#i just felt like writing smth kinda scary

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day thirty

"It's always been you."

original fiction

word count: 1618

tw: kidnapped, drugging, mentions of sexual coercion

The first thing that Monica realized when she awoke was the pair of handcuffs around her wrists. 

They weren’t even the fun, fuzzy kind. No, these were cold metal. She tried to remember the night before - had she gotten too wasted and got herself into trouble with the law? No, she was too responsible for that. 

Monica sat up. She was in someone’s bedroom - a guest room, if the lack of any real personality indicated anything. The bed beneath her was soft. Trying to make herself comfortable, she noticed that her ankles were bound too. She was still in her clothes from yesterday, the fun, violet blouse and skinny jeans she hadn’t had the chance to change out of after work. 

After work. 

What did she do after work again? 

Oh, right. They’d gone out for drinks. No wonder she had tried not to drink too much. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of the boss. 

They had gone to one of those bars with arcade machines you could play as you got wasted, and her boss, Yasmine, had said she’d cover all the games. 

Monica hadn’t intended to stay long. She’d told herself she’d have one drink, play a few games to prove she wasn’t a stick in the mud, then head home. But then Henry, the guy whose cube was next to hers, bet that she couldn’t beat his score on the bar’s Ghostbusters themed pinball machine. 

And well, she could never resist a challenge. 

She couldn’t remember who’d ended up with the higher score, though. 

Although she could reach them with her bound hands, the ropes binding her ankles were knotted too tight for her to untie them in her position. Even if she did get her ankles free, what was her plan? Her hands were still bound. She could run, but she couldn’t exactly drive away with her wrists cuffed. Monica would have to find a key first. Maybe… 

Her mind flashed to when she’d read Gerald’s Game in college and shuddered. No. Definitely not that. Jessie’s escape still made her skin crawl and there was no glass of water to break, nothing sharp within sight. 

She tried to dig further into her memories. What had happened after pinball? 

That was right. Henry had gotten her a drink while she was playing. 

Monica shut her eyes. Rule number one of going out as a woman was to watch your drink and not let guys get you one without getting your eyes on it first. Maybe that was two rules. Either way, she felt dumb. 

But Henry was a good guy. He was handsome, and sweet, and gave her hints on her crossword when they went on break. 

Quickly, she looked down in her lap. It didn’t look like her clothes had been taken off or tampered with. That wasn’t much relief. She must have been in his house, in his guest room - she didn’t even know where he lived. 

She eased herself off the bed, shuffling over to the window. Or, well, trying to. It was more of throwing herself at the window to look outside. 

It wasn’t anything Monica knew. But she remembered how Henry complained about his commute. How much he’d preferred working at home because it shaved hours off his drive. The wilderness outside made her realize that he hadn’t just been talking about traffic. 

The door swung open. “Oh. You’re awake!”

Monica spun to face the noise, but in her panic, forgot about her ankles. Losing her fragile footing, she hit the hardwood floor.

God. Maybe if she broke something, he’d have to call an ambulance and she could get out of her. 

She doubted it. That would just have the police on his ass. 

Dishes clattered, and she felt a pair of hands helping her up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” His hazel eyes seemed so, so kind despite the circumstances. He looked like he’d slept soundly, despite the kidnapped coworker in his spare room. Either that or his skincare routine was amazing. 

“I brought you breakfast. You always like those Costco croissants, so I picked those up. Made some eggs, I’m not sure how you liked them, so I just scrambled them.” Henry sat her back down on the bed. “Oh. And it’s turkey bacon. I know you don’t eat pork.” 

Her brain struggled to formulate the proper response to all that. Finally, Monica said, “I don’t want breakfast. I want to know why I’m here and bound!” 

Henry tutted. “I’ll take off your handcuffs to eat if you promise to stay put.” 

A rational part of her told her not to cave to this crazy man who had roofied her and taken her back to his home. But a far more rational part of her told her that getting her handcuffs off was one way she could try and get her escape. 

“Fine. But I want answers.” 

“Alright.” He pulled out a ring of keys from a chain around his neck and held her wrists. When her hands were free, he stepped back, as if figuring she’d leap out at him. But when she stayed put, having to resist the urge to run, he tucked the keys away again. “Eat. Please. I spent a long time making sure everything was perfect.” 

As Monica pulled the tray on her lap, it didn’t escape her that he’d only given her a spoon to eat with. She could feel his eyes burning her as she took a bite of the eggs. 

They were fine. Perfectly acceptable scrambled eggs. But she said, “They’re good.” 

Henry made a delighted little noise. “That’s good. I’m not really a cook. But I know that you love cooking.” 

Monica nodded, taking another bite of average scrambled eggs. Hell, she would kill for some Tapito to make at least one part of this exchange more bearable. 

“I said I’d give you answers. But I actually have a question.” He pulled out a small box from his pocket and dropped down to one knee. 

Before Henry could get the words out, she started to choke on the eggs.

“Will you marry me, Monica Jones?” 

“Huh?” 

“You know, the moment you started working with us, I felt a spark. You’re beautiful, clever, and so nice. A woman as perfect as you shouldn’t be crunching numbers her whole life. No, she deserves a husband to take care of her. I can be that husband.” 

Monica cleared her throat. “I’m flattered, but-” She tried to think of the gentlest way to let him down. He seemed more scared of her than she was of him, but she wasn’t sure if that gentle creepiness could give way to something much more bloody if she pressed the wrong button. “There’s plenty of nice girls out there, Henry, who would want a life like that. I- I’m happy with my job, really.” 

“But none of those girls are you. It’s always been you, Monica. You’re the one.” He reached for her hands, his hazel eyes swimming in tears. “Please.” 

“I can’t.” 

Henry sobbed, pressing his face into the bed beside her. It was a little mortifying. She wasn’t sure whether to comfort him, to use this as her chance to get away. 

But her legs were still bound. 

Monica removed one of her hands from his, stroking his pale brown hair. “There, there?” 

He jerked his head up. “I guess that’s fine. I’ll find someone else.” The despair on his face shifted into forced cheerfulness. Henry moved the tray off her lap. 

Before she could really process the shift, or what was going through his mind, he was picking her up over his shoulder. 

“What? What are you doing?” 

“Well, I can’t just let you go.” He started to leave the room, her bobbing along with every step. “Don’t worry.” 

She worried a lot, actually. 

Henry took her down the hall, then down into a cellar. He set her down on a crate as he took out those keys from under his shirt. 

Monica realized, he hadn’t bound her wrists again. 

She only had one chance, as she leaped up and toppled him to the ground. She knew she was at the disadvantage with her legs bound, but she elbowed him in the face and reached for the keys around his neck. 

The chain was too strong to rip off, so with some struggle, she pulled it up and free from his neck. 

“What are you doing?” Henry asked. 

Monica sat up, ass firmly planted on his stomach. She hadn’t thought that far. None of the keys were sharp enough to slice through the ropes binding her ankles. 

“Help! Help!” came the muffled cries from the other side of the door.  

“Henry. How many girls have been ‘the one’?”

“Don’t!” 

Monica reached up for the door to pull herself to standing and unlocked the door before Henry grabbed her again. While he tried to pull her away, she grabbed hold of the handle and yanked the door open. 

Two women stumbled out. They looked disheveled, starved, and pale. The brunette took the chance to run, but the black-haired woman didn’t move at first.

Henry held Monica closer. “Kylie. I knew you were the one. I knew you’d always stay.” 

“No, go!” 

Kylie stepped forward. She took Monica’s hands met her eyes, dull green gaze staring into hers. “You’ll understand why I’m doing this soon enough.” 

The two of them shepherded her into the small closet and slammed the door. 

Monica waited until the footsteps ascended up the stairs, along with Henry chattering. But she unclenched her fists in her lap. 

They had forgotten to take the keys from her. 

[skyrigel]

Hey Rigel I love ur work like so much 💓 can I request Anthony bridgerton where he is getting married and realises his love his y/n or smth similar with him getting jealous and angry when y/n and Benedict or colin fake date like tht or anything if this doesn't make sense 😭

Enchanted | A.B x you

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict x fem!reader x colin ( platonic) wc - 3.8k

Synopsis: When Aubreyton's CEO strikes a match with Miss Edwina sharma, because she's nice and kind and witty, ofcourse nothing could go wrong, except you have feelings for Anthony.

Warning :CEO! Anthony x assistant! reader, Asshole! Anthony, Benedict x sophie, Polin, bridgerton's chaotic dynamic, reader and Benedict share one brain cell that's mostly with you, alcohol, fake marriage( Anthony and reader), social media au, office au, modern setting, forced proximity, jealousy jealousy, mutual pinning, fluffy fluff, bit angst, arranged marriage, bit Collen Hoover bashing but it's a joke ( maybe not ) no Edwina bashing, scary Kate sharma, yes!!! ( Might add more later )

" Your brother is an idiot." You said, gritting your teeth as your mail blew with applicants, beautiful young ladies with peculiar yet remarkable talents.

" That." Benedict catched the grape midair with his mouth," we know of." He added with a cocky grin.

" Read another ! " Colin peppered, stealing your cookies which you ignored, sighing as you opened another mail.

" Tiana Young, twenty-one, I like to read, write and sing, my favourite author is Collen Hoover—" Benedict snorted, " —I like children and hope to be a mother, I am very soft spoken and good natured, my neighbours call me Ti, because I am a tea kinda person—"

" What's a tea kinda person ? " Colin bited the smuggled cookie, Benedict pulled the remaining to his side hastily, you felt your appetite long gone.

" It's like...they are like tea..." Benedict said, more in doubt as he looked for affirmation.

" Like milk tea or another tea ? " You asked, perhaps tea could takeaway your headache.

" What's an another tea ? " Colin's hand began to pull the tray, Benedict frowned but said nothing, taking one hurriedly and breaking it into two parts, offering you the bigger one.

" No thank-you, let me fix this Tiana's appointment." You exhaled, copy pasting a paragraph how (un) grateful you were to her for reaching out, she would soon have her appointment date and bla bla bla.

" I knew my brother was workholic but this wife hunting thingy is so exhausting." Benedict wiggled his eyebrows, you knew he was being kind but he wasn't helping at all.

" It would have been over if his requirements weren't so high, like he's not looking for a wife but some utopian woman god has yet to create ! " You were ranting, you knew, but this was the only way you could stop yourself from punching Anthony for putting you into this misery.

" Why can't he just fall in love ? " Colin looked at you and Benedict seriously, his mouth covered in crumbs, " Come on, love is like...like a force to be reckoned with ! " He beamed, ofcourse it was a force, didn't Penelope wrote something smiliary in her latest book, you somehow felt your heart shuddering, what would happen if Anthony were to be in love, some intelligent, beautiful woman, some utopian goddess of his, you didn't like the idea one bit, so you laughed it off.

" Brother in love ? " Benedict was in stitches, banging his palm on the table, shaking few very important papers that laid without any significance. They will be probably used as napkin if you weren't there.

" It's not funny." Colin got up, taking his coat, he rolled his eyes when Benedict refused to stop laughing, you shaked your head helplessly as another mail popped up, Jasmine had written a essay about global peace and increasing capatilism, you groaned, damn you Anthony bridgerton!

_

" Good evening Anthony." You tapped save on your screen as Anthony entered the office, a beak of sweat trickling down his neck line, okay, someone got either fired or roasted down to their very existence, you preferred the former.

" Good evening y/n." He looked up at you, he worried his jaw to say more but decided against it as he settled on his chair, it was very comfy and very big, years of working with him but you couldn't fathom the courage to ever have a taste, perhaps Benedict would help, maybe then.

" There are twelve appointments I have scheduled for tomorrow, Miss Becka—"

" Cancel them."

" What ?! " You almost shouted, you didn't waste your whole day to adjust and fit these pretty woman according to the time and weather and place and Anthony's mood so nothing went wrong, did he just said cancel them like it was nothing, this—

" We are going out Tommorow, it might take all day so cancel them." Anthony ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply, your brain short circuited at the words more and more made some meaning, we ?! Did he, for heaven's sake said we ?

" You and me ? " You blurted and lowered your gaze when his eyes snapped to you, a deep color blazed your nose as you fiddled with your skirt.

" Yes, me and you." He confirmed and you could swore, that was a smile, a small, thin, almost unrecognisable on his always stern face, but that was a smile.

" Why ? " You closed your laptop, tucking the strands of your hair that usually came out after a long day, behind you ear.

Anthony pressed a key and it beeped, he shifted his face to you, thinking that he was almost frowning and finally, he said with a neutral face.

" I have found a match." His face gave nothing away, " Miss Edwina will be most suitable for marriage." He said it like it wasn't his marriage he was talking about, " she's very graceful and witty and would make a amiable wife and a kind loving mot—"

" Right." You snapped mid course, his mouth was hanging open with words lost in void, you knew very well Miss Edwina was a fine young lady, she was beautiful and kind and sharp at wits, ofcourse this ended your torment or perhaps began another, but not now, you needed to think.

" I..I promised Benedict for dinner. " You muttered, feeling your whole body numb as you stumbled out of your seat, Anthony watched, something glazed in his eyes but you couldn't place it, you might if you looked longer but you had no courage left now. You were almost at the glassy door, he was watching you intently and you felt his gaze burn at your back.

" You like my brother quite very much." He startled you, you paused, heart beats echoing through your throat. It was like he was accusing you, almost jabbing his finger on your chest. What does that mean ?

" What could I say ? He's very amiable." You turned to smile at him, it trembled on your lips and Anthony scoffed slightly, mouth curving in disdain but it was gone as soon as it crossed his face. Damn you !

" Have a nice day sir." You closed the door behind you, covering your face as a muffled scream cut through your cartilage.

_

" Miss Edwina ?! " Benedict almost screamed as you narrowed your eye sternly at him, he lowered his voice in a whisper, ducking his head down towards you, " sorry but Miss Edwina ?! "

" I know, I know." You swigged another gulp of the dizzy bubbling liquid that will give you a terrible headache tommorow but right now, you just wanted this uneasiness feeling to go away.

" Didn't her scary sister vowed to ruin him or something like that ? " Benedict licked his thumb, eye's watering at the spice, you loved this place's Chole bhature very much, last time Benedict cried when he accidentally bited the green masala filled chilly.

" Yeah, she refused to take ahead the Mayfair deal, or something like that, not that it would ruin anything and—" You sighed, leaning back your head as the soft music tickled your senses.

" What ? " You heard his faint murmur.

" Well Anthony was right, as soon as our team announced his engagement, ofcourse not revealing the bride, he's well trending—"

" He's always trending." Benedict groaned, chugging water as his lips were swollen with spiced heat.

" Yes, but not for thirsty things, i meant that Aubreyton is trending and our shares are touching the sky and it's a whole profitable season ahead." You ended breathlessly, you stared at him for full second before both your eye's crinkled with smiles and laughter that came from your hearts, it lightened the air somehow as well as your heart.

" You do remember I am part of the executive board ? " Benedict tilted his head with a warm smile and you shaked your head, feeling tipsy.

" Like you do anything except torment me and poor Colin ! " You pouted, feeling your cheeks flush as Benedict threw his head back and laughed.

" Poor Colin ? " He cooed, " he's probably getting laid tonight." He added with a wink, you slapped his shoulder nervously.

" Penelope replied ? "

" Ofcourse, my dear little brother wrote a whole ass three page message, with a picture of all her books that too hardcover and first editions."

" Wow." You said, impressed, Colin was head over heels, it was only a matter of time since the dazzling author knew.

" And what of Miss Beckett ? " You wiggled your eyebrows like Benedict did when he teased you, he turned a beetroot red as he fumbled with the last contents of his glass.

" She refused for a live in relationship." He said, his face grew sad and you mentally winced for putting him there.

" Oh." You nodded, Sophia lived with her evil mother who liked to see her suffer and she was, afterall, too good of a girl.

" Benedict..." You whispered when he closed his eyes softly, hiding his face behind his palms.

" I am not crying." He was. He sniffed as a few heads turned towards the pair of you, many with sympathy, probably thinking you had refused to marry him or something.

" Hey, hey, hey..." You pulled yourself as you dizzily tripped over to his side, wrapping your arms around him as he melted in your embrace.

" She doesn't understand..." He said it so muffled that it was unable to make out what he said, but you understood it anyway.

" She will, she loves you so much." You kissed his head and he nodded, tears streaking your shirt as he finally emerged with red, sticky face and puppy bright eyes.

" I think i drank too much." He admitted, you nodded, feeling yourself floating too.

" Let's call a cab, we shouldn't drive." You suggested, fiddling with cash as you payed the bill, leaving good tip for the teenager waiter, who smiled kindly at every inner joke Benedict shot.

" Uh huh." He focused hard on his phone, sticking his tongue out like he did when he was really, really drunk and or just really, felt the need to, or he was about to do something stupid, which he did.

Twelve minutes later, Anthony bridgerton was standing outside the restaurant with a heavy frown and it was strange to see him in normal clothes, like that grey t-shirt felt odd yet gorgeous and those sweatpants, you were way too drunk, you realised.

" You'll make a fine gentleman." Anthony curted his mouth, his words dripped with sarcasm that you and Benedict were too drunk to catch on.

" Thankyou, the cab idea was mine." He said smugly, ducking out when you smacked his ass with your purse, Anthony watched with wide eyes.

" Liar." You jabbed at him, he started to giggle and stumbled, taking you along before Anthony grabbed you by the waist and pulled you away from him, Benedict winked at you when Anthony closed his eyes, frustration or whatever that dazed him, his touch was electrifying, like current jostling in water.

Anthony pulled away his arms from you, his eyes strained like it pained him just the same it hurt you.

" You are wasting my time brother, get in the car." He glared, " come." He said to you, his gaze softened but that could be alcohol, you weren't reliable narrator especially when it was Anthony bridgerton.

" Well you could have refused." Benedict ran and sprawled inside like a bear, covering the whole back seat with his wasted body.

" Yes well, I didn't come for y—" he clamped his mouth in a thin line, nerve twitching on his forehead as he breathed hard, eyeing you as you ran after Benedict's seat thievery, you opened the door and his head almost snapped when he looked up you, it was a nauseous enough to make you vomit.

" Move." You pulled his hair, in no hell you will sit in the front seat, not like you haven't, but you were drunk and you were angry and you hated Anthony and you wished so much to just, to just, just once, once just, kiss him hard, that's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Leave this idiot." Anthony was suddenly behind you, he touched your elbow with same electric touch, guiding you to the empty front seat as he opened the door, you could feel Benedict wiggling his eye, you will deal with this bastard later.

" I was thinking—" Benedict started, once Anthony started driving, he was shut real quick when Anthony glared with words.

" Stop thinking." Anthony rolled the steering wheel and you looked away, those veins taunted and lured you, it was maddening and the streets were much dull and undistracting.

Benedict giggled at something he probably said in his head, you chuckled when he burped, he did too, only Anthony didn't.

" Don't you have a date tommorow with Mr. Dorset ? " Benedict craned his neck to get a view of you, two Bridgerton's eyes were too much to take as you thought hard, well yes a date, with Mr. Dorset, yes, you did remember.

" Ofcourse." You said, Anthony drifted a turn that jerked your head forward and you would have got a concussion if it wasn't his big palm that came for rescue.

" Are you okay ? " He asked, slowing down the car as his fingers pushed you back until the back of your head was pressed against the seat.

" Yeah." You confirmed, nothing was more threatening than his touch. He should bloody know that.

" Are you okay ? " Benedict mimicked and you realised he was down there, squashed on the car floor, his face hidden somewhere.

Anthony ignored him as his expressions hardened, he was breathing hard as he worried his lips, thinking and thinking.

" You do know it might take all day." Anthony finally said and you cocked your head to his side, you were drunk and well, sleepy too.

" What ? Well, it's a dinner date." You assured, Mr. Dorset wasn't letting go and a Thai curry wouldn't hurt anyway.

" Yes well, it might be very late." He was frowning now, his eyes were on the road but he would glance between nano seconds.

" Really ? " You pouted, you were way too gone now, it didn't matter, Anthony's eyes stopped at your lips and when he looked up, something changed, like it must have changed a long ago but it's colours were only visible now, like moon hiding behind the clouds, beaming but not seen and when it's finally high, hanging at sky, you blinked, expecting it to be gone, like everything, but when you opened your eyes, it was still there, as clear as ever, shimmering at you. That's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Yes.." Anthony gulped hard, pulling at Benedict's apartment, how much he wanted sophie to built a home with him, soon, you thought, soon.

" Oi y/n, I think I found your lipstick." Benedict hopped up, his face had lines where because he didn't bother to get up once he had fallen, with a shade that you never used in your whole lifetime, Anthony looked away when you tried to catch his eyes.

" That's not mine." You said, feeling anger creep up your neck, not knowing why, it's not that you were the only one who sat in his car and ofcourse you weren't his girlfriend, you weren't his friend even, he was your boss, you were his assistant, that's it, that's fucking it, you really wanted to punch his face, that's bloody alcohol, you would never drink again.

" Benedict, my brother." Anthony took the lipstick away which Benedict was trying to apply on himself, " get the fuck out."

" Goodbye to you too brother." He leaned to smooch Anthony when he hastily pulled away, growling.

" Bye bye sweetheart." Benedict smooched your cheek then and his lips only touched your warm skin before Anthony pushed him back in the back seat, it was, kinda rough.

" You are drunk." He told Benedict who shrugged, blinking heavily.

"He always kissed me goodbye." You glared at Anthony, this freaking bastard, chew on your lipstick, Idiot. You leaned down to kiss Benedict's cheek and he giggled softly, eyes locked with Anthony, his wide bastard grin flashing, glittering as Anthony eye rolled.

When Benedict was dropped, it was your turn, Anthony stared ahead like a statue, you were suffering in your own head.

The silence became heavy in air as the music was either tragic or too loud for your head and Anthony sensed the discomfort, turning it off altogether.

" What are we going to do actually? Venue deciding or something." You finally spoke, remembering how much you stared and stared when the article popped up, Anthony bridgerton looking for a wife !! You remembered the qualification list, should be well spoken, should be linguistic, should want kids, should be family loving, should be this, should be that, should have good enough hips to bear a child like what ?!

You remembered days and days when he would have his appointments, yes appointments, most of times he was out within five minutes, a frown on his face.

" She doesn't know algebra." He said one time when he came out within two minutes and you shrugged, well algebra was hard afterall.

And now Miss Edwina had ended all your miseries and torture, no lists, no more algebra's and Collen Hoover's, nothing of that anymore, Anthony would be a husband soon and perhaps he would love her, or already love her, he was so determined even when Kate sharma threatened to cut deals with Aubreyton if didn't stop sending flowers, well that was your doing, sending flowers because it was your idea, but well, it didn't matter.

" Well not the venue, but wedding ring and wedding dresses, Mother say we match and cake tasting and flowers—" we.

" When's the wedding ? " You looked at him scornfully, Anthony's eyes lowered at you as he stopped the car.

" Next week." Fuck you Anthony!

" Shouldn't you decide that with Miss Edwina herself ? " You were glad, but you had this feeling that he would be taken away from you, once married, he might not be yours, he was never yours, but still, why not start now ?

He frowned like it wasn't the most sensible and obvious thing.

" I..." He hesitated, " Miss Edwina might not want to go, since the wedding is too near and also, to keep it a private engagement."

" Oh." You didn't get a thing, your mind wasn't working as Anthony leaned down to open your door, you freezed, only your heart thudded loudly, could he hear ? What he did to you, well it wouldn't surprise you if he knew and still chose to torture your poor soul. " Why not state it publicly ? "

" I can't deal with the fanfictions." He said in matter of factly way. " And paparazzi giving Edwina trouble." Don't say her name, don't.

" Fanfictions ?! " You laughed so loud that he actually stopped thinking whatever he was, and just looked at you, as if taking in every detail, savouring them, drinking every bit of you in, he looked like he was mesmerized but that was just alcohol, just your silly heart, just you, who had read all those one shots, about you and him, ofcourse you weren't going to admit it and ofcourse you would be quite dammed if you ever saw Anthony getting shipped with Edwina Sharma, they are getting married in a week idiot, yes, but not today, not now, later, when it was time, please, not now. Later, now he was yours.

" You have a good choice either way." He was, for no reason, walking you to your door, you remembered how Benedict was practically kicked out earlier, he would tease you so much if you were to ever tell him.

" Oh please." You chuckled, rubbing your hands together in the chilly air, " I gifted Benedict onesies on his birthday."

Anthony smiled, it didn't leave his face until he caught you staring and you noticed how different he looked, when those lines were of joy instead of worry, he looked young and his boyishness made your heart do cartwheels.

" That was just a joke." He amused, " wasn't it ? " His smile faltered when you shaked your head in a no, fumbling for you keys.

" It wasn't so bad." Anthony said, somewhat traumatised, " Benedict wore them anyway."

" It had penguins ! " You cringed at the memory, a drunkish Polaroid like, blurred and saturated, it was vivid but just like yesterday, Anthony didn't dance until you were both so drunk, perhaps he smiled back than too, and looked just as dazzling.

" You are good y/n." Anthony said sincerely, " stop being mean to yourself." You opened the door but your hands freezed at the doornob, why Anthony had to cut the right wires, why he had to upside down your whole world ?

" Well, same to you Anthony." You said, he lingered on the doorway more than he should, it was alcohol, it really, really was but no amount of gaslighting could blur the memory away, you always remembered how brave you were that night when you leaned down, one step not much, and placed a small, chaste kiss, just a brush of your lips against his blazing skin. A touch to his soul, it sparkled and rose and busted into a thousand orbs and sprinkled like glitters on you and him.

" Good night." You whispered, Anthony stared, too stunned to say anything, then he smiled, small and enchanting.

" Good night y/n." His smile stayed.

[evmrellie]

Labyrinth | s.r x gn!reader

summary: You're scared about your feelings for Spencer. Insp by labyrinth from Taylor Swift.

genre: fluffly and hurt/comfort. pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader (I'm a girl so I wrote going on this way, but I think I didn't gave any descriptions abt being one, so it's totally safe for gn!readers <333 if I did, I'm sorry, I didn't notice.) words: 1,3K warnings: family issues, inexperienced!reader, reader never being in a relationship before, insecurity, anxiety, mention of toxic relationships (not between reader and anyone else) notes: hiii, this is my first oneshot so plss be nice 😭✋🏻 im not used to write like this, but I'm so obsessed with Spencer and I had this idea and I couldn't just let go. English it's not my first language, so forgive me if any mistakes or if u guys don't understand smth. not proofread. hope you guys like it !! <3

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

You've never trusted relationships, not that you had experienced any, but what you saw growing up? What you were used to? Didn't make you want to get into one in the first place.

You never denied that you've dreamed about that; finding a true love and a nice, healthy relationship since you saw all your friends living it. That hurted you a little, but you learned how to live with it.

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You tried to catch your breath, adjusting it as much as possible. You were used to unlearn the ability of breathing when you were around people who made you nervous, especially if you had a slightly crush on them. Actually, you unlearn every normal thing that humans do when they interact, it's like a part of your brain stops working and refused to turn it on again. He loved to make you embarrassed, especially in front of pretty nerd ish boys.

The first time you met Spencer it consumed all of your brain chemistry. Day and night making fantasies of how it would be meeting the boy again with the help of destiny, falling in love and maybe being obsessed with you the same way you were with him. But you knew that it was just a fantasy and it would never happen, it was just your brain trying to distract you from the real world and your real problems.

It was a nice escape though.

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Everything happened so fast in your time vision, it terrified you of how easy he was able to get through it. You were always scared of relationships because, yeah, it was nice and easy to fantasy about it, but to actually live it? That scared the shit out of you. All your Inexperience, insecurities and traumas couldn't be fixed from one day to another.

Everything that you learned from your parents was that if you dived in too quickly, it would be a mistake. Not only from your parents, but also from people you were close to, seeing their relationship rise too fast and going effortlessly and awfully down.

You never understood why they keept doing it, sinking into the same situation over and over again, sometimes with the same or a different guy. How they kept being pulled and compelled by it? You didn't understand because you never felt it.

It was so scary how relationships could rise so fast and sink at the same speed.

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

You understood why they kept like that in the worst — best— way possible.

When it first hit you that you were falling in love with Spencer felt like a harsh slap in your face, leaving red bruises and a terrible burning in. You didn't want to accept it, it was frightening to actually let it in.

Was getting hard with the passing time, he wasn't getting any easier and neither were his loving and caring acts. I mean, how could someone like him be so.. careful with you? You felt like a broken piece who would never be loved and receive this kinda of treatment, it was starting to confuse you.

You knew he wasn't the type of person who liked being touched or touching other ones, but with you? Every possibility of being close to you, hugging you, touching your hand and giving a sweet cuddle in that same spot was driving you insane. He made sure that any free time he had, he spent with you. Or even at work, in his free time that he used to call you.

Reid talked to you about his mom and his abandonment issues with his father so openly that made you open yourself with him too. You didn't want to scare him telling him about your family situation or make him think you're a weird, problematic person, but you couldn't let him vent to you and not say a thing. He hasn't change with you. In fact, it only bought you both closer.

You ended up accepting what you felt for him, you didn't want to fight against it, deep down was a comfort feeling. For the first time you felt what everyone around you always talked about. And oh god, it really was an amazing feeling. But no, you would never tell him that. The thought of how this could end so fast after telling him that because probably it wasn't reciprocal, hurted you so bad that keeping it to yourself was the best decision you could make.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice called you off of your own thoughts, his Cheshire Cat smile growing as he saw your face turning into a shade of burgundy.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like a deer lost in the headlights.” He snorted a laugh.

“What?! I'm not-“

He interrupted you, getting up from the chair where he was lost doing his usual puzzles. Spencer walked over to you, resting one of his hands on your face while the other one brushed away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You automatically snuggled your face between Spencer's hands, smirking and closing your eyes, enjoying the gentle caress his fingers made on your cheeks.

“Tell me, please.” He begged you, you could easily hear the smile into his words. He was always so polite, it made you want to scream into a pillow and kick your feets in the air.

You sighed, tired to hide how you felt.

“Honestly? About you. I think I already fell for you.”

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

You were scared of his reaction, to look at him and see his eyes falling in pity for you; About him suddenly telling you to go home because he didn't felt the same and saying that this wouldn't work between you two. But to be honest, you couldn't hide anymore, not for him and not for yourself. You needed to break free from this labyrinth you created on your mind, there's no way you could keep up with this and stay cool like it didn't made your chest burn everytime you looked at him.

He surprised you by just laughing softly.

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

“Well, i’m pretty sure i am terriefiedly in love with you.”

You swore that if this was a joke you would combust and turn into a million pieces of yourself, no one would ever find you again.

Your eyes caught up at his sparkling hazel irises that conveyed how much he begged for the same answer. You always felt something carving like a dagger inside your chest when he looked at you like that, like you could break him with any wrong do.

It was absolutely terrifying how easy he broke you to this, to this situation where you could never lie and deny that you felt the exactly same for him. You were head over heels for him. Not in a million of worlds you could imagine that Spencer Reid felt the same thing you did for him, but you were also pretty sure that you were the one who would end up with the heart completely shattered if this ever come to an end.

“I love you so much, Spence.” You said, and then his lips parted open and you were able to feel his sweet taste coming into yours.

[g1rld1ary]

hiiii🩷 i love your work and i wanted to request a drabble. i don’t know if you’ve done something like this before or not so… also im new to the whole requesting thing.

so it’s basically a lockwood x reader where lucy and george don’t know lockwood has a kinda secret gf. and one day she shows up to the door of 35 portland row and lockwood has to explain to them that he has a girlfriend. (he didn’t tell anyone to protect her or smth).

opening doors - lockwood x reader

wc: 1980

cw: mentions of an injury, one use of 'my girl' but otherwise gn i think?

an: thanku for requesting baby!!! sorry its taken a while but i lovedddd this request and writing this!! i know i changed the end a little bit but shh hopefully its ok!! xoxo

Dating whilst ghosts roamed the streets of London was hard. Dinner dates were a precarious decision and you had to be sure if you were spending the night pretty quickly for your own safety (against ghosts, men were still another question). Dating a ghost hunter? That was harder. Yes, he wasn't exactly a 'ghost hunter' but that was close enough from the stories your boyfriend told you; brushes with death were a common occurrence, much to your chagrin.

You couldn't count the number of times you'd sat up all night in your bedroom, waiting for a call to confirm that he was alright and alive after a case. But Lockwood was Lockwood and each time, just as your eyes were starting to close on their own, your phone would ring and you'd be startled awake, picking up as fast as your arms would let you. He'd open with an affirmation that everything was fine and he was sitting in the library with a hot cup of tea, ready for a chat with you.

This had been your routine for the six months you'd been dating, and while it had ruined your sleep schedule, you couldn't be happier. Lockwood had turned your world upside down after your chance encounter at your university while he was investigating a case, giving you adventures and the most love you'd ever felt. You were similarly obsessed with him, rambling on about your day over the phone and attaching to his hip whenever you could get together.

This was all true, except for the last four days. Lockwood told you on Sunday they had a high-paying case on Monday night and hadn't called you since. No confirmation he was alright, let alone alive, and it was killing you. He'd never forgotten, not once over six months. This ignited a panic in your stomach, anxiety clawing through your chest as you had to continue on with your week acting like you could think of anything other than your boyfriend.

On the fifth day, you'd had enough. And so, on Friday afternoon after your class had let out for the weekend, you marched to Portland Row for the very first time. Lockwood didn't want you around his business, saying he wanted to keep 'the best thing in his life' separate and as safe as possible. You didn't mind, you had a tiny apartment all to yourself that you were more than happy to host him in, but it did make your expedition more scary than it otherwise would have been.

Still, you steeled your nerves and rapped on the front door, picking your nails nervously as you waited for someone to answer. That person happened to be an unimpressed-looking boy who you recognised from Lockwood's tales as George.

"Can I help you?" He asked, wearing cartoonishly large rubber gloves that made you want to laugh.

"Is Lockwood here?" You took his lead to skip the pleasantries, none of it being even vaguely interesting to you until you knew your boyfriend was alright. George hesitated.

"He's not seeing anyone right now."

"Why not?" You all but cut him off, desperation making you forget your manners. He narrowed his eyes, clearly choosing his words clearly.

"He had a nasty accident on our last case. He's only gotten back from hospital today and is on strict bed rest. If you have a professional inquiry, you're welcome to return later or speak to me or my other colleague, Lucy Carlyle."

"Can I speak to Lucy?" You needed to talk to a girl. Clearly, George was not the most emotionally sensitive member of the company, and if you tried bartering a visit with him you had an inkling you'd start crying. If Lockwood's descriptions were anything to go off, Lucy was much more likely to understand you.

George let you in, clearly reluctantly, leading you to the kitchen. He awkwardly made you tea, leaving you to drink it silently as he went to fetch Lucy. You took the moment alone to take in the kitchen, a soft ache settling into the edges of your heart. It was so cozy, so lived in that it almost upset you. Lockwood and Lucy and George. They were the residents of 35 Portland Row, they got to wake up to one another every morning. They got to bicker over the jam and tea. You woke up alone, going about most of your days in silence unless you started talking to yourself, but you were really trying not to make that a habit.

It wasn't that you hated Lockwood keeping you a secret, it made complete sense. He was in a dangerous profession and had an even more impulsive nature, making for a risky lifestyle. And as he'd unwillingly told you, he did have people who occasionally came after him. Lockwood didn't want you caught in the crossfire and you understood, you were grateful, even. But looking at the life he led without you, you couldn't help but regret it a little bit. Portland Row was the kind of place you didn't even have to try to be able to imagine as your home.

You were interrupted by George returning with Lucy in tow, both clearly unprepared for a client. George was in some sort of cleaning gear, the aforementioned gloves and an apron over his shirt, and Lucy looked like she'd been working out but not for long, only a slight sheen on her features and her clothes still mostly light and moving.

"Hi, I'm Lucy," She greeted, a warm (if somewhat awkward) smile on her lips, "How can we help you?"

"I need to see Lockwood, please."

"You know we're not idiots, right?" George snapped, "Actually, I'm much more competent than him." Lucy shot him a dark look, elbowing him in the ribs as they sat across from you.

"What he means is that despite it being Lockwood's name on the sign, we're all fully qualified to talk to you and take your case. I'm not sure what George has said, but Lockwood is--"

"He's my boyfriend." You cut her off, unable to stand any more delay. You were met with dead silence, both agent's jaws dropped open.

"What?"

"He's my boyfriend," You affirmed, "We're dating and I need to see that he's ok."

"That's not possible." George shook his head, "He's never mentioned you."

"Not that we don't believe you, but can you tell us more? We just don't want to let any random person into our house, I'm sure you understand," Lucy added and you nodded instantly, more than aware that Lockwood had made enemies during his time with his company.

You started speaking, spilling the exact timeline of your relationship, details of your time together, vague suggestions that he'd told you about his family, anything you could think of to prove that you were really together. Then, like a lightbulb illuminating over your head, you reached into your coat pocket for your wallet. Sitting on the inside was a Polaroid of you and Lockwood, him kissing your cheek as you laughed. George grabbed it, examining it in disbelief. Even Lucy stole a glance or two before turning her focus back to you, new sympathy in her eyes.

"Will you please tell me what happened to him?" You begged, reaching out for Lucy's hand. She held yours firmly, speaking in a soft voice as she explained the incident.

"We were on a case on Monday and Lockwood took a leap down some stairs to get away from a ghost. He fractured his patella. It's fine, the doctor said he got pretty lucky all things considered, no surgery needed or anything. He was just kept in hospital for a few days because -- as I'm sure you know -- Lockwood isn't good at following instructions, especially orders not to get out of bed for a week. He only got back this morning which I assume is why he hasn't communicated with you." You nodded slowly, taking it all in.

"Can I see him, please?"

They both nodded quickly, leading you up the stairs to where you assumed Lockwood's bedroom lay. Lucy knocked before cracking the door open, smiling softly at her boss.

"We've got a guest here for you."

"A client? Can't you talk to them? I'm not in my professional clothes!" You could hear him rustling in the bed sheets, presumably pushing himself up to be sitting and smiled a little.

"Better than a client, I hope?" You said, stepping through the doorway. You watched Lockwood go through a thousand emotions in an instant, but his face settled on elation, holding out his arms for you.

You rushed to his side, wrapping him up in your arms as tight as you could.

"What are you doing here?" He asked incredulously, a laugh escaping his lips.

"Someone didn't call me after his case," You replied, sliding into the bed next to him to hold his arm.

"And someone didn't tell his coworkers-slash-friends-slash-housemates about his secret partner he's had for half a year!" George cut in.

"Sorry, Georgie," Lockwood gave him a megawatt smile, "Had to keep my girl safe, you understand." You grinned, pushing yourself even closer to him. George grumbled something but Lucy was already pushing him out the door, giving the two of you some much-needed space.

Safely alone, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad you're okay. I was so scared."

"I'm sorry, lovely. I couldn't get to a phone in the hospital, but I thought about you all day every day."

"But now your friends know about us," You said and Lockwood nodded with a smile that made your insides melt.

"They do," He paused, "So d'you think it's time for you to finally spend the night here?" You grinned.

"Really?" You could almost feel the sparkle in your eyes. Lockwood nodded again, a matching look on his face. You didn't bother confirming, instead pressing your lips to his desperately.

Dinner at Portland Row was exactly how you'd imagined it; loud and chaotic and absolutely perfect. George and Lucy arguing over the tiny details of a case story they were telling you, Lockwood butting in with a flashy description of the action sequence. You laughed along, compliments spilling out as you tasted George's cooking. It was too easy to see it happening perpetually, and you had to stop yourself from getting too comfortable on your first visit.

You settled in for the night next to Lockwood. You were in Lockwood's bed with him. You weren't sure if you'd stopped smiling all night.

"I like being here," You said into the dark, looking at the vaguely Lockwood-shaped shadow next to you.

"You could stay here more often, the others love you already."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, all that we've gotten out of keeping us a secret is worry. If people come after me, I promise that I'll do everything to protect you, but we shouldn't waste all our time being scared of something that may never happen. I love you," He said. You faltered, breath hitching slightly. He'd never said that before. Maybe it was slow, maybe it wasn't, but you knew Lockwood was so scared of committing to his feelings, this was everything.

"I love you too," You replied, hearing the smile in your voice as you said it. It was the easiest night of sleep you and Lockwood had ever had.

[yeonzzzn]

hints on the no limits spin off? like a teaser or smth?

you know what? why not🤭 here is the opening part for no limits. it’s all i’ve been able to write so far for it, but it’s a little teaser nevertheless☺️

Jay rubbed his hands together, “Okay everyone, are you ready?”

“Jesus man!” Heeseung snapped, using his hand to fan his face from the summer heat, “Just hurry up, it’s just us no need to be so nervous.”

“That’s what I am saying,” Sunghoon agrees, also fanning his face, “Too damn hot outside.”

Jay knew he had zero reason to be nervous, but how could he not? He was fixing to share one of his biggest achievements (besides ya know, graduating college with not just his computer science degree but also his culinary and business owning degrees) with his friends, his family, what is not scary about that?

“Jongseong, my sweet son,” his mother said, rocking his niece on her hips, “We are excited to share this moment with you, it’s all okay.”

Jay relaxed at his mother’s words, until his sister opened her mouth.

“Jay, just hurry the hell up,” she rolled her eyes, “I am sweating. I can feel it rolling down my back.”

Jay narrowed his eyes at her, “Stinks, no one asked for that gross detail.”

Before she could say anymore, Jake wrapped his arms around her from behind, “Baby, he’s nervous, let him take his time.”

Thank you Jake, finally someone gets it.

“Dad, want to help me with the sign?” Jay asked, finally deciding to get it over with.

He nodded, going to the other side of the door, holding the string that led to the banner that was covering up the sign to his restaurant, “On three?”

Jay nodded, his hands shaking as he held the other string, “One…”

“Two,” his father smiled.

“Three,” Jay said finally, both the strings being pulled and the banner falling to the ground.

His eyes quickly darts to his family and friends, their eyes widening and smiles growing wide.

His sister and Jake cover their mouths quickly, tears filling their eyes, “You named it Hwa Young…” his sister softy said.

Jay nodded, wiping his sweaty hands against his jeans, “Yeah, I named it after Hwa…” Jay’s voice trembled, “Was just going to name it Beautiful Little Flower, but thought her actual name would be more meaningful.”

Jay adored his niece just as much, or even a bit more, as he adored his little sister, the two of them being the most important women in his life along with his mother. Using his niece's name for his restaurant was too perfect to pass up.

“Brother,” Jake said, walking over to him, reaching his hand out for Jay to take it, and he did, “I can’t believe you did this man.”

Jay pulled his best friend into a hug, rocking each other back and forth, “It’s all for my family.”

Jay could finally say he’s gotten used to calling Jake his brother-in-law, even if he and his sister weren’t married yet, it kinda felt nice to call Jake his brother officially.

“Jongseong,” his sister cried, practically yanking her fiancé out of the way and hugging him herself, “I love you so much, big brother.”

Jay now felt his own tears swelling in his eyes, “I love you too, Stinks.”

One by one the rest of his family hugged him, giving him all the congrats he could ask for. Jay fully and truly felt the happiest in this moment.

Hwa cooed and reached her arms out for him.

Nevermind, this was the happiest moment he could ever ask for.

Jay retrieved Hwa from his mother, hugging her tightly to his chest and planting kisses all over her face, causing her baby giggles to fill his ears.

“Show us inside now???” Sunghoon asked, anxiously waiting to see how it looks and honestly wanting to get out of the heat.

“What Sunghoon said!” Heeseung joined in, “Unlock the doors!”

He rolled his eyes, “God, you lot are so annoying.”

Jay took the keys from his pocket and officially opening the door for the first time since the restaurant was finish being completed.

“I welcome you all,” Jay said with a smirk, his nerves finally disappearing, “To Hwa Young, the best cafe restaurant of food from all over the world all in one place.”

The smiles from his friends and family helped boost his ego, knowing damn well they already loved his cooking and knowing they were all fixing to love it even more.

[syscultureis]

Um, I don't really know how to start this, but I don't really know how to um deal with this I guess, I think I have P-DID?

Like, the thing is is that I guess I'm in denial? Like, the thought of having P-DID is distressing but after reading the ICD criteria, it's the only thing that can explain all my (? ours? theirs?) behavior

I mean, I've always been able to notice myself (?) Shift into different personality states (kinda like being conscious but having things like my behavior, my thoughts morphed and changd, like being a puppet involuntarily controlled by an outside force, and i found that it happens during specific situatiobs)

Like I have states that i can define, but they feel like more of a different version of me? Like I'm a robot with different identity knobs which can be switched ig??

I don't really know if I should refer to these states as alters or smth, I've only been able to classify them by the way they control me and my behavior? But I've never heard them, I don't know if they have identies? I don't really have a headspace persay, and the idea of not being the only person in my body is extremely distressing to me (I'm sorry I don't know if this is a rude thing to say or a bad idea to have)

I'm sorry I'm rambling I'm just stressed about the whole thing and I don't know what to do, I can't pursue proper diagnosis due to my family being extremely against therapists, psychiatrists and such, like I don't want to believe it's true but from the research I've done it's quite literally the only possible option, sorry for just writing this all, I don't rly know how to be reacting rn

Honestly your experience sounds pretty similar to ours

In early system discovery, our host at the time described what they were feeling as "I Don't have DID, I just feel like I'm the body of a DID system"

As we did more research, and healing and just general self discovery, we learned more that our current host was aware of cofronting, and co-consciousness, and because they were trying to figure out "what was wrong with them" they were more aware of it than they had been before

It was scary and distressing, and actually did contribute a bit into them going dormant and me taking over (it was not the main reason, the main reason for the host change was personal. But this did add to it a bit)

When I took over I just straight up forgot the previous host was even thinking about that, I had passing thoughts about it (probably from other alters who had realized during that time and wanted me to be aware too)

Things changed the more we became aware of our own system functions, and even now years later we still learn new things

Usually I don't recommend denial, accepting yourself and all your parts (regardless if you're a system or not) is important to being able to thrive and live.

However, if it's causing you distress, there's nothing wrong with stepping back and just letting yourself breathe for a minute. Don't worry about knowing everything about yourself 100% of the time with 100% accuracy

When I started my own questioning, I had to step back from it a few times. This is a disorder that tries very hard to be covert (even if the brain is bad at it sometimes), it's not always going to be easy to figure it out.

But there were also times where I just focused on my system instead of trying to rule out DID completely. If I noticed I felt like someone else was near front, I talked to them. We found personally that talking out loud worked best for us, even if it was just the full fronter translating thoughts into words.

It helped me accept it more, and the idea of having DID became a bit less scary because I was becoming friends with the other alters

This might not work for you, and that doesn't mean you aren't a system if it doesn't, this is just what helped my system

[aihaitahm]

if u have time can u plsss write ab vampire blade🙏🙏

vampire blade with gn! reader

cw blood mentioned

vampire blade and how instantly magnetized he was when you walked past him. he tends to always stay inside in the morning but elios assigned him to do something that morning and he grumbled, because why cant elios just grab silver wolf or kafka or anybody else to do it.

vampire blade purposely bumping into you to get interactions from you. he loves your voice and your looks make him lose his breath. mutual gazing and light touches. he started taking some morning chores/missions from elios which made the stellaron hunters question why he all of a sudden wants to take on these missions, where he would usually complain loudly.

vampire blade and when he’s secret admiration for you was out because of kafka, he begs and will even pay or play videogames with silver wolf to get your social medias. kafka is a big tease and would use you for black mail.

“bladie do you mind doing this mission for me?”

“no.”

“well i guess i tell (name) about how you feel towards them. right bronie?”

“can you ever be more reasonable? fine i’ll do it.”

vampire blade and how he became flustered yet prideful when you first approach him to help you with something. some people were bothering you and you wanted him to make them go away because he naturally looks scary.

vampire blade giving you his number just in case you need help for anything. he was so smooth with it and even kafka and silver wolf was impressed while hiding behind the bushes. he texts you to make sure you got home safe and because he wants to talk to you.

vampire blade and him sharing his thoughts with you. he enjoys your company a lot. you both have gotten close and you show have mutual respect for each other. he gets a bit jealous when you hang out with other people. also you do notice how blade dresses up a lot in the morning as if he hates the sun and dresses more comfortably in the morning.

vampire blade reveals he was a vampire when you point about how he hates the sun. he was scared for your reaction but he had to get it out of the way. to his surprise, you werent shocked at all and you kinda knew along which made him quite disappointed when you said he’s quite obvious. sarcastic remarks sparked between you, making you both blush.

one night as you both were walking, monsters came up and came in the way. vampire blade knows how to fight and he always felt the need to always protect you. you fought along side with him and he was very skillful, you admired him for that. after the long fight, he felt quite thirsty and nauseaous. he did not want to drink out of you but if you offered… he wouldnt know how to react.

you noticed how thirsty and how vampire blade was suffering. you then unbuttoned your shirt and offered him a drink by your neck. vampire blade was hesitant but he was feeling like absolute shit.

“i apologize…” vampire blade held you close and tight. feeling the warmth of your body and the sexual tension between you both. you felt his hot fangs sink in deeper and deeper until he was drawing blood. you whimpered as he continued to suck at your neck, fingers playing with his hair.

as he finished, vampire blade noticed your obvious fatigued and brought you to the hunters’ place to get you aided. he carried you gently, and apologized. you being half awake and being dizzy, confessed to him so it is alright, as long he takes care of you. blade’s hand stiffen at your words. his usually pale skin, going bright red.

“its okay… i like you alot anyway maybe love too. just take care of me bladie…”

“idiot dont talk to me like your dying… of course im going to take care of you. youve always been mine and i… i like you too a lot.”

[leprechaunsthings]

Okay, some funky silly head cannons for Cross bc that's all I think about LMFAO.

everything is below the show more so that way this post doesn't take up like. Half the recent tab LMFAO.

When doing a task (choirs, requests, errands, etc) cross will sing / hum / whistle a millatary cadence.

Cross has many, many stories from basic. Most of them are him getting annoyed at the one asshole who couldn't finnish, so everyone had to wait until they did.

Cross follows the idea that anything can be a weapon. He just likes swords the most. For example, if you hand him a staff or spear, he could use it with some efficacy.

He can throw a claymore with relative accuracy. Without any magic. It's kinda scary.

Cross can canonically lift the weight of an average city bus (around 20-30 TONS) and regularly work out to keep his strength.

On the topic of strength, cross hugs / handles things very delecatly bc he doesn't wanna crush people to death by accident, or break smth important.

Cross's startle response is super strong, and it's always in fight mode. Not allowed to go to a huanted house after punching an actor. He felt really bad about it, lol.

One time, Horror scared him, so Cross threw him into a door and broke it. After he said horror was like a paperweight. Still felt really bad about it though.

Cross will fight with people affectionately, verbally, or physically. He does this with Epic and Geno the most. Something he picked up from being in the military where everything is tough Love.

Cross has a voice he uses for ordering around soldiers ranked below him. He rarely uses it. But he has used to it great effect.

At the highest point of Cross's anger. He will go silent and completely ignore the existence of what passes him off for about a week or so.

Spanish is his first language, and English is his second. So he just forgets things in English.

When writing things down, Cross will change between English and Spanish or mix them together. It has become nearly impossible to read it unless you know both languages.

Cross is abedexrous, and had no idea about it until Dream pointed it out.

Cross obviously has a high pain tolerance. he'll walk on or use broken arms, legs, etc. This makes them worse and makes whoever the medic is pretty mad.

Cross is always protective of the Medic. Do not hurt or touch the medic. You will get punted into the sun by cross.

Cross can practically eat anything, and long as it tastes fine. Listen, military rations aren't the best, but they do their job.

[frosteamilk]

went to knott's scary farm today. Some weird fun or eventful highlights:

- friend was driving us in the lane that was already a long jam behind us that led to the parking lot. a car in the left lane of us was begging to cut when we were approaching the fork. friend was like was like "ykw Im gonna do my good deed for the day. I was a bitch at work and I need to rebalance my karma" and let them pass in. When the line slowed to a stop later down the lane the passenger hopped out and ran to the window to give her 10 dollars (bc if she hadn't let them cut in they would've had to circle entire park again which was slow and packed. it was so sweet but immediately she was like "oh fuck the money my karma is out of balance again. I should just rear end them now or something")

- at the entrance 3 teens approached us saying "can u guys do us a favor" and were asking us to basically be a chaperone them thru the entrance bc they were being turned away bc they were underage. The problem was that they were literally doing this in front of the staff worker who had rejected them. He was so exasperated like "that's... you can't just solicit a chaperone. that's not how it works" and admittedly yeah rookie move (should've done that in the parking lot or smth). felt so bad for those teens but they kinda put us on the spot and the staff worker gave us an out when he told us to go on in without them

- this is not my first rodeo (we go to knott's scary farm the past couple yrs) sure I scream n shit but out of good fun but I think today I had the biggest Real fucken scare in yrs bc in one of the mazes I passed by this man who was standing against a wall. I could tell he was real it but I Stared bc he was so still and had huge ass eyes but I continued walking 10 ft. then I turned to my friends right behind me to say I think that was totally a real Guy but when I actually turned around it was huh OF COURSE IT WAS HIM OUGGHHUGHGHUbasically he'd wedged himself between me n my friends in that few seconds and hadn't made a single noise like he knew I would turn around. Punchline writing itself. This is totally normal scare actor behavior btw but this blindsided me so bad I hid my face and ran howling from utter shock. soul was gone. Also

- the very same maze started smelling rly fucken bad at some point. Sometimes that's normal bc fog machines stink a lot but this was Real dogshit smell. It became apparent that this was intentional bc there was a clown fanning his ass so I think the point is that it's just Fart Smell The Room. I don't think I ever wanted to barf in a maze as much I did tonight in my life. 10/10 chilling chambers

fun night hopefully do it again next yr

[blogblogbloggittyblog]

may 11-14, 2022

im gonna try to write about my feelings again because maybe thatll make me feel less like shit all the fucking time. i dont even understand why im so upset about this. like. i think its cuz i romanticized the shit out of him and let myself believe that he liked me and i kinda allowed myself to be vulnerable around him and that he was there when me and noah broke up so he like kinda helped me a lot that night and idk he is rly nice and maybe i was literally in love with him or still am. and maybe the problem is that i realized how shitty that i am that he couldn’t even wanna be friends with me. maybe im such a selfish manipulative bitch that even he couldnt handle it. and i thought that he liked me and maybe that made me feel good about myself. but also i felt like shit because i fucking cheated on noah basically. and he told me i deserved better and i thought he would be the better one but he had a girlfriend and that already made me feel like shit and that time we kissed it was the most pathetic thing ive ever done because it was bad. it was bad and he thinks im pathetic and idk how to stop it i think the root issue is that i think that he thinks im a pathetic stupid idiot bitch liar. and maybe i am. god i hate him but i have no right to because all ive heard is good things about him. god. what the fuck. i need to move on from this but i quite literally dont know how to do that without getting some sort of closure but also THATS SO FUCKING STUPID BECAUSE U DIDNT DO ANYTHING AND HE DOESNT OWE U ANYTHING god.

-----

think the main issue is that im not a good person and i hate people who are better than me and i guess that makes me even worse. like i hate cameron because she’s quite literally perfect. and it makes me fucking hate myself. shes so pretty and confident and smart and articulate and talented and she has all that i want rly. i saw her and thomas adams today and it literally made me wanna die. im never gonna have that. no matter how much i delude myself into thinking that im this nice hot smart person. no one has ever wanted me for more than a year. if that. i hate myself. i genuinely can’t think of one thing i like about myself. because im not good at school. im not good at art, i havent made a single decent thing in like half a year, i dont do anything outside of school, im ugly, and not skinny, and a liar and im not a good daughter. i hate myself. i think i like being in relationships because then the person can fall in love with some weird fake version of me and i can believe that maybe im half-decent. harry is just another example of how i cant maintain relationships that i care abt. i dont even think i have any genuine friends. im pretty sure they all dislike me severely. god. i. suck.

-----

im literally in love w him or smth because he’s so nice and i want him to fucking like me too i wish he did how do i get him to like me but also i want noah back because it was so much easier and i could just love him and he loved me and it wasn’t turbulent and weird. and dustin is nice but that’s abt it. i like him but that’s all there is to it and i feel bad for like asking him on a date cuz fuck. but harry is different because he doesn’t even like me lnao and i want him to like me so bad i want him to be in love with me and go out w me and be my fucking bf and it’s so stupid and pathetic but i like him sm

-----

impermanence of life it’s funny how i really thought we were gonna be together for a long time and how i thought i’d love him for so long not just him but seb too like i thkught she was it like that was the end and it’s so scary how blinding and deceiving and deluding it is to be in love or at least think that u are. even when i tried to be so so so overly pessimistic and realistic with noah i still rly thkught we’d be together for at least a couple years i mean im glad we didn’t cuz like then it’d be even fucking harder to get over it but yeah and i loved him i loved him so much and he made me light up and he loved me too and he also wanted to be with me and that somehow makes it even worse the fact that it’s a mutual temporary affliction jt sucks

-----

and like it’s so fuckinf scary how in love i was even with noah like so blindly in love or maybe it was good and i just don’t remember i wonder if there’s another universe where we’re still together . i don’t wanna be in it because i know we could both find someone who fits with us better but god it sucks when someone loves you so much and makes you feel so good but then they slip away even if they don’t want to

[subskz]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 05

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

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

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

word count: 17.3k

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

“My next…rotation?”

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

Something twisted inside you. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

bin 😑 (2:27 p.m.) hey

bin 😑 (2:28 p.m.) is everything okay?

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

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

You stopped in your tracks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt, guilt, guilt. 

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

bin 😑 (2:38 p.m) pls talk to me

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

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

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

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

You were going to cry.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s raining.”

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

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

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

“Go away.”

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

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

“Go away.”

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

“Come with me.”

You watched him blankly, too appalled to speak. 

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

“I’ll get sick if you don’t.”

“Yeah? Brew yourself some yuja tea.”

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

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

“I don’t care.”

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want some coffee?”

“No.”

“It’ll warm you up.”

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

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

“Where’s my pencil?”

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

You bristled. “What?”

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

You reached for your bag, preparing to leave.

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

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

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

“I don’t hate you.”

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

But it never came.

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

“Are you serious?”

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

You blinked.

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

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

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

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

Exactly what you’d done to Chan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minho paused again. “Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t hate you,” he corrected.

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

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

“Chan came home crying.”

Your throat went dry.

“What?” you rasped. “When?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could you have ever let this happen?

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

“He was happy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You care about him, don’t you?”

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

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

You took in a shaky breath.

“I just didn’t want to hurt him.”

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

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

“But I was wrong.”

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

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

You snorted at the absurdity of the question. 

“Obviously.”

“So why are you so weird about it?”

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

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

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

Because he’d given you so much. 

Ah.

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

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

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

“So, change.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you (10:03 a.m.) hi

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

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

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

Then, at last, a single word.

channie 🐺 (10:08 a.m.) about?

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

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

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

Almost immediately.

channie 🐺 (10:12 a.m.) me neither

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

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

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

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

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

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

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

“Yeah. Just cut my finger.”

Your expression changed.

“On accident.”

“Oh,” you murmured. “Does it hurt?”

“A bit.”

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

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

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

He lifted his head. For once, unreadable.

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were scared?”

You winced. “I…yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

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

“Why are you sorry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About Minho…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just wish you’d told me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I understand."

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

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

“I lost my friend last year.”

“Lost…?”

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

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

“I’m so sorry.”

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

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

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

“Never?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can do that, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t leave.

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

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

“Thank you for trusting me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither should you.”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” he rasped. 

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

“Together,” he agreed.

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

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

The final promise that had yet to be fulfilled.

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

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

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

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your chest ached. 

“I know, baby.” 

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

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

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

“Never,” you assured him. 

“Promise?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s getting warm, huh, Channie?”

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

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

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

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

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

He furrowed his brows. “I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rather look at you,” he said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There we go. Good boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open your eyes for me, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beautiful,” you said firmly.

“Ah…th-thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“P-please, need you so bad.”

You softened. “I’m here.”

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

“Is this it?” you asked sweetly.

“Mmph, yes. There, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmph, c-can I? Wanna touch, please.”

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

“Go ahead, baby,” you murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re still my favorite reflection.”

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

“Can we—?”

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

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

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

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

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

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mizunetzu]

hi!! i just found your blog and i may or may not have binged all the fics 😼😼 i was wondering if you could write a dabi or hawks x male reader where the reader is a rly gentle and kind barista and dabi/hawks is just wHIPPED for him? i think thatd be mad cute 👉👈

LMAOOO DABI + HAWKS TIME TURN IT UP-

——————

Headcannons - Dabi and Hawks whipped for their local barista

⚠️Warnings - kidnapping (dabi)

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Dabi:

Ok so like hear me out

At first

AT FIRST

you didn’t catch this mans eye

In fact, he didn’t go to the coffee shop you worked at much because yknow...villain...

But it was late at night one day yk

And mans was like “oh boy, i sure am thirsty after committing homcide and robbery”

N the first place he sees

Dun dun dun

Is the 24 hr coffee shop you worked at HAHAHA

So he goes in, preparing to like-idk, threaten ur life for a cup of coffee or smth mean n whatnot

The door bell rings, and you turn around and give him the KINDEST MOST GENTLE-EST SMILE HES EVER SEEN

As a villain, and just someone who looks out of the ordinary in general, he never got much of that

SO WHEN HE SEES THIS...MAN SMILING FUCKING SUN RAYS AT HIM

HE FREEZES

You ask him if he’s ok, and DAMN UR VOICE WAS SO SOFT IT WAS BARELY INAUDIBLE WHAGSHDHEH

Mans usually isn’t at a loss for words but HE IS NOW

Instead of threatening you for a cup of coffee, he actually orders like a normal person

He’s the only one in the cafe since it’s so late, and you had the late night shift lucky you

He sat in the corner with his coffee in silence, occasionally stealing glances at you sweeping the floor or counting the money in the register

what was this foreign feeling in his chest whavabwhshs

He didn’t notice when you walked up to him

mans almost roasted you alive

LMAO BUT HE DIDNT SO IT OK

“Are you doing okay? Do you want a refill?”

He wasn’t really thirsty anymore but he did get a refill because he wanted to stay and watch you work some more like a creep

Yeah, one refill turned to three and he ended up talking to you for the rest of the night AWW

He was honestly suprised you didn’t know he was a villain, with the dark coat and scars and stuff

He ended up buying more coffee to take back to the league with the money he stole HAHAHA

Toga, sipping on her third coffee: yo why u buy so much damn

Dabi: 🤠

He started coming over more and more in the dead of night, on the days you worked which he totally didn’t find out by sneaking into the back room of the cafe and checking the schedule

You, somehow, didn’t find it suspicious that he’d always visit whenever you worked

One day, on one of the numerous times he’s visited, you mentioned how you used to be a bartender before switching over to being a barista

Something just...clicked

He’s a villain, right? Why’s he going so far to appeal to you, when he could just kidnap you and convince you to join the league?

So he did just that

You woke up in their weird club bar room hideout, tied to a chair with dabi and a few unfamiliar faces

Dabi lowkey felt bad (even for him) because even though you were literally just kidnapped, you gave him one of those heartwarming smiles

Even if it was a bit scared and forced, and probably a coping mechanism out of fear

“Look I ain’t gonna hurt you, dude. You’re one of my favorite people, so I’m offering you a deal.”

“Siiiiiiimp.”

“Shut the fuck up, Toga.”

Dabi nudged the girls side.

A girl with blond hair and a school girls uniform pointed a knife at you. You flinched and dabi kept talking

“You said you used to be a bartender, right? I’m sure you can help this guy out behind the counter. Join us.”

Dabi motioned at Kurogiri. He waved, LMAOO

“Join me...please”

As scared as you were, you couldn’t deny the fact you had a soft spot for this scarily intimating man who’d sit in the corner and sip coffee everyday at work

Hell, sometimes (all the time LNAJS) you joined him and you’d talk for hours

And hearing this guy say “please” for the first time?

You nodded slowly, and dabi smiled

It was a nice smile, even if it was a bit scary

How could you possibly refuse?

——————

Hawks:

Since he wasn’t yknow...fucking iilegal and a villain, he came by to your coffee shop during the day

He was workin, caught and turned in a villain yk the usual

And he was kinda far away from his house, n he was gettin kinda hungry

He was flying around the city, when he spotted your lil coffee shop

Well, it wasn’t really a coffee shop, more like a food stop that so happens to sell coffee n drinks aswell

And hEY

you just opened up too, it was a relatively new place

My mans hawks supporting new & local businesses <3

He goes in right

He sees yakitori on the menu and goes :D

So he goes to order

And sees this,,, BEAUTIFUL HANDSOME MAN BEHIND THE COUNTER

“Hi Mister! What can I do you for?”

YOUR VOICE WAS LIKE FUCKING ANGELS SINGING WHAGSHW

I think the main reason hawks was drawn to you was the fact you didn’t treat him like a celebrity and kissed his ass n whatnot, mainly bc you didn’t really keep up nor care about the trending hero’s and stuff (no offense to hawks and none taken)

He choked on his yakitori when you walked up to his lil table and asked for a picture for ur grandpa (who was a BIG fan, unlike you)

MANS REALLY HAD TO PUT ON HIS MOST CHARMING SMILE AND PEACE SIGN THIS SIMP IM HDHEIDIE

He kept going out of his way to visit ur shop frequently even though he lived preeeeetty far off

I mean mans has wings so it ain’t a problem but-

This simp-

He doesn’t show up in his hero outfit (unless he’s coming from patrol) so you didn’t really see him as “Hawks the hero”, more like “Keigo, the man who has stupid endeavor shorts and likes yakitori”

It’s really sweet he shows up in stupid graphic shirts and sweatpants he looks comfy-

He openly flirts with you, and at first you laughed and smiled because you didn’t wanna be rude (it still did things to Keigos heart)

but then

Ur laughs n smiles when he drops a stupid pickup line? They real

The way you offer to take over ur coworkers shifts just to see if Hawks stops by? It’s love just admit it

The totally unfair discount you gave him on yakitori, not mentioning the way you know how Keigo prefers it by heart? Just ask him out already DAMN

You two didn’t have any personal info on eachother, no numbers, emails, hell, Keigo didn’t know your first name (in Japan, you don’t really go by first names unless ur with fam or close friends yk?)

So when you nervously hand him his box of yakitori one day?

Hawks is like 🤠👍?

He opens it and sees:

“(Xxx)-xxx-xxxx -call me, and maybe we can, I don’t know, go out on a date and get to know each other more, yakitori-kun? ~(Y/n)

So ur first name was (Y/n), huh

HES WHIPPED

HES SIMPING

He looks over at you, hiding ur face and sneaking glances at him while ur coworkers stiffing snickers and nudging ur side

GOD TAKE HIM NOW

you bet ur ass hes calling u later and saving ur contact as “My yakitori man (Y/n) ✨❤️”

——————

Thank y’all for 700, by the way !! I love you all !!

[elysianslove]

heeey I wanted to ask you could you please write smth with gojo, fushiguro and sukuna with a short-tempered s/o? I will be really happy if write this one cause i like your works a lot! <3

I FINALLY FOUND IT LMFAO IT WAS LOST IN MY ASKS AHBSSJS anyways im so sorry for making u wait so long i really am so sorry and i hope you enjoy!!! 

satoru gojō

gojō actually finds it. really attractive on you ngl 

especially if you’re good at hiding it, and then all of a sudden you burst and it’s crazy scary 

he likes that you have this side of you, and he especially likes that you’re unafraid to make your feelings known, even if you’re unnecessarily loud expressing them 

to be honest, a lot of the times he pisses you off on purpose just to have you yell at him. idk he’s a sadist 

whenever the two of you argue, and it gets really heated, he’ll always leave the room that you’re in to cool off, because he won’t want it to get worse for either of you. like he’s very cautious when it comes to fights because he knows how you get 

but honestly, i don’t know why but i get the sense that gojō’s the one that’d apologize even if he’s not in the wrong, and you are. it’s not that he does it to shut you up or anything stupid like that. he does it because he genuinely dislikes arguing with you, especially with an occupation like his where tomorrow isn’t promised yk? 

if you’re about to get in a fight with someone else, the rational side of him is already ready to go and stop you and pull you back, but since this is gojō we’re talking about, most probably he’ll let you have your fun for a bit 

he will stop you before it gets too far and you do something you’ll end up regretting, because he is a good partner at the end of the day, and he really does care about you

nine times out of ten though he’ll just sit back and watch, laughing. bring out popcorn and shit too cause he knows you’re entertaining lmfao 

fushiguro megumi 

honestly, you kinda scare him lmfao

not that he can’t approach you and talk to you, but in the sense that he feels like you’re a ticking time bomb and he’s afraid he’ll be the one to set it off 

but then he realizes you’re not actually like insane you’re just short-tempered 

over time he’s gotten really, really good at calming you down

like he’d been working on it ever since the two of you started dating, from finding your specific triggers and knowing your telltales and signs to being able to calm you down and help you work on losing your temper on minimal things 

it’s really comical to him how you can go from kissing all up on him and cooing at how pretty he is to having a screaming match with someone cause they bumped into you and didn’t apologize 

he never lets it escalate unlike gojō, and he won’t ever let it get to the point where it’s all or nothing. he stops you right from the start and makes you back away

in regards to fights with you, he actually gets really irritated with the way you respond to him, and he won’t speak you until you decide to calm down. he’s petty like that but honestly? it works. you’re immediately calm and ready to speak to him in a lower voice and with a calmer attitude

still he doesn’t try to change anything about you, and just as he loves all your appealing quips, he loves this part of you too, regardless

(plus he thinks you look really cute when angry hehe) 

ryomen sukuna 

he thinks he likes it 

he does not 

when he first witnessed your short temper, he got really cocky because he wasn’t on the receiving end. he was kind of proud of you in a way? and he felt really smug looking at the way the other person was really scared of you 

but then he did something small like it was probably unintentional too and you got so angry at him, and at first he was so confused then he got so angry with you??? like what the hell do you think you’re doing getting angry at me who tf are you??? 

which just angered you even more 

the both of you are like fire and fire

it’s really bad, like even worse, when the two of you get into arguments. they’re usually never ending too, and you’re both so stubborn and won’t admit if either one of you is in the wrong so you just fall asleep like that and the only way the argument ceases if when you two forget about it 

he still gets really smug when he sees you get angry at someone else, and even if your reaction is irrational, he won’t stop you from going to extremes, even if he knows you’ll end up regretting it later 

you’re entertaining can you blame him 

a lot of the times when you go to snap at him he just grabs your face from your like chin/jaw and just grips you tightly, warning you with a glare and a “don’t even start” 

you glare back but honestly you just shut up like it’s clearly not even worth it 

overtime he learns how to deal with you. like eventually he gets the hang of it, but earlier? he hated it, oh god. 

[youreyeslookliketheocean]

chap 5 review i finally have time lets go i hate school:

tommy learning asl just to fuck with wilbur lmao

also when wilbur stepped up for tommy after he couldnt speak was awesoem i love crimeboys

its so interesting the relarionship between tommy and his old coach bc its such a complicated mess that really fucked tommy up but it hurts more relaizing that the entire public saw it (or parts of it) too and nto saying anything until his mom was lkke hey thats gfucked up loike the public knew that old cheif only cared abt racing while phil cares abt tommmy

crimeboys are becoming friends <3

also damn wilburs accident was pretyy severe.

im kinda excited for when the new team figures out abt tomys trauma and insecurites (if they do lol)

also imagine walking into a pillow fight. phil be like "alright then"

also i like all th e side characters too especaillh purpled and aims

chapter 6 too bc yeah:

beach beach beach

also wtf why is wil tht good. he has no right.

toomy stop hating on urself phil cares abt u

give wil false hope lmao ope theere he is right thwre

stop. tommy stop. stop hating on urself being deaf is fine phil isnt gonna hate u anyway how u constanty compare everything to old cheif is very important bc it shows how its different

hes being kidnapped lets go i love beach scene beach (i actually ahve horrible memories from florida beaches we went at the wrong time of year)

george founder is an absolutely badass name good job on that one

dream isnt the old cheif relally???? im genuienly surprised but thats cool. nice to actually see him in a dsmp fic where hes actually chill. also sapnap i forgot he cuased the accident that must be awkward af (tommy stop blaming urself)

yeah no u show his lack of self confidence/esteem perfectly u take so many W

oh my god 🦀 makes an appearance hes such a celebrity

wait fuck all my brain proccessed was crab legs its a hermitcrab

mother of twitch prime. that is a tommy thing to say

yeah take em aids off that must be annoying as hell

is it just me or do i sense that tommy isnt accepting that hes HOH now hmm :/ | yeah losing smth as important as a sense must be scary if u've had it for so long

istg is wil gonna bully him into- and he did (also was it him 🦀? is he in the full throttle?)

hes learning asl im so happy oh shit not them waves i once got rolled by waves its scary af

oh no old cheif angst again ahh. and wil being concerned ahh this will be character development. this is crucial scene alret. oh they laughing awwwww oh he smile a /gen smile !!!!!!!!!1 crimeboys brainrotting full throttle version commence omg he likes wil now- ope nvm

"theyre different from his old crew. all of them are" YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

hes not that worried in sim. anymore abt being good

oh no his left ear but itll be ok

"hen slips away to his room to ruminate on the fact that never—not in his whole racing career—has he felt so loved by his team as he does now. He’s not worth it. He’s a fuck up, a failure, and he’s going to disappoint them.  He doesn’t want it to end." i will live for the moment when he fucks up. its gonna be so great for character development

ok this chap. is very long so im splitting to parts byeeee sorry this took so long school sucks :( but full throttle does not :)

Ahhh thank you!!!!!

Yeah, I don’t think Tommy really realized how much the public knew until that interview with Wilbur, either. The public saw and knew (to a certain extent) that something was wrong or “off” about Tommy and his chief’s partnership for a long time, but no one ever tried to step in and ask about it, or tell him that he should leave him and find a new chief, or say anything at all on Tommy’s behalf… Writing that part hurt.

Idk how far you’ve gotten by the time this response comes (lol sorry it took so long. University stole my soul for a little while), but… the moment he “fucks up” will definitely be coming 👀

Thank you for the message!!! I giggled at the hermit crab😂

[junityy]

WRONG TIMING

# PAIRING. jay park x gn!reader

# SYNOPSIS. years later you still think back to your first love and wish, that it would've been your last one as well. unfortunately, to be with your first love forever will be nothing more than just a dream of yours.

# GENRE. fluff, comfort, angst

# WC. 2.6k

# A/N. i really thought i could write smth without any angst in it pls . also,, i tried with the header okay ik its lowkey ugly </3 and can you even call this fic🤨🤨 idk this is kinda all over the place too but i hope u enjoy <33

→ the first time you met

You had first met Jay when you were waiting for another friend's class to end so you could walk home together. Little did you know that would be the day you'd fall in love, hard.

Since you had nothing better to do, you were just walking in circles or walking back and forth. And just like it couldn't have happened in any other way, Jay bumped into you when you were going back again.

Of course he didn't do it on purpose, but if he would've seen you before he bumped into you, he for sure would have considered doing it on purpose. Just because there would've been a conversation 100%.

But of course there was one anyway. Since you're sort of easy to scare, you couldn't help but flinch, hard - which made Jay feel a bit bad. Secretly thinking you're damn cute.

Your first reaction would've actually been to help him pick up the stuff that he dropped, but as soon as you laid your eyes on him, you had to prevent yourself from staring at him with your mouth open.

"I'm so sorry-" is the first thing you can say after focusing on his books and paper sheets that are lying on the ground.

"No I'm sorry, I should've paid attention." he chuckled when you two kneel down to pick his stuff up.

"You really don't have to." Jay can't help but look at you with a smile, not even trying to hide it. As soon as you look up and see him looking at you like that, your heart almost stops beating for a second.

In your own head you try to not to sound like you're exaggerating, but you're really wondering if you've ever seen someone as beautiful as the boy in front of you in your whole life. Not only that, but it seems like he's one of the, if not the kindest person to ever exist. Do you sound delusional thinking that about a boy you've met a minute ago? You're not sure.

And is it coincidence that Jay is thinking the exact same thing about you? Probably not, right?

"Thanks, uh.." Jay starts to say when you two get up again, but realizes he doesn't even know your name.

"Y/N." smiling at him, he looks just as happy.

"Thank you, Y/N. It's Jay." he nods and only now realizes where you are, which makes him wonder.

"So uh, may I ask what you're doing here? Looks like your class has ended already." he chuckles and you nod before speaking up.

"I was waiting for a friend." you reply, wondering why Jay raises one of his eyebrows like he accomplished something big.

"You were?" a smile appears on his face, knowing he distracted you from basically everything you've been doing before.

"Am! I am waiting, I guess." quickly correcting yourself, you can feel your heartbeat going crazy again. And that alone because of his damn smile.

"Well, then have fun while waiting. I gotta go now, but I look forward to seeing you again." and without even knowing how bright you were smiling at each other, Jay finally left.

But that wouldn't be the last time you'd see him, the universe wouldn't have let him go without letting you see each other again.

→ your safe place

It feels almost like a cliche to say that someone is only one call away, but Jay has always been that someone to you. And you thought he always will be too.

Whenever you were feeling down, you'd either text him so he would come over or call him, just so you could hear his voice if he couldn't be right next to you.

And somehow, he always knew exactly what to say. To that point where it was almost scary. It felt like he knew exactly what was going on inside of your mind, so he could choose the right words to make you feel better.

Not only at that time, but back then already you knew that you would've never been able to return all of this. In fact, even today, you could never be able to do that.

One night you were feeling down, for no reason at all; which has always made you even more upset. So, like you always did, you decided to call Jay.

"You okay?" is the first thing he asks after he picked up the phone, literally the first thing.

"I hate you sometimes." you chuckle, which quickly turns into sobbing again. Not even a word was said and he already knew what was going on. That was everything but a coincidence.

"Hey, you can talk to me. I'm listening." Jay assures you, bringing you more comfort with only a few words than someone could've ever done with anything else.

"I don't even know what to say." ridiculously laughing at yourself, Jay's heart aches at the tone of your voice.

"How did you even know why I called before I could say anything?" you genuinely wanna know now, sometimes being amazed by what a connection the two of you have.

"I don't know, I just had a feeling something wasn't right." and just like that, his last words made you cry again. You really can't explain why, even if you wanted to.

"I didn't want to make you cry more." he softly notes, letting out a short laugh.

"No but seriously, talk to me. Just- whatever's on your mind right now." he asks you to and it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts.

"I just feel empty, but not as much as before..I guess?" laughing, you unknowingly put a smile on Jay's face when you said that.

"Want me to come over?" this question alone was enough for making you smile like an idiot, before quickly replying with "yes". He could've stayed at home and just talk to you through the phone, but he felt like he needed to see you.

After that, not 15 minutes have passed until someone knocks on your door. So without any further, you open the door. And just like that, he opens his arms for you.

No words needed. Just him wanting to make you feel like you're safe now, like you're home.

With no hesitation, you go up to him and hug him. Simply so you can feel like there's only you two in this moment and like all your problems vanished.

"I'm here." he whispers, putting his hand on the back of your head to comfort you more, even if just a bit.

"You can talk to me or not talk to me, but I'm here." Jay had no idea how much these words meant to you. He wasn't pressuring you into talking to him, just letting you know that he's there was enough to make you feel better and safe. Would you ever be able to return all of the love and comfort he has given you?

→ making memories together

If there was one person who you would never wanna stop making memories with, it was Jay. Not only was he one call away when you weren't at your best, but especially when you were at your best as well.

He was down to every random idea you two could do. The time? Doesn't matter. It could be 4 in the morning and you'd still go out to do something, even if just for a short time. Even if it was just for 5 minutes; if it meant making memories with you, that both of you knew you'd never forget, you would do anything.

"We should go stargazing sometime." you suggest one night and grab all of Jay's attention, who can't help but chuckle at your expression when you said that. Like you just had an idea that would change your life forever.

"Then let's go." is his sudden response, which you surely did not expect.

So after that, you just went outside looking for a good, quiet place. Thankfully it's dark already but not too late, so you won't have to be scared to be outside after midnight.

"I know a place." Jay remembers out of nowhere, looking slightly happy that he knows where you two can go now.

It didn't even take you ten minutes to arrive at the hill Jay brought you to. From here you can not only have the perfect view of the city, but this is the perfect place for when you wanna go stargazing as well.

"You're kidding." is the only thing you're able to say when you enjoy the view of the city first. You don't know what it is, but these kind of places always get you - epsecially when it's dark already. It brings you comfort, and Jay knows that, which is why he got so happy when he remembered this place. He knew exactly how much you'd love it. Just like the two of you know you'll come back here, this definitely won't be your last time here.

"You never fail to amaze me." looking at him with the biggest smile, Jay can't help but smile right back at you.

"Come on." you hear him say before he starts going somewhere. You quickly catch up, now knowing why he 'left'. Since you went outside to go stargazing, he looks for a place (obviously still on the hill) where it's a bit darker, probably just for the vibes.

"Here." you stop, grabbing his attention once again when you just lie down and wait for him to join you. Which he quickly does though, so now you're not only stargazing together, but enjoying each other's company.

Like you do everyday, but these little moments mean more than words could ever say to the both of you.

→ unconditional love

Not only was him loving you something you never thought you would be able to feel, but loving him was a different kind of..insane?

Loving Jay made you feel things you never thought you could be even close to feel, but he made those feelings become reality. Every single day.

So you kind of got used to do the same with him; at least to try to do that. You're bad when it comes to talking about your feelings and the fact that you never find the right words when it comes to your love for Jay, doesn't make it any better. But you still love telling him how much he means to you.

"I love you." Jay mumbles one night, his head in your lap while your hand is going through his hair. You were completely in thoughts until he said that.

"Hm?" is your first reaction because you couldn't really hear what he said.

"I love you." he quickly repeats, as calm as ever. Jay hears you chuckle, not knowing there's a little smile on your face because of him - once again.

"I love you too." your response isn't something he hasn't heard before, but every time he does hear it from you, Jay could swear his heart almost stops. It's always the little things that both of you love and appreciate so much.

→ how you two drifted apart

If you would've known that there would be something going on between you and Jay that would cause you to slowly drift apart back then, you would've done everything so that wouldn't happen. But unfortunately, there wasn't anything you could do, same for Jay.

So what was it? You haven't said goodbye or anything, but you haven't seen each other as often, haven't texted or just talked in general - which no one thought would ever happen.

Of course you still love each other, right? Then what is it? Both of you have asked themselves that question already multiple times, especially since you, for some reason, don't feel the need to meet up like you usually did. It feels..wrong?

Everything feels wrong. Not the love you have for each other, but just the time. It feels wrong. Just everything but not right, which makes you sadder than you thought it would.

Although none of you knows what's going on, you know you still love each other. So it has to be the wrong timing.

Which is why someday, you met at the hill Jay brought you to one night. The weirdest thing is, you didn't text beforehand; the other one didn't know this would be an opportunity to talk. But if we're serious; is it really that weird? You two have a connection other people can only dream of, like the connection soulmates have. So it's rather weird that things like these still surprise you.

"Hey." Jay is the first one to speak up with a little smile that only lasts for the second he looks at you.

"Jay..what is going on?" you ask, not knowing if he can give you an answer though. You wouldn't be mad if he couldn't, since you probably couldn't give him one either.

"I don't know, I really don't." he shakes his head and looks down, sort of in disappointment; like he's the one to blame.

"Don't do that." you shortly laugh at him, gaining a surprised look from him.

"It's not your fault, you know that." assuring him, Jay slightly nods.

"Do you feel like- like it's the timing too? Like it's just the wrong time?" carefully asking, you receive a "mhm" as an answer before the boy next to you continues.

"Y/N, now don't get me wrong I still love you." Jay makes sure you don't get any wrong ideas, in the kindest tone ever.

"I love you too." you can't help but whisper or else you feel like you'll burst out crying.

"I love you so much, words aren't enough. But I feel like this has to end here." Jay says what has to be said, although it hurt more than you thought it would. You were prepared, but it still hurt you. Just like it hurt him.

"Yeah." you agree and he looks at you, only to see how you're slowly on your way to hold back your tears.

"Hey." immediately coming up to you, he simply puts his arms around you to comfort you.

"It's okay." he assures you, knowing even you didn't think you would cry since you knew what this was gonna be about.

"You know, maybe this isn't a goodbye. Maybe someday..we'll get a second chance." and even in a situation like this, Jay finds the right words to make you feel better.

"Maybe we're meant to be in the future." Jay can't help but chuckle, actually hoping he's right.

He has to be right. Jay is convinced that he'll never find someone like you ever again and he knows he will be looking for you in the future as well. It's like a cliche to say he thinks you're soulmates, but in the end that's what you are. There's not other explanation for that.

Ironically enough, you never believed in the "right person wrong time" kind of thing - until you met Jay. He proved you wrong about that, just like he was able to prove you what love is. And even more than that.

Because in the end, your love was strong. Hell, even stronger than love itself could ever be. The only thing that was wrong, was the timing. If it wasn't for the timing, Jay would be next to you right now. It was him who made you feel loved everyday, it was him who made you feel more like home than any other place could have ever done that.

And it was him, who made you realize what love is. Although you two aren't what you were back then anymore, there's a place in your heart that will always be his. Not for now, not until you've found somebody else, but forever.

Because real love stays, every time. It always stays. Just like Jay's last words have stayed in your mind for the past few years.

"Maybe we're meant to be in the future."

He loved you enough to let you go.

reblogs are appreciated!! <3

[redxblueihateloveyou]

YOOO!!!! You got me too interested in this one, your last video is so stunning I can't get it out of my head for some reason. Plus the actors, holy shoott I'm so inrigued. I didn't know they were in "bl-ish" suggestive stuff we love. So just wanted to ask is Lee Dong Wook's character some demon or evil ghost or smth there? And is it like VERY scary, can u give me some scale pretty pls? (I'll watch it even if I pee myself, but I just want to be prepared 😂)

LOL the end of the ask got me wheezing. yahaha Moonjo??? No, he's a very much alive human being, just a dentist and a killer lol. He's just very pale and moves smoothly haha. Tho at times there he also sometimes represents like.. the undisclosed desires of Jongwoo's heart so there's that. There was a few fics when he was a shadow monster living under his bed and other stuff like that bc he gives off that impression true, but no. Crazy human he is. Very smooth tho haha

I wanna say it's not, but it all depends on how you watch it I think. Because tbh I think it's mostly about metaphores and hidden meanings stuff and its seen that it was clearly made for those who're into all that shit (like rewatching it actually so greaaat bc its like FUCJ I HAVENT SEEN THIS AND THAT), so if you're also like that, you're probably will just find it highly entertaining. If you know what its based on and into literature or maybe writing you'll love it for sure, bc you won't take it literally, but gonna be very much into the subtext, their characters, interactions and what it leads too. But I also saw those who did watch it literally and I guess it might be scary this way.

My friend, who knows me too well recommended it to me, bc I was on my usual winter holidays social media distancing I take each year not to get to overwhelmed, bc you know I have little to none tolerence to stupidity and these days its even harder, even tiny time spent on twitter or someone sending me some posts can make my heart die a bit, so I take this break to come back all fresh and rested and continue lmao but bc of some work stuff, I was even more pissed at the time and she was like "watch this", and I was like "but u know thats not my genre" and she was like "trust me, its not that" and I always do trust her with this stuff and I was like "fiine ok ofc" haha

And as crazy as it sounds I actually found it quite soothing lol. But then again all watch everything differently, so I can't tell. But if you mean is this the kind of horror thing that leaves you with this unsettling feeling that you also like me don't like than no, its definitely not that, its like a psycological thriller thingy. And Idk it was just hella funny at times to me, bc I was watching it like "I totally felt that" haha. I think most will find lots of things quite relatable there, esp if you're somewhere around Jongwoo's age. It's more of a like gross reality representation with a good twist, when I think most will go like "yeah I get that lmao" in many situations xD Whether its work u hate, dumb ppl that annoy you or close ones who pretend like they care but don't really and are only busy with themselves, etc... (or for example, if you're an artist, but no one believes in you or takes it seriously and the only genuine support u get is from some random stranger lmao). I'd say its more of a metaphor for life in general, than a horror, so its a bit sadly.. hilarious you know. Like your gf couldn't make you feel loved, but a serial killer for a moment could.. its kinda funny. I mean technically its very sad, but also funny.

Plus we all have those moments in life when we wanna watch smth like that when you go like "yeah I thoroughly enjoyed watching him smashing dat idiot's skull, I've had a long week" or like "this dude is dumb, he'll probably go in a trash can in a minute or two" lol. I ofc got all they wanted to say with the whole thing. And in university majoring in literature we've been all over these creations it was inspired from plus its not that hard to understand, but I at the moment was like "you can totally use it as a stress relief too".

It all depends on ppl. Like while I saw some found the meat scene very disturbing, but I was just thinking about the whole meaning behind who liked it, who hated it and who hated that the other liked it the whole circle haha. Instead to me the worst part was the violation of cats, but since the mains were all about loving cats and hating human beings again I was like "my dudes" lmao.

So it all depends on you and how you see things. But honestly I don't think its scary really. Trust me, a person who hates horror films. Thats not it. Also its a kdrama, even if you're sensitive to smth, it's probably gonna be blurred haha.

It's also just fascinating to watch how different ppl watch it. So if you're gonna like it, highly recommend then watch it with someone else too. Bc for example Moonjo's life views (I'm not talking killing, but stuff like "you don't have to tolerate if someone's being an asshole to you", "I'd rather hear the truth than see u pretend", not wasting his time on talking to idiots bc they're not worth it, encoraging following your dream etc) and Jongwoo's desperately trying to get himself to not to rage each time someone was highly annoying, assholish or dumb in the worst possible way was just simply relatable and understandable to me and my sister, and my close friend here said same.

The most hilarious experience was watching it with my mom when I was with them during chrismas holidays, bc by the end realized that she was relating herself to his ex gf the most. Bc of the job situation thing. And my mom she does always talk about her job only and thinks it's more important than others jobs and she also does think that creative professions are silly. And she also found Monjoo hella scary, while we didn't lmao. So it was so funny. I was like "okay, I bet my mom is the normal one probably in this scenario".

My point is its an amazing show. It's not a horror. It's highly entertaining to watch by yourself and with someone too. It's also like... you can interpret it like in your way and see what its gonna say about you haha

Also this fandom is just the most hilarious pit of the greatest memes you can use daily lol

P.S. happy you liked the video <3 *hugs*