASE make it a happy ending heal my heart and end poverty you’re so good at writing man I can’t even express the feelings your expressions made me feel except pain and trauma and sleep deprivation I’ll rant more in the morning if asks are still open because I have lots of heartbreak and I will never recover really y/n energy lmfao blame this on the lack of sleep to say

Anonymous said

just read ch 9! I have some things to say Abt sera. honestly as much as i hate sera, her whole ordeal of being a terrible person is low-key understandable. especially if you're within close proximity with so many rich people whose behavior in our eyes could seem awful. Terrible. but that's the most I'd go to sympathize with her lol. the rest of it? flipping out on your entire family? itd have been tolerable if her younger sibling wasn't there, like that was so uncalled for. you're having problems with your boyfriend and you take it out on your whole family? girl step back and rethink your actions. goddamn. I rlly don't like sera lol </3 I think she really needs to look at her own position here and that complaining and whining and demanding as someeone in a lesser economic position wouldn't do anything for her and would just make her own life worse.

also ai you rlly meant it when y said that 'there's nowjere else to go but up' doesn't exist in ur dictionary. now miss girl yn has a heart condition? wow. amazing. beautiful. i love sn u r doing so well 💔

Anonymous said

ngl i do feel bad for sera a little bcs i can see why she's bitter abt life and all but it doesnt mean she has the right to blame everyone for her misfortune. she cant just call our baddie y/n selfish when she got mad at her mother for buying shit meat (ik she had a frustrating day but that part was hilarious to read )😭😭 i feel like she only likes the idea of g*jo and the attention he gives her + that money 🤪 she doesnt like the emotional baggage he comes with (which ik that some ppl arent emotionally capable of dealing with other ppl's feelings and thats understandable but she didnt have to be rude) i felt bad for his furby ass when she told him to "just move on" from his childhood trauma. i was neutral abt sera at first bcs she really didnt do anything wrong but then she started to open her mouth and only shit came out of it. i dont necessarily resent her(what a lie) or mr.furby (another lie) but i am intrigued to see them fall off their rusty ass tricycle.

i love the way you write y/n so so much bcs she's just so realistic and actually feels like a real person and not just some character that was designed to please the audience. like i understand her choices bcs of the way u write her character.

anyway, i am obsessed with this series and i love you so much ai !! please take care of yourself and im so sorry to hear that someone plagiarised your work (that fucking sucks) also, i love your anons bcs they're all either so funny or smart 😭 i normally dont send asks bcs im shy both irl and on the internet but i just want to let uk that i really appreciate your work and especially you !! sending u lots of love and i hope u have a great week !!

@rchslxtt said

Another great chapter, thank you ai!❣️

I used to sympathize with Sera since I've been in her place before. Loving someone first, having them first, only for them to another woman as their end game. But now, it's a whole different story. After reading Sera’s point of view, I don't think she truly loves Gojo. Maybe she does, but only the stability she knows for sure he will give her once she married him. Like having endless amounts of money in her bank account, having not to worry over what kind of food she can eat or not worrying whether she has money to buy for it. I think Sera thinks—being born into a wealthy family will solve all your problems. She's wrong. Definitely wrong. Sera doesn't realize how lucky she is to still have both her parents even if they're “failures” as Sera portrayed them as. Having both of your parents is a luxury. Something you shouldn't take for granted. As someone who grew up rich, not wealthy, money is not the answer to everything. I'd rather not have money if I could have both of my parents back.

Back to what I said about why I used to sympathize with Sera, here's an advice. Even if you had them first doesn't necessarily mean they will love to the end. People change as well as their feeling towards you. They might love you now, but you never know in the future. It's better to move on than to keep hurting yourself burying yourself in delusions that you will still have them towards the end.

Sera, if you want stability, find a new rich man who can satisfy your needs. But make sure his family is not going to set him up in an arranged marriage.

Anonymous said

Like. I didnt even finish reading the chapter but this Sera bitch is so toxic. It's so clear how she only fell for the poised and perfect image of gojou who could give her the perfect materialistic life she desires. She doesn't care about him. It made me so pissed to see her disregard gojou the minute he started to talk about his mother, like it wasn't even worth her time!! She pressures him into giving favorable answers, like how she expected him to apologize (for what, like, bitch???) and was oh so hurt when he didnt. She blames y/n for so much, like being rich means being born without troubles. So you have a terrible boss and a horrible home life. Shouldn't you be more humble and understanding then??? Shouldn't that have taught you some dignity?? Some empathy??? I also assumed she would've been more sympathetic to gojou seeing as her ma Is a sweet lady( from what i read) under the thumb of her father ( The father probably pressured the ma into giving up the money for alcohol. Like how gojou's parents had a rocky power imbalance or something.) I just wanna smack fire into this lady since I doubt you can smack some sense into her. And, speaking as someone who grew up dirt poor and is still poor, what is she going on about??? Fish is very good and I bet loads better than what she had to make do before. She's complaining about food??? She wants WAGYU BEEF???? Do you know how EXPENSIVE that is?!?!? I would be glad to get a bowl of rice, thank you very much. Good god. I'll probably send in something later since your words evoke so much from me, that I fear I might have a heart condition too. Keep doing what your doing love, your killing us but it hurts too good to stop.

Anonymous said

this chapter made me tear up. wow.

when i read the part about y/n being diagnosed with a heart condition, it made my eyes go wide and i was literally staring at my screen like (° °").

moving on to sera, i feel like she's going in the wrong direction when thinking about y/n, saying that she didn't have to suffer and how she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and what sucks about that is how she doesn't know that y/n is not living it well. but then again, she hasn't suffered as much as sera. i was starting to feel remorse for her, but when she called her mom useless after she was trying to cook a meal for her family, i thought about my mom and how she worked extremely hard for my siblings and i to live a good life, and how she actually continues on to work for us, i became so mad. and she even had the audacity to say something along the lines of "i should've been born into a rich family". like okay sera, i understand you don't like your current living condition, but you didn't need to say that.

now talking about gojo, kudos for him for telling sera to take plan b and for also saying that she's not valuable enough to ruin his life. even though i still dislike gojo with a passion, i was rooting for him in that scene. and also, thank you to gojo telling miwa (i love that girl so much wow) to order a boquet of roses for us, but i don't think mr. satoru understands that buying us gifts isn't go to make us want to come back to him, but what absolutely made my heart drop was when we started crying in the bed. jesus christ. i guess he actually is starting to feel something for us.

i like the advice toji was giving out to us, i could never think of anything like that.

anyways, thank you for the chapter. it wasn't as emotional for me as the last one (which i thank you for). you never miss when writing, and that shows that you have an extremely creative mind. kudos to you for that. this chapter was written so nicely. have a good day! <3

Anonymous said

YES I AM EARLY!! FUCK YESS!!!! AI-SAMA!! ILY ILY ILY ILY!!😭😭 I LOVE CHAPTER 9 IT HEALED ME A BIT🥺🥺 ahhhhjm so worried about BBYGIRL YN!!

Also omg Miwa lovelyy!! So glad to see you here!!!! Omg omg why am i a excited about Miwa!! I can imagine her, despite admiring Hoejo Slutoru as an outstanding business tycoon, Miwa aint the type to be flirty with him.. i can imagine Miwa as the first secretary who isn't problematic! Maybe Miwa can even help Hoejo to woo the Queen (but pls, MRS ZENIN SUPREMACY)

Also when Hoejo said *beep* *beep* *beep* and that particular scene of *beep* the ring *beep* *beep*, me be like y'all hear sumn?🤨🤨🤨🧐🧐🧐🤔🤔🤔 Probably just the wind!!🤗🤗🤗🤗

Sincerely yours,

Anon 😻

Anon 😻 cant stop SIMPING over the most important part of the chapter: MRS ZENIN😻😻😻😻😻😻

Anonymous said

NAURRRR JUST WHEN I THOUGHT ITS NOT GONNA HURT ANYMORE BUT YOU DECIDED TO ADD SOME MORE SPICES 😭😭😭😭😭

but this is the great opportunity for y/n to stand up for herself, focus on her happiness and career, prove to the stupid bitch that y/n is not the so-called spoiled brat. her rising up as a famous fashion designer would be a major slap on sera. i like how y/n just decided to focus on herself like "oya oya bitch? you thought I'm gonna stay quiet like a princess do you?" y/n deserves all her happiness that she's trying to pursuit from now on, AS SHE SHOULD!!!!

I don't wanna talk about her illness 😀 knowing about it was also a slap on my face. Death is her trauma. But y/n is facing death like a brave warrior, I'm so proud of her.

Gojo, huh? He's going to be really devastated knowing about her heart condition, knowing that he's the major sources of her pain would make him suffer even more now that he finally realized that sera couldn't care less about his trauma but his ideal self that she created.

Anyway, good job author-nim for making me cry again 😘

Anonymous said

First of all, this is my first...ask, like really. My first ask.

Ch9 is sooooo good, I had to read it multiple times to heal my aching heart that Ch8 caused. Seeing Gojo trail after our Y/n, who's finally thinking about herself (yeees, I love you.), is so satisfying, how the tables have turned GOHOE SATORU. REPENT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!

I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU BECOME AN ASSHOLE TO OUR GIRL AGAIN BECAUSE OF *retch* Sera- *reeeetch*, I WILL FUCKING HOLLOW PURPLE YOUR ASS!!!

Speaking of Sera, the fuck you doing? Huh? Blaming Y/n for something she didn't do? This must be her way of coping, blaming others and not herself. LIFE IS NOT FAIR FOR EVERYBODY YOU BEEECH. Instead of blaming others, what she should've done is move her family away from her gambler of a father and herself away from Gojo because these two aren't good for her. Gojo's indecisiveness will only irritate her further and make her do something bad (like bad bad, like veeery bad) while her father is the main cause of their money situation. Also, why the fuck do you think was it a good idea to move into a house? When you're drowning in debt? Shouldn't you pay your debt first? Be grateful that you have a caring mother and siblings. Your situation could've been way worse.

IF YOU HAVE A SMART MOUTH, DOESNT THAT MEAN THAT YOU HAVE A SMART BRAIN? WHY DON'T YOU STAY AWAY FROM YOUR FATHER, TALK SENSE IN YOUR MOTHER, AND SAVE UP MONEY?? PAWN OFF THAT FREAKING NECKLACE.

Also, a question for the great angst writer, Saintobio:D

Will we see a face off between our badass Y/n and bitchass S*ra? I would love to see/read Y/n talking so politely to Sera but her words are sharp and condescending. I want Sera to feel what she made Y/n felt during their talk in Bora Bora (I still have PTSD from the previous chapter.)

You're so talented, Author, ahhhhh your writing is just *chef's kiss everywhere*✨ P E R F E T T O ✨

@jojoangelley said

Ai this chapter is so amazing as always!! I haven't so emotionally invested in anything so far as much as Sincerely Not! You are so talented 🥺🥺💕💕

It's ironic how Gojou is the one seeking for y/n attention this morning and is so desperate for it. I'm really satisfied when Getou really said it straight to Gojou's face and told him about how y/n went out looking for his ring. Gojou's suffer arc starting now!!

Meanwhile, it's so worrisome that y/n has developed sickness :( I believe she would be fine, y/n is a good person life will treat her well eventually. And she started taking action for her passion. With the help of Toji, y/n would easily succeed + her talent and trusted team!

I personally relate a lot with y/n this is why I can truly apply myself to the story and feel everything vividly 🥰

Thank you so much Ai for bringing a masterpiece to us and thanks to Sincerely Not! you have connected us together as a whole to share our emotions, thoughts and love for this work. We really came to your place talking like we have known each other for years 🤣🤣

I hope you are taking care of yourself and stay safe :) Always take your time and rest as much as you can! ❤❤❤

Anonymous said

this chapter made me hate sera more than i already do. she stay calling mc selfish, but just from the scene with her pov, she's the selfish one. she's constantly blaming mc for gojo's actions, denying the fact that, despite being rich, mc is still a human being and can have problems and go through hardship like anybody else. she won't let gojo talk about his problems and won't make any effort to console him at all, telling him to just "move on." please tell me sera will be forced to realize that just because she's poor doesn't mean she's the only one with real problems in the future 😭 i'm glad gojo didn't take back his words.

speaking of gojo, i don't know how to feel about him anymore. like he seems to want to be better and is remorseful, but i just can't forget how he used to be. i mean, he literally triggered the heart condition we have. well not triggered, but he worsened it, and now if we don't pull away, we could die. he's literally killing us. and if he finds out, i hope he feels the full weight of that.

i can't wait for more interactions with toji! i feel like it's going to drive gojo insane if he sees reader be happy when with toji but cold with him (he'll finally get a taste of his own medicine 😈).

anyway, thank you for another great chapter 😘!! (if you take anon requests i think i should just ask to be 😘 anon now lmao)

Anonymous said

(I wanted to send it after ch 8 but I couldn't 😭 Excuse my English, I'm not good I'm writing with my trash grammar knowledge)

I LOVED CHAPTER 8 YOUR WRITING WAS AMAZING I also felt sad but thats the point anyways

What Sera said when they were alone hurt my feelings lol. Idk I always think twice while I'm talking with anyone about something important and thinking what I'm saying might hurt their feelings. I get yea she's angry but you don't have to be a bitch about it. (And she really acted like a spoiled brat when telling gojo tell her I'm the most prettiest and you only love me. I only saw a little girl idk lol.) I would talk more about Sera but I think people already said a lot of things. it's just that what she said and her actions wasn't good. I don't care what can happen but a person always should be calm, respectful towards the person in front of them and shouldn't let the anger get them. even if you don't like the person. Also she lacks emphaty. She only thinks her struggles as a person. Her struggles are money related and I guess family, she's financially trying to keep her family up. Her struggles are valid I'm sure it's hard to keep up. She's really strong and she's hardworking. I guess only problem when she sees someone that doesnt have her struggles she immediately thinks they have the best but in fact all of us have struggles in life. Whether it be less complicated than yours or not, we have to pass through them and learn. I'm hoping that she can apologize to y/n for her childish behavior??

Okay, now gojo. I'm thinking this man is really stupid or he acts this way. He's so insensitive and selfish. I'm sorry for him what he had been through that might explain some of his behavior but not excuse it. So don't be an asshole. What is he thinking? Like they're (both him and Sera) blind to see what's in front of them and treating y/n poorly. He really shouldn't go to trip with his mistress and wife because it's already obvious that it's not gonna end well. Then he complains about his wife is being cold to him. Mf what do you expect? Show some respect to your wife.

My little y/n :((( she's trying her best and still nobody sees it. I'm wishing her the best. When they argued what she said to gojo was harsh. I often don't talk about my struggles or trauma because after that people might use it to insult me. I know there's nothing to be ashamed of that but that happened and I felt like shit. It also caused me to not to open up to people. I'm thinking what gojo felt? Even tho she immediately apologized and it was probably because of her anger it doesn't change the fact that can damage gojo and he can be more secretive to only person comforts him :( He should go to therapy. Again, I'm wishing the best to all and I hope she divorces him. Also I'm thinking what gojo will do because if Sera gets pregnant he should start to forget y/n. If Sera gets pregnant and theyre still together their marriage would be the worst. Andd, Gojos friends were nice. They tried to comfort y/n and making situation less awkward. I really felt like they care about y/n so that make me happy. They were nice to her whole time.

Okay okay lastly I really love your writing. Thank you for sharing. Buttt please rest. You're doing so much and I really appreciate it, love it but please rest. Don't rush, it's okay if you didn't reply all asks or continued ch. Youre more important so don't push yourself. Hope you're taking care of yourself or you will be punished with love and hugs. (virtual ones) Never forget to rest, eat your meals and stay hydrated!!!

Anonymous said

(sending this before I read chapter 9) mmm everytime I think about SN, thr words "tragic fate" pops up in my mind so i'm just gonna ramble.

Sera gets pregnant and both her and Gojo decide to keep the baby.

At this point, Reader is so done with their bullshit and gets a divorce, then Gojo ends up living with Sera to take care of her. He realizes during her pregnancy that they're just not right for each other and they have never loved each other - despite this, he will stay to take care of the child and Sera, and promise to still try and make their relationship work. Along with Gojo, Sera also realizes that when Gojo loses everything - his wealth, inheritance, power, standing in the hierchary. She's like - "damn I only liked the fantasy of being with a rich future CEO....Now that he has nothing but trauma and depression, I don't want him anymore!!"

Then after 9 months, Sera dies from childbirth, baby gojo dies right after labour and gojo literally sees both of their deaths. Gojo is left a man who got disowned by his father for his divorce + getting his mistress pregnant + not getting the merger (just being an overall failure.)

He regrets everything he did to Reader and wishes he hadn't said such nasty things to her when they were still married. He has a pillow he keeps next to him to make his bed feel less empty, he writes post-it notes for himself pretending that Reader wrote them, and he still uses that shampoo she used.

He reminisces on their past together and cries. "How did we end up this way? Where did it first go wrong?""

Then while he's wallowing in misery, Reader is enjoying the time of her life as a hot rich designer with a handsome husband (Toji) and cute step-son. Oh & she's pregnant.

She runs into Gojo 2 years after chapter 8, with her baby son in arms. They have small friendly chit-chat, talking about how they've been doing, and she tells him that there are no hard feelings anymore, she's happy, while Gojo is left silent at what she said as he thinks about his own fate ((because what if he had treated her better before?))

Soo he weeps in the end thinking about how Reader's baby son resembles her, like "what if that were our baby 😢" UM boohooo satoru piss off 🐈🐈🐈

Anonymous said

CH.9 OMG!!! Another great chapter, and the angst was really bearable this time so score!

OMG MC with her heart condition. Poor bby just can’t take a break and I’m kinda sad that a really serious illness is what took her the courage to see her worth and distance herself from hoejo. But I’m loving it the role reversal. And her trauma with her mom dying right infront of her, I can’t even begging to explain how much that hurts and the burden of carrying that type of feeling with you for a decade gosh! But yess bitch walk your shit queen, make your boutique a dream come true!

IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ZENIN FAMILY BONDING !!!! Future Mrs. ZENIN IN THE HOUSE‼️‼️

Sera. SERA. Idk where to begin honestly, she’s a manipulative bitch, she’s over here talking about MC knowing her place like BITCH know YOURS. YOUR ARE THE MISSTRESS GET IT THROUGHT YOUR STINGY ASS HEAD.

Like honestly I don’t understand why she calls MC entitled and all when she’s over here not even appreciating what she has lolz. Like bitch we get your poor, half of the worlds population is poor but be thankful for what you have, like atleast your can have dinner, have a room over your head PEOPLE DONT HAVE THAT.

This is a theory but what is she didn’t take plan b but has a missacrage because of the stress and how she’s been skipping meals but tell hoejo she’s having his demon spawn, but when hoejo gets disowned by his family and loses his title or spot in the company she’s like SIKE BITCH YOU THOT

Idk if she was saying this in like a spoiled bitchy way but the MEAT. This girl pissed over MEAT😀. If you want meet go ask for Hoejos meat…. Oh way he might not even want you anymore but he realizes his feeling for MC.

Miss gurl out here joking about not taking the plan B like…. that ain’t gonna help you sooner or later, if you can’t apreciate the small things in like how tf you gonna take care of a whole ass child

A CHILD YOUR MAN SAID HE DONT WANT

(really clown girl shit right here)

Hoejo babe I love you for the realization but it’s over. PERIODT.

Feel the pain and agony and my you Rest In Peace when MC leaves your ass to take over the fashion industry with the Zenins and leave your ass in the dust with that dusty ass SERA🐱 and your demon child😚

Anonymous said

wow i have no words for this chapter… it truly hurt but it didn’t hurt like chapter 8. this tike of hurt was something else and i cant believe im saying this but im starting to soften up to satoru. UGHH im so weak bye😭😭😭 i cant believe i feel kinda bad for him already when this is just the start of his redemption arc. also… THE HAPPINESS IN MY HEART WHEN HE TOLD SERA SHE WASNT VALUABLE. i wanted him to shake her off and end things with her right there but instead he let himself get manipulated by sera into feeling bad about his trauma. thats fucking crazy. talking about sera, she’s such a (pardon my language) fucking bitch. the way she was coming at her parents saying that they are useless bc they are poor… wtf??? she isnt humble at all. she is such a bad person. i feel so bad for her family having to depend on a daughter like that. i have a question tho, does her father abuse them?? bc even tho he is a drunk he doesn’t seem to be the type that gets physical?? or well he didn’t give those vibes. my hate for sera is even bigger rn and she wonders why people don’t like her💀💀 im starting to think it has nothing to do with her status as she swears but bc she has a bitchy ass personality. she’s so annoying. i hate her. i hate. her.

@yourstarvic said

OKAY SO! Gojo is a HYPOCRITE!!! Like bro you got what you wanted and now you’re not liking it??? Be careful what you wish for.

AND SERA PARENTS SEEM OKAY!!! Like yeah the dad had a gambling problem and a drinking problem but like he loves his kids!!! And the mom is so sweet! And sera is out here being ungrateful!!!! They can’t do anything about their financial situation so at least be grateful of what you have!!!!

And also… I don’t think she took the plan B… seems kinda sus how she got defensive (but I kinda get it? Like I would be hurt too if the man I “love” wouldn’t want a baby with me) and they way she was looking at herself in the mirror snd imagine it as if she was expecting it??? Or!!! Could be lying about the pregnancy test??? Idk???? It just seems fishy to me and you do things with a reason and with you saying how Gojo nutted in her is a BIG THING!!!!! I’m so excited to know what you are going to do!!!

AND YES YN!!!! PUT YOURSELF FIRST!!!! WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!! Make that man SUFFER!!!!

Anonymous said

OH BOY OH BOY WHERE SHOULD I STARTTTT....

franticay running around while reading Chapter 9- oKay so uH- first things first, Sera, fuck u, if u thinking ur life is pure suffering because of ur "useless parents" go fuck yourself, literally your mother is doing her best right now for the family. I understand ur working and all but like why the fuck are you like this smfh.

IT'S JUST AN EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER RN WITH Y/N LIKE, SHE DOESN'T DESERVE HER ILLNESS, REALLY SHE DOESN'T 😭 its literally so fucking heartbreaking how she has her illness when she's already suffering emotionally and mentally like- Ai 😭 p l e a s e our baby girl doesn't deserve death 😭😭😭😭😭

Gojo get ur shit up I don't give a fuck what u do, get ur fucking shit up like I swear to god regretting impregnating Sera? Hope you fuckin regret it for the rest of your life man! Like! I can't even t o l e r a t e you anymore after Chapter 8 🙄 Literally raging and wanting as a revenge to pull a pregnant card on Sera well FINE DO IT. I bet after yall get married Sera just gonna do worser things, just seeing how she treat her parents and even so her younger siblings with such coldness, i think something gonna go wrong here 👌

also i have a theory, one day like in a social event for only major like maaajor companies like Toji, Gojo and Y/N's families, what if Toji and Gojo clash head to head and that causes Y/N stress as she collapses like in Bora Bora how she passed out from crying and they send her to the hospital find out her heart condition just getting worse and worse, please that will be the emotional wrecker for Gojo because the doc prob gon come out of that door and say "Mrs Gojo has a heart disease and she is under very much stress right now." and it will shatter like everyone's hearts there(dont know bout toji tho...)

Honestly i dont know I have no hope for the marriage rn I just want Y/N to be treated better, have a better life and give herself the feeling of euphoria once more so that she can live her life to the fullest without her worrying abt her illness so that she can go on to the afterlife with happy memories

Anonymous said

TW:SUICIDE

Hey Ai! Omg is it okay if i call u that? I'm sorry i just see other anons calling u that but if it's not okay then I'm really really really really sorry 😭 anywayss the reason I sent this ask is cuz I really just want to thank you, I've been very depressed and is very suicidal from the passed months because of a very depressing event that occurred and everyday whenever I'd wake up I'll always be so mad and annoyed cuz "why the fuck did i even wake up?" "Why didn't I just die in sleep?", But since I stumbled upon sn I literally gradually got a lil better. I always loved reading and writing fics especially angst ones even before that specific event occurred and ever since it happened I lost hope and thought that nothing will ever make me happy again or something like that. But since sn, i was able to read your other works and they are just *chef's kiss* AMAZING😭😭😭😭😭, for the past 3 weeks since I stumbled upon your works I didn't wake up that depressed anymore and I didn't sleep praying death cuz because of your writing I had a reason to live, yeah yeah maybe some will say what a very shallow person, but I just want you to know that you writing helped me allot, your writing saved me and it's one of the reasons I'm still holding on. Waking up every morning excited about reading your responses to the anons and especially waiting until Friday for the update!!, I miss this, i miss being able to wake up excited, and I owe that allot to you. So I hope you know how much of an amazing great writer you are, that once in your lifetime you saved someone because of it. Thank you Ai so much from the bottom of my heart!

Anyways i had this lil shower thought pop in my head yesterday 😂 (that's how often I think of sn😭) likee if the sn universe were to be in the jjk canonverse, that means Gojo, as one of the strongest families in business in sn, will still be the Strongest in jjk universe in terms of strength and there are the Zenins too running down the biggest businesses along with Y/N's family in sn, so that means Y/N's family might be a very strong clan too in jjk along with the Zenin, Kamos and Gojos. And since sn!Y/N aside from having a very huge empire like business doesn't like meddling into it then jjk!Y/N might be the same in terms of being a jujutsu sorcerer, wherein she is very strong and her cursed energy and power is just as powerful as Satoru's if she chose on taking the path of being a jujutsu sorcerer(the reason why Gojo's dad wants him married to her to have very powerful baby and possibly to merge clans), and there's sera who's literally just a mere human and all that's why his dad is strictly against it. Lmao that's all those thoughts thoughhh I'm sorry if it's unlike the other anons😭 anyways i hope you're well and you're keeping yourself healthy! Don't overwork yourself we all love you so much! Such a pretty and talented gurl like you must be protected at all cost>:) ohh and if you're still accepting emoji anons then can i be 🐲 anon? Thank you againnn i hope you have a very amazing blessed day!

i love u 🐲 anon !! pls stay strong. i’m glad that my writing helped u cope somehow 😢😢

Anonymous said

OKAY IM JUST.

Why does Sera think just because she's the one Gojo "loves", that she's not a mistress? GIRL pull your head out of your ass and think critically??? Or maybe she doesn't think critically she just thinks about ruining things for other people because she "wasn't born rich and had to struggle." There's no excusing what Gojo has done but I just want him to open his eyes and see what Sera's true motives are. At first I was like, okay Sera I see you, I get it. And then when it was revealed she had gotten money from Gojo's dad who supposedly hates her, I was like "yeah okay fuck you." I'm rooting for Y/N but I'm also rooting for Gojo finally seeing that his perception of love is skewed, and he needs someone like Y/N in his life, I'm not excusing all of his actions up to now but I really do want him to see how he's hurting other people the same way he's been hurt, and that he really needs to re-evaluate his choices up to this point. He needs to acknowledge that he and Sera are in the wrong and Y/N has not done anything out of line. And then he better get on his knees and beg for Y/N's forgiveness because he's probably never going to get someone as good as her to put up with his shit. SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT SN

hiyaaaa everyone i hope u guys don’t mind that i compiled everything and couldn’t respond individually but these asks deserved to be published so :) thanks so much for all the messages that u guys send, i swear i read all of them and i appreciate every single one of them <33

#saintobio.asks #series: sincerely not #long compliation ahead

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