#i have a Problem. this however is only one of the many many things wrong with me.

[fairystarstorm]

Thinking about what's going wrong with Arcane s2

I have not finished s2 yet (still need to finish act 3 but basically got all the major spoilers). I feel like a big problem with this season and why the Z vs P conflict fizzled out is that so many characters are simply not in the that narrative anymore. Especially since they all had interesting stories to explore in regards to it. And if they are apart of the plot line, the things that would make things more interesting are simply ignored.

Taken from the narrative

Heimdinger: the founder of the city realising that the society he built ain't shit and that he failed Zaun by not helping to uplift and protect them (instead of just picking out a pupil from Zaun and calling it a day). All that Talk about how destructive magic could be in the wrong hands while realising he build a society filled with those exact wrong hands because of his inaction. Him actually putting in the work to change and dismantle those structures and belief systems that he allowed to grow in the first place

Jace: He goes against his own morals once again to build weapons for Caitlyn and her team. But we get none of the introspection or the regret that should have gone with it. Why because he is off in an alternative reality fighting for his life. He finds out that Hextech is poisoning Ekko's tree and there's nothing more to that conversation?? If something had gone wrong with the core it could have destroyed Zaun? Something could have happened that could have disabled or killed many others like it did with Viktor. But let's gloss over it. Him reconciling with his actions as a councilor??? That kid really was just a blip in his life i guess.

Viktor: a big problem I feel with Viktor's character is that he can feel very removed from Zaun at times. Like we never got to see his horror about Hextech being used against his people. We never got to know about any family or how he actually felt about being resurrected. What his plan was for Zaun beyond making a little commune. A huge part of that is also because they barely let this man have meaningful interactions with anyone in s2 besides ghost Sky and Jace. Vi, Jinx, Vander and Isha going to his commune could have been a possibility for that. Because even though I do believe that Vander and him did not know each other personally, I don't think he would not have known of him. Also we barely hear him talk meaningfully about his identity as a Zaunite in Piltover

Ekko (and the firelights in general): In my opinion the biggest snub. The others character arcs were mostly about other things in s1 (piltover politics, hextech etc.) but Ekko's whole motivation was to protect his ppl from both the enforcers and Silco. However we didn't get to see him deal with the rise of enforcers in the undercity or Sevika being the one to try and unite Zaun. We didn't get to see him grapple with the fact that Vi became an enforcer or that he was wrong to place his trust in Caitlyn. And even though I love how ep7 is highlighting his good qualities I wish they were explored in his timeline. Him being there would have also allowed for more spotlights for the firelights and Zaunites in general. None of the other people in the cast (Except for Vander) are as involved with regular people in Zaun then he was. It makes Zaun feel less complex and lived in beyond the visuals.

Mel: Considering that they are setting up her mother as the true big bad (which flattened the Z vs P conflict + general bad writing surrounding ambessa which i won't discuss now), it would have been nice to have her be able to react. Like in the beginning of the season we get it a little bit with Mel using spies to figure out her mother's plans. We could have had her realise that Piltover is not fundamentally different from Noxus because of how easy it was for her mother to take over. Only that the violence they dish out is different between the 2 cities. We could have had her sit that in both cases she is part of the oppressive class and that she was only acting out of self interest rather than actually caring about these issues. Instead of her being Kidnapped to get powers, let her finish the story arch that had been set up for her in s1.

Underexplored

Sevika (And Jinx): her involvement with Silco and how that is seen by Zaunites that are not chembarons. Ppl being unwilling to trust or listen to Sevika pleading for united Zaun when she was apart of Silco's operations make sense. Silco brought shimmer into Zaun. Ekko says that a lot of the firelights joined because of how it ruined their lives. Sevika having to struggle with her role in it and how it ultimately makes it harder for the to reach her goal would have been satisfying! Also her showing up after episode 4 would have been nice in general. Also same with ekko, she was the only one who was reaching out and communicating with different groups of Zaun. She and Ekko were windows into Zaun society that they just kept closed for some reason.

Vi: Just everything man.... her trauma, her choosing to be an enforcer, her alcoholism... her relationship with Jinx/powder, her guilt, her role as protector who seems to be failing no matter what she does. All kinda of flushed through the drains for caitvi to be able to exist (yes i dislike caitvi, no i also don''t really care for jayvik or timebomb and i am also a lesbian).

Jinx: I thinks she has been done quite well so far but I have heard for how her arch ends and it is just bad..... also wished they explored Isha more and what Vander coming back would mean for Jinx

Caitlyn: wish they would actually put the responsibility of her actions onto her instead of Ambessa/Jinx killing her mom. Also the fact it was never addressed that even in s1 she was microagressive as fuck towards Zaunites. Yes she eventually saw the need for independence (after talking to Ekko mind you) but does that mean anything if when she was in power due was actively making things worse for Zaun. She could have started working kn redeeming herself but the fact that the narrative/the writers don't want to put the full blame on her just makes that idea seem laughable

Tbh a lot of it has to do with the fact that the writers didn't let characters interact with each other for long periods of time or deal with the consequences of their actions but hey at least the coplesbians fucked and the scientists had their madoka magica moment

[salbertwolf]

Sevika's Ending (But for real I don't think it's an Act 3 issue... It's an Act 2)

See, hindsight is a very powerful tool that helps us visualize when things should've been done differently. Hindsight is realizing I shouldn't have been a coward back in my early teens and should've gotten a headstart on youtube, alas we are here. Hindsight in this case, is judging the way act 3 of Arcane ended in relation to the show and where they went wrong, if they did.

I genuinely, genuinely loved the show, and like the ending, I think the conclusion of the characters makes sense with the way they were presented, despite my previous post regarding Sevika's ending maybe being interpreted as "Character assassination", it wasn't, I think taking a position of leadership inside of Zaun was what she needed. My post mainly came from the heartache taking that position must bring her, now with emptions more settled after episode 9, I wanted to touch on the fact that, for me, the issue with the conclusion wasn't an Act 3 problem, rather an Act 2, because Sevika's arc concludes in act 2.

Now, Wants vs Needs is something character arcs are usually based around, what your character wants is not necessarily what your character needs. In this case, Sevika's arc follows this structure pretty well, she does not want to be in a position of power, rather reserving her loyalties to someone she considers better fit to lead, this however comes to an issue as she, more often than not, is the only one willing to put her actions where her words are, she is calm, collected, and knows loyalties better than anyone, she exhibits qualities a leader should have, but the issue is that the attention of the world around her, much like our own, is taken by figures bigger than her, Vander, Silco, Jinx. This leads her to the logical conclusion of being the support rather than the spotlight.

Let us recall then the scene in episode 4 of Sevika rallying the Undercity residents by the Vander statue, this is a big moment in the story, and possibly the culmination of her arc, she has spent her life following, and now the latest person she tries to follow is unwilling to risk everything for their city, so she must step up.

This may look as a "She can't lead" moment, I would rather take it as a point of change of perspective for the people of the Undercity, of the fact that while a Symbol is necessary for hope, you can't let it dictate the capacity for fighting, that's why Isha shows up and lights the flare, are you willing to follow just the person? Or do you want to follow the ideal? And if you follow the ideal, does it matter the person that leads you if they know and respect that ideal? This is an important oment in Sevika's arc, the realization that she can do it, she can lead.

And that's why I find it a bit, confusing WHY we weren't given a scene of a conversation between her and Jinx regarding Jinx stepping down from a leadership position, as, pardon if I'm interpreting wrong, as the narrative clearly indicates by taking a detour to solve the Vanderwick plot.

What I'm proposing is basically a writer's scene (a scene that is really only for the writers to know, as what it does it take time that could be better spent elsewhere), but I think 1 moment with Sevika and the Firelights in episode 5, following the prison break, would solve the issue of not really getting WHY she would end up in the council.

In regards to her ending, why I consider it making a bit of sense, is that yes, Zaun did not become independent, and yes, she's in a position of many enemies, but treating her position as having no allies is ignoring the fact she's one of only 2 councilors in the room that chose to stay, I know in my ending break down I put it as forcing her to sit down and accept responsability, clearly that was not the intention for her arc.

I don't think a whole episode was needed to finish her arc, but definetly a scene, she needed a scene, one more scene.

But maybe it's just me, anyway-

[atlasrayz]

Ok hi time to rant abt hazbin/helluva because i will forever be upset about the outcome of those shows.

Indie animation has been on a rise lately, with so many different amazing shows being available on youtube.

I watched the hazbin hotel pilot around the time it came out, and it really interested me. The characters seemed interesting and the premise wasnt really something you see often. I was excited.

I kept up with Viv's work and got into helluva boss. I thought it had some good jokes and the bits of lore we got made me want to keep watching. However, the premise of literally every episode is the same. A bad ex or a bad dad. Its a formula, and it shows up in Hazbin too.

Viv has some obsession with daddy issues, and problems with characterising her women characters. Charlie is the *main character* of Hazbin Hotel, but she has literally no growth or development. Millie also falls victim to this.

The one episode where she actually gets some attention feels... wrong? It felt like they were mischaracterising Moxxie so that they can fabricate conflict between Moxxie and Millie. Moxxie loves his wife, and he has literally never once been shown or implied that he would try to upstage her. Yeah, he's definitely got some inferiority going on, hes constantly being belittled by Blitz. Hes the show's punching bag, but i feel like it had never been implied that he hated himself more than he loved his wife. I hate that episode with a burning passion because how tf are you going to mischaracterise your own fucking characters.

I hate the way they did Lucifer. He should NOT have been some wacky, silly guy who just doesnt know how to reach out to his daughter. He's not bad! He's just anxious UwU. His entire character is irritating. Having a wacky fun character is fine, i love characters like that, but Lucifer shouldn't have been that character.

In the pilot, it was implied that Lucifer hangs over Charlie and his influence puts a lot of pressure on her, but then we meet him and hes just. A guy. Who doesnt talk to his daughter a lot. Which makes absolutely no sense. You could argue that they retconned a lot from the pilot, which, yeah, its all new voice actors so, sure. But then, why wouldnt they remake it in some way, in any way?

Not to mention that all the characters feel flat. Even in Helluva. In Helluva we get filler and backstory, but even then the characters dont change or grow. Quite literally the only good thing out of Helluva is Fizz. His arc and story is the only one that actually breaks from the formula of bad ex bad dad and his character actually changes from the lessons in the episode. I love Fizz for pretty much that reason alone.

Moxxie and Biltz have an episode where they promise to be nicer to eachother *and then they fucking don't?* They stay the *exact same* towards each other. If you're going to do that, then don't make a story based show. Make one of those slice of life, 10 minute episodes combined into one 20 minute episode that shows no growth, and is just there to be fun. Those shows arent bad, they just have a different purpose.

I've been so upset with the results of Hazbin Hotel. The pacing is awful, the characters have no time to change or grow, and their dynamics just arent interesting. It sucks because I saw a world where this indie show got on amazon prime (!!) And was amazing and did amazing things and set the stage for other indie shows to finally get big and then all we got was poorly written, rushed slop that feels like a huge kick in the teeth to anyone who cared about the show. Or, at least, it did to me.

[headspace-hotel]

Oh my god I'm sooooo mad right now

So. I have no business telling people not to collect wild plants/materials.

I do it all the time.

However.

The words "wildcrafted," and "foraged," even "sustainably harvested," are terrifying to see in an ad on Etsy or Instagram

There is a such thing as the honorable harvest where you ASK the plant if it is okay to take, with the intention of listening if the answer is NO. Robin Wall Kimmerer talked about this, She did not make it up, it is an ancient and basic guideline of treating the plants with respect.

Basically it is not wrong to use plants and other living things, even if this means taking their life. But you are not the main character. You have to reflect on your knowledge of the organism's life cycle and its role in the ecosystem, so you can know you are not damaging the ecosystem. You have to only take what you need and avoid depleting the population.

Mary Siisip Geniusz also talked about it in an enlightening way in her book Plants Have So Much to Give Us, All We Have To Do is Ask. She gave an example of a woman who was on an island and needed to use a medicinal herb to heal her injured leg or she would not survive the winter. In that situation she had to use up all of the plant that was on the island. This was permissible, even though it eliminated the local population, because she had to do it to save her life. But in return the woman had the responsibility to later return to the island and plant seeds of that plant.

And what makes me absolutely furious, is that there are a bunch of people online who have vaguely copied this philosophy of sustainability in a false and insulting way, saying "wildcrafted" or "foraged" materials to be all trendy and cool and in touch with nature, when it is actually just poaching.

If you are from a capitalistic culture the honorable harvest is very hard and unintuitive to learn to practice. I am not very good at it still. This is why it is suspicious if someone is confident that they can ethically and respectfully harvest wild materials with money involved.

So there's this lichen that is often called "reindeer moss." It looks like this:

It grows only a few millimeters a year.

This is "preserved" reindeer moss.

It is from Etsy, similar is also sold in many other online shops, many of which have the audacity to describe it as a "plant" for decorations and terrariums that needs no maintenance.

It is not maintenance-free, it is dead. It has been spray-painted a horrible shade of green. The people buying it clearly don't even know what it is. It is a popular crafting material for "fairy houses," whatever the hell those are. So is moss, also dead, spray-painted, and wild-harvested. Supposedly reindeer moss is harvested sustainably in Finland, where it is abundant, for the craft industry. However poaching of lichens and mosses is absolutely rampant.

It's even more upsetting because there's hardly any articles drawing attention to the problem. This one is from 1999. And the poaching is still going on.

There is a "moss" section on Etsy, and it is so upsetting

These mosses and lichens were collected from the wild. Most of the shops are in the Pacific Northwest or Appalachia, which are the major locations of moss and lichen poaching. There are some shops based in Appalachia selling "foraged" reindeer moss.

Reindeer moss may be abundant in Finland, but in Appalachia it should NOT be harvested to be sold on Etsy as craft supplies! Moss doesn't grow quickly. Big, healthy colonies like this took years to grow. Some of these shops have thousands of sales, all of bags and bags of moss and lichen, and thinking of how much moss and lichen that must be, I am filled with horror.

Clubmosses do not transplant well, and these ones have no roots. The buyers do not realize they have bought a dead plant because clubmoss stays green and pliable after it is dead.

This is especially awful because in Mary Siisip Geniusz's book she talked about clubmosses being poached so much for Christmas wreaths that they had almost disappeared from a lot of forests.

I don't even know if this is illegal if it's not a formally endangered species so I don't know if I can report them I'm just. really sad and angry

[podcast-hemocytoblast]

[Image ID: A bed with a bedspread and pillow cases made to look like an empty Microsoft Excel spreadsheet. \End ID]

Fucking Elias Bouchard bed I won’t take criticism

[loveanddeepthroat]

can i mc reader and sylus where mc ends up in hospital after a mission gone wrong and sylus shows up but she wants him to leave in case someone sees him there

Careless

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - You landed yourself in the hospital overnight after a mix up at HQ had you fighting too many Wanderer’s alone. You’re already bummed about being stuck at Akso, so the feeling of dread when Sylus turns up unexpectedly only adds to your unease.

Word Count - 2.3k

Warnings - Set in a hospital. Angst and fluff.

The incessant beeping of medical machinery echoing throughout the ward was getting to your sore head.

Akso Hospital was rammed full of casualties and emergencies, seeing as it was a Friday night. You felt a bit out of place amongst the partygoers and adventurous folk who had taken their fun a little too far.

In your opinion, you didn’t really need to be here. The eggplant coloured bruise on the right side of your forehead definitely looked a lot worse than it felt, but the doctors weren’t buying your claims that you weren’t in any pain.

Likely because you were wincing when you’d said it.

A night under their watch was what the doctor ordered, and it wasn’t up for discussion. You were just relieved that Doctor Zayne was working away for a week. He’d have checked you in indefinitely and scheduled an hour long lecture on why you needed to be more careful.

A mix up at HQ had the system only requesting that you attend a spontaneous Wanderer attack in Linkon Library. Just one had been reported, but seven of the ruthless bastards had accosted you the minute you stepped foot in the evacuated building.

Confident that you could handle them, you didn’t bother calling in for more Hunters. As it turned out, that confidence was misplaced, and the last thing you remembered before blacking out was a loud screeching sound. You had no idea what it was, but it hadn’t been important in your unconscious state.

When you eventually awoke in the hospital, Jenna had been hanging over you, immediately giving you the third degree for continuing alone. You should’ve known that the alert for only your assistance had been a mistake in the system, and you should’ve insisted that someone accompany you no matter what it had said.

She made sure to drill that into your head more than once.

Admittedly, you were glad to see the back of her once she had finally left. Your head was starting to throb with the volume of her voice, and all you wanted was the bliss of being unconscious again.

It was late now, and you were exhausted. Sleep was looking to be impossible tonight, however. There were several other patients on the same ward, all admitted with varying ailments. The injured man opposite you had done nothing but stare coldly from the moment he was wheeled in in a full leg cast.

You tried to speak to him. You offered him a polite smile, which was met with a sneer. Whatever his problem with you was, it was beginning to get on your nerves.

You just wanted to go home.

“Miss,” a softly spoken nurse greeted as she approached your bed. “There’s a visitor here to see you.”

You frowned, wondering if you heard her correctly over the hustle and bustle of the ward. It was well past visiting hours, and you couldn’t think of anyone other than your colleagues who knew that you were even at the hospital.

The man with the broken leg frowned, too. “What? She gets special treatment because she’s a so-called hero? I should get visiting rights, too!”

“Would you like me to let him in?” The nurse asked, ignoring the grumbling patient.

Him. That didn’t exactly narrow things down.

“Uhh,” you faltered, a little unsure. You didn’t want to cause any issues with the other patients. “Are you sure?”

The nurse nodded and smiled, though it looked a bit forced. It almost seemed like she was desperate for you to say yes to your mystery visitor.

“Okay,” you finally agreed. 

The look of relief on her face was not lost on you. She quickly hurried away to retrieve whoever came to see you, leaving you to endure the displeasure from the man opposite.

“I used to be a mailman, you know? If it weren’t for me, people wouldn’t have had their mail. Do I get special treatment, though? No, of course not. You Hunters get all the glory and adoration. And I’ll tell you another thing—”

“You’ve told her plenty.”

Prominent footsteps sounded from the doorway, the atmosphere immediately becoming heavy and tense. You almost choked on absolutely nothing at the sight of him.

Sylus.

Your eyes flared, heart hammering against your ribcage like a drum. He couldn’t be here. The risk was far too great.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the grumpy man sneered back, looking him up and down, “…vampire.”

It was a colourful insult, and one that made your unwelcome companion chuckle. “If you’ll excuse us,” he began, the swirling red vines of his Evol appearing to drag the man’s cubicle curtain to a close at a leisurely pace. “Mailman.”

To your relief, there was no backlash from the irritated patient across the room. Although that did make you wonder if he wasn’t retaliating by his own choice, or if Sylus had silenced him somehow. The latter wouldn’t have surprised you.

“What on earth are you doing here?!” you hissed quietly. “You can’t be here, Sylus.”

Crimson eyes didn’t meet yours, his cold gaze set only on the bandages around your head as he approached your bedside, closing your curtain behind him. He didn’t quite look like himself. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, green and blue veins prominently making an appearance.

“I’ll think twice before taking advice from a woman who was very recently knocked unconscious amidst a 7v1 Wanderer fight,” he rebuked monotonously. 

You scoffed. “I’m fine, if that’s why you came. Feel free to go back to—”

“Fine?” His face quickly turned from emotionless to severely unamused as he cut you off sharply. “That’s quite the contradiction, sweetie.”

You raised an eyebrow barely high enough for him to see your questioning expression. The gesture hurt, which wasn’t helping your case. “To what?”

He dragged a plastic chair towards your bed before sitting down, his ankles crossed in front of him. You couldn’t really read his demeanour. He almost seemed cross with you.

“To what I saw from Mephisto,” he responded tightly.

Mephisto. 

That explained the screeching you heard before you slipped into unconsciousness. “And what exactly was Mephisto doing there?”

Sylus merely shrugged, offering nothing verbal in response. The lackadaisy gesture did nothing but piss you off. You’ve told him countless times to stop sending Mephisto out to keep tabs on you, and each time it seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

He clearly was not pleased with you, but you weren’t stupid. He was here because you had concerned him. Sylus was a busy man, especially at this time of night. He wouldn’t have come just to berate you with words that could’ve been put into a text message.

Not that you knew where your phone was.

The atmosphere between you both fell into silence, only the sounds of medical machinery filling in the lack of conversation. You didn’t really know what to say to him, and he wasn’t typically the type to lose his words. But it was clear to see that he didn’t know what to say, either.

After a long moment, he cleared his throat, his hands flexing in his lap. “I told you those guns of yours were pathetic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my guns,” you mumbled with a roll of your eyes.

“So it’s a skill issue?”

You glared harshly at him, flinching noticeably as you did. You weren’t sure what was bothering you more, the pain in your head or the mood that Sylus was so clearly in. 

His features softened ever so slightly as he recognised your pain. Still, that didn’t stop him from being an asshole. “It’s one or the other, kitten.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. If there was one thing you didn’t want Sylus to think of you as, it was weak. You weren’t sure why you cared so much, but you did.

“I suppose my guns are a little on the outdated side,” you murmured begrudgingly.

He smirked, his hands finally relaxing a little in his lap. The awkward atmosphere was slowly fading, which you were grateful for. You didn’t want to pry into his mind and make things worse again.

You buried your head a little further into the pillow beneath your sore head, letting your eyes fall shut for a moment. Fatigue was starting to settle in your body, almost dragging you into a swift sleep before your chilly hand was captured in a warm embrace.

Your eyes shot open again, finding Sylus out of his seat and leaning over you. His eyes were a bit wider than usual. “Have they checked you for a concussion?” 

“Yeah,” you told him gently. The close proximity had you flustered. “I’m a little concussed, but I’m allowed to sleep.”

His brows drew together slightly as he studied you. You’ve both had these strange little moments before, when his mask slips away just enough to see his true feelings.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered in reassurance. “You should go, Sylus.”

He shook his head, his hand tightening slightly over yours. It looked like an effort, but he managed to smirk at you again. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

Beneath that facade of humour, he was a little bit wounded. You wouldn’t point it out, but you could see it. He was a stubborn bastard who wasn’t going to let you push him away, but he also didn’t like that you were trying to push him away.

It wasn’t as if you wanted him to go. Your relationship with him was…complicated.

Complicated in the sense that you weren’t in a relationship, but he had a habit of establishing a level of intimacy between you both that you weren’t blind to. Good morning and goodnight texts, constant invites to events as his plus one with no other reason than to be beside him, and random gifts left on your doorstep so often that your elderly neighbour recently asked if you were ‘getting some.’

A relationship with him would be very difficult to maintain. You both come from entirely different worlds that just could not merge. No matter how much you desired him, you had to maintain your composure.

“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” you sighed. “I just don’t like how careless you’re being by showing up here. Some people do worry, you know.”

He slowly lowered his loom over you so that his nose was just inches away from yours. You couldn’t help but swallow, feeling his steady breath on your lips as he spoke. It was intimidating and yet so intimate that you didn’t know whether to cower or cut him off with a kiss you never knew you wanted. 

“You don’t think I’m worried about you?” he drawled in a rather serious manner.

“That’s not what I—”

“Do you not realise how it looked through Mephisto’s eyes when you were walloped a great distance across a library and crumpled to the floor like a lifeless body.” His teeth were gritted in his mouth, the word ‘body’ coming out tightly like his tongue was rejecting the word. “You’re not the only person who is worried here. Do not brand me incapable of such feelings.”

Your mouth went a little dry, tears threatening to invade your eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in his worry, and you hadn’t meant for it to come across that way.

“I just don’t want you to risk your freedom for me,” you whispered shakily.

He lifted his hand from where it was holding him up beside your free hand, carefully moving some strands of your hair that had fallen over your bandages. 

“I’d risk it all for you.”

He had never said such a thing to you in all the time you’d been acquainted. You knew that he would carry out every need you might have of him. You knew that he would listen to you sit and ramble on and on about anything, never interrupting you. You knew that he cared about you.

But you were still in the dark when it came to the extent of that care.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he murmured.

Thankfully, you caught yourself before you were about to shake your sore head. “Just…trying to figure you out.”

A smile slowly spread across his lips. A real smile. It was enough to make your heart flutter, embarrassingly made noticeable by the heart rate monitor you were hooked up to.

“It would require a lot of brainpower to do that, sweetie. Maybe lose the concussion first,” he said in his typically sarcastic tone.

You managed your own small smile, which blossomed into a chuckle. This was the side of Sylus that had you coming back to him whenever he asked for your company.

His real side.

He kept his hand atop your head, avoiding the bandages completely. His thumb swiped gently over the parting of your hair, pulling you off to sleep again. You were pretty sure that he was doing it on purpose to force you into rest, but you were in no position to argue with him. You were officially exhausted.

“Would you really like me to leave, kitten?” he asked in a soft whisper as your eyes fluttered.

The very thought of him leaving made you a little upset. Despite your attempts at convincing the doctors you were fine, you damn well were not. You needed his comfort, and he needed to know that you were safe and on the road to a speedy recovery.

“No,” you whispered, succumbing to the soothing strokes on your scalp.

A soft brush of his lips was the last thing you felt before you finally drifted off, feeling secure enough to do so with his company.

“Good,” he’d whispered back before you fully clocked out. “I’ll always be careless so long as I get to you.”

A/N - Long time no fic post. I apologise, life has been crazy. I haven’t proof read this cause honestly I’m just too tired so I’ll read over it in the morning and edit any mistakes. Hope you’re all doing well! 🖤

[taisgf]

hc. how i imagine my fave arcane characters in relationships ´ཀ` (sevika, jinx, caitlyn, vi, viktor, jayce x f!reader)

A/N: f!reader, maybe ooc, some nsfw, alc mention. love sevika n cait so much theyre just uuuhhghshs not a single arcane girl that aint fine asf prove me wrong oh wait u can't... I CANT WAIT FOR S2!!!! not proofread because exam szn is kicking my booty

VI

𓇼 Common dates with Vi would no doubt include sparring sessions at the gym, meaning you'll spend hours holding punching bags for her while she trains- talking about whatever. Chances are these hours would morph into playful wrestling, with Vi on top of you attacking your face in small kisses. Things might get a bit steamy, though- don't expect to leave the gym without a few fresh hickeys on your neck..

𓇼 Vi wouldn't be shy about PDA all too much, enjoying subtle, casual and comforting touches. Small pecks to the cheek, a hand on the small of your back, linked fingers. Anything more than that? She'll be too flustered, no doubt about it. Imagine sitting yourself on her lap while she's talking to someone- and suddenly she's unable to focus, get her words out right.

𓇼 Acts of service is for sure one of her love languages. The princess treatment you'd receive from Vi would only be amplified by her eagerness to show off in front of you, too. You can't reach something? She's got it, no problem. Broke something? Vi knows a thing or two, she can fix it. You're hungry? She can whip something up. Anything for her girl.

𓇼 Physical touch is definitely a major comfort and one of Vi's love languages, too. Fight me on this, but she looves little spooning. That's not to say she doesn't big spoon, too- she'll insist on it. However, it's those nights with Vi in your arms you see just how soft and whipped she really is. She isn't as tough as she seems, especially not with her girlfriend. At her core, Vi's just scared of loosing people; so having you there to hold, to feel against her skin is a bigger comfort than you would know.

𓇼 During her time in prison (assuming you didn't just break her out, I know I would) she'd spend her days daydreaming about you to no end. Imagining dates, what she would say to you, waking up next to you again after so long. You're her motivation- no doubt about it.

𓇼 Expect playful, unserious nicknames from Vi- cupcake, sugar, cutie, anything like that. She'd use them mostly ironically, but it would be hard to miss the love in her eyes and the affection in her voice as she says them. Chances are she'd use some variation of your name, too. Vi would love any nickname from you- be it silly or not.

𓇼 She's for sure a restless sleeper- in the sense she's out like a log, but rolling around so much you'd think she was wide awake. You'd fall asleep tucked into her arms, and wake up with her head somehow level with your knees, her foot lodged against your chin- whilst somehow managing to steal all the pillows and duvet.

𓇼 Vi, however, would be super overprotective when she's in a relationship- and it would manifest itself in many ways, most of which could drive you apart. Her lone-wolfish attitude could cause some distance between you two at times, pushing you away when doing anything dangerous in fear of loosing you. She's tough; and might struggle to express vulnerability to you about certain things. This means that she would keep some aspects of her life secret, wanting to separate her relationship with you from any of her vigilante activities.

𓇼 After a while, and probably an instance of you following her around when she specifically told you to stay out of whatever it was, she'd be less underestimating of your ability to hold your own. Only then would she accept your help, and hopefully you'll accept her sincere apology in return.

𓇼 Sleeping with Vi would either be the most sensual, loving and tender experience ever- or the most filthy, disrespectful and lustful one. Either way though, Vi's a giver rather than receiver 99% of the time; and it always, always comes from a place of love. Vi just wants to take care of her girl, you know? She'd love to praise your body, running her coarse hands over your skin while she manhandles you. In Vi's eyes, there's nobody more beautiful than you- and she makes it very known. You'd be reminded in the way your legs don't feel right the following morning, the nips and hickeys on your skin.

CAIT (my gf...)

𓇼 There's nothing Caitlyn loves more than quiet nights in or soft mornings in bed with her love (I'll talk more about that later..). A quiet evening in with you after the day's wrapped up is her favorite part of the day- the only time she can really, truly, relax. Picture her coming back to your quaint Piltover home- throwing off her hat and making her way over to you and just collapsing in your arms, her blue hair sprawled against your shoulder.

𓇼 I don't say this just because of that one scene, but Caitlyn looves to shower together. It ties in to her stress, I think- having her girlfriend wash her back after a long day would calm her to no end. The feeling of your hands, the water, the sound of the drops hitting the ceramic shower floor- the towel against her hair as you dry her off, the fresh sheets hugging her bare form as you crawl into bed. That environment, those little things, are the things that makes Caitlyn love you all the more.

𓇼 Another thing I can see Caitlyn loving are those really deep conversations, the moments she gets a glimpse into your raw soul. Those intellectual, honest conversations are some of her favorite times with you; bonus points if you're half naked with a glass of wine, music playing and it happens to be her day off.

𓇼 Caitlyn would be the type of girl to get grouchy and flustered if she's jealous- using her wit to cover it. She'd be super obvious about it, too- obvious side eyes and breaking eye contact until you ask her what's up.

𓇼 Your dates would be slow, chilled out and relaxing; be it art galleries, restaurants, coffee shops or just cozy days in.

𓇼 I feel like Caitlyn wouldn't be too big on PDA, seeing as she has a reputation and image to uphold in public. Subtle and cute gestures like a linked pinkie or touching legs under a table would happen, sure, but anything more than that you're likely to be met with a chuckle and a soft 'not in public, come on'. She's love to show you off, though- not that she'd ever say so.

𓇼 Words of affirmation and quality time are totally her love languages. She's a busy girl- so the time she does get with you is sacred. In a relationship, I feel like Cait has a real no-bullshit attitude, so communication's a strong suit of hers- and thus words of affirmation. You'll never doubt how much you mean to her.

𓇼 Caitlyn! Writes! Love! Letters! Birthdays, anniversaries, or just any time she's reminded of how much she loves you, away or not, she writes letters. Her handwriting's super fancy, signed with a kiss imprinted into the paper by her lipstick or replaced by a drawing of a heart. Caitlyn would be better at conveying her feelings through pen to paper, so no doubt would she be writing you letter after letter addressed to her love.

𓇼 I get the idea that Cait would just stick to the classic pet names; love, sweetheart, dear, dove. She would love being called them by you- not that she'd ever admit it. She'd chuckle, brushing you off- secretly hoping you'd do it again.

𓇼 Cait loves coming home to find you asleep, waiting up for her. She'd be the type of girl to watch you sleep, letting her eyes rake over your figure as you lie asleep at her desk or curled on the small couch in her bedroom. Speaking of sleep- Cait's a light sleeper, waking at any noise or when she feels you move too far from her. I imagine her sleeping pin straight, for some reason- the duvet tucked tight under her chin, legs straight and arms by her side. She might not be much of a cuddler when she's asleep, but that doesn't mean she isn't during the day.

𓇼 As strong and confident you and Cait would be in your relationship, problems would definitely begin to manifest as the events of the show play out. Cait would get snappy, harsh when she's stressed, only amplified by her independence. She would do her best to keep you out of everything, and would gradually spend less time with you as everything happens. Cait would always make it up to you, though.

𓇼 Just a bonus, but Cait's definitely a morning sex girl. That sacred half hour before she has to get up, just you and her in bed? Best believe she's taking advantage. Cait's a huge service top, in my mind- loving to watch your face as she makes you write, be it by toys or her bare hands.

JINX

𓇼 If you're game enough to date Jinx I feel like she'd make for a really great partner (if you can look past the pranks and obvious lack of stability).

𓇼 Jinx would be fiercely loyal, passionate and affectionate and fiery; at times overdramatic, but it's part of her charm. She's a jealous person by nature which is where her loud, harsh side could come out- but I'm certain all fights would be resolved within the day. Jinx would never mean it- it's just the abandonment issues talking.

𓇼 She'd love to keep you on your toes with pranks, spontaneous gifts and dates- hardly anything's planned in your relationship, but again; it's all part of the charm. (This totally includes off-the-cuff quickies too. Just saying).

𓇼 Jinx loves those days you just hang around her workshop with her- listening to music, talking as she tinkers with some shit you picked up from the street for her. Just having you near is enough- as if she'd ever let you go anywhere, anyway. Whatever she's making is also probably a gift for you- a manifestation of one of her main love languages.

𓇼Late night walks around the Undercity where Jinx shows you some new alley or shop are more than common- most dates taking place outside the home, roaming around.

𓇼 Nobody does PDA like Jinx does PDA. She doesn't say hi- just runs up behind you, pulling you in her arms, running her lips over your neck. It's a comforting thing for her- a way to calm herself down. After a fight, any dangerous situation, it's the feel of your skin against Jinx's calloused hands that she seeks.

𓇼 Physical touch and gift giving are her main love languages, no doubt in my mind. Something's broken? It's fixed, personalized, upgraded. She saw a trinket that reminded her of you? It's yours. It's your birthday, an anniversary or anything of that nature? A handmade gift, just for you. I feel like Jinx would be the type to draw her partner, too; leaving you small sticky notes with stick figure doodles around.

𓇼 Jinx is a chronic starfish sleeper- sorry. She's either taking the whole duvet and mattress in bed, or clinging onto you so tightly that you can hardly move let alone breathe.

𓇼She's an insecure, anxious girl at her core; no doubt manifesting itself in the form of jealousy and possessiveness when she's in a relationship. Like a lot of the other girls, she'd do her best to keep you separate from all the conflict- in an attempt to keep you safe. Jinx can't loose you too. She'd be gone, vanished for long periods of time- something you'd have to get used to.

𓇼She's a fast paced, passionate girlfriend in bed. Rough kisses, your lip between her teeth. Jinx would love to leave marks- small bites, hickeys in obvious spots on your neck, wrists. She's rough, playful yet cautious as the last thing she'd want is to hurt you. Sex would be less of a once-or-twice, prolonged event- more like quick, spontaneous and passionate quickies scattered though out the day; really any time she can get you all alone, public or not.

SEVIKA

𓇼 Sevika is crazy protective— she’d tear through anyone or anything just to keep you safe. You’re her number one priority, and she’ll do whatever it takes to shield you from harm. You’ll often catch her ready to confront anyone who steps out of line, her fierce gaze making it clear she’s got your back no matter what; and reminding others that you're firmly off limits.

𓇼 When it’s time to relax, Sevika loves hitting up a bar for drinks. She’s all about that fun atmosphere, especially when she gets to tease you and push your buttons. Expect her to lean in close, whispering something dirty while you're talking to someone else- then act like nothing happened, ordering another round.

𓇼 And yeah, she gets super jealous—like, possessive jealous. If someone’s chatting you up, you’ll definitely feel her presence. She might just slide her hands under your shirt while you’re talking, a firm hand finding solace on your ass or lower back, making it crystal clear who you belong to. There’s no doubt about her loyalty; she wears her heart on her sleeve. Everyone in Zaun and Piltover alike who knows who Sevika is knows that you're her's.

𓇼 Sevika’s all about physical touch and quality time. Whether she’s got her arm around your waist or just pulling you in for a hug, those little moments mean everything to her- grounding her though out the day.

𓇼 If you find yourself with Sevika in her office during the day, especially if she has others over, best believe she'd pull you atop her lap and keep you there. She'd love to show you off.

𓇼 When it’s bedtime, you’ll find her holding you tight, making sure you’re right next to her. She’s a heavy sleeper, but if she notices you’re not there, she’ll wake up instantly, reaching out for you to pull you back in. It’s her way of keeping you close, even in her sleep.

𓇼 Sevika has a little stash of photos of you—some a bit scandalous, definitely. She'd keep them tucked away in her jacket pocket, her personal collection of your best moments. A polaroid (if they even exist in Zaun) of you, all pretty with no shirt or bra; looking up at her. That's her favorite, for sure. Or maybe the one of you in her shower, all soapy and giggling? She can't choose.

𓇼 But here’s the thing: her protectiveness can often times come off as controlling. She worries a lot, and while you know she loves you, there are times when it can feel suffocating. Still, deep down, it’s all about her trying to keep you safe from everything she's involved in.

𓇼 Card game queen. Loves to 'let you win' but most of the time it's just that you genuinely beat her, and Sevika just doesn't wanna admit it.

𓇼The strap is HUGE good lord. In bed you're nothing more than her pretty toy- putty in her hands, weak for her touch (wouldn't we all be?). She'd love to just sink into the couch, watching you squirm and moan, beg and whine for her while she gets you off, be it by some toy or her hand(s?).

toxic wlw with sevika.... huge age and size gap...... being her pretty little thing... nibbling at the bars of my enclosure and drooling everywhere i need her so bad vro

JAYCE

𓇼 Jayce is all about being creative partners, bouncing ideas off each other and collaborating. Whether you’re working on a project or just daydreaming about the future, he’s your biggest cheerleader, always hyping you up and encouraging you. He'd find inspiration in your passion- fueling his own motivation.

𓇼 When you’re together, it’s usually a mix of relaxation and productivity. (I think it's called 'body doubling'? ADHD king honestly)

𓇼 You might find yourselves working side by side in his lab crafting something new, or just enjoying the time together while he rants about the council or rattles off his new ideas; applications for hextech. He thrives in those collaborative moments, and the chemistry between you both makes everything feel effortless and romantic.

𓇼 Jayce can get pretty insecure when it comes to jealousy. Instead of getting mad, he tends to overthink things, imagining scenarios that might not even be real. You'd notice him being a bit quiet or withdrawn if he thinks someone’s getting too close- he wants to be the one who makes you happy, and him alone.

𓇼 Physical touch, like most others on my list, is a big deal for Jayce. He loves to pull you in for side hugs or wrap an arm around your shoulders while you’re talking or pass each other through out the day. He knows how packed and hectic your schedules are; so he treasures those small moments. Those little gestures are his way of showing you how much he appreciates you, in his own little way.

𓇼 And don’t be surprised if he surprises you with little gifts or gestures. He might bring home a trinket that he'd made or saw in a shop window he thought you’d like, showing that he’s always thinking of you, even when he’s busy with his work. It’s his way of reminding you how much you mean to him- in the midst of his gruelling work hours.

𓇼 But sometimes, his overthinking can lead to misunderstandings. He might pull away a bit when he’s feeling insecure, and you’ll need to reassure him that he’s the one you want- that his elaborate scenarios and stupid insecurities don't mean anything. A little gentle nudging and open conversations can help him see just how much you care, and your touch always grounds him well.

𓇼 I feel like Jayce is a total bottom- far more submissive than people give him credit for. Look at him. He's definitely been pegged at least once. At his core, though, I feel like he's a more vanilla guy. Slow, soft romantic nights and mornings with you are more his speed; spare the odd shitty day at work where he either needs you to take care of him, or to get your permission to ravish you until he forgets about whatever he was mad about.

VIKTOR

𓇼 Viktor’s love language is all about that parallel play. He might not be the most overtly affectionate, but you can feel the warmth when you’re both just doing your own thing in the same space. Whether he’s tinkering with a new invention or you’re reading nearby, the comfort of simply being together speaks volumes to him.

𓇼 Time with Viktor is rare, often snatched in small moments away from the hectic world outside. He prefers those soft, chilled vibes over fast-paced outings. You might find yourselves just hanging out in your cozy home or his workshop, surrounded by all his gadgets and loose leaf papers. Those quiet moments are where he truly shines, sharing snippets of his world with you- quiet, spare the odd "Y/N; could you look this over for me?".

𓇼 When he’s with you, Viktor can’t help but get a bit playful and competitive. He loves to tease, whether it’s subtly poking fun at your skills or playfully challenging you to solve some problem (IDK what nerds do bear with me gang..). He’s all about that friendly competition, and it’s adorable to see his competitive side come out, even if he’s not taking it too seriously- a contrast from how cold he can be when engrossed in his work. It's special in the sense it's just for your eyes, too.

𓇼 Viktor is surprisingly protective in his own way. He might not be the type to confront anyone directly, but he’ll always look out for you from the shadows, making sure you’re safe. You can sense his care in the little things—like how he’ll adjust your scarf on a chilly day or keep an eye on your health when you’re feeling under the weather.

𓇼 Physical touch is definitely a part of his affection, but it’s often subtle. A hand resting on your back while he explains something, a lean against you as he stands, or a gentle brush of his fingers as he reaches for a tool. Those little touches mean a lot, showing that he’s there for you without being overly demonstrative- he's not showy like that.

𓇼 Viktor's got a variety of cute quirks- all adorable in their own right. He'd have a habit of doodling sketches of you in the margins of his notes or jotting down ideas inspired by your conversations. It’s his way of holding onto those moments, turning your shared time into something tangible he can revisit later, draw innovation from.

𓇼 Although at times Viktor's intense focus on his work can lead to him getting a bit lost in his projects. It might feel like he’s prioritizing whatever new hex-tech development or theory over spending time with you. However, you know it’s just his passion and dedication to making the world better, and he always makes sure to carve out time for you when it counts- just something you'd grow used to, and even appreciate.

𓇼 In bed Viktor's tame- romantic and sensual. Like Jayce, he'd be soft and slow on account of his weakness, but in no way does that mean it wouldn't be good. He's definitely good with his hands, too.

[sukirichi]

WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN | G. SATORU x READER

You’ve been pretending not to see ghosts your whole life in order to blend in perfectly, but you can’t ignore the cute ghost with a bright smile standing in front of your door.

cw. ghost! gojo. fem! reader. minimal fluff. graphic depictions of murder. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of grief. mentions of being under the influence (alcohol and drugs.) characters with depression. unedited.

notes. wrote a lil something for gojo since it’s been a while since i wrote any jjk fics and i missed it :( also should i open requests again? i miss writing one shots lol

wc. 7k

You met him on the first night of winter.

Eager to get home after a long and tiring day at work, you blow hot air on your freezing palms to keep them warm before stuffing it deep in your coat pockets. The walk home was less than fifteen minutes, and you’ve always refused to buy a car because you enjoyed the journey and wanted to familiarize yourself more with the city. You previously lived in the outskirts, but after a phone call from the main department telling you you were promoted and had to transfer in the city, you found yourself packing up on the weekend and renting a cheap apartment.

Located in the middle of everything – convenience stores, medical facilities, popular bars, and a quaint looking flower shop with a cute florist – you thought your apartment was perfect. It was a little shabby, you had to admit. The plumbing didn’t work well and electricity got cut off at random times in the night that resulted in a headache because you couldn’t send that damn email, but the landlord offered an extremely cheap rent that you couldn’t refuse. Plus, it was only a few minutes walk from your office and your neighbors were peaceful.

Well, most of them anyway.

Your neighbors consisted of mostly old couples who were so silent and desolate that you often forgot they existed, your eyes widening whenever you saw an unfamiliar old lady walking and asking you how your day was before realizing, Oh, she’s Mrs. Oliver, I completely forgot. Save for the married couple who were always throwing pots and pans at each other because darn Ronald couldn’t put the toilet seat back down, your place was placid. The landlord was ecstatic when you saw her poster and inquired for a unit, muttering something about not getting enough tenants to keep the place going because of ‘a traumatic issue.’

You’d really rather not ask what it was.

Besides, you’ve never been curious enough of what the world has to offer, simply because you see things – or rather fragments of people – that you’d rather not see. Ever since you started seeing ghosts at a young age of four, people avoided you like the plague, calling you a ‘freak’ and whatnot. Your family soon moved away to a much smaller place in the city because they couldn’t handle seeing their child who often talked to ghosts and sat in corners alone while laughing by herself be criticized by others. They didn’t believe you, of course, often calling it a ‘lonely child’s imagination.’ They sent you to multiple therapists who always assured you that they would listen to whatever problems you were having to cause you to be this way.

Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t lonely at all. You saw a dozen ghosts every day who were always ecstatic at finding out you could see them, and they were more than willing to interact. As a child, you always thought ghosts were more interesting than actual people because they had an unlimited amount of time to converse with you, and they have had so many experiences to share with you. 

When you grew older, however, you started to see yourself in other’s eyes, realization dawning on you that on social norms, you are, indeed, a freak.

Determined to fit in more and also sick of being faced with countless counselors who strongly believed you had a traumatic experience when your whole life has been nothing but bland and plain, you started ignoring them. It wasn’t easy at first, though. These ghosts have always kept you company while everyone gave you the side eye without knowing who you really were, and you admit you felt lonely in the beginning and a little guilty when they were convinced you couldn’t see them anymore.

You participated more in school activities and even joined a photography club in high school (you had to quit a month later because ghosts kept appearing on your photos, and you had to burn them in order not to freak anyone out) and with each baby step you took, you started to fit in more. The proud look your parents had on their faces when you had finally become ‘normal’ and even got an award for being an exemplary student was enough to keep you going on this journey, and you ignored the lonely spirits so hard that you eventually started seeing less and less of them.

Until now.

Standing in front of your door was a young man, his back awkwardly bent and long, beautiful fingers fiddling awkwardly with one another. He stood barefoot yet wore a comfy looking blue university hoodie and grey sweatpants, and his silver hair seemed shiny and healthy enough to  not consider him a homeless man who was lost and simply wandering. Tipping your head to the side, you rack your brain to remember if you had any neighbours like him. 

His head snaps in your direction. 

He is definitely not your neighbour. You would have remembered such a cute looking guy.

He had unnaturally ethereal futures, prominent cheekbones becoming more pronounced when you meet his eyes, and you blink to gain control over your body when you realize you’ve been staring too long than what would be considered acceptable. You don’t even deny you’ve been checking him out, although you do ignore the almost puppy-like way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, causing your heart to jump a little. Just a little. You also liked how his hair complimented perfectly with his pale skin – he seemed like an exact embodiment of winter. 

You walk forward, spinning your keys at the end of your pointer finger. Smiling at him politely, you paused in your tracks. He’d been blocking your door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

No matter how cute he was, you wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if he was a criminal.

His pretty hands come up to his face to cover his mouth falling open, and you take a step back when he does a little jump and starts laughing. “You can see me?”

“Uhm, yes,” you answer. “You’re blocking my door, so yeah, I can very much see you.”

As if realizing just now he stood in the way of you and your comfortable bed, who was calling out to you by now, he mutters a quick apology under his breath before stepping aside, a goofy grin remaining on his face and his childish behavior makes you scoff in amusement. He was still watching you even after you’ve unlocked your door, and you sigh at him. “Is there any reason you’re still standing outside my apartment, or should I call the police?”

Instead of looking worried like you expected him to, his smile only gets bigger. “Actually, I live here, well… I used to.”

You stare at him blankly with a slack expression on your face, watching as his features turn sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking down on his bare feet, you mumble a curse under your breath when you realize he’s hovering. 

“Not again,” you say to yourself before placing a palm against your forehead. It’s been years since you last saw a ghost, why did you have to see them now out of all times? A new branch is opening up and your superiors have given you the project of making sure the launch goes well, and you didn’t really want a ghost bothering you with your biggest task of all time. You worked hard for this promotion, you didn’t want to take one step forward and two steps back. Glaring at the undeniably attractive ghost who still hovered in your doorway, you decided he wasn’t your problem. 

“Well, goodnight.”

You slam the door on him and trudge towards your bedroom, ignoring his “Wait!” as you unwrap the red scarf around your neck and plop on your bed almost lazily, moaning when your stiff muscles finally relax. The bed was so soft and warm because you’d left the heater on accidentally, and you’re about to be sent to dreamland when a voice beside you speaks up.

“You should take off your makeup before going to bed.”

Opening your eyes and coming face-to-face with the ghost who was resting his chin in both of his hands and laying on your bed, you grab a pillow and throw it at him, and he grins when the object goes past him completely. “Get out of my house, stop bothering me!”

“Technically, darling, this is still my house,” he tells you and starts sitting up before crossing his legs. “The unit was still named after me before you came.”

“Then why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“I was murdered here four years ago,” he deadpans, soft voice flitting into a murmur as he plays with his fingers again, refusing to look at you. “That’s why I never left. Judging from what you said earlier, you can see ghosts, and you know exactly why we’re still here.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know and–”

“It’s quite alright,” he shrugs. 

Silence soon joins the two of you; the ghost playing with the ends of your blanket with a far-off look in his face while you study his features, and something tugs at your heart. The reason why ghosts remain here instead of passing on like they were supposed to was because it meant someone was still holding on to them and absolutely refused to let go, or if they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved before they could go in peace. You’ve met ghosts like him who were murdered, and all of them remained with a seething rage and insatiable need for revenge, unable to accept that there wasn’t much they could do in their state. 

As for the one sitting in your ghost, a small smile tugs at the end of his pink lips as he takes in your bedroom, amusement dancing in his eyes at the amount of stuffed animals you had and some framed photos of you as a child. 

“You decorate much better than me, and you’re a lot more organized, too. This place was such a mess back when I was still alive.”

There was an unmissable hint of sadness behind his voice, and you can’t help but ask his name. “I’m Satoru,” he grins, “and for the record, I’ve always been here, just floating through time and space, but not the afterworld yet. For some reason, ever since you arrived, I just appeared back where I left off.”

You nod and take in his words, noticing how he clears his throat and sends a sheepish look your way. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can I ask for your help?”

“What is it?”

He stands up and heads toward your desk, although you supposed it was his since the furniture had already been here before you came. You didn’t think too much about it back then and only felt grateful that you had one less piece of furniture to buy, especially since it was empty. Apparently not, because Satoru keeps digging around through your files with his tongue peeking out his lips, and you vaguely recall that ghosts are able to touch things after feeding off of energy from living beings.

Letting out an ‘aha!’ when his hand finally lands on what he’s looking for, he tenderly places a photo on your outstretched palm with a shy smile. Inside the photo was a beautiful man, probably in his mid twenties, his hair up in a messy bun as he grinned at the camera. Beside him, Satoru’s eyes are closed with his head thrown back in laughter, relishing the feeling of that warm sunny day, and you unconsciously frown at it.

“His name’s Suguru,” he began, his eyes turning glossy at the sight of the polaroid. “He was my best friend before I died.”

Pursing your lips and feeling the tension thicken the room, you ask him, “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s the reason why I can’t go,” he admits, shoulders dropping while his eyes remain trained on her. “He blames himself for everything and refuses to accept that I’m gone, that’s why I’m still here.”

You remain silent and take a deep breath, your head pounding at the situation. It was a beautiful first night of winter, the perfect weather for you to do your work from home while nestling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, yet it seems your plans changed and you have to help this ghost out. A part of you wants to reach out and embrace him in a hug, but you know you’ll only end up stumbling on your own feet and clearly, Satoru wants to move on to the next chapter of his journey.

“Can you please tell him I’m okay now?”

When he looks at you like that, shoulders hanging low and an almost shy smile decorating his innocent features, it’s hard to say no.

“I will.”

Through the past few weeks since you’ve met Satoru, your life seemed to light up like a Christmas tree without you noticing. He was a funny guy and often pulled pranks on you, like slamming the cabinets open and closed or leaving your window open in the middle of the night, laughing when you shout at him as your teeth chatter and you slam your windows shut. 

“I could have died from the cold, you idiot!”

He keeps laughing as if he didn’t nearly kill you with hypothermia, “Well, if you die, I guess we’ll be together then,” and even has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows. You scowl at him and pull your jacket closer to your body, asking what he wants from you because he never goes this far to demand for your attention unless he wants something from you.

“What do you want this time?”

“I wanted to finish that series we were watching the other day,” he pouts rather childishly, “You always tell me not to watch it without you.”

On a particular weekend where you felt like your brains were about to explode from exhaustion due to your work piling up, you refused to wake up until noon, and you felt thankful Satoru knew how tired you were and let you have your much needed rest. When you woke up, a bowl of cereal was already waiting for you in your kitchen island, meaning the reason you felt tired even after that long slumber was because he fed off your energy to give you food.

Feeling thankful for the simple, sweet action, you munched on it happily. It wasn’t anything special and the corn flakes had gone too crusty for your liking, but Satoru’s happiness at you appreciating what he prepared was worth it. After breakfast, you dumped the bowl into the sink and planned to wash it later, opting to flick through Netflix for a good show. Satoru had excitedly pointed at one title that he said he’s always wanted to watch, and the two of you became hooked on it soon enough. Lunch and dinner were both forgotten as you two sat beside each other, your leg against his. Although you couldn’t exactly feel him, his presence was warm.

You and Satoru had been so immersed in the show and unexpected turn of events that time flew by and it was already half past three. He was the first to notice and he jumped from his seat, his hands waving worriedly in a comical manner. “I’m so sorry I made you skip your meals! Aren’t you hungry, you should have some pizza delivered or something.”

Glancing at the clock, you hummed when you realized it was indeed late. You weren’t feeling hungry since you were mostly abeyant, and nothing was open to deliver food around this time anyway. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “I’m not really hungry, and that show is addicting. Oh, and don’t watch it without me! I know you always go ahead when I’m not home!”

Satoru huffs and plops down next to you dramatically, rolling his eyes and taunting you. “Then don’t go to work, Little Miss Manager.”

You poke your finger with his forehead but it only passes through and he laughs, “I need money to survive, idiot.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses and points to your bedroom. “You’ve still got to edit your final draft, so you have to wake up early. Go to bed, don’t worry about the dish, I’ll handle it.”

“Liar, you’ll only feed from my energy so you can play video games!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” He counters back as he proceeds to your sink and pumps out soap to the sponge, “You were the one who bought me that console!”

“Only because you kept whining to me how much you wanted it,” you retorted before yawning, and his eyes softened at the sight of you. He rarely gets to see you dressed so comfortably in a loose shirt, cardigan and pajama pants since you were such a busy woman whose fashion sense monotonously consisted of pearl white button-up blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. Prudish and preppy, he thought, but it suits you just fine.  

“You should sleep now,” he reminds you with a nod of his head back to your bedroom, and you obey, simply because your eyes were sore and tired from binge watching. You’re in the process of cocooning yourself under the covers when he calls out in a sing-song voice, “Thank you for the console, by the way. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Shut up!” You scream, and his rambunctious laugh was the last thing you heard before your body wholeheartedly welcomed sleep. 

You’ve been thinking about that day ever since, the moment replaying over and over again in your head, successfully distracting you from focusing on your work. Even your co-workers have noticed that you’re lusterlacking lately, but how could you focus on anything else when you had a charming yet lonely ghost who was waiting for you at home?

For days on end, you can only think about the cheerful and carefree sound of his laugh as if he had so much happiness in his lithe body that he couldn’t contain. Your heart always got tugged in its heartstrings whenever you had trouble falling asleep and he sat beside you in your bed, singing you lullabies and caressing your cheek. You started to feel him now – the gush of air in your skin meant he was pressing onto you, and the more you got attached to him, the more you got confused with your feelings.

He never told you how he was murdered and you never asked, figuring it would be too sensitive for him, and your hands balled into fists each time you remembered he was dead. Satoru is such a precious person who only has too much love to give, and it was completely unfair and outrageous that his life was taken away from him in a single flash. You’ve done your research at work, and only a few articles came up regarding his death. The case remains a mystery and still unsolved until it was completely closed due to lack of leads or suspects, but the police force highly suspected someone had broken in and committed homicide without theft, since not a single belonging of him got touched. They concluded that the murderer was drunk and lost, because he was a well-loved person in their campus, and they couldn’t find anyone who could possibly harbor abhorrence for the sweet boy.

But most of all, a part of you wants him to stay. He frequently asks you if you’ve talked to Suguru, and you always denied it, making up an excuse about how he was hard to find because he graduated years ago. ‘He’s hard to find,’ you would tell him one day, and ‘He doesn’t have social media,’ the next. Even though he told you he majored in Forensics, you couldn’t find anyone in the city. 

It’s a half lie. You never found Suguru, because you never looked for him in the first place.

You know it’s selfish of you to be this way, because you know Satoru wants to move on. He doesn’t say anything about it and keeps laughing instead, but sometimes when he thinks you’re too immersed in your work to notice him, you look at him. Being around you only reminds him of what he no longer has, and one look at him has you knowing he was someone who loved life. Satoru loved to travel with his friends, and he still had so many dreams left unfulfilled that made him feel empty yet desperate to be in the afterworld.

However, it is hard for you to let him go. 

No matter how much you try to fit in, deep inside, you know you will always be too different from the rest. You still struggled with socializing and didn’t have a single friend yet a hundred acquaintances, and you never realized how lonely you were until he came. His smile lit up the whole room and his laugh was melodious, and you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who cared so much for you. He liked to play games and pull pranks on you quite often, but underneath all that lies a kind heart.

Satoru knows exactly when his jokes go too far and apologizes right away, promising not to do something to upset you again and always doing something entirely new to cheer you up. On nights where you’re feeling absolutely drained or you carried home your anger at your co-workers, you go to sleep without taking off your makeup. When you wake, there’s used wipes in the bin, the hovering boy in your apartment proud of his work. Sometimes you forget to cover yourself in blankets too, plopping on top of the sheets almost lifelessly. It’s in those times that he shows how much he cares for you, and you soon wake up feeling warm surrounded by heavy blankets and freshly cooked breakfast.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for him. It made interacting with him difficult, because you knew you had to let him go, yet you couldn’t.

He watches you carefully and gauges your reaction, waiting to see if you’ll finish the series with him or not. It’s a Wednesday night, or more accurately an early morning on Thursday and the launch happens in less than a week. Logically, it is much better to go back to sleep and refuse, but he is rocking his weight on his heels back and forth, and you realize perhaps he has been lonely since his death too.

“Fine,” you agree, and now he’s bouncing excitedly next to you on your couch as he keeps pressing buttons in your remote.

“You’re the best, you know that?” 

You only hum in response, and Satoru soon becomes lost in the show. Your eyes aren’t focused on the screen – on him rather. Placed on top of your fist lies your cheek as you study his side profile, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the snow-white hair that keeps falling onto his eyes that makes him flip it to the side every now and then to watch the show. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down, a habit he had when he was anxiously anticipating something, and then stopping before his left leg went bouncing instead, meaning he didn’t like the situation.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you smile sadly when you realize his favorite character had been betrayed. “Did you see that? That freaking woman, he only loved her and she snitched him out like that?!”

Shrugging one shoulder and feeling your eyes become droopy, you reply, “Well, he’s a grave robber, Satoru, he was only nice to her because he liked her. She had every right to mislead him.”

“I don’t understand, but okay,” he relents and leans back, eyes closing before he intertwines his hands behind his neck and murmurs, “I hated the ending.���

“Not everyone gets happy endings,” you add grimly, watching the muscles underneath his hoodie flex at your comment. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, and plucking up the courage, you breathe in sharply before slowly lowering yourself until your head is on his shoulder. 

You keep yourself still in order not to fall, and your eyes remain fixated on his hand, silently yearning to be able to touch him. If he was alive, would his skin be as warm as his presence? His hand flexes and trails from his lap until it’s beside yours, and you hear him swallow audibly before locking your fingers with his.

A tear falls down your face. You could feel him. 

Satoru hums a familiar tune, and you chuckle happily when you recognize it’s the song he always sings to you to make you sleep, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

His other hand tilts your chin upwards until you’re looking directly at his eyes. You hold in your breath, his lips only a centimeter away from yours. If you lean forward, you could kiss him… but you don’t. 

“Why are you crying?”

Because I don’t want you to go.

“Nothing,” you lie and offer a forced smile which he notices, but doesn’t comment about it. “I just feel happy.”

He nods slowly before leaning forward, and he gets so close that you can faintly see his freckles that dot across his cheeks lovingly, and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours. Satoru sighs as if he’s been waiting too long to do that, and he is pushing against you so softly, so tenderly, that it almost fits the same atmosphere your heart creates. He is soft in everything he does, from his innocent features and smile that puts the stars to shame, to how he holds you and caresses you. His hand trails from your neck to pull you closer, and you moan when his tongue peeks out and playfully coaxes yours out to play. Tears are streaming down your face when you kiss him back slowly, tongues moving in sync as they danced harmoniously instead of battling each other for dominance. Caressing your face that fits perfectly in his hand, he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumbs. 

A moment passes before you two are breathing heavily with your foreheads pressed against each other, and the silence is broken when he speaks, his voice coming out raspy and out of breath. 

“Suguru… has been struggling long before I died.”

“What?”

“My best friend… he got into a rough patch. Had troubles with his parents, went down the wrong path, and met dangerous people. I’d heard rumors he was going around skipping class and talking to people I’ve never seen before, but I chose to ignore it. Suguru would’ve told me everything once he was ready. And I was stupid, you know? I saw it. I saw how he stopped smiling, how he’d lost weight. How his eyes no longer looked happy,” Satoru’s hands trembled, the blue of his eyes hauntingly dark. “One night, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. I’ve never heard him that angry, and I got worried. I wanted to stop him from whatever he’ll end up doing so I invited him over but… Next thing I know, he came over here, drunk and high, and stabbed me until I bled to death.”

You gasp and shudder as you imagine the scene, Satoru lying on his bed as he waited anxiously for his friend. You see him smiling at Suguru excitedly because he’d actually come, but fear replaces it when his friend succumbs to the madness. The image of Satoru drowning in his own pool of blood made you clench your jaw.

“There had to be evidence left.”

Satoru smiles sadly as if to tell you it doesn’t bother him anymore, but you can’t shake it off. How can a man be so blinded in his own misery that he could take his own best friend’s life? “He was a forensics major; he knew how to cover up his crime.”

A pregnant pause fills the room as you furrow your brows, the sound of the cold wind tapping against your windows as you rack your head to make a decision. Now that you knew the truth, you had to tell the police about it, but how would they believe you if there was no evidence found? And if the case was cleared, and Suguru had finally moved on, that means...

“You can ask me to stay.”

“What?” You breathe out, looking at his eyes with sadness pooling in them. He’s smiling, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You pull away from him completely until he’s at an arm’s length away. He doesn’t look hurt by your action but he sighs, reaching out for you and pausing with his hand mid-air when you raise a palm to stop him.

He must’ve known you’re in love with him. Just as he also knows that once he leaves, you’ll be hurt, and he doesn’t want you to feel that.

You shake your head and stand up harshly. The tears now uncontrollable as you slam your bedroom door to his face. You’re slightly thankful he doesn’t come after you and leaves you alone instead. You needed time. Time to think, time to put his needs over yours - time to forget him. Rummaging through the documents on your desk, you keep looking for it until the polaroid is clutched between your fingers, and you silently place it in your handbag.

Tomorrow, you would set things straight.

Suguru Geto was a hard man to find. He’d fled from the spotlight as one of the  best students of his university after Satoru Gojo’s death. The image of his best friend, who was always in high spirits and laughed without a care in the world, covered in his own blood was a sight that scarred him for the rest of her life. 

But there was one more person who hadn’t moved on from that night.

Ieri Shoko, the woman who ran first at the hospital when Satoru’s parents were away for a business trip. She didn’t want to believe it at first. Satoru had always seemed so full of life, so in love with what the world had to offer. He’d been so young – it just couldn’t be. They had to be lying, right?

But when she finally saw her friend’s bloodied corpse on that cold hospital bed, she’d fallen apart.

She went to sleep crying to herself every night, regretting and blaming everything on herself. Her instinct told her it was Suguru who had done this to him. She barged into his dorm room, screaming and flailing, punching the taller man and effectively breaking his nose as she dragged him down by the collar. Suguru was already questioned by the police after Satoru’s murder, but his alibi of being in a bar was factual, and they had proven his innocence after checking surveillance cameras. He was only gone for a few minutes before he appeared on the dance floor all over again, and they believed him when he said he only disappeared to go to the restroom.

Presumably to wash the blood off his hands.

Shoko didn’t believe it. “Tell me you didn’t kill him, tell me!”

Suguru growls, frustrated at her for even accusing him of doing such a horrendous thing, and he feigns his innocence as he pries her hands away from his collar. “I didn’t do it, Ieri, I was at a bar!”

“Bullshit!” She screams, slamming a vase onto the floor and dropping down to the floor as sobs wrecked through her body. “I smelled your perfume the moment I walked in. I know it was you…”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent because she had always been smart and too observant for her own good. He shrugs his collar back into place and goes back to his bedroom, but not before darkly muttering, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him…”

Four years later, and you’re sitting in front of Officer Kento, an intimidating man with empty eyes staring at you hardly, his face devoid of any emotion. He’d been the same officer who worked on Satoru’s case before it was closed. “And why should I believe you? Ghosts don’t exist.”

You snap your head up from your lap to him and scowl, “I just want to help you here, Officer.  You need to re-open this case.”

He abruptly stands up and slams his palm harshly against the desk, his eyes filled with rage as he stares down at you. “You don’t think I haven’t tried before?!”

“Well then, try harder!” You fumed, standing up. “If you don’t resolve this case, he’s going to remain here forever, lost and nowhere to go. Do you really want him to suffer even after his death?”

“How am I supposed to believe everything you say is true?”

Plucking out their polaroid from your bag and shoving it to his chest, you watch as he crumbles piece by piece. He holds the photo tentatively before cradling it to his chest, and what you presumed was a cold-hearted man was actually just a lost person.

“I don’t know why you closed that case, but it isn’t over. He’s still here, and he needs our help.”

You turn away from him to give him peace and wrap your fingers around the doorknob, “Suguru Geto is out there walking freely. You can still make a difference, Sir. It’s not too late.”

Happiness was a concept you believed to be fleeting.

One moment, you are giggling with the ghosts who tell you funny stories and whisper mischievously in your ear the correct answers in your pre-school days, and the next moment you are pressing a hand against your car windows, watching as the only people you considered friends are witnessing you leave without a goodbye.

That feeling comes back again and again, from little moments such as eating lunch with your high school friends and making empty promises to keep in touch after graduation, giggling when a cute boy comes by and asks for your number. But like any other moment in your life where you feel happy, that feeling dissipates as fast as it came.

The bell attached to the door chimes to signal a customer, and the cute florist you met on the first day you moved to this city, Choso, looks up from the pot he’s currently watering. Bowing politely, he sends a pleased smile upon the sight of you.

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and return the smile back, his musky perfume blending in well with the sweet aroma of flowers as he stops in front of you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “Our latest branch just opened downtown, so I was a bit busy with that.”

“Oh, you work for that bookshop everyone’s been talking about non-stop?” You nod and laugh at his question, proud of yourself that the new opening had been successful. The state campus was only three bus rides away, and with the extensive amount of books your bookstore offered, along with its affordable prices, everyone’s been talking about it. “I’m proud of you, it was a success,” he commends, rubbing his dirties hands on his apron before opening the door for you. What can I get you?”

Personally, you thought Choso was a bit too rugged to be working in a floral shop. He always seemed to carry himself in such an awkward manner and had an authoritative yet welcoming aura to him, his shy smiles the highlights of your day. “I want to give it to my friend. Today’s their special day.”

“I see,” Choso’s eyes are already scanning the plethora of flowers he has in his shop, his brows pinching together in thought. “Can you tell me a little bit about them? It’d help to make their bouquet more personal.”

A smile makes its way to your face. “They’re… bright, carefree, innocent, and pure. They almost seem like an angel, if you ask me. I was also thinking about something that represents young love, and… new beginnings?”

You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. The words coming out of your mouth are beyond your control. You’re sure you’re making a fool out of yourself, but Choso nods understandingly, frows burrowed before he snaps his fingers and turns to you. “White roses describe all of those, but if you want, I can whip up more flowers for you.”

He makes a move to get his scissors and starts listing off flowers with the same meanings, but you run up to him and not so accidentally wrap your hands around his to get him to stop. His eyes widen at your close proximity. You clear your throat and take a step backward, fighting the urge to smile when his cheeks are dusted a fine pink. “White roses itself are fine, thank you.”

He gulps and heads towards the back door, coming out later with a bouquet of white roses. You reach for your wallet before his arm wraps around your wris, his smile wobbly and hesitant. “It’s on the house. You can pay me back with a cup of coffee next time.”

Eyebrows rising at his smoothness, you gratefully accept the flowers and cradle it near to your chest. “A cup of coffee it is.”

Choso chuckles shyly and ducks his head, and you leave the shop with a wave of your hand before walking further and further. Your surroundings shift from the high-rise building and busy streets to a hill covered in trees sprawled out everywhere, flowers blooming and withering at every corner. Sitting down on the soil with your legs crossed, you place the bouquet in front of his headstone, his framed polaroid with Suguru standing in front of you. 

It’s been exactly seven days since you last saw Satoru.

After countless sleepless nights of phone calls from Officer Kento, he’d finally cracked the case with your help. Suguru Geto was found. He’d confessed to all his crimes, his handsome face weary yet relieved. It seemed he’d never once forgotten about that night when he betrayed his friend, and just before he was ushered behind bars, he turned to you. You wished you felt anger towards him for what he did, but there was only sadness. Only regret in his eyes. He looked so tired, so hopeless.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Thank you for finding me.”

A nod was all you could give. Suguru felt so familiar, yet so strange. You’ve heard tons of stories about him from Satoru, all about their happiest moments together. He’d been his closest friend, the one he shared so many dreams with, and the one who knew him the most. Maybe he knew Satoru wouldn’t fight back once his demons consumed him. Maybe when Suguru was holding his friend’s bloodied hand in the night, he knew – Satoru was never mad at him. He only wanted to save his friend. Maybe he knew Satoru wasn’t completely dead yet, not when he lived in everyone’s heart, and most especially yours.

That night when you returned home, the apartment felt colder than ever. Normally, it would mean a ghost lingered. But there was no longer the sound of Satoru’s humming, and the dishes were left half-washed in your sink. And for the first time in your life, you hated your eyes and how it gave you the ability to see the traces he left behind. 

Because you wished you had enough time to say goodbye. You wish you had told him everything, but the thought of being another tether to the living realm weighed down on you. You couldn’t do that to him. He had to go. For Satoru to truly move into the next life, you had to close your heart and forget him. Just as Suguru’s forgiven himself, and just as Shoko’s accepted her friend’s death - you too had to say goodbye. 

Tears clouded your vision.

The white remnants of his soul sparkled in your apartment. For the last time, you watched as the blue of his hoodie finally disappeared, his hands scrubbing your dishes away fading into nothingness. The plate drops and breaks. Satoru stood, his legs vanishing bit by bit as he saw the running water through his hands. He’d wanted to return your apartment to the way it was before he’d met you, but he knew – his time was running out. He didn’t have energy left to turn everything off.

The water floods your apartment. The new series he’d dearly loved still plays on the TV. 

But he was here – hugged by the earth and decorated with flowers, smiling at you from far away even when you could no longer see him. Placing the bouquet of white roses down at his grave, you smiled at the photo they’d taken months before he died. He still looked just as beautiful – all wide smiles, kind eyes, and soft hands.

To you, he was still alive in your heart.

“I’ll see you around, Satoru.”

[kaijuposting]

"Saw traps for people with moral OCD" is a phrase that has embedded myself into my brain because, well, Saw traps for people with moral OCD are everywhere.

Stuff that basically amounts to...

"You have to listen to my opinions on [issue], or else you don't care about [issue]. (Constantly talks about how people like you are the absolute worst.)"

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me tear you down over things you can't control or you're a bad person."

Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me vent to you whenever and however I want or else you're a bad person."

"If you enjoy X media/trope, you just hate Y people."

"Everyone knows that X thing is harmful/hateful; if you engaged in it, it's just because you were fine with perpetuating hate/harm."

"You should have just known better/should know this already!"

This thread over here talks about the inherent issues of putting this kind of stuff out there. The TL;DR is that it really only works on people who are mentally unwell and have poor boundaries, while just pissing off everyone else. It really doesn't matter if you're technically correct; you're still attacking people, and that means they're not wrong to block you.

I think that many of these Saw traps are created when people effectively write posts directed toward people who don't want to help, rather than the ones who do. Like, if you catch yourself writing an angry, shame-laden post, ask yourself: who are you writing it for and what are the odds you're going to change their minds? If your mental image is some smug fuck or angry reactionary, you're writing for the wrong person. Write for the person who's curious, who's willing to learn.

Also? Work on figuring out how to transmute negative feelings into positive, encouraging rhetoric. EG:

"Why is there no X positivity?" -> "Let's hear it for X!"

"No one cares about Y problem!" -> "Hey, we need more recognition of Y problem" or "I haven't seen many people talking about Y problem, so here's some info on what's up."

"If you don't reblog this, you don't care about [group]" -> "Please reblog this, it would mean a lot for us [group]."

And if you're really super duper frustrated and want to vent with a lot of nasty words and sentiments? Consider taking it to a private vent channel or a journal or somewhere that a stranger with moral OCD/scrupulosity isn't likely to run across it.

Remember, most people don't want to hurt anyone. More people are ignorant than malicious. People naturally want to do the right thing, so if you feel like you have to guilt them or shame them into it, there's probably a fundamental communication issue somewhere, or they simply lack the context to understand why what you're saying is so important.

[strwberri-milk]

Hiiii, can I request how will LaDs boys react when reader got angry with them (at some event there was a misunderstanding or some other problem) and at home she continued to be angry with them (or even ignore them)

AHHHh ngl this is one of my favourite tropes i just like being comforted but realistically pls!! communicate w your partners i dont know how many times i have to scream that from the rooftops!!! also this bitch is LONG also i love. jealousy unfortunately so all of this is like. miscommunicatoin mixed w jealousy!!

Zayne immediately clocks your abnormal behaviour before you even realise how angry you are at him. The only reason he does so is because he's hyper aware of the way you act around him because of how much he cares about you, trying to figure out if there's something he can do to try and keep things from getting worse.

However, being at a party with all of his colleagues trying to talk to him about his latest research does make it quite difficult. You're also fielding some questions yourself - primarily ones about your relationship with Zayne. People can't help but be curious about the type of person Dr. Zayne is interested in and you do your best not to let your anger bleed out.

You manage to last until the two of you are heading home, getting into Zayne's care. It's then that you just totally deflate in his presence, looking out the window and ignoring him as he drives the two of you home. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you fiddle with your hands, clearly wanting to say something to him but stopping yourself short.

He doesn't want to force it out of you but also wants you to talk to him. He ends up deciding to let you have your time on the car ride and when the two of you get inside he tells you that he understands you're upset, but he wants you to tell him about it. If you refuse to talk to him right away he understands, forgoing giving you any affection in case you don't want it as he starts getting ready for bed.

You come to bed a little restless, Zayne also unable to sleep as you're on his mind. He turns to face your back, wanting to reach out but failing to. You refuse to look at him, knowing that you'll just crumble and you want to have the upper hand, even just for a minute longer.

"Just explain to me what's wrong. I can't help you if you don't tell me," Zayne asks again, sounding a little more frustrated.

You remain on the bed, pulling the blanket higher over your shoulders as you continue to give him the silent treatment. You don't want to cave but when he kneels in front of you, looking directly at you to force you to stop ignoring him you sigh loudly and sit up.

"I'm allowed to be mad at you," you say with a huff, Zayne nodding in agreement.

"I didn't say you aren't. I'm asking you to explain to me why you're made so I can fix it."

You curse internally at how quick he is to accept blame and jump to making you feel better. The guilt of ignoring him when you know how badly he just wants to make you happy starts to kick in. You hug your arms to your chest, bringing your knees up as you avert his gaze.

"One of the doctors said they went to school with you. They were...they said that all you did was talk about how you went to med school because of one of your friends. They told me that they always thought that you'd end up dating that person instead of me because of how sweetly you spoke of them."

He nods in understanding, coming to sit next to you on the bed. You slide over to give him some room, leaning into his touch when he puts his arm around you. You can't deny how much you've missed him, finally looking up at him. He has a smile on his face, that teasing look that warns you he's about to embarrass you, just a little.

"You don't remember, do you?" he asks gently, hugging you as he laughs a bit.

"What? Remember what?" you pout.

"It was you. You're the one they're talking about."

You feel your face flush with embarrassment, realising the object of your jealousy was just...you.

"I never got around to telling you but seeing how sick you were when you were younger made me want to study medicine to help out other children like yourself."

He tells you a little more about his journey through med school and how you were basically his inspiration. Listening to him talk about you like this now you can understand why his colleague thought he was in love with that figure, coming to terms with the fact that it's you.

By the time he's done you've basically just melted into a puddle in his arms, no longer needing his reassurances at the moment that he loves you and only you.

Everybody at the Hunter's Association knows that you and Xavier are dating. When you two made it official half of the office told you it was about time while the other half gushed about how cute the two of you are together. Things between the two of you don't change that much at work as you both understand it's important to keep things professional.

It's become such common knowledge that you've gotten to the point where you just assume that everyone knows you two are dating. If you ever get new hunter trainees the others usually fill them in on the office romances as fun little gossip, hence why you were confused when one of the newest recruits was getting exceptionally handsy with Xavier.

He told you about it the same day as the two were getting lunch, telling you that the new recruit seemed to prefer training with him for some reason. You trust Xavier so you have absolutely no reason to think that anything suspicious is happening, telling him that he's a strong Hunter so you don't blame them for looking up to him.

Xavier doesn't really train new recruits so he's a little out of his depth when it comes to this recruit following him around, trying to get him to let them come on missions with him. He always refuses, talking to their actual trainer and telling them to keep an eye on the new recruit.

However, it doesn't seem to work. They're still following him around, trying to eat lunch with him or supposedly help him with any reports he needs to file. Unfortunately for him, since he's such a high ranking Hunter the work he does completely goes over their head so he gets some peace and quiet from that.

One day you're heading over to meet Xavier for lunch when you see the new recruit hanging off of him. They're hugging him from behind and he's smiling as he talks to them, showing them something on his phone as the two of them laugh together. You feel your heart drop as you turn around, texting Xavier that something came up and you'll have to take lunch way later.

You know avoiding him won't work very well since the two of you live in the same building. There's quite literally no way to sneak out and go home without him because even if you did he could just go up a floor to find you. That means you spend the latter half of your shift trying to think up ways to get home without him confronting you, failing miserably when you look up and see Xavier waiting for you to walk home with him.

"...did I say something?" he asks when the two of you are halfway home.

"You haven't said a single thing to me besides hi. Are you alright?"

You look at him and realises he looks like a kicked puppy, crumbling instantly. You can't be angry at him for long, not when he looks that innocent. You huff and shake your head, crossing your arms.

"What were you doing with that recruit?" you ask confrontationally, making him jump a bit.

You've never taken that sort of tone with him before and he wracks his brain, trying to understand what you're talking about. It takes him a while to respond but you watch as his expression becomes more and more puzzled, clearly not understanding at all what you were trying to get at.

"That new recruit. They were literally hanging off of you and you two were clearly having a great time talking to each other," you grumble, picking up the pace to walk in front of him quicker.

"I - wait, come back!"

He catches up to you immediately, grabbing your hand and turning you to face him.

"What are you talking about? I don't know what you mean," he insists, taking both of your hands in his.

You continue to look at him silently, knowing it was irrational of you but not knowing how else to deal with the way you were feeling.

"They had their arm around your neck. You showed them something on your phone. Don't lie to me - I saw it. That's why I cancelled lunch," you retort, taking your hands out of his as you start walking again.

"It's not what it looked like at all!" he says quickly, keeping pace with your steps easily.

"They banged their knee pretty badly against the table. We were going to go to first aid but they told me to just keep them still and they'd come up to us. I was going to grab them a chair to sit in but they started asking me about you and I got distracted. I was showing them some pictures I took of you on our last date."

You stop suddenly, Xavier bumping into you at the unexpected move.

"And I should just believe you?" you bite, wanting to stay angry but knowing there's ultimately no point.

Xavier's literally never lied to you before and his story made sense, you guess. You're still a little upset, going home without him and telling him you just want some time to yourself. A couple hours later you get a text from Xavier apologising for not telling you about what happened sooner and for making you upset. You sigh to yourself, knowing that it's unfair of you to hold him accountable for something that's really not his fault.

You end up going over to his place, apologising for acting immaturely. However, you tell him you'd like him to be a little more assertive with boundaries with that specific recruit, knowing it's not his fault but also not wanting them to consistently disrespect your relationship.

He agrees immediately, telling you he was honestly already uncomfortable with the way that they were acting around him. You feel even worse now that he's said that, the fact reinforcing that he really didn't know what to do in the situation. However, he does feel really bad that you feel that way so he spoils you however he can by ordering you takeout and cuddling you up while the two of watch literally anything you want. You won't be able to be rid of him for the next little while but you don't really mind.

Rafayel's life can be a little messy. You're used to the tabloids saying things about him because he constantly complains about them. He honestly doesn't really mind what they say about him because he's secure in his own identity as his own person - he just hates it when people do interviews based on those false preconceptions. It's the main reason why he'll deny interviews from certain media companies - some of them are worse for it than others.

He's also used to paparazzi, not a stranger to threatening them if they're getting too close on encroaching on his personal property or life. He keeps a very strong divide between the two of them, except when it comes to his relationship status. He doesn't pull you around and show you off constantly but he does make it very clear constantly that he's very in love with you and will happily spend the rest of his life at your feet.

No matter how often people try to bait him into "confessing" that he might have had a passing interest in some model or another painter it all miserably fails. He'll simply compare them to you with a scoff, telling the interviewer that their hair isn't as beautiful as yours is or the way they speak to him just makes him miss how your voice sounds in his ear.

That's why when you walk past a tabloid claiming to photograph Rafayel with a model on his arm you can't help but laugh until you take a closer look. There's no mistaking it - it's some model that he's been complaining about to you. The two of them are leaving Rafayel's favourite restaurant, one he swore up and down he saved only for dates with you.

You want to text him to confront him but decide not to, taking a photo of the magazine for safe keeping. You decide you're not going to talk to him, texting him quickly to tell him that you're too busy to chat during the day today and you'll just come visit him tonight to make up for it. In reality you were just going to spend all day figuring out how to confront him.

When you come over he's just as happy to see you as he normally is. He's a little clingier because you weren't able to text him all day but he sees the look on your face and immediately knows something's wrong. He doesn't know what until you show him the photo that's worked you into a frenzy.

"What - come on, you know that it's a tabloid! No, I'm not cheating on you and certainly not with them!" he insists, crossing his arms as he sees you won't relent.

"Then why lie and tell me that restaurant is just for us when you're going there with your clients too, huh?" you rebuke, pointing at the glowing letters.

"Thomas insisted we meet there! Apparently, they really wanted to try something from there and they refused. I tried to get out of the meeting but Thomas said I can't miss another one. Then, they said they'd pay for my food so I thought I may as well get something out of an awful afternoon."

He looks a little flush himself, getting more worked up as you continued accusing him.

"I wouldn't do that to you. You know that," he implores.

You've been avoiding looking directly at him the entire time, expecting to be even more angry to see some self-righteous expression on his face. When you finally do you're startled by the desperation in his eyes, the way he wants to reach out but falters because he doesn't want to hurt you by just touching you.

"I love you. Nobody else. It's just you, it's always been you," he continues, biting his lip.

"But - the two of you walked out arm in arm," you try weakly, knowing your resolve already cracked at his heartfelt words.

"Because I was grabbed. You don't see the next photo where I take my arm back and practically run into my car because that's not as interesting as me cheating on you."

He sees the tears beginning to well up in your eyes, almost reaching for your face when his hands stop. You nod, unaware that you did until he pulls you into him, pressing your foreheads together as he holds you closely.

"I'd never do that to you. I've spent far too long waiting for you to come back to me."

Sylus has a lot of competitors and you know he's very busy doing things to keep his prestigious rank of leader of the N109 zone, whatever that may be. He purposefully chooses to exclude you from any dealings that he does, telling you with a kiss on your cheek that ignorance is bliss. If something happened to you because of his lack of care he'd never forgive himself - not that he'd tell you, of course.

You're entertaining yourself as you wait for Sylus to finish one of his last meetings for the day. He sends you a text telling you to come by his office because he's almost done so you make your way there. You can hear his voice through the door when you hear him laughing.

"I'm just having fun, don't worry. It doesn't mean anything at all. No, I'm not afraid they'll find out, I mean, how would they?"

Your heart sinks a little, pressing your ear against the wood as you pray he's not talking about you. The conversation continues in the same direction, Sylus continuing to tell the other person on the line that he's going to enjoy messing with you. You tear up at the realisation that he's just as cruel as people think he is, wondering how you managed to let yourself get tricked by a literal career criminal.

Sylus ends the call and you panic, realising that you're standing here with tears on your cheeks and your clothes fisted in your hands. You're about to run away when he opens the door, dressed in preparation for your date and smiling when he sees you. His brows furrow when he sees the state you're in, about to ask you what's wrong when you just run away from him.

You end up turning into some random room, locking the door behind you as you sit against it. You can feel Sylus beginning to kick it down, yelling loudly that if he even cares a little bit about you he won't do it because you're sitting on the other side. He stops immediately, pacing outside as he tries to figure out what to do.

You hear him leave, sighing in relief as you stand up again. You want to open the door and run out, knowing you could get home without him but also knowing he'd be able to easily catch up as you made the boat ride back to Linkon. Honestly, you were beginning to doubt if you should try to get home when it's as late as it is, the ocean rough with the warning of a storm.

You're in the middle of your deliberation when he comes back, a jingling noise on the other side telling you he found the keys for the room. You gasp sharply, throwing yourself against the door in an attempt to keep him on the other side. He hears it immediately and stops.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks you through the wood, doorknob no longer jiggling with his movements.

"Sparing you from having to spend another moment with me," you say bitterly.

"What are you talking about?" he sighs.

"Stop being dramatic. Just let me come in and we can talk."

He lightly pushes against the door again, you making a noise of discontent as you hold the knob in place.

"I heard you on the phone!" you finally say.

"I know how you actually feel about me."

The words leave you sounding more broken then you thought they would, biting your lip as you try not to let him know how much it affected you. You start crying quietly again, feeling your heart break.

Sylus gets impatient, unlocking the door and letting himself in. You step back as the door slowly opens, still somehow touched at the consideration he shows for you even though he supposedly hates you.

"Sweetie, are you really letting that cloud your judgement? Did you honestly think that I was talking about you?"

He pulls you into his chest without any complaint from you. You hate how easy it is for him to hold you, burying your face in him as he gently runs a wide palm down your back.

"I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about the twins. They decided to pull a prank on me last week so I decided to get payback on them. It's not like a little trash talk would genuinely hurt their feelings if it got back to them."

"Oh."

You feel so pathetic like this, soaking up all his attention after thinking that he hated you. You don't even want to look at him, clinging to his shirt as though it could rescue you from this atrocity.

"Now come on. Let's get you cleaned up and ready to go on our date."

[hannieehaee]

DOES HE KNOW ?

18+ / mdi

summary: after being friends with lee chan for a good portion of your life, the boy you considered nothing but your best friend suddenly starts acting different, making you slowly fall for him. problem is, you have a boyfriend.

content: friends2lovers!chan, reader has a bf, almost cheating but not actually, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), wet dream (this is actually a huge point in the plot lol), masturbation (f receiving), dry humping, more oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 9.8k

a/n: rewrote this so many times but finally finished it!! i love writing channie so i hope u guys enjoy<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Something was clearly wrong with you.

Was Lee Chan hot?

Nothing made sense anymore, and it had been the case for a while.

You could date it back to a little over a month ago, at one of Soonyoung's usual gatherings. This had been where it all began, or more so, where it all ended.

For some reason unknown to man, that was the day in which Chan began courting you (his words, not yours).

After years of a solid friendship between the two of you, a not-so tipsy Chan cornered you at aforementioned party and began dancing with you. This was a common occurrence between the two of you. Despite having been taken for the past few months, you were still quite liberal about your touchy relationship with your best friend. However, what happened next what was truly out of the ordinary.

"Hey," he had whispered against your ear.

"Yeah?", you giggled, entertained by the boy.

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure."

"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you," and with that, the dam had broken.

You froze against his arms, eyes widening. Though he could not see, as you were holding each other far too close to make eye contact.

Maybe he was drunk?

He interrupted you before you could respond. Chan pulled away from you to look into your eyes with a fully sober look in his face.

"I'm not drunk, and I know you have a boyfriend. And I know you only see me as a friend. But give me a few weeks, and I'll change both those things," was the last thing he said before giving you a peck on the cheek (yet another common thing in your relationship) and walking away with a confident sway in his step.

Ever since then, you had been bombarded by romantic gestures from your former best friend – former because you truly had no idea how you felt about him by this point.

Chan bought you flowers, – even when it was raining – had your favorite beverage at hand any time you so happened to see him, tied your shoelaces should they ever come undone, plucked loose eyelashes from your cheeks, tucked your hair behind your ear, placed his hand at the small of your back before crossing a street, walked you to and from home, looked at you with an indescribable sweetness in his eye, he ... He did everything any girl would need to be completely swooned (and then some).

You were beyond confused as to when this change had come about. As far as you knew, you were nothing more than best friends. When had Chan even begun liking you? What had changed?

"Oh. He's always had a thing for you," was what your mutual friend Soonyoung said when you first brought it up.

"What do you mean? We've been friends for years, he's never-"

"Yeah, duh. You never showed interest, what was he supposed to do? But yeah, he's crazy about you," added Seungkwan, sipping his drink nonchalantly.

You had decided to meet up with some of your mutual friends while Chan was at work. You needed at least five minutes with your other friends without Chan getting in the way with his flirting.

"It's kinda sick, actually," interjected Soonyoung once more.

You remained quiet for a while, thinking back to every interaction you'd ever had with Chan that may have revealed his feelings for you. Unfortunately, you kept drawing blanks all the while Soonyoung stole fries from your plate, disregarding your confusion at the situation.

"But why now?", you finally asked, slapping his meddling hand away from your food.

He shrugged, "Maybe he got fed up of watching you with that guy."

"He has a name, Soonyou-"

"None of us really care enough to learn it."

That much was true. None of your friends were fans of your current boyfriend. Or of any of them, to be quite frank. You had certain lack of skill at picking them, though this time around you felt confident about your current relationship. He was nice and respectful. Maybe a little bit of a square, but you liked to think you brought out the fun in him. This was also the longest relationship you'd ever had, giving you the grand total of three months in a exclusive relationship and a month and a half of a very prolonged talking stage that took place before he ever asked you out officially.

"Is this because I've been taken for longer than usual?", you tried to assert.

"Oh! That might be it, huh?", Soonyoung agreed.

"Well, I guess he didn't want you to break your streak of failed relationships," chuckled Kwan.

With a slap to his chest, you dropped the subject, deciding to ignore the slight acceleration of your heart any time you thought about Chan's crush for too long.

At first you found it to be a bit of a joke, but his affections quickly began to wear you down. It also didn't help how blatant he was about it, constantly flirting up a storm around your friends, not caring for their amused smiles at your flustered half-rejections of his advances. The only times in which he held back were the rare occasions in which your boyfriend would join your friend group in their outings. He could be reserved at times, not really clicking with your loud friends, so his presence was not a common thing.

Being honest, you felt kind of bad at the genuine excitement Chan's crush gave you. Though you weren't sure of your feelings for him at this point, his interest flustered you tremendously. You'd always known him as a pretty and charming guy, despite never really acknowledging such things. You understood why he got so much attention from girls, though you never thought too much of it. He was your best friend, you never had any motive to consider anything further than platonic feelings for him. But now that you were questioning your feelings, you felt as if you were kind of betraying your boyfriend.

Not to misunderstand, you had no desire of pursuing anything with anyone while you were in a committed relationship. You were just not that kind of person. But the mere thought of blushing at the words of a guy who wasn't yours (all while actually having a guy of your own) made you feel ashamed. Specially considering that you already had a very grand preexisting fondness for the guy in question.

God damn you, Lee Chan.

"So, when are you gonna drop this game and finally let me take you to bed?", he whispered cockily against your ear.

He was always so goddamn confident about it; a trait you always liked about him but were beginning to detest.

As per usual, you simply jokingly groaned at him and pushed him away in a manner far too light to be considered serious.

"Fuck off, Lee Chan."

With a giggle, he stepped away, usual pep in his step as present as ever.

"I'll get you another drink, 'kay, pretty?", you lost him in the crowd after that.

You'd gone drinking with your friends yet again, though this time at a distant friend's house party. Your boyfriend was absent once more due to his personal disdain for such outings. He was simply not much of a social drinker, which was fine! It just bothered you at times how often he chose staying in rather than going out with you.

Despite your rejections of Chan, you felt embarrassed to admit that you loved the thrill of his interest in you. Never had you ever had someone so shamelessly after your affections despite your lighthearted refusals. It made you feel wanted and powerful. It felt specially good when it came from a guy as handsome and charismatic as Chan; a guy who could have basically any girl all thanks to his unbelievable charisma.

Yet he wanted you. He was after you.

The guy you knew most was currently infatuated with you.

Yeah, you did need that second drink.

"Where's your guy?"

Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice coming from behind you.

You turned around to find Vernon leaning back against the wall, a smirk on his face at having watched your encounter with Chan.

"Shut up," you walked over to recline on the wall next to him, deciding to people-watch alongside him.

"It was a genuine question," he claimed, handing you a sip of the beer he'd been nursing.

"He's working again," you sipped, handing it back to take turns as you waited for Chan to bring you your drink of choice.

"And Channie?"

"What about him?"

"Does your boyfriend know?", he asks, more curious than actually interested.

Men, nosy as usual.

You groan, "Don't ask me that, Non."

"C'mon! Has he not noticed the way Chan's been after you these past few weeks?", he seemed far too entertained by the subject.

"Of course not! Chan's kept his distance around him, but ..."

"But?"

You turned your head to him, back still leaning against the wall, "I don't know!"

"Well, do you like him? Channie, I mean."

"It's- I like the attention."

"And him?", he pressed.

"He's starting to wear me down," you admitted.

Vernon chuckled into his red solo cup, "It's cute."

"What is?"

"The back and forth, the 'will they, won't they.' But if you ask me, I think they will."

"I have a boyfriend, Non," you grumbled, not entirely convincing in your tone.

"Yeah, but are you guys even friends? Wouldn't it be better to date someone who you actually like?"

"Stop doing PR for Chan. It's not like he needs it," you grumbled, already uses to this back and forth with many of your other friends – all of whom were rooting for Chan.

"Fine. But get out of here. Your guy's probably looking for you."

"My guy's not here."

"I meant Channie, now go!"

You grumbled again before walking in the direction in which Chan had left, knowing he'd likely still be in the kitchen attempting to fetch you a drink.

It didn't take you long to find him, nor did it take you long to spot the girl standing next to him, seemingly flirting up a storm. Chan didn't seem too deterred by this either. More than anything, he appeared to he reciprocating.

Maybe this was why you and Chan started off as friends and remained so for the years you'd known each other. He always had a girl clinging onto him one way or another. Though he didn't date much, he sure enjoyed swooning girls whenever he could.

You'd always been very strict about being exclusive with whoever you dated, never wanting to compete for someone's attention or engage in prolonged talking stages. This was something you differed in with Chan. He was quite the opposite, engaging in situationships that never really led anywhere. As his friend, you never really cared much for this. If it worked for him, then that was that. However, now that he was supposedly attempting to pursue you, – despite you being in a relationship – you couldn't help but scoff at the sight of Chan still entertaining any girl that'd show interest in him.

You almost turned around and left, but were promptly stopped by the man himself, who spotted you before you could take one step and disregarded the girl immediately. The girl scoffed in your place, clearly put off by Chan's attention being taken away so easily.

"Babe!", he called out, one drink in each hand, as he approached you, "Sorry I took so long, the line was crazy."

Immaturely enough, you rolled your eyes and grabbed the drink from his hand, ignoring his statement as you sipped it. You really had no right to be jealous of Chan talking to other girls. You were taken, and you weren't even interested in Chan. Were you? Still, you disregarded those thoughts and allowed the bitterness to cloud your mind and began walking away from the boy.

"Huh?", a question mark physically manifested itself above Chan's head as you began walking away from him, "Baby? Wait, where are you going?", his arm managed to reach you before you got far enough and softly turned you around to face him.

The two of you were still standing far too close to the people crowding the kitchen, however, so Chan assessed that it'd be better to move to a quieter spot in order to properly check in on you. With a decisive nod to himself, he grabbed onto your hand and walked you over to an empty hallway before turning to you again.

"What's wrong? Did something happen while I was gone? Did someone-"

The concern in his eyes seemed very genuine, making you feel bad for being such a brat at the mere sight of Chan interacting with another woman. You had never had an issue with your best friend being around other women. Hell, you never even cared whenever he would occasionally ditch you for other girls. The two of you were simply best friends. You had always rooted for him in his romantic life, even encouraging him with it.

But things had drastically changed as soon as he began showing interest in you.

It was like his sudden interest had unlocked a part of you you hadn't known was there. It had given you this brand new possessiveness you had never held over Chan before; a possessiveness you didn't even feel for your current boyfriend.

And it made you feel embarrassed. Tremendously so. It also made you feel like a hypocrite. Here you had a guy who was clearly extremely into you, yet he had made no comment nor expressed any disdain over the fact that you already had a guy. Chan had never expressed any type of jealousy over any of your past relationships. Despite having liked you for the entire duration of your friendship (information you were unsure Chan was aware you knew), Chan always respected your relationships and even tried to befriend any guy you brought along. Yet you couldn't hold back your bitterness at him showing interest in someone else; interest you now felt should be reserved only for you.

The hypocritical nature of your feelings made you look down in embarrassment as you interrupted Chan's inquiries, clarifying that nothing was wrong.

"No, Chan. I'm fine, I swear. Just a little tired. I, uh, thanks for the drink."

"Hey, are you sure?", he lifted your face with a finger to your chin, making you hold eye contact with him.

It was quite insane how this was not even meant as a flirtatious move, but rather a demonstration of his platonic worry for you. Yet your heart sped up anyways.

"I'm fine, Chan! It's just the crowds. You know how I get. Nonnie told me to go look for you and there were so many people in the kitchen, and then I couldn't come up to you because of that girl and-"

Your rambles were interrupted by an exclamation mark practically manifesting itself above Chan's head, with the sudden realization of your jealousy hitting him.

"Oh?", he tilted his head and leaned in a bit closer as a grin began making its way onto his face, "'That girl'?", he repeated.

"Chan-"

He got closer to you, now cornering you against the hallway wall, still giving you space but blocking your view of anything other than him.

"I'm sorry, baby. Did that bother you? Hmm? Me talking to some other girl?"

"It's not like that! I just-"

"It's okay. You can admit it. I won't judge you," except his smirk was nothing but condescending.

"Chan! I-"

"But that's kinda funny, though. Isn't it?", he chuckled to himself.

"W-what is?," you stammered at his sudden shift in mood.

Though he was still far too close for a friend to be, and he was still leaning into your touch, his tone had shifted to one a bit more cynical in nature.

"You're jealous? Baby, you have a boyfriend."

"I do, and-"

"So what's there to be jealous about? You've got your guy. Yet you're looking my way? When you've been rejecting me all this time?", he leaned even closer, almost breathing right against your nose, eyes hooded as they bore into your own, alternating between your eyes and lips in a somewhat teasing manner.

"I-I'm not jealous. Just ... Why flirt with me if you're after other girls too?", you made the mistake of asking.

"Oh, baby. I'm not looking at anyone else. Not my fault you're so possessive you can't even stand other girls looking at me," you knew he was simply teasing you, knowing full well that you were not the possessive type. But his words carried a slight weight of truth behind them.

You had no reason to feel any type of possessiveness over Chan. Yet you still felt uneasy at the thought of Chan's eyes on anyone who wasn't you. Now that you had a taste of his attention you wanted it all to yourself.

"I just have one question," he whispered, far too close to you.

You nodded at him to continue, wide eyes on his own.

"Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"That you like me back," his eyes went down to your lips again.

"Chan. Stop. I-I'm not gonna cheat on my boyfriend," you huffed, avoiding his eyes – which was quite hard at his close proximity.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, with your eyes occasionally dropping to his lips. But it was fine, since his own were also on yours – though his expression was more triumphant than anything, while yours revealed your nerves. Had you been in a less restricting position, your thighs would've instinctively pressed together at the thoughts that were suddenly running through your mind at his proximity, but thankfully the situation didn't drag long enough for your lust to reveal itself.

He finally pulled away, smirk still on his face, "I'd never ask you to do that, baby. 's just nice to know my plan's working," he chuckled.

"What plan?"

"I'm wearing you down. You want me."

Unfortunately, you had no rebuttal, knowing that Chan had won this round. Even if you denied his statement (which you had half the mind to do), he had caught you red handed. You had whined about not having his full attention just like a petulant child would. Nothing you said would save you from that.

You managed to move on from that quite quickly, finding Soonyoung and Kwannie just a few moments later and using them as an excuse to move on from the way in which Chan had cornered you. You spent the rest of the party pondering Chan's words. Did you actually want him? Or was it just that you wanted him to want you?

Now you were stuck with embarrassing moisture between your thighs and countless doubts hanging over your head.

"C-Channie! Oh, Channie, fuck!"

Your cries of pleasure were unparalleled as the pretty boy you liked to call your best friend slurped at your cunt like a starved man.

You weren't sure how long he had been at it, nor were you sure how you'd ended up in this situation, but you had no complaints. His tongue between your thighs was pure heaven, especially with the pathetic whines the boy kept letting out at your taste.

"'sso good, princess. Cunt's so tasty ... Been wanting it since I met you ... Been waiting for you for years," he mumbled against your cunt, getting back to licking and sucking immediately.

While your heart was unsure what to make of such a heavy statement, your body responded with desperation. To have a man yearn for you like that for years was doing wonders for your cunt. It made you gush like crazy, beginning to grind against Chan's face in such a depraved way.

"Just like that, fuck. Fuck my face just like that," he groaned, the vibrations of his voice causing you to grind even harder against him.

"C-Channie! It's so good ... So fucking good, oh!"

He seemed to get off on your praise, you realized, as you felt ruckus on the bed beneath you caused by Chan canting his hips against your mattress and moaning incessantly into your cunt. The knowledge of your taste alone making Chan lose himself in such a way was enough to drive you towards your high, getting closer and closer by the second.

"Gonna make me cum, princess. Got such a pretty fucking pussy," he managed to breathe out despite exerting all his efforts into fucking the mattress.

Surprising to no one, Chan claimed your orgasm on his tongue just moments later, somehow managing to talk you through it and make the experience even more swoon-worthy than it already was. Chan had managed to make you feel a way no one had ever before, making you ache for him with just his words.

It had all ended far sooner than you would've liked, but it was fine. You knew that with a few kisses to his ear Chan would give you whatever you wanted without question.

Yet before you could even get to enjoy the entirety of your high, it was abruptly taken from you the moment your alarm began ringing, awakening you from what you hadn't realized was just slumber.

Waking up from a wet dream was already embarrassing enough on its own, but waking up from a wet dream about your best friend whom you swore you weren't into like that was a new level of low.

As much as you tried to brush it off as some sort of fluke or meaningless dream, you knew better. You had never thought of Chan in such a way, much less imagined him in that context, so it was safe to say that Chan had been right. His plan was working.

~

The following hours were spent on alert (and still incredibly horny). You thought about calling up your boyfriend to help you out, but the thought in itself felt dirty. How could you ask your boyfriend to take care of a problem caused by your best friend? There was that, and the fact that your brain would probably not be satisfied by your boyfriend right now.

You needed to get Chan out of your system.

You knew that if you called up Chan and explained your problem to him he'd come running immediately, no questions asked as he helped you relive your dream. Such a thought had your head spinning and your knees feeling weak. Except you had a moral compass that was preventing you from doing so. So, you spent the next few hours extremely sensitive and attempting to take care of yourself in any way you could think of.

Unfortunately nothing compared to your dream. Nothing felt as warm and loving as Chan had felt. There was not a single thing that could bring back that feeling of want Chan had towards you; a feeling you were so desperate for. This led you to spend the rest of the day sexually frustrated, unable to reach your high as you felt something was thoroughly missing.

Even when your boyfriend stopped by to see you after work, things had gone awry. You'd received him at the door in a desperate manner, dragging him in with you and inciting him into fucking you. You didn't care if you had Chan in mind anymore, you just needed some satisfying release. Sadly, your boyfriend did not match your energy, opting to slow you down and have his way with you in his own way. This led to yet another unsatisfying release to add to today's tally. You were unsure if you could even call it a release, as it felt entirely underwhelming and had been mostly accomplished by your own hand.

Going to sleep, still sexually frustrated, you cursed at yourself for letting Lee Chan get in your head.

Spending time with Chan after your incident was nothing less than incredibly awkward.

Despite Chan being fully unaware of what had gone down in your subconscious, you couldn't help the blush that would take over your face any time the two of you made eye contact. He had all the power at the moment.

You had also made the mistake of discussing the occurrence with your closest friends, Seungkwan and Soonyoung. Purposely, you had not mentioned the name of the culprit behind your wet dream, but it had not been hard for your nosy friends to figure it out on their own.

"You had a sex dream about Channie?!", Soonyoung had all but whispered, causing some old ladies across the diner to look your way in judgment.

Fortunately not too many people were present at the diner you were currently hanging out at, but it didn't really help the embarrassment you felt at the words even being uttered. This was the only time in which you could see your friends without Chan's presence, so you couldn't be too picky about the setting.

"Soonyoung! Shut the hell up!", you whisper-shouted at him, throwing a rolled up napkin at him in punishment, "I never said it was about Chan."

"Please. Who else would it be about? Sure as hell can't be about your vanilla boyfriend. And anyone else like Mingyu or Wonwoo would be too obvious for you to be so embarrassed about it. It has to be Chan," Seungkwan butted in nonchalantly.

"I- It's- my boyfriend is not vanilla!"

"You didn't deny it! It was Channie!", Soonyoung was far too excited at having guessed correctly.

Giving up, and knowing you needed some external input on your predicament, you nodded in shame, admitting to your sin in order to maybe get some advice on the situation.

"What do I do? I ... I can't stop thinking about it. Fuck, I can't even look at Chan in the eye anymore."

"Was it good?"

"Soonyoung, stop! That's not the point."

"He has a point. Not really worth ruining your relationship over some mediocre head," argued Seungkwan.

"Shut up! It- Fuck, it was so good," you groaned into your hands in utter embarrassment.

"Dude I knew Chan would be good at head. It's in his eyes. I'm telling you, people with those big doe eyes are freaks in bed," Soonyoung couldn't seem to stop spewing his headcanon of Chan at you.

"Or at least dream-Chan is," agreed Kwan.

"What do I do?! It won't leave my mind. I- I've already tried fucking it out of my head, but even then-"

"Hold on. You had sex with your boyfriend while thinking about Chan? Does he know?"

"Soonyoung!"

"Man, he'd pass out if he heard that. Do you know how many time's he's walked us through his sex dreams?", cackled Soonyoung.

This obviously caught your attention, making you widen your eyes and fastening the speed of your heartbeat.

Chan had had sex dreams about you too?

I mean, it should've been obvious considering the amount of dirty innuendos and straight-up proposals he's given you these past few weeks, but you had never actually thought about it in depth.

Fuck.

Chan wanted to fuck you.

The thought made you gulp and press your thighs together, actions your friends thankfully did not catch onto.

"He, uh, he's told you about his sex dreams about me?", you asked with a complete lack of confidence in your voice.

"God, don't even get him started," grumbled Seungkwan, slurping his almost empty americano before continuing, "It's Hoshi who keeps instigating him into telling us every excruciating detail."

Soonyoung nodded in confirmation, "Dude, he gets nasty," he whispers as if it was a sin to utter out loud – despite having previously aired your own sex dream to the whole diner.

God, were you interested in knowing more. But you couldn't blow your cover. You were far too horny and pent up already. Hearing about how your sexy (yes, you were at the point of shamelessly admitting it) best friend giving it to you in the nastiest scenarios imaginable would probably make you combust in front of your best friends and every other unsuspecting person in the establishment.

With dry lips and wetness already gathering between your thighs, you simply hummed in acknowledgment and moved on with the conversation, eventually managing to change subjects without giving away your cover.

~

Never in your life had you ever had such urgency in getting home.

Upon locking your front door, you immediately ran to your bed, undressing yourself in the process and getting ready to rid yourself of the ache between your legs that had been bothering you since that wretched dream.

You knew that you wouldn't be able to satisfy yourself as well as you wanted without Chan's aid (you'd tried endless times just a few days ago), but trying was better than nothing.

Getting yourself started was easy. All you had to do was remember the very vivid image of dream-Chan slobbering between your legs, begging you to use his face however you saw fit and claim your orgasm as if it were a god-given right.

But imagination wasn't enough.

You had half the mind to call up Chan right there and then and crying to him to please come and take care of you. The repeated knowledge that Chan would likely come to you with no question nor judgement made the task of holding back even harder. It made you cry at the frustration your fingers were giving you; they just weren't enough. Not even after the endless attempts these past few days had you been able to calm the fire between your legs. The last time you saw your boyfriend – just after your damned sex dream – had been yet another failed attempt. It seemed like nothing could truly get you there.

That's when you thought of the perfect thing.

Chan always had the tendency of either taking you home himself or sending you a short voice message to ensure you had arrived home safely – always insisting on one in return. This message always contained Chan's raspy voice after a long day of shenanigans, usually calling you one pet name or another as he checked in on you.

No matter how ashamed you felt at it, the burning between your legs did seem to diminish upon turning up the short voice message he had left you just last week. His words, accompanied by his voice, did wonders for your imagination.

"Hey, babe", it had started, "Just wanted to check in on you and make sure you got home okay. Need you to send me a message back as soon as you can, yeah?"

This had been enough to start you up again, the usual 'babe' nickname and the soft command causing an effect on you it never had in all your years of friendship.

"You looked so pretty today," he sighed, "Did I tell you that? Need to be telling you that every day. You're gorgeous. Don't even know how such a pretty girl puts up with us," he chuckled.

Oh, Channie ...

He'd always been so sweet to you. Such a fun friend, but also such a sweet boy who'd always coddle you and treat you better than anyone else. You could almost picture him swooning at you as he reminisced on the pretty dress you'd worn that day.

You couldn't think of anyone else who thought of you that fondly. Yet you were currently too busy using an unsuspecting Chan to get off after days of being pent up due to that same boy.

"Miss you already, gorgeous. Should've taken you home myself, ugh," he groaned at himself, "That way I would've at least gotten a goodnight kiss," he paused, chuckling, "on the cheek, of course."

It was probably just your horny brain talking, but had Chan been in front of you at that moment, you would've done far more than just kiss him. You didn't know where all this sudden lust for Chan had come from, but that dream had come with an epiphany. Maybe you'd been attracted to your best friend all this time.

"'Kay, Imma leave you now, okay, princess? Message me back when you're ready for bed, alright? You know how I worry. Goodnight, beautiful. I love you," he ended the recording with a soft kiss.

The short voice message wasn't enough to work yourself up to an orgasm, so you revisited as many of his old messages as you could, recalling some specially soft ones he'd send you where he'd call you all the petnames known to man and praise you enough to make you blush.

You also thought about what Soonyoung had said, how Chan's dreams about you would get nasty. You thought of every nasty thing the man was probably itching to do to you. You thought of how easily you'd let him if he was here at this moment.

Throughout it all, you pictured Chan and the actions that would accompany his words if he were in the room with you. You imagined the soft touches and the praise he'd spew endlessly at you. The eyes full of genuine love – mixed with a little lust – that would watch you as you came undone.

And come undone you did. It wasn't as good as it would've been with the real Chan present and taking care of you, but it sure beat the multiple unsatisfying orgasms you'd had in the past few days.

"We broke up."

Those were your opening words upon approaching the usual table you shared with your friends.

This time Seokmin had decided to join.

"You what?"

"Because of Chan?"

"Really?!"

All responses were delivered simultaneously, making you groan as you sat down, knowing you were in for a lengthy interrogation from the three nosiest men you knew.

You covered your face in your hands and exhaled before unmasking yourself and facing your friends with seriousness in your demeanor.

"Didn't feel right when I kept thinking about Chan," you started, "He understood, which made it worse. Said he'd been too busy with work lately, was thinking of taking some time apart anyways."

It had been a few days since your wet dream about Chan. After your lonely escapade the night after – the night with the cursed voice memos – you had gone over to your boyfriend's place to end it. You hadn't hung out much in the past few weeks. There had been no spark for a bit. The goodness of your short-lived relationship was probably just the honeymoon period, which ended around the same time Chan decided to make his interest on you known.

It was all too much to deal with, so breaking it off seemed easier.

"Wow," aired Soonyoung.

"Yeah. Wow. How are you feeling?", asked Seokmin.

"I'm fine. Just, you know, feel kinda bad. I didn't want to be with someone if my heart wasn't fully in it," you mumbled, a little solemn.

"Does Channie know?"

"God, no. I've been avoiding him since," you eyed Kwan and Soonyoung, "uh, you know," you didn't want Seokmin to be yet another one of your friends to know about your sexual escapades in your slumber.

"Oh, you mean the sex dream?"

Your stare turned menacing, facing the only two possible culprits, "Who told him?"

"It was Soonie!", Seungkwan revealed immediately.

"Wait! No, I-"

"Did you tell anyone else? Oh my god, does Chan know?!"

"No! I only told Seokmin, I swear! He asked why we were meeting while Chan's working, so I told him."

"Don't worry, I won't tell. Scout's honor."

Seokmin held an innocent pinky towards you. Already done with the situation, you halfheartedly intertwined pinkies and moved on.

"So ... Channie?", Seungkwan asked once more.

"What about him?", you feigned curiosity.

"Playing dumb isn't gonna help things."

"What, do you want me to tell him about my dream?"

"That'd be kinda weird, man, I don't know," added Seokmin.

"I think it'd be hot."

"Soonyoung, shut up!", you told him for the nth time since the subject of your 'crush' on Chan had first come up.

Seungkwan side-eyed them before continuing, "No, but you like him, don't you?"

Did you? Did you actually like Chan?

Before Chan had showed interest in you, you had never considered it. Ever since you'd met him, Chan had always been nothing more than your best friend, your partner in crime. You had never felt as safe and comfortable with anyone as you had with Chan, and that was still the case. No boyfriend had ever made you feel as at ease as Chan always did.

His crush had brought out something in you. Had it been any other friend who suddenly revealed their feelings for you, you would've reacted in horror. But it was different with Chan. For some reason, you didn't feel put off by it, nor did you try to chase him away for his feelings for you. It wasn't one of those situations where the boy suddenly decides to pursue his girl-friend and ruins the friendship altogether. This had opened pandora's box for you, making you realize that Chan's affections would've always been welcomed by you.

Even if you jokingly rejected him or told your friends you had a boyfriend, it was all simply due to your moral compass. You weren't a cheater, so you couldn't take Chan too seriously even if you wanted to. But now you were single, and now you had to figure out if you really wanted Chan in the same way he wanted you.

"I know that I want him, but I need to make sure that I want him, you know? I'd never want to hurt his feelings or jeopardize our friendship just because I was horny one day."

"So you're scared it might just be that you're sexually attracted to him?"

"No, it's just ..."

"You want to know whether or not you like him and not just the attention he gives you."

It was surprisingly Soonyoung who had deciphered it.

"Y-yeah. Fuck. Does that make me a narcissist?"

"Nah. It's better to be sure. You've been friends with Channie since forever. It makes sense for you to wanna be cautious."

"You should probably stop avoiding him, though. He's, uh, starting to notice," revealed Seokmin.

"Yeah, he won't stop whining. Just put him out of his misery already," said Soonie.

"Okay, I guess I'll talk to him next time I see him."

You didn't really feel ready for it, but the time to confront Chan would have to come sooner or later.

Next time you saw Chan was actually far too soon for your liking. Just the following day you found yourself at yet another house party; a small gathering among your friend group and some other people. It wasn't anything too big, so you knew that you'd inevitably bump into Chan.

It had only been about a week since you last spoke to Chan, but that had been a week too long. Throughout the duration of your friendship, the longest you ever went without constant communication had been three days, which had been a total accident on both your parts. The two of you would at least text once a day, even coming to have an unbroken streak of endless texts.

Fuck, you missed him.

Chan obviously must've noticed your lack of communication these past few days. You weren't even sure why you had decided to keep him in the dark. It wasn't just the wet dream (which was still haunting you, but had moved to the back burner for now), and it wasn't your breakup either. You were just confused about your feelings for the boy, but punishing him by icing him out had been far too much. Now you felt guilty.

You felt extra guilty when you finally spotted Chan across the party, sitting alone on a loveseat while he attempted but failed at discreetly looking over at you. He looked like a wounded puppy as he did so, pout on his lips and furrowed brows. It made you want to kiss the pout right off his face.

It was easy to tell that he wanted to approach you, but was simply trying his hardest to respect the boundary you had seemingly put up out of nowhere. This meant that you'd have to be the one to talk to him.

Then you took action, throwing away the drink you had been nursing and walking over to him, ignoring his shocked expression when you wordlessly grabbed his hand and pulled him to an empty room in the shared house. You locked the door and turned to him, unsure on what to say first.

Chan was the now the one to surprise you, immediately trapping you in a bear hug and burying his face in your shoulder, loudly breathing you in.

He didn't let go for a couple of minutes, even nudging you to keep hugging him back when you went to pull away.

When he finally let go, you finally had the chance to look at the boy for a moment.

Yeah, you liked him.

You had missed him far too much to be able to deny it.

You liked Lee Chan, and you were ready to let it be known to the world.

But then he started speaking.

"I'm so sorry," he started, utterly confusing you as to what he could be apologizing for, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I, fuck. I must've crossed a line with my flirting, and I never meant to. You're my best friend, and I need to respect you, an-and I need to respect your relationship. I thought that maybe somehow I could get you to see me as more than a friend, but it was stupid of me to assume you'd drop your boyfriend just because your dumb friend suddenly had a crush on you – which, uh, isn't the case, by the way," he looked down, embarrassed, "I've liked you since we met. So much. I assumed Hoshi must've told you by now. Anyways, I, uh, I'm really sorry. I'll stop. I will never bring it up again, just, fuck, please don't be mad. I'll take anything you give me. If friendship is what you want then I'll be the bestest friend you've ever had, just-"

It was impossible to take his senseless rambles anymore. You were getting too emotional at the thought of having put Chan through this turmoil when you had spent the last few days tending to the ache he had caused between your legs and subsequently breaking up with your boyfriend in order to figure out your feelings. It made you feel equally embarrassed and ridiculous, yet the effects of your silence made you begin to tear up at the apologetic boy in front of you.

Interrupting him, you hugged him again, somehow even tighter this time. This thankfully shut him up, allowing his body to lose its tension and letting himself become limp in your hold.

After some more moments of silent hugging, you were the one to pull away this time, giving him a sympathetic smile as you raised a hand to caress his cheek. It made you soon the way in which he leaned against your palm and gave you the sweetest smile known to man.

"Channie, you did nothing wrong ... I'm sorry for cutting you off like that, that was so wrong of me. I should've talked to you and told you how I was feeling. I wish I was half as confident about my feelings as you are, but I just felt so-" you paused, not knowing what you were even trying to express, "a-and then I just started avoiding you to avoid my feelings all together. I'm sorry."

"No, you have nothing to apologize for," he put his hands on your shoulders to ensure you were understanding his point, "I should've respected your boundaries. I never even should've tried to pursue you when I know you have a boyfriend, it was so-"

"had", you clarified, shy.

"what?"

"I had a boyfriend. We, uh, we broke up a few days ago."

"You ... Fuck, was it because of me?"

His eyes were like saucers, but you could see a small hint of a smile that he quickly wiped off when he realized the context of the situation.

"I want to say no, but ... yeah, I did."

Still feeling unbelievably ashamed at the memory of what had first led you to consider breaking up with your boyfriend, – a stupid wet dream you still couldn't get out of your mind – you avoided eye contact. Now you knew that that had only been the catalyst of realizing your feelings for Chan, but it still didn't help matters much, specially knowing that Chan would find out sooner or later.

"God, I'm so so sorry-"

"Chan! Stop apologizing! It wasn't because of anything you did. I just ... I realized some things these past few weeks and .. I realized we weren't really right for each other," you took a breath, "Not when you were all I could think about."

"Y-you ...?"

"I'm going to be candid, okay? Just, please don't interrupt."

He nodded, giving you the green light.

"A little over a week ago, uh, something happened. And then I couldn't keep you out of my mind. I tried talking to the guys, I even tried using my boyfriend as a distraction, but nothing worked. I started avoiding you because I just felt so awkward realizing I was beginning to develop feelings for you. It was wrong of me, but I needed time. I broke up with him because it didn't feel right to be with someone else while you were the only person I wanted around."

Saying it felt like a breath of fresh air. Not only were you admitting it to Chan, but also to yourself. Your friendship with Chan had never been your average friendship. Even before he had decided to begin shamelessly hitting on you, he had always been the sweetest and most caring boy you'd ever met. Sending you voice memos every time you went home alone, always being in charge of getting your drinks, driving you wherever you wanted, being overly affectionate with you any time he felt you might've needed it. The boy had always been the perfect match for you, you just couldn't grasp it until he began to literally shove it in your face.

"What made you realize it?"

Not expecting him to question you, but rather just accept your sudden change of heart, you hadn't thought of how to explain to him that a sex dream was what had brought you to this epiphany.

But what did you have to lose at this point? Most of your friends already knew, and to be quite frank, you still wanted Chan extremely badly. Telling him wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I, uh, I had a dream about you ..." you muttered, eyes avoiding his own.

His already wide eyes widened even more, a smirk forming itself on his features as he tilted his head in question.

"Uhm, care to repeat that for me?"

"Chan, shut the fuck up. You heard me."

"I didn't! Just tell me. Please?"

With a sigh, you repeated yourself, this time a little more clear, "I had a dream about you."

"Uh-huh. What type of dream?"

"Chan!"

"Princess, please. I embarrassed myself for you for weeks. I pined for you for years. Just give me what I wanna hear," he pleaded, somehow cocky in the way he did so.

"Fuck, fine. I had a wet dream about you. I dreamt about you between my legs, giving me the greatest orgasm I've ever experienced and begging me for more. I dreamt of your pathetic whines while I ground my cunt on your face. And then I woke up before I could cum. I spent the entire day trying to get that feeling back but nothing worked, Chan, nothing. I couldn't look you in the eyes after that so I just avoided you."

Finally giving him the most candid version of the events made you feel a weight leave your shoulders, specially upon realizing that the boy who currently held your heart had been rendered unable to use this as ammunition against you as you watched his cocky expression turn into one of lust.

"Oh," he breathed out. Taking a few moments to regain his composure, he spoke up again, "W-was that it? Or do you, uh, do you also like me back?"

"I like you, Chan. So much. The dream was just what made me realize that I wanted you in every way imaginable."

A decisive expression now took over his face, nodding to himself before moving closer to you, taking up all your personal space.

"That's all I needed to know," he declared before claiming your lips in a heated kiss.

Chan kissed you with everything he had to give. The kiss immediately grew lustful, with Chan licking into your mouth for access the second you made the smallest sound of surprise. And, fuck was Chan a great kisser.

His tongue was practically making love to yours, rendering your legs weak and shaky. Thankfully Chan realized this, pushing you to the nearest wall so that he could continue to take over all your senses.

Scratching and pulling at his hair, you caused Chan to moan against your lips, only making you whine in return. Chan took this as a sign to move forward, beginning to grind his expert hips against your own. Already hard, Chan's clothed cock felt like heaven against your burning cunt. You had begged for a proper release for days, and you were now afraid that some light dry humping would be enough to take you there before you could finally relive your dream.

But did you care? Did you care enough to halt Chan's movements when they were already making your eyes roll back? Your body made the decision for you, pushing your hips against his own and making him release a gruttal groan against your lips.

"N-need you so fucking bad ..." he breathed against your lips, barely able to get a word out as you insisted of licking into his mouth as he spoke. This made him groan again, "Princess, please ... You're gonna kill me."

Pulling away, you grabbed his hands and placed them on your breasts, making eyed at him as you spoke, "Channie, just touch me. Don't care what you do, just ... just take care of the problem you caused."

He whined at the feeling of your body at his palms, immediately groping and feeling up every inch of your body before trapping your mouth in another heated kiss. His hands soon became too desperate to feel you through your clothes, carelessly unwrapping you from every piece of clothing he could. He left you in your underwear, having thrown off your dress and holding onto your hands so you could haphazardly kick off your shoes. Chan's clothes joined soon after, with his own hands throwing off all but his boxers.

Before he could claim your lips in a kiss again, you grabbed him by the hand, leading him to a nearby couch in order to sit him down. Sitting on his lap, you kissed him again and again, thoroughly enjoying how liberal his hands were in the way he touched you.

Finally throwing off your bra, you felt up your tits a bit as Chan watched you with a pained look in his face, mouth open and eyes glued to your breasts. His lips attached to your tits immediately after, going crazy in the way he suckled and bit at them.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he mumbled against your tit, "Fuck, dreamt about you every night ... This pretty body and all your pretty noises. Can't believe I get to have you now," he kissed his way back up to your neck, hands never halting in their caressing of your body.

He pulled away to look into your eyes – though his eyes kept dropping to your lips, "You're embarrassed about your dream?", he chuckled, "Want me to tell you some of mine? Hmm?", he began to manhandle you, positioning you so that you could lay horizontally on the couch and he could lay above you, "So fucking nasty, baby, it'd make you blush."

"Channie ..."

"Gonna do so many nasty things to you. Want me to whine for your pussy? Oh, baby ... Gonna beg for pussy every day, shit," his hand went down to rub your wet cunt through your panties, "'sso wet," he groaned, "Gonna lick it all up again and again. Need to suffocate between these thighs," he made his way down your body as he said this, eventually coming face to face with your cunt.

Leaving a kiss on your weeping cunt, he licked through your panties, causing you to arch your back for him and throw your head back. The warmth of his tongue could've been enough to claim your orgasm, but somehow you persisted.

Chan became desperate for you quickly after that, removing your panties and lifting your thighs so that he could finally bury himself between your legs the way you'd been wanting him to for so long.

"Channie, fuck!," you cried, pulling at his hair while pushing his head further against you.

"Use me. God, just ... Grind that cunt against me ..."

And so you did. You took advantage of your pretty best friend's desperation for you and employed your own desperation for him. To any outsider, you must've looked like the image of depravity as you used Chan for your pleasure, but Chan was just as depraved. You could feel the couch shake from under you, indicating the way in which Chan ground against it as you claimed your orgasm on his tongue.

Riding your high was an incomparable experience. No one had ever made you feel as much pleasure as Chan had. Not even dream-Chan lived up to reality.

You could've sworn you lost consciousness for a few moments after your high, feeling completely weightless when it had finally died down. Your ability to think only came back by the time Chan had climbed back up your body and kissed at your chest once more, smiling at you when he finally reached your lips.

Instead of sharing a sweet moment with him, you claimed his lips once more and licked every last bit of your essence from his mouth. He groaned and allowed his tongue to mingle with yours in such a nasty manner that it made you blush when you remembered that Chan was nothing more than your best friend less than an hour ago.

"Let me fuck you," Chan pleaded when he finally managed to pull away from your greedy lips.

"How do you want me?", you asked as your lips tried to reclaim his yet again. Fuck, he was such a good kisser.

"Fuck. I get to choose?"

You couldn't help but be endeared by him. Also incredibly turned on by how much he clearly wanted you.

Without another word, he repositioned you so you'd be on your hands and knees, running his hand down your back to press the arch of your back a little deeper. He groaned at the sight of you arching your back as deliciously as you could, wiggling your ass as you looked back at him with a cheeky smile, lip trapped between your teeth.

"I've been waiting for this for years, shit. I'm not gonna last."

That made you giggle, continuing to press yourself up against him to get him to break.

"Just fuck me, Channie. Promise it's gonna feel so good."

"Yeah, baby. Gonna fuck you so good."

His tip then finally made contact with your cunt, being dragged up and down your folds as you whined at the feeling. He finally began to penetrate you after becoming too desperate himself.

"You're so fucking warm ..." he breathed out.

Sighing out at the fullness, you pushed back against him, encouraging him to begin fucking into you. Chan took no time in following your lead, adopting a desperate pace almost immediately.

The sounds of skin slapping took over the room, only accompanied by sighs and moans of pleasure from you or Chan. The occasional whiny praise also left his lips every so often. The needy way in which he fucked you had you reeling. Chan had the ability to make you feel extremely desired and like getting to fuck you was the greatest privilege known to man. The way his hands caressed you and his pleas for you to 'please push it back on him' made the experience all the more dreamy to you.

Dream-Chan truly stood no chance to the real one.

"Princess, gonna- fuck, gonna fucking cum. W-where can I?", he grunted from behind, his thrusts somehow becoming even more animalistic.

There was no moment of hesitation in your voice – though shaky from the way in which Chan rutted against you – when you gave him the green light to cum inside you. His groan upon your confirmation only made your back arch even more. Chan's want for you continued to make you feel lightheaded.

Halfway through his own orgasm, Chan triggered your own through the way his hand dipped under you and toyed with your clit. After only one day with you, your best friend already knew how to get you there immediately. He talked you through your orgasm, giving you endless praise about how beautiful you were, how he didn't deserve such a pretty bestie to fuck so good, how he'd beg for you day after day if necessary.

Upon your highs wearing down, Chan managed to reposition you so you could lay next to him. (though almost entirely on top of him) He held you close to him, soft in the way he ran his fingers up and down the length of your arm, enjoying the goosebumps forming. His hand would eventually go over to your face and caress your cheek while his nose rubbed against your own. Treating you like a doll, Chan made you swoon yet again.

"I love you."

Then the world stopped.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before. It wasn't just a crush. I'm in love with you. And ... and I want you to be mine. Will you be my girlfriend?"

It was all whispered against you, with a soft smile accompanying the whispered words.

"I love you too," the words left your mouth so naturally you were sure they'd been stuck there forever, "Yes, Channie. I'll be your girlfriend," you couldn't help but smile as you said those words.

"Fuck, thank God," he breathed out, hugging you to him, "I never would've gotten over you if you said no. The guys never would've heard the end of it."

He made you laugh, as per usual.

You knew things would only change for the better, so you weren't scared about the change in dynamic that was to come from letting Chan out of the friendzone. All you felt was excitement to finally be with him without guilt.

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content: established relationship, chan's pov, banter, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of lingerie, teasing, dry humping, riding, etc.

wc: 695 (teaser); 1773 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

Chan had waited for this moment for years. The moment he finally had you all to himself and the moment that would start the rest of his life with you.

Sleeping with you last night had somehow surpassed his craziest of dreams – and he had dreamt about it a lot.

The feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips, the way you moaned against his mouth as his tongue suckled on yours, the sight of your bare body, the feeling of your hands caressing every inch of his body, the taste of your wet cunt ... fuck. He could go on forever reminiscing about you and how obsessed with your touch he had already become.

It had only been a bit over a day since he had woken up next to you on that couch. Granted, the sleep had been slightly uncomfortable, but he had gotten to feel your warm skin against his own as he slept, so it had been worth it.

After some sheepish reaffirmation of your feelings for one another, you had redressed and left the shared house, pinkies intertwined as you went home. Sadly, you had busy days, so you weren't able to see one another at all throughout the following 24 hours. But! You had agreed to see each other tonight for a quiet dinner at Chan's apartment – courtesy of Mingyu's cooking.

Opening the door to his apartment, Chan's chin practically hit the floor when he spotted you in that dress.

Chan had seen you in all types of getups throughout all his years of knowing you. He had obviously seen you in the prettiest of dresses, the tightest and most sinfully tailored pieces. But nothing compared to the pretty little thing you were currently donning.

It was a black slip dress. It wasn't too tight nor too loose. The fabric barely covered his favorite parts of your body, making him reminisce on how they looked without anything covering them at all. You were also shamelessly donning the few hickeys he had left on you just one day ago. Chan was convinced you'd been sent on this Earth to ruin him, to make him a shell of himself and rid him of any ability to act as a functional human being.

The dinner went quite well. You and Chan were far too used to each other for it to go anything but perfect. Your usual banter was present, though Chan now had the privilege of running his hand up and down any sliver of skin he could reach as you teased him about one thing or another. He enjoyed the innocent touches he could give you without any sense of guilt you might be taken by some loser who didn't deserve you. The right to touch you was now entirely reserved by him, just as it should've always been.

It was all perfectly innocent until it wasn't.

Eventually moving to the couch to entertain yourselves with some streaming service, you cuddled against each other. This was an ordinary occurrence between you even as friends. Sure, the cuddling was now a little extra close – with you practically sitting on his lap – but it wasn't anything too intimate so far.

It seemed like this wasn't enough for you, though. It didn't take you too long to move onto his lap, now sitting on top of him while his arms wrapped around your middle. Chan chose to just follow along with whatever position you wanted to cuddle in, just happy to be there at all. Your hands would play with his own, clearly not attentive to the movie at all.

Innocently at first, you rubbed your own hands up and down his arms. This later came to you leading his hands to rub up and down the expanse of your thighs, coming up high enough to lift up most of your skirt. This then evolved into you dipping one of his hands to rub against your panties.

Chan's eyes rolled back when he felt the warmth of your cunt under his hand, already moist and ready for him. You kept pressing his hand against you, so Chan took the hint to play with you.

...

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[risestarkiss]

"This Whole Situation"

Rise Ramblings #1

So as you guys know, one occurring phrase in the show between the boys and April is “This whole situation.” Although vague, and used in many other contexts, sometimes the family uses the phrase to refer to their mutations.  

However, once finishing the series it’s hard to miss that Donnie never says the phrase. Now, I could be wrong (and If I am, just comment and let me know!) but I have a theory as to why Donnie doesn’t say it… Donnie never says “this whole situation” because in his mind, there IS no situation.

The Evidence:

I started noticing something interesting about Donnie’s state of mind about himself.

He never really expresses that he’s different from other people, he’s just…him. Obviously, he knows that he’s a mutant, but it’s not something at the front of his mind. I associate it to if someone has a certain attribute, that person is just that, a person first. I believe it’s the same for Donnie. He’s a person, that just so happens to be a mutant turtle, and I live for it.

What made me solidify my theory was the use of disguises in Rise, specifically the use of disguises in April’s school.

All of the boys have visited April’s school, and all of them decided to wear disguises, except Donnie.

He just shows up in his regular clothing. One could argue that the hoodie is his disguise, but then why did the rest of the boys wear actual (silly) disguises while our boy Donnie is just like, “Hoodie? Check.” And not only that, but for the whole episode, all eyes are on him, and he just. Doesn’t. Care. It’s glorious!

Later, in the episode Donnie vs. Witch Town, we see that Donnie showing up all willy-nilly pell-mell at April’s school was not a one-time thing. It’s literally been happening for years!

Therefore, I believe that canonically Donnie doesn’t care about “this whole situation.” And if someone does, as far as he’s concerned that’s their problem, not his.

○○○○

Part Two: On His Own Terms

[ashfae]

The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as Neil described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

[theemporium]

[3.5k] after his iconic first race win in formula one, lando gets to celebrate with his three favourite people. or, the charlandax smut i accidentally promised after a lando win with a lestappen podium. (smut)

note: this is fucking filthy and i kinda feel like i need to go to a confession booth. okay bye, nobody perceive me after this. she’s also unedited so beware (I’m too lazy to reread and edit rn)

.

Lando Norris felt like he was on top of the fucking world but maybe that was just how it felt from the top step of the podium.

It hadn’t really hit him yet, despite his ears ringing from his own screams and the cheers from the crowd and the fans and his own team. It didn’t feel real until the national anthem began playing through the speakers, until he heard his team singing along, until he realised this was his reality. 

He was a Grand Prix winner. 

Finally. 

Surreal was the only word to describe how he felt. After years of second-place and third-place podium finishes, of people telling him his time would come, of having so many close calls, he did it. He fucking did it. And he didn’t just skim a win, it was fully fucking his as he soared past the chequered flag.

And for once, Lando basked in the knowledge that all eyes were on him. It didn’t give him that prickling, itching feeling under his skin. It didn’t make him want to  hunch his shoulders up to his ears. It didn’t make the little voice in the back of his head send him spiralling over every little thing he could be doing wrong. 

He had just won the Miami Grand Prix and everyone was staring at him and he fucking loved it.

But it meant more than just a win to Lando, it meant so much more than a trophy to add to his collection back home. It was about the years spent achieving this dream. It was about the effort and the support he had from the team to reach this point. It was about sharing this moment and standing on the podium with two people who meant the fucking world to him with the third watching all three of them from down below. 

It meant the fucking world to Lando. 

It was a blur of happiness and excitement and adrenaline as he stood on that top step. It felt like he was in a movie when the trophy was handed to him, the number one staring back at him like it was reminding him he had done it. It felt like a fucking dream when the champagne celebration started, his hand barely wrapped around the neck of the bottle when Charles and Max drenched and drowning him in champagne.

It was completely fucking unbelievable this was finally his reality.

Time was a blur of big smiles, loud cheers and so many people congratulating him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, it made something in his chest burst with pride as he felt his team slap him on the back as he walked through the garage. He felt like his life was complete when you threw your arms around him, tugging him close until your bodies felt like one.

“M’so cold,” he murmured as he wound his arms around you, holding you closer as he buries his face into your neck for some privacy, despite the countless cameras pointing at him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered back, just loud enough for him to hear because he was the only one who mattered in that moment. “This is the first of many.”

He sniffled, feeling his throat close up a bit but he just squeezed you tighter when the words didn’t come out as smoothly as he wanted. 

However, you were pulled away from him seconds later as he was directed towards the camera. With media duties and team debriefs and many more commitments, he didn’t have time to stop and celebrate with the people he wanted. He had to perform for the cameras, for the fans, for the people watching before he could. 

And honestly, he couldn't complain. There were worse problems to have.

His brain was running a million miles an hour, so many thoughts and feelings and emotions to try and comprehend that he barely noticed the other person in his driver’s room until the door shut behind him and he felt a pair of lips on his. 

“I am so proud of you, mon champion,” Charles murmured against his lips, the kiss short-lived due to the huge smile on his face. He pulled back enough to look at Lando properly, his hands holding the Brit’s face. “So, so proud of you.”

Lando felt his cheeks burn. “M’glad you and Max were up there with me,” he admitted, that funny feeling in his chest returning before he glanced around the room noticing that Charles was the only one in his driver room. “Where are the others?” Pause. “How did you even sneak in here?”

“I have my ways,” Charles answered vaguely, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And I’m here to help you hurry up. They are waiting in the car.” 

Lando snorted. “And they sent you to hurry me up?” 

“I may have come third, mon amour, but I’m still fast.” 

Despite his words, it took a few more minutes of Charles pressing kisses all over his face and mumbling a load of French that Lando didn’t understand before he was finally able to grab his belongings and make it out of the McLaren motorhome. 

His whole body was buzzing with energy, far too hyped up to even care about the way his face burned when he climbed into the backseat of Charles’ race weekend car, unable to wipe the smile off his face. 

This. 

This was what he had been waiting for. 

This moment to be with the people who loved more than his heart knew he was capable of. A moment to be with the people who believed in him no matter what, even when the rest of the world doubted him. 

And if Lando was being so completely honest, he was so lost in the buzz of his win that he didn’t think anything about your hand resting on his upper thigh. He was still lost in the race a few hours ago, still lost in the feeling of crossing the line and hearing Will’s voice over the radio confirming he secured his first Formula One Grand Prix win. 

So lost in that moment that he barely had a chance to drop his backpack on the floor of Max’s huge hotel suite before the Dutchman was reaching for him. With the privacy of the hotel room door locked from the rest of the world, Max didn’t hold back as he raked his hand through Lando’s curls. His fingers twisted in his hair, tugging sharply as his teeth nipped the Brit’s bottom lip. 

Lando couldn’t help himself when he let out a whine.

“Fuck,” Max groaned, tugging on his hair again as he watched Lando’s eyes flutter shut. “Look at our race winner, hm? So pretty, schat.”

Lando’s lips parted but words were lost on him. Instead, his eyes darted where you saddled up against Max’s side, head resting on his shoulder as you looked at Lando with a massive grin. 

“I think you broke him,” you teased, a faux pout on your lips. “Guess that throws all our plans out the window.”

Lando blinked before quickly shaking his head. “I—no, wait, what plans?”

Max grinned. “Your reward, baby. Didn’t think we were gonna celebrate your big day, huh?”

“I—” Lando paused, feeling something deep in his stomach twist in desire. “I just…I don’t know. I thought we were gonna go out…or something.”

“We could,” Charles spoke up as he slipped in behind Lando, his hands on the younger boy’s waist. “If that’s what you want. We can go out and celebrate with everyone else.”

Lando swallowed. “Or?”

“Or,” you repeated, your eyes lingering on his kiss-swollen lips. “You let us treat you like a proper race winner.”

“And what does that treatment include?” Lando asked, because that was just who he was. That little brat in him that wanted to know his options, that wanted to know exactly how he was being rewarded, who wanted to know exactly what was getting done to him. The little brat in him that was mouthy and sassy and usually got put in his place—that wanted to be put in his place.

And Max knew that. He knew that if he reached down, Lando was probably half-hard already. He knew that no matter what he said, Land would be down for it. He could see the glint in the Brit’s eyes, that realisation of what he could have without realising it. 

“Anything you want,” Max murmured, his thumb lightly tracing along Lando’s bottom lip. “You’re the winner, Lando. Our winner.”

…

Anything you want. 

That was his limit—completely fucking endless. He had all the control in the palm of his hands to do whatever he pleased, whatever he desired, whatever he fucking wanted. 

But that wasn’t what Lando wanted. He didn’t want to be in charge. He didn’t want to be the person making the calls and decisions. That wasn’t his role in the bedroom and he never really wanted to be. He liked being the one who got to lay back, the one that people tried to tame and dominate only to realise he didn’t listen as easily as people wanted. 

He liked being the one that people worked to break. 

So, that was exactly what Max gave to him and Lando only slightly regretted his decision as he slumped back against the Dutchman, grinding his ass back against the older boy’s straining cock as he threw his head back against Max’s shoulder.

“Please, please, please,” Lando whined, trying to buck his hips forwards but Max kept his body in place, just where he wanted him. “S’too much.”

“I know, schatje,” Max mused, pressing a lingering kiss at the base of his neck just to hear Lando let out a small moan at the contact. “But look how pretty they look for you, all for you. You don’t want them to stop, do you?” 

But Lando couldn’t bring himself to respond. 

“None of that,” Max muttered, squeezing Lando’s sides to get the boy to listen. “Thought my winner was gonna be good for me, huh? Look at them, Lando. Look how good they are being for you. Look at how much they are enjoying this.”

The boy only managed to let out a whimper as he fluttered his eyes open, his chin tucking into his chest as he looked down at the sight Max was demanding of him. 

And, fuck, it made his knees buckle.

The two of you were absolute fucking messes. It felt like something out of a porno, one that would have Lando panting and whining and fantasising about because never once did he think it was realistic. And yet, here you and Charles were, looking like something out of his deepest desires. 

He couldn’t focus on one of you, it would have been a crime to not stare and ogle you both. The way you both looked utterly perfect on your knees in front of him, glossy eyes and flushed cheeks and looking so fucking blissed out as you both worshipped his cock—like you were fulfilling a purpose, like this was what the two of you were made for. 

And it was messy as fuck, something that maybe would have been gross to everyone else in the world, but Lando thought it was so fucking hot. The evidence of his previous orgasms splattered across you both, covering your lips and chins and naked chests. The way your lips wrapped around the head of his cock as Charles licked down the underside of his cock until he nosed Lando's balls. The way Charles had one hand wrapped around his leaking cock, pumping and stroking himself as you squeezed and played with your tits like it would give you some relief. 

But it wasn’t about your pleasure or Charles’ or Max’s. 

It was all about Lando. 

“Such good sluts on their knees for you,” Max muttered, lips brushing against his ear as his warm breath tickled against Lando’s skin. “Usually that’s you, schat. Getting on your knees for me, doing whatever I tell you.”

“Fuck,” he let out in a breathless whimper, turning his head to try and nuzzle his face into Max’s neck. 

“Do you like this, Lando? Like seeing them be such whores for your cock? So desperate and needy?” Max continued, his hands tightening on the younger boy’s waist as he looked down at you and Charles.

You let out a whine at his words, your thighs clenched together and your eyes fluttering shut as you traced your tongue along the slit of his cock. Your moans vibrated around his cock, leaving the boy a puddle underneath your touch as Charles placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his balls. 

“Bet they would stay there all night if you wanted them to,” Max mused as his eyes caught teary green eyes staring up at him, desperation shining in the pretty colour of them. “Bet Charles would love to take your cock down his pretty throat, he always does it so well for me. Hm, amour? Think you could take our pretty winner’s cock like a good boy?”

The sound Charles let out was pitiful and straight out of a fucking porno.

“Max,” Lando breathed out, his hands reaching back to try and grab onto the Dutchman. “Please, I-I need…”

“What do you need?” Max questioned, squeezing his sides. “Need more than their mouths, baby? Or maybe you need more than that.”

Lando felt his whole face burn as he let out a shameless moan when one of Max’s hands began wandering, when his fingers brushed along his skin before squeezing the fat of his ass. 

“The champagne wasn’t enough, hm? Maybe we need to fill you up,” Max suggested, like it was something as casual as talking about dinner options. “Bet you’d feel so nice and tight around me, baby. Maybe let Charles fill your pretty throat instead.”

“Please,” Lando whined.

“Yeah, you want that?” He could feel Max’s smile against his skin. “Let our pretty girl bounce on your cock whilst we fill you up? She would look so pretty sitting on top of you.”

Lando nodded his head vigorously, his nails slightly digging into Max’s skin. “I need it, Max, need it so bad.”

Max’s teeth scraped along the side of his neck. “Beg for it.” 

So he did. 

He begged for it until his voice was hoarse and his legs were shaking and his babbles were practically incoherent. He begged until he felt Max’s lips on his skin, joined by Charles and yours moments later as you three kissed and worshipped every inch of his body. He begged until his face was burning red, his blush spreading down his neck and chest as you praised him—your race winner—until he couldn’t take it any more.

He begged for it as you held his face, prepping kisses all over his face whilst Max worked him open. 

He begged for it as Charles marked along his neck and chest to help him relax as Max slowly slid inside him, stretching him open until he was a whimpering mess.

He begged for it as you slowly sunk down on his cock, your cunt already soaking and slick with your own arousal as he buried himself inside you. 

He begged for it until his hands were gripping Charles’ thighs, nails digging into his skin as he urged his cock further down his throat until he felt fucking full.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned, rocking your hips back and forth as you let your hands skim along his skin. Your fingers traced along the planes of his abs, watching them softly clench under your touch before you traced along his sides. You kept your hands moving, feeling the need to touch every fucking inch of him as he preened and squirmed under your touch. “You look so perfect like this.” 

Lando let out a muffled moan around Charles’ cock.

“Letting us fill you up, make you feel so good,” you continued, the walls of your pussy clenching around him. “This is what our race winner deserves. So pretty and fast today, baby, it’s so hot.”

One of his hands let go of Charles, blindly reaching out towards you until you caught the hint to intertwine your fingers together. You raised it to your lips, pressing a soft kiss onto the back of his hand and something about the soft gesture whilst his body was being fucked into an inch of his life made the boy spiral. 

He couldn’t do anything but just take it, let the overwhelming pleasure wash over him until his whole body felt like it was on fire. His nerve endings felt like they had been turned up beyond the dial, like every touch was more thrilling than he could ever imagine. The words of praise was a muffled mess around him, three voices all mixed together as he felt hands all over his body. He felt safe, he felt full, he felt complete. 

It was a blur of too much pleasure and excitement and gratification when he finally came, white spots dotting his vision as he felt himself completely spill inside you whilst your cunt clenched around him, as Max’s cock hit the perfect spot deep inside him with every thrust. He was so lost in his own orgasm, in his own moans and whines and noises to fully realise the domino effect he started. 

To really appreciate the sight of you coming on his cock, bouncing up and down on his cock whilst your tits moved with each thrust. To really enjoy the sensation of Max coming deep inside him, squeezing him so hard that he was sure his skin would bruise the next day. To watch the way Charles stroked himself a few more times before spilling over his chest, just for you to lean down and lick up the mess until you leaned down to kiss him senseless. 

To be completely honest, he was waiting to wake up and realise this whole day was a dream. 

But he blinked. And blinked once more for good measure. And your smiling face was still there to reassure him this was real, that everything about today was real. 

“Hey,” he whispered, voice a little rough and hoarse. 

“Hey, baby,” you grinned back at him as you raised your hand to gently cup his face, your thumb wiping away a few stray tears that slipped out. “How are you feeling, Mr Race Winner?”

And despite the exhaustion settled deep in his bones, Lando beamed at you. “Feel like I’m the king of this fucking world.”

You giggled. “Then our job here is complete.” 

Lando huffed out a laugh, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to fight the urge to curl up and sleep for the next week straight. 

“Don’t tell me that’s you done for the night,” Max’s voice spoke from somewhere else in the room, somewhere away from the bed but Lando couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. “There’s a whole city wanting to celebrate with you tonight.”

“Ugh, being a race winner is so much work,” Lando whined playfully, reaching for you to pull you closer before you could pull away from him. “Let’s just stay here forever.”

“All a part of the title, mon amour,” Charles teased as he settled down beside the younger boy on the bed. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss to Lando’s forehead. “I heard the other drivers making bets on who could buy you the most shots.”

Lando let out a breath. “Fuck, they are gonna try to kill me.”

“We wouldn’t let that happen,” you assured him, but he could hear the smile in your voice. “I’m sure Max would join you.”

“Thanks, schat,” Max grumbled as he wandered back into the room, a wet washcloth in his hand. “We have a few hours before we are meant to meet everyone anyways. Have a nap, you can shower when you wake up.”

Lando blinked his eyes open, a cheeky smile on his face. “Alone?”

Max rolled his eyes. “It’s never enough for you.”

“I’m a high maintenance guy,” Lando replied. 

“We know,” you murmured with a snort, only to gasp when he pinched your side. “Hey!”

“You can’t yell at me, I’m a race winner,” he shot back at you, grinning wider when you rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, that is exactly how this works,” Charles snorted as he slumped down on the pillow beside Lando, reaching for the Brit to curl up beside him. “That and club blowjobs.”

“It was one time,” Max grumbled. “And it wasn’t even my idea!”

“I didn’t regret it for a second,” you smiled shamelessly at the Dutchman before raising your hand, trying to pull him down onto the bed with the three of you. “C’mon, we can clean up properly later. I wanna cuddle.” 

“So needy.”

“In the wise words of race winner Lando Norris, I’m a high maintenance guy.”

“Hell yeah, baby,” Lando murmured, his cheek pressed into the pillow with a sleepy smile on his face. “Someone stitch that onto a pillow.” 

“Please go to sleep before I gag you both.” 

“They would probably like that, mon amour.”

“You too, Charles.” 

“Always so bossy, Verstappen.”

.

[molsno]

I don't think there's anything wrong with enjoying kids shows as an adult per se, like that's obviously fine by itself. however I think the fact that there are so many Queers™ that almost exclusively watch shows made for children, and that most of those shows were produced by disney, is indicative of a broader trend of reactionary ideologies in mainstream queer society. often they praise these shows for having "queer representation" in some form, such as a gay couple, usually comprised of young children given who these shows are usually about. of course even these meager scraps of representation are often enough to get a show canceled, but the fact is that for them to even be on children's television in the first place, they must be extremely sanitized. disney in particular is notorious for scrubbing any and all content that any hypothetical evangelical conservative might take issue with from their shows, but this is a problem inherent to children's tv.

I say this not to disparage people who like these shows, but to point out that these shows serve to impose heterosexual norms onto queerness, and it concerns me how many queer people seem to be completely fine with this. why should disney channel and cartoon network get to define what an acceptable level of queerness is? the most radical thing you can expect to see is a same-sex couple briefly kissing. they are wholly sexless and sanitized, stripped away of any challenges to heterosexuality, cissexism, monogamy, and patriarchy. Straight People get the idea that they don't have to worry about queerness, as long as it conforms to their sensibilities and doesn't threaten their dominance.

but worst of all is that queer people themselves approve of this sanitization. I suspect the reason that so many queer people's media landscape revolves entirely around these shows is because they seek acceptance into Straight society, and must prove that they won't rock the boat too much. in doing so, they seek out only portrayals of queerness they consider "safe", and eagerly distance themselves from any form of "degeneracy". queer sexuality, for instance, must be a wholly private endeavor, as it is something shameful. any form of kink that isn't acceptable under wider heterosexual norms is something they must vehemently abhor, and engaging in it must be responded to with violence, whether social, physical, or both.

to be clear, I'm not saying that exclusively watching children's shows causes queer people to be reactionary. on the contrary, I think it's the other way around. queer people who already hold reactionary beliefs flock to these shows because it allows them to see themselves in media while still being able to gain temporary, limited access to the heterosexual project and the privileges doled out to its participants. this is deeply disgraceful. not only is the queer project of assimilating into straightness an inherently harmful one given that it necessitates intentionally throwing queer people who can't assimilate due to being trans, black, disabled, poor, etc under the bus and subjecting them to violence; it's also a fool's errand, given that straight people ultimately still hate the queer people that do try to assimilate and will discard them the moment they stop being a useful tool.

[leyiorr]

he’s my little ponyboy .ᐟ

mdni.

“this isn’t fair.”

you turn around, spinning on your heel to look back at your boyfriend. there’s a gorgeous pout on his face while he pulls at the cuffs that bind him to the chair, long legs taking up copious amounts of space as he manspreads lazily.

satoru’s face is as handsome as ever, even with his bright eyes covered by a dark blindfold that you’d brought from the store earlier that day.

“this is so unfair and mean,” he continues, moreso to himself than you.

you hum, turning back to the mirror again to run the straightener over the last section of your hair. you hear the jangle of the metal cuffs again, stifling a laugh when you hear him curse under his breath.

“yeah? how so?”

he scoffs loudly; you can practically hear the sarcastic eyeroll. you hike your opaque tights up your legs - though opaque is a stretch, they’re practically transparent - smiling to yourself as they hug your figure.

“you have me tied to a chair with a blindfold over my eyes!” he complains dramatically, clicking his tongue.

you snicker. of course, you do have good reason for tying him up. it’s one of your best friend’s birthday parties, and to you, college parties were everything. dolling yourself up was always so much fun, especially when you knew it’d drive satoru mad.

the only issue was, when you were dolled up, satoru was bricked up. last time you tried to leave for a party you were late. not fashionably late, a whole three hours late, because satoru was too consumed with drilling his dick into you to notice the time.

rightfully, you’d been mad, but it didn’t even last a day - one look at his face and you’d caved.

this time however, things would not be the same. not if you had anything to say about it. with him tied up, he couldn’t let his hands wander. with his eyes covered, he couldn’t ogle you. see? problem fixed!

he whines, bottom lip jutting out as he sulks. “i just wanna look... i won’t even touch!”

“you know that’s a lie. i just wanna get changed in peace, baby,” you explain, and he hears you rummage through the wardrobe, “i actually want to be present for this party.”

he mutters something unintelligible but settles down, clearly acknowledging the fact that it was his fault that you were late the last time.

“...and i’m butt naked right now, i don’t think you could keep your hands to yourself.”

you watch him as the words leave your lips, revelling in the sharp inhale they cause. he shifts uncomfortably, licking his lips. he pulls at the cuffs in a pathetic attempt to release himself, “really?”

“kidding!” you say sweetly, close to his ear so you have a full veiw of the shudder that runs up his spine in response.

“i hate you,” he mutters, biting his lip at the mere image of your body. there’s a growing tent in his pants.

you laugh, pulling on a black, strapless minidress before twirling in the mirror happily. it grazes your midthigh and shows off the skin of your collarbones. there's a single silver necklace clasped around your neck - a tiny diamond heart that was one of satoru’s many gifts.

“oh, i look good,” you say proudly, and you catch your boyfriend groan.

“let me see,” he half pleads from the other side of the room.

you shake your head even though he can’t see it as you sit on the bed, slipping on your heels.

“be patient, baby, i’m almost done.”

his knee bounces impatiently, suddenly frustrated by his lack of senses. satoru can feel his hands getting clammy - he hopes the blindfold miraculously disintegrates so he can at least look at you.

the minutes pass by and his blood turns to molten lava, dick straining against his sweats. it suddenly feels so much hotter in the room than it did before.

“a or b, handsome?” you call from somewhere, and satoru sighs breathily.

how could you ask him to pick something he couldn’t even see?

“b,” he says eventually.

“wrong, the answer was c!” you sing, putting a pair of stud diamonds into your ears and leaving him to sulk.

at least he thinks, before he’s feeling your lips against his. he leans forward, chasing the sensation before you away leaving him slightly disorientated.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” you coo - it goes straight to his dick, “i’m almosttt done.”

satoru groans, irritation and need filling his lungs like water. were you even almost done? what he would give to pry off these cuffs and blindfold.

“...i wanna see you, beautiful.”

he can feel his ears turning pink.

“...please.”

the laugh that you let out makes him want to die and so undeniabley horny that it fucks with his brain.

“not yet.”

his head follows the sound of you walking around the room, moving back to the mirror, where you apply your finishing touch; lipgloss.

the day you’d found the perfect lip combo you jumped for joy. now, you wear it everywhere.

your boyfriend hears you smack your lips together twice, before sensing you approach him. you strategically place yourself between his legs as you untie the blindfold.

and as you do, satoru thanks every god in existence that he gets to exist in the same timeline as you.

because when his vision is finally cleared, his breath catches in his throat.

your hair is expertly done, not a hair out of place as it grazes your midback; makeup emphasizing your natural beauty with mascara lengthening your pretty lashes. and don’t even get him started on the dress. he should start charging people for looking at you.

“pretty?” you ask, but you can already tell from his dazed, lovesick expression that the answer is yes.

he doesn’t answer for a moment, his eyes doing multiple appreciative runs over your figure.

“yeah,” he breathes finally, “real pretty, baby.”

satoru leans forward, nuzzling into your stomach. you smile, raking your manicured fingers through his messy white locs.

“i wanna fuck you,” he mumbles into the fabric of your dress, “bad.”

a laugh bubbles from your chest as you point at the clock, “we don’t have time, love, you know that.”

he groans, looking up at you with those cerulean irises that you were so disgustingly weak to, “just a quickie?”

“no.”

“c’mon baby, i’ll hold back!”

“you won’t.”

his head tilts to the side, veins in his neck showing as he strains against the restraints. the high of his cheekbones and ears are dusted pink; his lips are red from how much he’s being chewing on them.

“please, love.”

you don’t answer him, instead your fingers glide down the back of his neck, satisfied when the hairs raise in anticipation. you lean down to meet his mouth and he reciprocates with the sloppiest kiss he can muster from this position as your other hand cups his jaw.

the mucles in his biceps cry from the force he’s putting in while he tries to break the cuffs; the veins ripple under his skin. he’s desperate to have his hands anywhere on you.

he can taste the flavour of your lipgloss but it does nothing to deter him - instead encourages him to strain his neck further, back flush against the back of the chair as you begin to straddle him. he can feel your nails raking across his scalp; his dick twitches with interest.

you pull back far too quickly for his taste. it takes everything in your power not to drag him into bed like a bitch in head at the fucked out expression his giving you.

he watches your fingers pass over your lips, sighing to yourself as you bring them away to see smudged lipgloss.

satoru pathetically whines at the loss of contact when you get off him, throwing a heatless glare over your shoulder.

“you ruined my makeup, baby, i guess you’re gonna have to sit there and wait til i finish it again before we can go!”

oh, fuck you. literally and figuratively. he’s going to fuck you in that dress, hell, he would probably do it in front of an audience at the party. but you wouldn’t allow that... right?