#if i want readers to hate a character they will

[sunboki]

⎯ what remains unspoken. ⟡ featuring christopher bahng

🪝 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, jealousy, angst, two idiots chasing their own tails believing their love is unrequited (ㅠㅠ), based in australia, summer! au, beachhouse! au

WORD COUNT. 8.3k words ☆ 32min read

WARNINGS. cursing, jealousy/shame, reader moves away, mentions of drunkenness, nondesc smut, a dirty dream? (nondesc), reader is said to wear makeup, mentions cheating

AUG'S NOTES. working myself through a writing block.. this fic has helped a lot :) thank you all for being patient with me thus far, i think writing for channie is like free therapy<3 please let me know what you think!!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Attached to the hip, you and Chris might as well have been twins in a past life. And yet, it’s always that tiny inkling, so many years where one of the two wants something more. So when you bring home a boyfriend one summer and both you and Chris begin drifting apart, you wonder if that denial will become something permanent.

or alternatively :

Until when do you stop pretending?

Among many things, Chris likes to think there was an “oh shit” moment to his life. One, exactly.

Over the years he tried pinpointing when that would be, what that would be. 

And then you brought a boyfriend home. His home. To a beach house you two would occupy together. Making shadow puppets with your hands and running out to the beach in the early mornings.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Making sand castles, running into the water with your clothes on and running out giggling messes.

For two weeks every summer, always. Together.

Never with a plus one.

He debated upon subtly sizing up the guy or appearing overly friendly, but not an ounce of his face seemed to move. Steely.

Cold.

Chris was never cold, and he felt that pang in his chest—guilt—seeing you notice it. That miniature knit of your brow, the purse of your lips.

Did he know you like Chris did? Know when you were angry, or frustrated. What your favorite song was, or how you preferred your hair when you were focused?

He wanted to hate comparison, he used to hate comparison.

And now he’s hating himself for being too late, letting you slip from his grasp like sand between his fingers.

When you were once protagonists of a novel written with a happy ending, that love interest was now home to another. 

And he was a bystander to a love story that was never his, watching you smile at someone else. 

Someone that wasn’t him.

Breakfast is hellish, not to mention the sleeping arrangements. This boyfriend of yours in the guest bedroom, while he sleeps in his.

Alone. Without you, or your pretty hair, or your pretty eyes. Void of your warm body snuggled up to his, where you used to make silly jokes beneath covers and muffle laughter in turn.

A part of him wants to cry, wants to ask you what you two used to be. What was under the covers? 

“Ah.. Chris..” The soft moan of yours, all those years back. Stupid, seventeen, single. A cursed pair of “S”’s he hadn’t realized would come to haunt him each time he closed his eyes. 

What was your pretty sounds, his face between your thighs those five years back?

Was it all pretend? Exploration as friends? 

No, you were smarter than that.

So he tells himself he was too late, and endures. 

Because maybe, maybe they’ll be a plot twist one chapter. Where you fall for the side character. 

No, no book ends like that.

It all started in an editing firm’s office. 

Well, not literally, considering you hadn’t even been in your mother’s mind until Jessica Bahng—mother of a four-month old Chris Bahng—held back a poor woman’s hair while she belched into a toilet.

That poor woman being your mother, who found out she was pregnant that evening after work.

And through a few Saturday’s at the corner cafe and prolonged conversation by the office’s monitors, the two became the best of friends. Watching little Chris grow into a toddling one year old, and in the process welcoming you into the world nearly ten months later.

From there, almost every waking moment consisted of time together. Chris as the lanky teenager with his brown hair sweeping across a tanned forehead, and you, following after him each step he took at less than a year younger. Kindergarten, Primary School.

Although, in the midst of the friendship, your father had found a better job opportunity in Brisbane, a decent ten-hour drive from the Bahng household you’d found second home in.

Though, after plenty of crocodile tears and mumbled “I’ll miss you”’s tumbling from an eighth grade mouth too absorbed in worrying about the matter of leaving rather than the fact you’d likely visit every month, you departed, off to a city so different from the Sydney you had known of. 

Even if it was Australia all the same.

And in turn, the annual summer visits began.

Summer before your freshman year of high school, where Chris finally got his braces off in his sophomore year and you soaked up every ounce of information given on surviving the first few days of school.

Then your own sophomore year, filled with feelings and discoveries and struggles unearthed you didn’t think could be experienced so vividly, expectations in need of fulfillment the board expected a sixteen year old to answer immediately.

What do you want to do with your life? Any plans for college? What about taking these extra classes? They look good on a résumé.

And simultaneously rip the ounces of childhood from your fingertips, but no school board puts that in the papers.

So the moment the car door opens after hellish voyaging to Sydney, you allow your lungs to inhale each ounce of salty air the Bahng family house offers, the childishness allowed for once amid crushing pressure. 

It is a meager five minute walk to the lapsing shoreline after all, and the ocean keeps good secrets within the sand, washing away your footprints as to flush away traces of whatever happenings occurred there. 

Yet, never truly forgotten. Instead, taken into the waters for little children to tell their mother of whom never believe the ocean spilled someone’s precious secrets.

“Chris.”

June eighteenth of your second year in high school, pajama-clad knees curl close into your body, lashes dusting open in the sparsely lit room to focus on him.

A dilation of the pupils, a hitch of the breath when he turns to you.

High school has changed Chris, but not in a foul manner. Blond curls, he’s exchanged from his usual russet locks. Round cheeks shifting in tandem with a sculptors hand, the marble of his skin a bit more toned, defined.

His jaw that clicks when he grows angered—not often, sometimes at his gaming system. 

Thickened brows furrowing and knitting in concentration.

Though those eyes are the same, and always will be. No other will have eyes like his, and you know in any life, in any state of amnesia, they would be recognized.

An “aha” moment where a switch flips in your brain, formulating a mere sentence involuntarily.

I love this boy, and I hope for forever he’ll look back at me.

And for that, you’re selfish. But honest.

If Christopher was a stranger, a look into that gaze and you think you’d know him instantaneously.

How silly.

But just as you had spoken, you’re reminded that childishness was something found each time you visited this place regardless of your actions. You’d hold onto that.

“I don’t want to grow up.”

The bit of fat at his under-eyes cause his eyes to form into crescent moons when he smiles, wrinkles at the corner of thick lashes crinkling.

Chris has always liked the moon.

A warm hand of his reaches forward, cupping your cheek as if the first time.

You think you like this more.

“Then don’t.”

A stroke of his thumb, and you snort a laugh when the cold of your nose bumps against the digit.

“And when you want to go back to being sixteen, come to see me, okay?”

Little did you both know that the future had a way of testing just how long sixteen would last.

Until when do you stop pretending?

An explanation as to how you ended up with the curly blond’s lips pressed to your thighs doesn’t sit anywhere in sight, and in the quiet comfort of your bedroom, you let the thought slip by.

Yet, in the end, there’s as much of a pathetic excuse as expected.

That serves for a bit of background information first.  

It was a mistake.

You were just teenagers.

But the stinging feeling in your heart, like the swelling of a thorn stuck between your rib cage, tells you that’s far from the truth.

For any infant it’s easy to placate an act, a theatre of behavior. For your stuffed animals as a doctor, for diving into the pool after the rings a mother would toss in beforehand, feigning the role of an experienced diver. 

But there comes both a time and occasion to weave a lie, no less complete the loom as someone cognitive enough to understand a situation’s veracity. 

When the mind is said to be “not fully developed” but each and every predicament feels like it matters on behalf of the world, when a sentence a year back pops itself from hiding, appearing at the forefront of your mind.

The true question.

Just how long can one stay sixteen? 

Junior year, with eighteen lingering a hairsbreadth away for the both of you.

Junior year, where talk of pressures and intimacy lead to Chris being your first time. 

And in turn, you were his.

Though that came a few minutes later. Something clumsy and unpracticed the both of you laughed at on continual occasion, enacted for the pure reason of curiosity, of trust.

While everyone gave themselves to strangers, you wanted to give yourself to someone adored, whom you didn’t believe for a second you’d regret. 

But was that really the sole reason? 

Curiosity? 

Or love?

No. Nothing along those lines. 

Or that’s what you told yourself those years, those moments. And although it’s supremely underestimated by that of adults, those prolonged stares, the upward quirk of his lips when he catches your eye from across the room is but a matter a babe could understand.

It has always been more, been a new road opened since you’d kissed him. The both of you simply headed the same route you always had.

Best friends, that’s all.  

But to an astronaut, the earth has never been the limit, or they wouldn’t be an astronaut. And you were someone that loved Christopher Bahng, but hid behind a title the both of you knew was untrue. 

Now it exists like a flash of the mind, swift and fast and almost unnoticed if not for the lingering feeling at your skin—an insatiable itch where his fingers had laid trace.

A soft nip to your inner thigh, his thumb resting just above your navel. His chin upon your lower belly when your events had come to a close, gazing up at you, unreadable.

No. Not unreadable, but one you didn’t want to read, look too far into and get hurt. 

Was that it? A gnawing fear of getting hurt holding you back from the things you wanted?

His face lingering with traces of you, lips swollen and glossy and stretched into a smile you scorned to stare at. 

“You’re.. gross.”

Maybe a “thank you” or a “that felt amazing” would’ve been the more appropriate response, but this was Chris, and to not speak your mind would break a vow instilled from the earliest of your elementary days. 

He laughs, a squeaky sound of happiness you soak up like a sponge—absorbing, absorbing, taking in every ounce offered. 

That you can trust in, place faith within. 

In a future unknown, however, a part of you knows that the only way of freedom is to prepare for a pain that may come, and may not.

For there is never a guarantee love will be fatal, but all will pass someday. 

To live without a taste of that freedom seems too awful to stay in your bubble. 

All so scary, uncertain. The unpredictability can be overwhelming. Somewhere in between you hope he felt it too.

Love, that is. 

Ah. 

A kiss at your lips, and he tastes like you—something you’d shrink away with disgust at if not for his presence, the tender manner in which he eases your shirt back down, then his own adjusted over his head. 

That night, you ate dinner and never spoke of it. Not a taboo topic, merely mutually understood. His parents out for a night, Hannah off staying late for an after school activity. 

A kiss after washing dishes in the sink, a kiss when you flop onto the couch. After an uno match by the coffee table, where your competitiveness sparks into screaming matches, tackling him following not long after.

Your bodies like a whirlwind of motion, writhing with chortled laughter like squabbling infants.

Overtop of you he pauses, and your earlier feigned rage fades as quickly as it was provoked, chest warming at the chaste peck to your cheek, then the press of his lips you beckon closer, hands curling into the fabric of his tee, slipping down his back to trace the bumps of his spine.  

One breath, two. 

Warm, and it feels like you’re melting.

Fingernails usher the shirt upwards, his lower back beared, tanned from summer sun. 

More.

You want more all over again. 

“Chris!” 

It’s Hannah’s voice, squeaky at age thirteen, that clears the steaminess instantly, clambering off each other so quickly your foot slams into his stomach, his hand shoving your face into the carpeted floor.

“I- I won in Uno! Fair and square!”

Not a great cover up, Chris, but the flushed nature of his ears, his cheeks, makes up for the stupid excuse. 

From this prompts a sequence of events, of excuses and hiding, of denial and relapsing into what’s familiar.

But just as life is unpredictable, none of those thoughts plagued your mind yet. 

Nothing had happened yet.

Then it happened, and you can’t come to recall how.

A party, freshman year of university. A guy, loud music, too many drinks. 

He was a sweet soul, helping you back to your dorm when the world became a distant, fuzzy memory. Someway or another (you’re betting your roomie gave it to him), he snagged your number. 

Because Saturday morning, 11am, you received a: “Feeling any better?” text you gazed at in horror—believing the random number to be some drunken one night stand—before being filled in.

Jae was his name. Jae Hyeong. 

A student in your Wednesday lecture, passing by unknown, now becoming known. 

You told Chris about him that summer, mumbled between bites of strawberries after a stop by the market in his dad’s old pick-up truck. 

Rust clung to the sides, and you could never be certain the engine would start up again. But it was loved and cherished. So faith was placed in it anyway.

Expectedly, he just nodded his head, popping another sweet bite between plush lips.

The thing was, you told Chris about him without mentioning the dating factor. 

Jae was funny, sweet. The first of your dates concluding with your stomach aching from laughter. And a cowardly part of you blames forgetfulness, while the other points directly at your heart.

Even when, staring into his eyes, all you see is Chris. 

How cruel, and you want to hate yourself for dragging this boy along. 

Scared.

Because at the moment, pursuing music was Chris’s dream, attending Uni at Sydney was that utmost goal he reached towards. 

And you’d support him through it, even if you were left behind. 

It wasn’t you, your mind berates.

It never was you.

So you’ll look away, deny the love you ache for. Jae deserves that, right? Not to be treated as some source of healing for you, a rebound for love unrequited.

Maybe the friendship of yours has clouded your judgement. It’s not love you harbor, but fondness.

A soul-sucking, gut-wrenching fondness that’s unequivocally love. 

“I think you’d like him.”

Maybe this is your hopes of even ground. That if the both of them become somewhat-friends, your feelings will ease and you’ll realize this was all a fever-dream and you were truly in love with Jae. 

All a dream. 

“Will I?” Chris grunts in reply, both of your legs dangling from the truck bed’s edge.

He thinks you’re prettiest like this. A bit unkempt, no makeup, hair left to its own devices. 

You. Wholly, unapologetically you. 

Blemishes and smile lines just like his, bits of strawberry lingering by the corners of your lips he wants to kiss away, lap up with his tongue and take advantage of the quiet of the morning, the lack of townspeople awake to witness his greed.

Chris is greedy when it comes to you, he’ll admit it. He wants and wants and wants, and can’t ever seem to be satiated. 

Whether it’s your kisses, your laughter, that sweet, mumbled moan when you’re feeling so good. 

Shit. He’s in too deep.

To his core, Chris is a gentle man. He wouldn’t allow himself to be angry at you if it cost his life but, he’s also human. And humans feel jealousy. 

It’s been a while since the thought occurred to him, since that biting pit began forming in his gut, gnashing their teeth at anything in sight. 

“Is he good to you?” A quiet murmur, one that’s a bit reserved compared to his usual cheerfulness, optimistic tone. This is curious, observant. That kind of behavior when he wants to know more though remain subtle.

Plus, he argues with that frothing jealously. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, right?

Then, as quickly as it came, the jealousy is gone, swept away in the crashing tides just a few miles from where you sit. Replaced with nervousness, worry.

It’s not like Chris can control you. You aren’t to be controlled, and it’d be cruel to keep you from your potential to begin with. He’s just the coward that can’t bring himself to confess. 

And neither can you, but he doesn’t know that. 

Two nervous messes, fretting over love they’ve shared long before anyone speaks up about it. 

What remains unspoken.

Will your boyfriend be good to you? Treat you right? His head swims, grasping a strawberry hard enough that streams of juice slip down his wrist, droplets trickling  onto the top of a muscular thigh. 

And heaven forbid the guy breaks your heart. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Chris and likely earn a beat down for the road. 

But then comes the hopeful thought, the “what if” that lingers under his skin, buzzes at his fingertips as an index comes to loop a strand of hair behind your ear to better see you.

The bit of pride in the corner, nudging his shoulder as if it were you. A longtime friend. 

I’ll treat you well.

Please let me be good to you.

Closing his eyes, the sad smile of yours after having failed your final exam resides there. Bittersweet, somber.

Would it be considered stages of grief if he had yet to lose someone?

No less, it feels as if you’re leaving him behind altogether.

“You alright?” 

But for now, you’re by his side. It’s enough.

“Hm,” A nod, eyes remaining closed.

“The sun feels good today.”

It feels better with you.

Who knew how quickly good things go.

“Hi Berry!”

The summer before your junior year of Uni, and for a moment, standing in front of the Bahng household feels nostalgic in a way that makes your heart sink. 

The rose-tinted glasses feel further away than ever. Peeling paint, cracks in the wood, creaking of the paneled floors you hadn’t noticed those summer’s before.

Things have changed, and you shudder to think you were the bringer of it.

The hand in yours whose last name isn’t Bahng, however, proves the point.

This summer, Jae came with you. Officially regarded as your boyfriend.

Thus far, there has been no greater feeling of dread and guilt in your gut than right now.

Dread in witnessing Chris’ reaction, guilt from the gnawing ache in your chest. Because no, by no means did you wish to treat Jae as a buffer, an anchor to love unrequited. Nonetheless, that certainly felt the case, more so the situation responsible for your guilt.

And maybe, just maybe, it was wordlessly understood. The manner you’d speak of Chris to Jae, that hidden longing unable to be shielded by a facade.

How cruel, a heart is. To love so shamelessly. Garner affection, but withhold a love solely reserved for one.

In need of mending, care you fail to give by yourself.

Berry, the beloved Chevalier King Charles Spaniel, helps calm such a maelstrom, if only for a short amount of time.

Before Chris walks down the stairs.

.

.

.

If fur had lined Chris’ back, it would be spiked in apprehension, aggression. Like a wolf, scruff ruffled in the presence of someone new.

A second-long overview tells him enough. Your hand in his, the way he trails after you as if some lovesick puppy.

The taste of bile in his throat makes him want to choke.

He missed his chance. Now it’s gone.

So childish, it all is. This harrowing sadness weighing on his chest, the jealousy.

“This is Jae, isn’t it?” 

Ah, you should’ve known better.

Chris could always tell.

Yet, his eyes never leave yours. A mere flicker of attention to the newcomer until you’re bathed in the spotlight again, and the hair on your arms rises unnervingly.

“Yeah,” Swiftly clearing your throat, you feebly try at gathering your wits, granting Jae a smile you hope is reassuring.

“He’s.. my boyfriend.”

All at once, Chris feels his world crashing down on him.

“What happened?” He wanted to ask, forgetting you grew up, no longer that little girl seated beside him on the playground’s swings.

Because it’s already enough in recognizing it, but another in receiving clarification.

A slow inhale is breath into lungs he feels are already too full, straining to contain oxygen.

He missed his chance. Now it’s gone.

I lost you, whispers in his mind. Fragmented pieces of a puzzle.

There was a reason an extra pillow resided in the linen closet, or the My Little Pony toothbrush tossed in the mug his old swim-team sold as merch. 

For you, and only you.

Never another.

Selfishly, he feels this casting has abruptly booted him from the main position, now rooted as a bystander in a set that isn’t even his.

Of course, Chris lacks the complete asshole gene, so a hasty handshake serves as greeting enough before he’s already reaching for the door.

“Eh? But we-“

“Guest bedroom is on your left. Y/N will show you. You two can sleep there or whatever- I’m going to surf.”

Just the partial asshole gene.

And he knows you can tell. Reading each other with the ease of a lover. Attentive, observant.

Nevertheless, your love is directed to someone else.

“He uh.. isn’t usually like this.”

A mumble on your part suffices in buffering the silence. That, followed by Jae’s cocked brow.

“Real friendly guy.”

Your lip tugs between your teeth, peering back at the boy from over your shoulder. Apparently, your expression of remorse fails to be hidden well. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jae consoles, “I dealt with that one jerk of a roommate back in Brisbane for a whole semester, y’know? A bit of coldness is nothin’.”

Ignorance only feels good for so long. Bliss is never permanent.

If only you had understood that lesson, abided by it.

Yet, just like those years before, you turn your head the other direction and allow life to pass by without him in it, despite staying in the same home.

Despite him being everything to you, despite a love shared over countless years.

.

.

.

He’s irritable. Chris is. The subtle grit of his teeth you've come to recognize, the harsh grip he nearly crushes his fork in. Dinner had never felt so stifling, never when you were here.

All of a sudden, the household you had once found solace inside feels all too hot, a sweltering furnace where each extra beat of silence adds a degree to the thermometer. 

Jessica Bahng’s cooking was incredible, as predicted, and conversation flowed effortlessly between you, her, and Jae—the boy charming without trying, his charisma winning over the woman after a mere two bites of food.

What wasn’t predictable was Chris’ quietness from across the table. Because each time he looks up, he finds himself seated in a theatre, watching what was pass by. Watching how you’d kiss Jae, hold his hand, laugh by his side. 

Was that all it was? Him as a spectator?

The chip in the corner of his dinner plate held in hand verifies emotion unwilling to be shown on the surface. 

He doesn’t meet your eyes, doesn’t even acknowledge you.

Jerk.

You scoff, offering him a miniature scowl from the corner of your eye.

“So, how’d you meet Y/N? I forgot to ask last night,” Jessica insists, glancing from you to Jae in rapid succession.

Oh, great. The formalities.

“Well,” A pause on the younger boy’s end, sheepishly grinning. “It was actually at a party—“

“Pfft, yeah right,” Chris grunts beneath his breath in amusement, ramming his fork down into a piece of broccoli.

Acting like a child and he knows it, but no amount of maturity can seem to withhold the snide comments. 

Either the other three didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him. He’s fine with both. 

“And yeah, I just remember her being so drunk and—“

“You wish,” The dyed blond mumbles once more to himself, shaking his head in quiet mirth. 

Those words beckon attention, and Chris mutters an inaudible curse after the sharp kick his mother grants in warning.

That night, dinner concluded like usual. Cheerful on one end, quiet as a mouse on the other. Figuring out who belonged on which side came easy. 

Except, Chris fails to remain silent this time around whilst attending to dish duty, lips drawing into a tight line witnessing Jae place his plate beside the sink. 

Not in the sink, not even an offer to help wash. No, the bastard’s eyes are dead set on you, flickering from your eyes, lips, ass—

Dammit, he wants to sock the guy right about now.

However, he waits until you get upstairs to wash up for bed before speaking.

“Gonna give me a servant uniform too at this point?” The last of Chris’ mutters, and it seems Jae is done with staying silent as well.

“Alright, just what is your problem?”

“I don’t know, why can’t you be well-mannered as a guest? At least wash your own damn dish,” Chris growls back, the two’s eyes meeting in a vicious staring contest prior to his mother’s scolding, resulting in both boys on dish-duty.  

Although it’s the words muttered in his ear when Jae leaves that nearly provokes every nerve in his body to crush the man’s face in with his fist.

“Whatever was between you two, forget it. She’s not yours anymore.”

Your face appearing from the top of the stairwell keeps his urge at bay, merely evident in the white-knuckled clenching of his fist, his form hasty to disappear outside the screen door.

Instinctively, sandal-clad feet taking him to the one place that lets him think.

The ocean.

It’s late, and high tides crash against the sandy shoreline. The squawking of seagulls has drawn to a close, the enormous light of the moon overhead a constant he finds comfort in.

Pattering of your footsteps, however, gather his focus instantaneously, wordless where your form curls by his side.

Another constant, just you and him.

Something to spite the change.

So much change, in fact, he feels like each bit of the youth he’s known is being swallowed up, consumed into newness he can’t accept.

But you still open doors fully in case monsters hide behind them, and he hasn’t changed the flavor of ice cream he buys from convenience stores since he was eight, so perhaps nothing has changed but exterior.

To be ignorant is to be blissful, a lesson continually presenting itself this summer. Neither happens to be involved in your predicament. 

You’re first to break the silence. Always the more courageous one, albeit he’d never admit it.

“I shouldn’t have brought Jae here, I’m sorry.”

Your slow inhale.

“This is.. our place, I get it. I just thought—“

“No,” A shake of his head, second nature upon reading the startled look you give him.

“I mean,” He has to tilt his head to peek at your face, hidden between your knees like a child.

“It’s our place, you’re right but-.. If one day.. somebody comes along, then that’s..”

A begrudging acceptance, if that’s the word.

You look up at him and- ah, you’re so pretty. Chris stops to stare for a moment, his lips parted like an infant fixated on the cookie jar.

Hurried blinking and a swift breath dispel the prior awe.

“That’s okay. If “you” becomes you and someone else, then so be it.”

A small, wry smile. Though beneath, he feels as if he’s breaking.

“I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t pester your boyfriend, or, y’know, future boyfriends. ‘S what I do for my favorite girl.”

He smiles, wanting to cry more than anything while playfully pinching your cheek.

Why can’t you be mine?

.

Ten minutes or so separate your conversation, but you pick up again as if you’d never stopped in the first place. 

“Sometimes I think it’d be easier if I could just go back to being when we were kids again, y’know?”

“And what would you do if you were kids again?”

These words are slow, patient. 

His reply ruins the peace, the begrudging acceptance you had built like a wall of defense, blocking feelings foaming at the mouth to climb from your throat, echoing in the night air.

“I’d never let you go.”

“I’m going to bed,” A mumble interrupts the quietness, your head weighing against his shoulder. 

An anchor, in fear you’d be thrashed into the waves without return.

Chris has always been your buoy.

If only he could keep you afloat in your dreams, but you had yet to yearn for that just yet.

The small nod where he assures you he’d stay a bit longer serves as an untold: “good night” you offer a tight smile in response to, slipping past the creaking doorway and up to your shared bedroom. 

Shared with Jae, not Chris.

And no, Jae wasn’t a buffer. A substitute until you could muster courage to confess, to shout the aches and pains and torment your messy love prompts.

More often than not, Jae has been a lighthouse, helping you venture through the fog of feelings muddling your mind, decisions.

Hell, you don’t know half of what you’re doing.

So many adult responsibilities are manageable, but love provides its own labyrinth no matter the age, never a mere math equation, a problem and solution.

But with loopholes, and heartbreak, and stupidity, and impulsiveness. 

Confusion and sadness and guilt, these gut-wrenching feelings keeping someone up at night.

Like tonight, where your eyes stare daggers into the guest bedroom’s wall across from you. A wall lacking Chris’ swim posters, medals. The old nightlight still plugged into the outlet, once prominent galaxy patterns faded into nothingness.

There for the memories, it was.

Is that what you and Chris were now? A night light still plugged into the wall, left there like some somber source of recollection to look back on?

You hate how your stomach dips at the thought, the nausea building in your throat causing you to roll over, now face-to-face with a snoring Jae, limbs strung like a starfish across the mattress.

Luckily, sleep wasn’t too far away for you either, though it felt like an eternity before your consciousness fully dissipated. 

“Oh… Oh my Go-“

Your arms lift above your head, reaching for something you don’t even know. Reprieve, possibly, amid the tingling of your body, the fuzziness of your head. 

After months of dreamless nights, of course it’s a dirty dream.

Then an involuntary shift occurs through your body, hand extending towards the boy’s hair. And for a moment, it seems your dream-like vision flickers like a faulty lightbulb, because all you can see is Chris.

Somehow, you know it isn’t Chris, but Jae. Nevertheless, he’s the only face you can make out, the only form recognizable.

Although his name wasn’t explicitly uttered, the horror etching itself into your bones merely mouthing it has you reeling back into reality.

Not Chris’s bedroom, but your dorm room.

Not his chocolate irises meeting yours when you look down, the gentle reassurance in his warm palm, grasping the back of your thigh to offer a grounding squeeze. 

This is Jae. This dream is in Brisbane. And Chris is a whole ten-hours away. 

Your second day at the beach house, you wake in a cold sweat.

And right there, sixteen really did fade away.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

Apparently, on a rather comical note, Jae had anticipated your form to be standing by the stove preparing breakfast, his sleep-ridden frame the last to wake up.

Mrs. Jessica had already busied herself driving Hannah to spend the summer with their grandparents, her own annual ritual.

Trust, he wasn’t all too pleased to find Chris there instead, the pan-wielding man granting your boyfriend a venomous stink-eye.

“Sorry, I don’t play housewife,” Your slumber-ridden mumble from the countertop’s stool beckons Chris’ slight snort, pointing the spatula to himself as if clarifying a: “That’s me, the housewife”.

That, paired with containing a huff of laughter watching your form peering into the fridge, hoping the next time you’d open it up a delectable dessert would be there.

To no avail, evident in your dejected grumble.

“Hey,” The curly blond scowls, his frown growing imperceptibly deeper when Jae presses a kiss to your cheek in greeting.

You don’t notice.

“Wait for breakfast, ‘m making omelette how you like. And uh.. I made some other stuff. You can have that, Jae.”

“Thanks,” Sarcasm drips from your boyfriend’s tone, rolling his eyes.

Still on the rocks.

Got it.

“Anytime,” Predictably, Chris feeds off the sarcasm, acting as nonchalant as ever while plating the food and murmuring reminders about waxing his surfboard in the garage.

Further grating Jae’s nerves in turn, you note.

A bigger bite of your omelette feebly manages to redirect the anxiety, the remnants of stringy cheese clinging to your upper lip.

“You’ve got something there.”

Your best friend’s hum rings aloud, reaching to brush the piece of food from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

And for a moment, a memory of the past flickers in your mind. The darkening of a room, now bright after only a second.

A memory. Not the dream last night.

His lips on yours, the quickening of breath, hands squeezing his clothing like a vice and—

“Thanks.”

The words surprise even you, not a forethought in sight. 

And you also don’t notice the cock of Jae’s head, the utter “I dare you” spoken in Chris’ lifted brows, this sneering quirk of his lips offered as a war cry to the other boy before walking past without another word.

One look, and a war had begun.

“We should visit the zoo,” Jae mentions one Sunday while you’re painting your toenails and Chris is absorbed in some video on his phone. 

“You seriously haven’t been to the Sydney Zoo?”

Conversations always end like this, and you’re tempted to ram your head into the nearest wall.

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to surf. You’re Australian, seriously.”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t live in my fancy beach house a convenient two minute walk from the beach.”

More bickering, bickering, bickering. Your skull wants to explode.

On an off-handed occasion, maybe they’ll behave tolerably in regards to one another.

That day was not today. Frankly speaking, tonight, where the only responsible person in the household, Jessica Bahng, had left on a work trip.

…You would admit, you also aren't immune to stupid decisions.

However, this stupid decision took the cake.

A competition, predictably, but not just mini golf or freestyle swimming; drinking.

From Asahi beer, apple-flavored soju and hard liquor, the whole assortment bedecked the coffee table, an already tipsy Christopher Bahng swaying across from you.

Sure, college paved the way for immaturity, but seriously. Seeing who could better handle their alcohol was just sad.

And trust, Chris looked about the epitome of sad (adorable, you forgot to mention) with his flushed cheeks and ears to the frustrated crease of his brows, pupils blown, eyes glossy where they fixate on a victorious Jae. 

Who, in a prideful fashion, tips back another shot of soju with his own, less-tipsy hiccup prior to getting up and stretching his legs, hopefully gathering water in the process.

Nonetheless, Chris just spaces out, evidently inebriated thanks to the unfocused nature of his attention. Fleetingly, his gaze then roved on you, head tipping in a swoon-worthy fashion like some enamored first grader.

Little were you aware just how gorgeous you looked right now from the boy’s buzzed perspective, breath smelling of alcohol where he exhales short huffs, lips curving into this dumb-happy smile.

And— he passes out, thankfully already seated on the carpeted floor.

Though, leaving you and a grumpy Jae with the responsibility of lugging him onto the couch, letting sleep help sober him up until you (considering your boyfriend did everything in his power to avoid interaction with the blacked out Chris) took the role of coaxing sips of water into his mouth.

By midnight, all the glasses had been cleared, and you adjusted a blanket over Chris’s drunken, sleepy frame, Jae already preparing for bed upstairs.

“I love Berry.” A whisper, and you crane to catch the remnants of his words before he shifts beneath the blanket, dead silent for a minute or two. 

Then he rolls over to face you, sporting a downright longing sort of look.

“.. I really love Berry.”

“You said that already, Chris.”

“Okay.”

And he rolls over like it was all a dream, pouty.

Too cute.

Your fond touch smooths coiling strands of hair from his forehead, sparing him a last glance prior to thumping up the stairs.

That night, lying sleepless in bed, you can’t help but wonder:

How much more of this? For both them and you. How much more competition until the calm facades crack, until your patience snaps?

The flames of a rivalry never seem to wane, each interaction adding gasoline to a heat almost unbearable.

Only a matter of time until someone pours in too much and ignites an inferno.

One week until your visit to Sydney comes to a close, and the two are still at each other’s throats.

Between mundane things like making dinner or cleaning to stupid competitions like who ran the fastest mile in junior high or who can stay underwater the longest (or the drinking competition, a notable contestant), this trip has started to feel like a babysitting gig instead of a vacation.

“Chris-“

“Christopher.” Chris corrects one evening, the snide reprimand earning Jae’s icy glare in return.

Currently seated by your side on the couch once occupied by the blond, Jae scoffs to himself, arm extending to drape over your shoulders.

Meanwhile, your attention remains solely on the nature channel, a bit dazed in exhaustion after a long day of swimming beneath the warm sun overhead.

What makes him bristle is the way Jae leans into your form, pressing a kiss to your temple whilst maintaining sole eye contact with the other man. 

When your head turns, however, all is well.

This quieted, occasionally evident rivalry grates your nerves with no trace of resolve.

“Say,” An aimless hand taps against the side of the reclining chair your best friend sits within, a loose tee and sweatpants adorning his form.

And you’d be a fat liar to not admit glancing more than once at the way the fabric stretches over his torso when he shifts, squeezing against muscles unable to suitably fit.

Merely appreciative, you tell yourself.

“Why don’t we let dear old Jae pick Y/N’s favorite movie, hm?”

Such a mocking question, it is, and Chris spares no expense chucking the remote control in hand a little too hard at Jae, the man’s brows furrowing in silent irritation he refused to voice aloud.

Testing him.

Perhaps a time ago you’d mentioned your favorite movie to your boyfriend, though the topic wasn’t all too serious in your opinion.

For Jae, however, this was war, this unspeakable quiz verifying if he knew you better than Chris, knew the answer the other man knew like the back of his hand and then some.

You both know the champion title would always rest in Chris’s hands. 

That you kept quiet about.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t know her favorite movie.”

Cocky, Chris is. 

And dammit, the tick of his jaw is unfairly attractive.

“It’s Tangled, now give me the remote and both of you grow up.”

It’s your turn to answer, having grown sick and tired of these childish taunts before snatching the remote from Jae’s grasp with a shared, scolding glower towards the both of them.

Comedically enough, they shrink like dejected puppies.

Fortunately, the movie helps distract you for a while, long enough that a nap becomes a decision not on your own accord—body slumping against Jae’s.

Unfortunately, Jae flipping Chris off from the couch and mouthing a “loser” beneath his breath escalates things to a level you don’t like to imagine.

Perhaps that’s the cause for either black eye decorating their face and Chris’s busted lip the next morning.

.

.

.

Trust, waking up to black and blue boys roaming the house was a sight hard not to laugh at.

“Did you guys.. fight?”

“Fight? I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve got a black eye, Jae.”

By the time the last day rolls around, those arguments, petty behavior, childish games become something you want to hold onto, June and July drifting past too quickly for you to chase after.

And while you had some grasp of their fight three days ago, only half of it has been made knowledgeable.

Chris would like to keep it that way for a multitude of reasons.

The favorite movie of yours served as the gasoline, and you had foretold the inferno to come.

“It’s not my fault you can’t let go of something that was never yours!”

Chris shoves Jae’s suitcase in the back of your car harder than need be, the other boy’s words ringing in his head as if some dreaded deadline.

“She’s- she’s not something to be owned like an object! I don’t want to possess her, I want to love her! And my god if you could get that through your head I think things would become a lot easier for both of us!”

A worthy argument on his own part, Chris would argue.

“You know what needs to get through your head?” Chris recalls the events similar to replays in sports, nearly able to feel the anger that had been coursing through his veins when Jae retaliated.

Storming straight up in his face where they stood on the beach, the night sky as their audience.

“You lost your chance, Chris. Waited too fucking long to confess and now you’re acting like a little kid just ‘cause you didn’t have the balls to say something, get it?” 

Jae spat his name like a cursed pseudonym, and a snort of satisfaction exhales from his frame envisioning the sucker-punch he gave the boy after that.

Followed by the clench of his fist, observing your laughter while talking with your boyfriend from afar.

Boyfriend.

Dammit.

Then the last part, before they both went tumbling into the sand in a mixture of fury-filled shouts and flying limbs.

“She’s not yours, Chris. Deal with it.”

His reply?

“Hurt her, break her heart, and I’ll give you a matching black eye.”

Who knew such a day would come so soon.

Maybe you should’ve known better.

Or that’s what you try to explain to yourself using. Some sad excuse to make up for the scene witnessed just minutes earlier.

Six months, not even half a year, and two months after traveling to Sydney together.

Stopping at crappy restaurants during the boresome ride, cracking jokes, laughing until your bellies hurt. Kissing, sex.

Was it the whole tension with Chris? Your mind rationalizes, frantically searching for some reason, rhyme. 

Trick question. There is no rhyme or reason in love.

Now, Jae professes all of it amounted to nothing while staying silent at the same time.

Him kissing another girl in front of your dormitory proved that.

Cheater.

And within the few minutes you bask in realization, you wish so terribly you could unleash that wrath on him. Scream in frustration or land similar punches the two battered each other with in Sydney.

Kick him in the shins, yell manically enough to scare the sadness out of your body.

But honestly, you just want to cry.

A sharp inhale, battling the sob threatening to run free with the beep of your phone’s keypad, serving as your only companion.

Until Chris picks up the call, and shit.

You break.

“What.. What was I thinking-“

It’s a job and a half sniffling up the cries, and for once, you feel embarrassed calling Chris crying—even with this being far from the first time.

Why involve someone else in your own problems?

Realistically, a part of you knew such a happening both could and, stupidly enough, would occur, knew this placated vision of peacefulness was a meager mask, acting as a film to the truth behind the blurry camera lens.

You can’t stay ignorant to him, and there isn’t a particle of happiness in unrequited pining, no matter trying to ease the pain with someone else who’ll eventually hurt you.

Fuck.

Because you love him. That’s all.

There, said and done. 

In your mind, at least. But saying that aloud results in your tongue feeling like lead, results in more crying.

“Y/N,” His voice, and you feel the coldness in your fingertips warm up, as if wrapped in his embrace. A long, safe hug.

“Answer me two things.”

Your additionally embarrassing, whimpered sound of agreement affirms his offer. 

“Was this Jae?”

No it was—

Yes. Honestly, truthfully, it was. 

No more pretending, excuses. Sixteen was over.

“Mhm,” Wiping your snotty nose on the back of your hand, a miniscule amount of relief comes from leaning against the wall behind you.

“And do you want me there or just want to talk?” That lilt of his tone, tender. 

 He’s good at making you want to cry. Though never due to meanness. 

Sucking in a shuddering breath, you calm your voice as much as possible.

“Here. Here, please.”

Then a realization.

“But you’re, like, ten hours awa-“

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll make it five. Right now, go back to your dorm, get some good takeout, and turn on Tangled, okay? Find something relaxing and don’t think about anything for a moment. I’ll be right there, alright?”

Longing lies in the way you press the phone to your cheek, savoring his voice like a soothing balm.

Let’s go back, let’s try this one more time.

First that time he asked you to prom in highschool, the second in his bedroom, allowing yourselves intimacy with each other for the first time.

You’ve never heard of a third chance before. 

For him, you’re willing to try.

That said, Chris held tight to his word, the rattling truck of his a miracle in managing to get here—no less get here two hours earlier than most did on the drive to Brisbane from Sydney, alerting you from the comfort of your dorm’s bed with its puttering engine and creaking brakes.

Surprisingly, however, he doesn’t spare you a word whilst rushing past, seemingly having chosen perfect timing in rushing to the dorms where a rather unlucky Jae steps out.

You don’t think you’ve heard a more dreadful noise than the crunch of Jae’s nose beneath Chris’s fist, the force alone sending the boy bowling to the ground before he’s being picked up again by the collar, your best friend downright seething.

“What did I tell you, hm?” A growl, his arm poised for another blow you can’t bring yourself to watch. 

“Hurt her, break her heart, and I’ll give you a matching black eye.” Chris repeats, nothing but white-hot rage charging through his veins. 

Jae, satisfyingly enough, looks terrified.

Good, Chris internally muses. Because simply pulling in, he saw all he needed to. The puffiness of your eyes, your shuddering sniffles. 

And all of a sudden it feels like that time in second grade, where Chris and a few of his friends had gotten redemption on the kid who stole your favorite popsicle flavor purposefully.

And for you, you feel like you’re watching that missing-toothed, sunburnt boy stand up for you again.

“I think another black eye might compliment the nose,” He snarls, momentarily catching your gaze.

The subtle shake of your head dissipates every angry instinct simultaneously, deciding to harshly shove Jae back to the ground alternatively and, at last, gather you in his arms for a hug that felt long overdue.

Occasionally you come to think there are connections that reach deeper than love — being the connection of souls in the most intimate of moments. Being your fingertips threading through blond curls, kissing at his lips clumsily—unlearned.

Right now, this hug. Nosing into the scent of his detergent, finding comfort in the place you were meant to be in, the arms you weren’t meant to be held in.

It had always been unlearned, but it was Chris, so you didn’t mind.

Oh, you loved it.

Loved him.

A bloody-nosed Jae could wait, because the last hour of Tangled needed to be watched, and the curl of his fingers in yours coaxed you along without a chance of stopping.

.

.

.

Senior year and soon to be graduates. Grown up, maybe just physically.

“Chris.”

The words are nearly inaudible, drapes of the canopy bed sole privacy to the man lingering above you, blond curls just as you remembered, eyes that same, heart-stopping chocolate hue.

Your hands find themselves reaching up, tentative to touch warm skin. Golden. 

Chris is always golden.

“Please hold me.”

And those arms that were always meant for you, lips kissing at your chin, pulls you into a rip current you had no intention of leaving.

Yours, his.

Messy, unlearned. Down to experience eventual problems.

But it was Chris, so you didn’t mind.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[kxsagi]

OUGHHHH MAY FIRST CAME 😈 at least here in Poland. You can ignore this if it’s something you don’t wanna write btw!!!

Can I request BL men that are already pro players, and they’re dating a reader that has chronic pain and uses mobility aids because of it? And the media is super weird ab it cause how dare a pro athlete date a disabled person. Maybe he comforts her because she stumbled upon a weird ass article or a hate comment idk.

Uhhh ness shidou bachira and whoever u want 🙇‍♀️ I love you and your writing I hope you have a good day!

SORRY if this is too specific. Shout out to my fellow disabled girlies 😔✊

“𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐝”

a/n: NOOO I LOVE THIS, I LOVE YOU AND YOUR COMMENTS AND I AM SO HAPPY I GET TO WRITE THIS FOR YOU

ft. ness alexis, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi

ness alexis

ness is literally the definition of a gentle boyfriend, so the moment he sees that one trashy gossip headline – “Pro Athlete Seen With Disabled Girlfriend: Fans Concerned?” – his jaw drops like someone just slapped him. 

“concerned for what?” he whispers like he’s in a horror movie. 

you find it first, though. you're just scrolling while curled up on the couch, using your heating pad, when you freeze mid-scroll and go, “hey, do you wanna see something funny, but soul-destroying?” 

ness peers at your phone and immediately climbs onto the couch to wrap himself around you like a human blanket. “do not let stupid people ruin your mood. you are my favorite person. also, what is this site even called? ‘goalz4gossip’? this looks like it was made by a 12-year-old with an ipad and rage issues.” 

he goes on a small rant in german under his breath and then kisses your forehead 400 times. 

“you’re literally the strongest person i know. the media can go date each other if they’re so pressed about us.” 

shidou ryusei

shidou finds a comment that says, “how is she even keeping up with a guy like him? she uses a cane 💀” and immediately screenshots it. 

not because he agrees, but because he wants to roast it on his private story. 

his post is just a screenshot with the caption: “buddy she keeps up with me just fine, she made me cry last week for stealing her fries. sit down.” 

shidou doesn’t sugarcoat stuff, but he’s aggressively supportive. like, if someone tries to come at you sideways in public, he’ll bark at them. 

literally bark. 

“you okay, babe?” he says when you look a little too quiet after seeing one of those backhanded articles. 

you shrug and say, “i’m fine,” but he doesn’t let it go. he walks over, squats in front of you, rests his chin on your lap and goes, “wanna egg their office building? or better yet, light it on fire and commit arson together?” 

instead of actually committing a felony, he picks you up bridal-style and plops you into bed. “you’re hot, you’re smarter than me, and you walk cooler than 99% of the population. who cares what some sweaty journalist thinks?” 

he also gets you custom accessories for your mobility aids with little flames or skulls ‘cause you’re metal like that. 

bachira meguru

bachira is completely unbothered by the hate. but super bothered when it makes you upset. 

like you’re sitting in the park one day and overhear someone whisper “is that her? the one with the crutches?” and he notices how you instinctively stiffen. 

he grabs your hand instantly, leans into your ear and whispers, “they’re just jealous you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.” 

always trying to turn the moment silly so you smile again. 

later, when you’re spiraling a bit in your room reading too many mean reddit comments, he flops beside you dramatically. 

“stop. too much screen. i’m gonna fart on your phone.” 

you shove him away laughing, but he tugs you close with a pout. 

“you know… they don’t get to have you. i do. and i think your pain doesn’t make you less, it just makes you stronger and cooler. like a character in an anime who gets up anyway, no matter what.” 

then he insists on decorating your mobility aids with googly eyes and doodle stickers cause “it’s armor now. i’m your sidekick. beep beep.” 

michael kaiser

he acts unbothered in public, but he absolutely loses it behind the scenes when he sees an article titled, “Can a Pro Like Kaiser Settle for Someone Like Her?” 

“settle for– oh okay. okay. no one tell my manager i’m about to commit slander with a side of defamation.” 

you find him aggressively typing in a notes app. “dear anonymous hater from 'SoccerDailyBuzz': how does it feel knowing you could never even get a date with her, much less someone who calls you ‘baby’ while making espresso at 6 AM?” 

turns his anger into sarcasm but also kisses your shoulder after every sentence to calm himself down. 

“i didn’t fall in love with your pain, but i fell in love with the way you live through it. your stubbornness, your fire, the way you still make fun of me even when you’re hurting. that’s what makes you beautiful, you know? wait, that sounds so cheesy.” 

he makes a point to show you off even more. red carpet? he’s holding your hand the whole way, mobility aid and all. interview? he’s saying “my girlfriend is the strongest person i know” before anyone even asks. 

he sees your worth so clearly. and he makes damn sure everyone else does, too. 

itoshi sae

sae’s already got a reputation for being cold and unbothered, so people are shocked when he’s openly soft around you. 

he doesn’t do PDA or gush about you on TV, but the way he always slows his pace to walk beside you, carries your bag without a word, and makes sure you’re seated comfortably before interviews, it’s noticed. and, of course, dissected. 

you show him a headline that says, “What’s Sae Itoshi Doing With Someone Who Can’t Even Keep Up?” 

and he reads it with a completely neutral expression, then tosses your phone face-down on the table and goes, “well, that’s funny. you seem to keep up just fine when you’re lecturing me at 2 AM about leaving the stove on.” 

you burst out laughing, but he looks at you with the tiniest furrow in his brow. “does it bother you?” he asks quietly. 

you admit it hurts a little. and he just nods, slides over, and presses his forehead to yours. 

“they don’t get to know you. they don’t see how hard you fight. how much you endure. they don’t see you the way i do. and that’s their loss.” 

next time you two are seen in public, he’s the one walking with your cane slung over his shoulder like a sword. the caption on the paparazzi pic reads: “new accessory or relationship statement?” yes. yes to both.

itoshi rin

rin already hates the media, so this gives him another reason to despise them. 

when someone tweets, “idk i just think it’s weird for a high-performing athlete to date someone who can’t even do sports,” he literally glares at your phone like it personally insulted him. 

“what the hell does that even mean. i can’t do ballet, but i’m not out here judging people who can.” 

he’s blunt, but he’s furious on your behalf. he’s also the type to go down the rabbit hole of comments and get angrier by the second. 

when you try to downplay it – “it’s fine, i’m used to it” – he looks at you like you just said gravity isn’t real. 

“don’t do that. don’t act like you have to take it just because people are cruel. they’re wrong.” 

then, more softly: “you’re… more than what your body lets you do. and i fell in love with you, not your physical stats.” 

rin shows his love by doing things for you. adjusting your seat. finding the best accessible routes. learning how to help without hovering. 

someone once asked him in an interview, “how does your girlfriend feel about not being able to travel as easily to your matches?” 

rin deadpans: “she’s the reason i win. so unless you’d like to speak directly to my motivation, maybe pick a better question next time.” 

isagi yoichi

isagi is the type who genuinely doesn’t understand how people can be so heartless. 

like he reads one awful comment and goes, “... do they think you’re not allowed to be loved?” with genuine confusion in his voice. 

he’s devastated that you saw it. “you shouldn’t have to read stuff like that. i promise i’ll protect you from it all.” 

you shrug and tell him you’re used to it, and he immediately goes into ‘motivational team captain’ mode. 

“you being used to it doesn’t mean you have to accept it. people suck. you’re brilliant, and funny, and beautiful, and strong in a way most people will never understand. and you don’t have to prove your worth to anyone.” 

he holds your hand tighter when you’re out in public. makes a habit of stopping to adjust your pace so you’re never rushed. 

also, he subtly drags anyone who says anything ableist during interviews. 

“a lot of people think strength is just about running or scoring goals, but i’ve learned from my partner that real strength is showing up every day, even when your body fights you. that’s the kind of strength i look up to.” 

cue the internet sobbing. cue you sobbing. cue him also sobbing because he made you cry and didn’t mean to. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[neeeooon]

OH MY DAYS i need a blue lock fic with the characters being with a s/o who easily gets jealous but won’t do anything about it, except maybe holding the characters hand or cling onto them and they think it’s the CUTEST THING EVER they just find you so cute with your lil pout and furrowed eyebrows, and the reader maybe glares at the person who is making them feel this uncomfortable feeling (jealousy and possessiveness) residing in them :0

characters: isagi, barou (my king pls i’d let him step on me), rin, sae, chigiri, and maybe kaiser or nagi? ><

ofc!! thank you for the request!

when they find your jealousy adorable

bf bllk x gn!reader. fluff

isagi yoichi

-> isagi’s practice was canceled and he promised to spend the day with you. until half of his team crashed your date

-> the worst part? isagi was excited to see them! you sat there, scanning bookshelves and holding your own growing pile of books, side-eying your man every few seconds to see if he’d offer to carry them for you

-> “coffee coffee,” kurona chanted, resulting in the others craving caffeine as well. when isagi turned to ask if you wanted to join them, he caught your jealous little pout and the dip between your brows and melted

-> “i’ll meet you guys in a little while. my girl/boy needs me!” you humphed and spun away when your boyfriend finally tried to pluck the books out of your arms. “i’m sorry, sweetheart. i should have been paying more attention, but you’re just so cute when you’re jealous.”

barou shoei

-> you can’t help your rising temper as people crowd around you and barou, chanting “king, king!” repeatedly as they try to get his attention

-> your grip tightened around his arm, pulling him with you to the car and locking the doors when you were in. “babe, i love you, but i hate your fans.”

-> barou smirked and admired your flushed and pouty face as you continued to stare out the blackened windows at the fans. the chants got quieter and quieter as he drove away, but they still irked you

-> “you look jealous.” you faced him, appalled. “jealous? me? of them?! yuck!” but your cheeks were red and barou picked your hand up to kiss the back of it as he drove. “it’s adorable.” “… i might be a little, tiny, small bit jealous…”

itoshi rin

-> “rin, hold me back.” “no.” “i’m about to beat her up! so either hold me back, or bail me out of jail.”

-> you were at a park when a food truck worker started hitting on your boyfriend, despite his obvious disinterest and your presence

-> sighing heavily, rin grabbed your hand and pulled you with him as he approached the car. usually he’d find the obsessive, incoherent mumbling of threats irritating, but coming from you? he found himself smiling at your creativity

-> “you don’t need to be jealous.” “i wasn’t..! well, she didn’t need to flirt so heavily while i was literally holding your hand!” rin pinched your cheek before starting the car. “cute.” “i’ll kill her!”

itoshi sae

-> your jaw dropped when you walk into your house to find your boyfriend and a man sitting at your table with dinner and wine. they greeted you casually, like you were the one intruding, as you slipped past to grab some water from the fridge

-> you spent the whole evening sulking in the living room until his friend finally left. “who was that?” “a friend from spain.” “hm.” ohh, you’re jealous. you’re envious. you’re searching re al’s social media for any mention of that guy and humphed when you found a photo of him and sae as young teens

-> “well, i’m sorry i interrupted your date.” you couldn’t see sae smiling at you as he explained, “it wasn’t a date. he’s in town for work.” “work that involves drinking our wine..” “important business.”

-> you flopped yourself across the couch as sae approached with a bottle. “i don’t want your reject wine.” “i was going to give it to him, but his wife is pregnant and can’t drink.” you blink. “why didn’t you lead with that?!” “cause you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

chigiri hyoma

-> chigiri is the type to stew in his jealousy until it goes away, but he found himself smiling when running into an old friend while out with you

-> you are not as conscious of your inner emotions, and chigiri had to bite back his grin as you fumed silently at his side, especially when his friend pushed chigiri’s shoulder when she laughed. “we should totally meet up again! i’ll see if anyone else is in town. bye, hyoma!”

-> after she left, chigiri burst into laughter at your little, mocking, “bye hyoma! i’m sick of her ass.”

-> you grumbled things about the encounter the rest of the day, and chigiri just smiled and chuckled through it all. “how are you so social?” “how are you so cute when you’re jealous?” “i’m not!”

michael kaiser

-> usually, kaiser's the one getting jealous, so when you were the one clinging to him through the crowd of fans, he couldn't help but be amused

-> “back off,” you seethed when a fan stepped a bit too close to your man, and you would have snapped your teeth if they didn’t scamper off after the first warning. kaiser grinned, completely invested in your bodyguarding

-> you managed to break through the fans, practically shielding kaiser with a hug you claimed wasn’t a hug. he poked one of your flushed cheeks and beamed when you frowned. “you’re adorable.”

-> “am not! i’m protecting you from those heathens!” “you’re jealous of my fans.” “nuh-uh!” “yes. it’s adorable.” “… i’m gonna kick you!”

nagi seishiro

-> getting jealous is a frequent thing when it comes to your oblivious boyfriend, and you constantly have to remind him of that

-> “sei?” “hm?” “you know they’re flirting with you, right?” you point at the online gaming chat, where some user he was playing with was calling him cute and asking for his number. nagi just blinked up at you. “but your name is in my bio.” “i don’t think they care.” “i put a heart, though..”

-> you pouted. “fine. do what you want. let them call you cute or whatever…” nagi can’t help but grin a little at your jealousy

-> when you turn your back to him, he rolls his chair over to you and wraps both arms around your middle, resting his forehead against your back. “cute. only you’re cute.” he gave you a small squeeze. “especially when you’re jealous..”

[sabos-husband]

Hi! was hoping for a request (this might get really specific) reader as a strawhat member who grew up with luffy (by extension also ace and sabo) back in foosha village, but actually used to be a slave for the celestial dragons before she arrived there, maybe never told luffy because in her mind, luffy was the epitome of freedom and she was ashamed of her past. The scenario I had in mind for the reveal was maybe in the middle of battle, her clothes gets torn and her mark is seen, maybe some strawhats have an idea of that mark is (maybe jinbei, robin and alike) while others don't (ussop? maybe?), while making the enemies ridicule her and how the strawhats react, but you can choose another scene that you think are more fitting! i just wanted to see how you'd write luffy because i love your writing style! the way you write flows perfectly and it's never out of character, you're my current fav writer on tumblr! so thank you!

★ Around the World

Reader and Monkey D. Luffy ★

Fishman Island Spoilers!! ~ Straw Hat!Reader ~ Feminine Reader (she/her) ~ Hurt/Comfort

a/n: Aww, that's so sweet of you! I appreciate that so much! Specific asks are wonderful, it makes it easier to write something as close as possible to what you want. Thank you for the request <3 I put the majority of this between Fishman Island and Punk Hazard, but there aren't major spoilers. Sorry this took a while!

As well, there's description of the reader's history with slavery and the trauma that came from that. I left it vague for the most part, though.

For so much of your life, Luffy's been a constant. Even when you ran around Gray Terminal with Sabo and Ace, terrorizing all the people you could find for all the money you could grab, Luffy wasn't far behind for most of it. It took the Bluejam Pirates torturing Luffy for hours before his loyalty dawned on the three of you.

It then took Bluejam setting fire to Gray Terminal for you to truly consider Luffy special.

When Sabo took to the sea, swallowed by flame, you held Luffy tight as he wailed. When Ace left for the sea, aided by nothing but a burlap sack on his shoulder and the wind in his sails, Luffy had promised he would follow. When Luffy left for the sea, you were there, standing by his side. His very own first mate, meant to weather the Grand Line by his side.

You hoped with all your heart it'd stay that way. You hoped that it was all he'd know about you—you, his first mate, with nothing else of her past beyond the Grey Terminal's walls and Foosha Village's people.

Of course, nothing you want ever comes so simply.

You can still remember the shrieks of laughter that burst from Luffy as you both clambered into barrels—it made sense that he would wind up into trouble on the sea, but the first day takes the cake!

Your life has been non-stop ever since. From the very moment you both step foot on Shells Town with Koby in tow, the crew grew and grew to numbers that made your pride in Luffy bloom.

Zoro was tough with a sword and reliable when you need him, but his difficulty with directions always made your head spin. Nami was quick with her hands and quicker with her mind, just like how she could never stand to let a Berri slip by. Usopp was sharp as a tack with his constant innovations and steady sharpshooting, even when he ran at ten knots an hour away from danger. Sanji was nothing short of a first-rate chef and one of the strongest men you knew, despite how often he lost himself in the wild pursuit of women.

Then there came the Grand Line. It brought Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook, Jinbei; thinking about the people Luffy drew to himself never failed to bring a smile to your lips. It's not like you could ever speak against them for their affection towards the captain—it's what brought you away from the safety of Foosha Village as well, skirting past the World Government you hated and feared for all your life.

It's like second nature, how much you love Luffy. Every single one of you would give anything for your captain.

"Anything" changes for you sometimes, though. Late into the night, long after the moon took its place in the sky, you wrestled with the dark. Could you keep this secret from your captain? From Luffy, the person you've known all your life?

(No, you'd remind yourself, not all your life.)

You think of the little boy you grew up alongside with, with a smile so bright you had to shield your eyes. The wind whipping his hair and threatening to carry away his straw hat as he lights up with laughter. You think of how your captain looks at you with the stars in his eyes, declaring that he will be the next King of the Pirates, and you believe him with all your heart.

Even after Ace died, his flames swallowed up in magma, you were there two years later. Luffy had gone through hell and back with you—couldn't that be enough?

It was thoughts like those that kept your secrets to yourself.

It was some foolish, childish part of you that thought you could have kept it up forever.

~

The day was as usual. It was nice, even. You had just finished helping Sanji with the groceries—to his chagrin, of course.

As much as he adores your company, he detests making such a sweet lady do manual labor for him, and he lets you know. Often. It was charming for the first while, but by the time you help Sanji put away the groceries, you're just glad it's over with.

The snack he rewards you after with, though, makes you sure that you'll help him next time. After he waves you off to begin lunch prep, you're quick to escape back to the docks.

You have some time to kill, you think. It's the last stretch until the log pose is finished setting and you've sort of lost track of the group... Thinking back, Zoro and Usopp got tied together, so you don't have to worry about searching for the poor swordsman. Nami stole Chopper to carry the clothes she was planning to get with Robin, while Brook and Franky were the ones assigned to watch the ship. That just leaves you with... Oh, seas.

There's a burst of screams that tear through the town's square, punctuated by a shriek of excited, almost maniacal laughter.

You're missing Luffy.

You're off like a shot towards the commotion before you can even think, weaving and pushing your way past the people. The crowd thickens as civilians shove past you. It's like swimming up river, but with every step you take, that familiar laughter gets closer.

When you finally burst from the mob, your feet catch on an unconscious marine. You stumble forward.

It's like breaking through a shield into a bubble—a ring of civilians gather to enclose Luffy as he's circled by marines, too duty-bound to flee but too cautious to fight.

Your captain hasn't put nearly as much thought into his approach. He barrels fists-first into the nearest hoard; the soldiers go flying like playing cards against a cannon. Sure it's charming, but he was supposed to be on board the Sunny, like, a hour ago.

So, Luffy deciding to gather the marines?

It sure isn't ideal.

Gathering your courage and tossing aside your exhaustion, you steel your nerves to storm the castle and extract your captain. And speak of the devil; Luffy whips his head around to stare at you.

"Oh! Hey!!" Luffy yells, with just a bit of manic glee. Great. You step forward—

—And a marine steps in your way. Really great.

As you fall into your fighting stance, you watch your captain dart from view. Well, whatever. You'll find him after you kick this guy's ass.

The marine wielded an odd weapon, like brass knuckles with claws soldered onto the palm. He hadn't bothered to clean the last victim's blood from it, and if the rust near the joints were to tell you anything, it was clear that he neglected to clean the blood of anyone from the weapon.

It feels like a warning.

It feels like a trophy.

Your captain rockets past him without a second thought (it's unlikely there was ever a first thought) to explode into another group of soldiers. It's like dynamite dropped in a haystack, the way navy officers go flying here and there.

The marine's eyes fall on you.

You can barely remember the fight afterwards, shamefully. You remember how it starts though.

He lunges at you with the speed of an animal, his clawed hands outstretched to sink into your flesh.

You dodge, he pivots, you aim to strike before he finds his footing—every move you make is to drive you closer to Luffy so you can cut and run.

Your mindlessness makes you sloppy. You don't even notice the way you're babying your secret, cradling it away from the fight. Of course that fucking marine notices.

Seas, you don't even know this marine's name, and yet he could still read you like a fucking book.

It's your last mistake.

When he slips to the side, too close for comfort, you jump back. His hand raises to tear out your eyes.

You raise your arms to guard, falling for the feint—the marine weaves past you, bearing his claws, and digs into your flesh.

It's over before you can even feel the pain.

You barely hold back a yell as you leap back, clutching your body. Warm blood trickles down the strike until it stained your clothes, sending panic shooting up your spine.

Like a curse from whatever gods left, that damn marine had struck you where you were weakest. There wasn't any time—by the time you whip around to clutch the wound, to hide your shame, it was too late.

"That pirate! She's... branded!"

A chorus of gasps tear through the crowd like a terrible symphony. You cling to the ribbons of your ruined attire like it could still save you.

Shadows claw at your vision as you struggle to breathe. Warm blood trickles down your limbs and your mark aches with a fresh, searing pain—it's grown with you, stretching over your skin in a reminder you can only try to forget.

You hear Robin gasp like she was struck herself. Oh seas, when did she arrive? You want to tuck yourself into a ball and hide from the prying eyes boring into your skin. You're sure she understands, if only because she shares your terror of who gave you this cross to bear, but it scares you. Somewhere, Usopp murmurs to her, "what is that?"

They know. They know.

The marine barks out in a fit of laughter, teeth bared and fingers curled around his claws. "What the hell is Straw Hat doing with government property?"

You think of Foosha Village, dodging your family and bathing in the river at night. You think of the clothes you had to give Makino back, too ridden by fear to wear them.

You think of your crew, sleeping soundly while you were working up the nerve to change your clothes in the dark. You think of Nami, with her skin graft and her new tattoo and the jealousy so strong you choke on it every time you see it. You think of how no one knows what was before that pinwheel tattoo except for the people she wants to know.

You think of your captain. You think of Luffy.

Oh seas, Luffy.

Tears cloud your eyes as you struggle to breathe. When you turn to your captain, you can barely see him—your vision swims, revealing splotches of color you'd recognize anywhere.

His haki rolls off in waves, so suffocating you can taste his rage on the back of your tongue. You see soldiers buckle and civilians collapse.

Your words escape before you can even think.

"Luffy, help...!"

A fist rockets past you. The sound of crunching bone hits you as air whips your cheeks. A mangled yell of pain is the last thing you hear from the marine.

"She doesn't," your captain growls, "belong to anybody."

~

You're brought into the medbay as soon as the Sunny left the docks. The silence is suffocating. You could barely look at Chopper as you shed your clothes, letting it slip until your shame was bare.

If you could guess, you'd bet it was nothing but professional courtesy that's keeping Chopper from reacting. That fucking mark takes up almost the entirety of the flesh, like a wound that can never heal.

The young doctor is kind when he cleans the blood. His touch hovers above your laceration when you hiss and tense. He's patient too, only continuing his work when you allow him to.

You hate this. Seas, you fucking hate this. You slump forward when Chopper continues his work.

You both pretend to not notice the tears that fall.

When he backs away, wound cleaned and bandaged, you don't turn to look him in the eye. You just turn your head and nod at Chopper.

The doctor straightens up like he always does after he works, but there's a new nervousness to him. His hooves are pressed together, like he's trying to quell the shaking. It makes you grit your teeth.

"The wound isn't bad," he says quickly, "but you'll need to rest. As for t-the rest, I couldn't..."

You nod. "Thanks, Chopper. You don't have to worry about... that. You're the best."

You watch the tension evaporate as he grins at you, leaning side to side. "That doesn't make me happy, you bastard!" He giggles, spinning. He sways a bit longer before he tamps it down, clearing his throat.

"But," he says clearly, "you can talk about it—"

"—Chopper—" you try to say.

"—Listen! It's important!" Chopper stands straighter like it'll give him the confidence his next words demand. "I-If you don't want to talk about it to me, it's okay. But... you should talk to someone. Nami, or Robin, or maybe- maybe if we call Jinbei, he would understand—"

"Chopper," you cut through. It hurts your heart to see the young doctor wilt. "It's okay. Thank you, but I'm alright."

"Okay... But- consider it? Please?"

You look away. "I will," you murmur.

Even though you don't see his face, you know Chopper knows you're lying. You know he won't push you farther, though. He hops down off his stool, shucks off his doctor's coat, and offers you the spare clothes Nami had lent you. She was kind enough to waive the fee this time too. You can't find it in you to appreciate it.

Chopper turns away as you get dressed again, which makes you smile. It makes you feel like you have some control again.

(You can't help but study your bandages. They're wrapped snug around you, but the edges of the brand sticks out like a hand print seared into your skin. You can still see the three pointed claws under the stark white of gauze.

It's the first time in a while you've really observed it. Every other time you forced yourself to look, all you could see was the red-hot brand and the wicked smiles of the demons who held it.

It's just as ugly as you remember.

You wish you had killed that marine, even if it wouldn't have changed anything.)

When you finish getting dressed, you signal to Chopper. He turns around, offers you a smile too bittersweet for someone of his youth, and reaches for the door.

"Oh, Luffy," Chopper comments idly. You can't stop how you flinch at the sound of his name.

You were dreading seeing him. It makes you want to cry again; how long has it been since you've dreaded being near Luffy?

The ringing in your ears swallow up the gentle words Chopper offers. Your bandages crush your ribs as you try to breathe—there isn't enough air, like that fucking marine took it all when he- when he—

The hands on your face smell like sun-warmed rubber. It's hard to say they're cradling your face, when Luffy just smacked his palms against your cheeks and squished them together until you were looking at him. When you blink, he blinks back at you.

"Are you there?" Luffy asks simply.

"Um, y-yes Captain," you force out. He nods thoughtfully.

Though, Captain isn't the right moniker. You aren't talking to isn't Captain Monkey D. Luffy, world-renowned Worst Generation pirate, capable of toppling kingdoms and challenging the World Government, feared by the powerful and adored by the powerless.

No, the boy in front of you is simply Luffy. The Luffy you've cherished since you were small, with a smile so bright and a heart so full—for all your life, you've never known how you got so lucky to have him.

Luffy pushes you to sit before he flops down next to you, bobbing with the mattress springing under his weight. You avoid his eye.

"You have something," Luffy states simply. It isn't a question, nor an accusation. It makes you flinch regardless—through all your tears, you can barely see the way your hands ball into fists in your lap.

He waits until you can find your words once again. It's kinder than you deserve.

"D-Do you- want to see it?"

"I don't care." Luffy just sort of... tilts his head at you. "I want to see you."

It's such a simple sentiment. It makes you feel like you've swallowed a thousand blades.

"I'm-... I didn't- I'm sorry, Luffy," you force out. The nails you dig into the stark white gauze don't put any pressure into the skin below it. Luffy frowns anyways.

"You can't apologize," he states simply. "You don't have to."

"But I- I lied—"

"It's okay." Luffy kicks his feet out. "I know you. I don't care about the rest."

All your words slip from your mind. If Luffy minds the silence, he doesn't show it.

Shame floods your chest. All these years hiding your past, unraveled just like that. You stare at your lap.

"They," you admit softly, "had me for so long. I- I never thought I'd be free."

He doesn't respond. You don't need him to—the words rush out before you can think. You stare into your open hands.

"W-When I escaped, I promised myself something. I said, they'll never control me ever again. But- I just... I've always been so scared! It's like- It's like I never even left—"

"Sabo is dead," Luffy says suddenly. "Ace is dead."

When Luffy looks forward, it isn't at Chopper's desk. It isn't at the medicine scattered along its surface, nor is it the kit the doctor had used to patch up your wounds. No—Luffy's gaze pierces farther, looking past the desk and the ship and the sea.

When Luffy looks forward, it's into the fire he left behind.

"But you aren't. You escaped. You're here with me."

Even without words, you understand. You can see the fire, too. "I am."

"You're not theirs anymore. You're mine," Luffy says just as suddenly, "but you aren't mine."

You don't respond. You wouldn't know how even if you tried.

Luffy turns to you with the same inferno that swallowed up your shared home. "You're my crew. You're my first mate. But I don't own you. No one does. That brand doesn't mean anything."

Before you can gather your thoughts, you feel Luffy's hand press his straw hat into your lap. It feels as warm as the sun he had been standing in just moments before. Luffy grabs at your hands to wrap them around its brim.

"You don't belong to anybody."

You could cry.

Luffy shakes your shared hold. "Say it."

"I-I..." You sniffle, "I don't..."

Luffy's eyes don't look away from you. They aren't mean, nor are they worried—they're fierce, just as sure of your power as they were the day he met you.

"I don't," you say finally, "belong to anybody."

When you collapse into his arms, shaking with every sob that wracks through your body, there is no shame when his hands brush over your mark. All you feel is warmth as he pulls you tighter.

You're not property. You're free.

You're a pirate—and no one is freer than a pirate.

[noirscript]

Where the Ivy Grows

Pairing: Yandere!Tutor x Childhood Friend!Reader Description: You built a quiet life in his absence—but Seraphim D’Aronn has returned, and he’s come to collect what was always his. Warning/s: Yandere | Emotional Manipulation | Power Imbalance | Implied Coercion | Gaslighting | Possessive Behavior | Contractual Relationship Note/s: Enjoy this Clerivan Pellet-inspired character. This man... god... um, hehe. Oh, Dark Roast v2 is up on my ko-fi and you can get it half the price by clicking the link below. ^^ Commissions are also open to those interested.

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar | Dark Roast v2

You never heard the carriage wheels.

The town was too quiet for that, muffled under the thick blanket of summer heat and your own routine of pretending you weren’t waiting for something to go wrong.

You’re out back, hanging washed linens on the line, sleeves rolled past your elbows, neck damp with sweat, when the first shadow falls across the hem of a sheet fluttering in the breeze. You freeze, peg suspended in your fingers. You don’t need to look. You know who it is.

You feel it in the silence.

“…You’re early.”

Your voice is calm, but there’s a tremor. You hate it. You’ve had three years to learn how to hide that—ever since you signed what you thought was a generous marriage contract, eyes tired and stomach hollow from grief and debt. Three years to convince yourself it wasn’t entrapment, just kindness delivered with a bit too much pressure.

But Seraphim D’Aronn is never early.

He’s exactly on time. Always.

You turn slowly, shielding your eyes against the sun, and there he is—taller than memory allows, a quiet monument in cream linen, silver-trimmed coat hanging over one arm. His hair is longer than before, nearly brushing his waist, gathered at the nape with a deep blue ribbon. Not a strand out of place. His sapphire eyes are unreadable behind the glint of thin-rimmed spectacles.

He smiles.

“I missed you.”

It’s not a lie. But it’s not love either.

At least, not the kind you want.

You swallow. “You said you wouldn’t be back until winter.”

“I had a change of heart.”

Of course he did.

The children of the Eldermont Duchy must be fully grown now. Old enough not to need their calm, intelligent tutor with the kind smile and frighteningly precise memory. And Seraphim… Seraphim keeps his promises, but only the ones he chooses to keep.

You step aside instinctively as he moves closer, hands clasped behind his back like he’s afraid to touch you too soon. He’s always done that—delayed gratification in its most polite, invasive form. Never force, never cruelty. Just control.

The only thing he ever wanted more than your love was your obedience.

“I brought something.” He nods toward the house. “Where should I set the luggage?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you retreat into the house. You tell yourself it’s for the tea.

• • — ✦ — • •

The kitchen feels smaller with him in it. He moves like a ghost—quiet, careful, but always there. Always watching. His eyes linger on your back a bit too long as you fill the kettle. You pretend not to notice. Pretend you don’t feel like a bird locking itself back into a gilded cage.

“Did you get the letters I sent?” His voice is mild.

“I did.”

“You didn’t reply.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

A beat of silence.

“I missed you.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ll keep saying it,” he murmurs. “Until you believe me.”

You set the cups down harder than intended.

Seraphim doesn’t flinch.

Instead, he steps closer, his gaze lowered, expression soft. “You’ve done well here. The garden looks lovely. And the ivy—you’ve been trimming it back yourself, haven’t you?”

You nod, unsure whether to feel proud or wary. He’s praising your efforts, the life you’ve built in his absence. But you don’t trust praise from a man who once convinced you that a signature was just a formality.

He leans against the counter beside you, close enough for his shoulder to almost brush yours. His scent is familiar—books, bergamot, and the faint metallic note of ink. It clings to him like memory.

“You look tired,” he murmurs. “Have you been sleeping poorly?”

“No more than usual.”

“I could help,” he offers. “The tincture I gave you last spring—”

“I stopped taking it.”

That finally earns a visible reaction.

His lips press together, thin with disappointment, but he doesn’t argue. He never argues. Not when it matters.

“I see,” he says quietly, adjusting his glasses.

You serve the tea in silence.

• • — ✦ — • •

That night, he didn’t ask to share your bed. He merely occupies it.

You find him already seated on the edge when you return from brushing your hair, unbuttoning his shirt with slow, practiced fingers. The golden strands fall like liquid light down his back as he sets his glasses on the nightstand.

He speaks without looking up.

“I’ve requested that the Eldermont Duchy forward the remainder of my holdings to this estate. I will no longer be returning to the Capital.”

Your heart stutters.

“Seraphim—”

“I’m not asking for permission.”

Of course he isn’t.

You feel the words rising in your throat, the old ones—I never wanted this, you tricked me, you said I could leave—but you’ve said them before. Quietly, uselessly. They always slip past him like smoke. He never denies them. He just… reminds you.

“You signed a lifetime clause,” he says softly, as if reading your thoughts. “Nullification only occurs in death.”

You sit down heavily at the foot of the bed.

“You always leave that part out.”

His voice warms, almost gentle. “Because I don’t plan to die.”

You shiver.

He moves closer, lifting the blanket with a reverent touch. The mattress dips as he settles beside you. For a long moment, neither of you speak. His hand hovers inches from yorus, close enough for the heat to leach into your skin. But he doesn’t touch you. Not yet.

“I remember the day you smiled at me for the first time,” he says softly. “We were children. I’d fallen in the river trying to catch that stupid dragonfly. You pulled me out. I cried.”

You stare at your knees.

“You were just a boy.”

“I’m still that boy,” he whispers. “But now I can protect you.”

You close your eyes.

“From what, Seraphim?”

He doesn’t answer.

Because the answer is everything. Including yourself.

• • — ✦ — • •

The days stretch slowly.

He doesn’t try to cage you physically. You still go to the market. Still tend the garden. Still breathe air that feels free. But his presence coils through the house like ivy—unassuming, patient, inescapable. He renovates the library, expands the study, commissions furniture with your initials carved into the wood.

A matching desk.

Matching chairs.

Matching tea cups.

“I thought we could use more symmetry,” he explains, setting the pair of porcelain cups onto the shelf. His expression is serene. “Married life should reflect harmony.”

You say nothing.

He never forces you to speak.

But you wonder if that’s worse.

Because silence lets your mind slip into dangerous things. It lets you notice the quiet click of the study’s lock when he’s inside. Lets you realize the ledger drawer is always locked. Lets you catch the glint of obsidian wax on sealed envelopes addressed to names you don’t recognize.

One morning, you reach for his coat by the doorway—and find a letter tucked into the break pocket.

The seal is broken.

The handwriting isn’t his.

You only have seconds. You skin. Seraphim, your return is noted. The children ask after you still. Have you truly no interest in the family’s daughter? You could’ve had her, you know. The Duchess was prepared to endorse you.

You feel ill.

A rustle behind you.

You turn too fast, nearly dropping the letter.

He’s there, quiet as snow, holding two steaming cups of tea.

“I thought we might read together today,” he says calmly.

You place the letter back without meeting his gaze.

• • — ✦ — • •

But summer’s end, he’s teaching again.

Not children. Just you.

He fills the shelves with books—history, finance, alchemy, etiquette. At first, you resist. Then relent. Then find yourself waking to find him already preparing ink and parchment before you’ve even yawned.

“Your mind is sharp,” he says one day, during a break. “Wasted on manual labor and petty errands. I’ll never forgive them for stifling you.”

“Who?”

“Everyone who didn’t see your worth.”

You look away.

He reaches over, brushing a curl behind your ear. “Including yourself.”

You don’t recoil.

That’s the worst part.

Because something—sometimes—when he smiles like that, when his voice dips into something painfully tender, you feel something like safety.

And you hate yourself for it.

• • — ✦ — • •

That winter, snow blankets the fields. Seraphim starts reading aloud by the fire. His voice is smooth, musical. You wonder how the heirs of the Eldermont Duchy ever let him go. You wonder what kind of man turns his back on nobility for a locked house in a backwater town.

You ask him once—only once—why he left.

He closes the book slowly, looks at you over his glasses.

“I had everything there. Position. Wealth. Power.” He sets the book down, fingers lingering on the leather spine. “But not you.”

You want to scream.

But you don’t.

Because there is something terrifying in the way he says your name afterward. Not loud. Not desperate. Just… final.

• • — ✦ — • •

He touches you more often now. Brief, polite gestures—hand on your lower back, fingers brushing yours while you shell peas, palm cupping your cheek when you nod off in the study. It feels natural. Like a husband should. Like love should.

But it isn’t.

It’s possession wrapped in silk.

And still, you endure.

You wonder what’s worse—his touch or the absence of it.

You wonder how many others he’s ensnared with words like sugar.

You wonder if he would ever let you go.

You know the answer.

• • — ✦ — • •

One night, unable to sleep, you find him in the study again.

He’s writing letters, glasses low on his nose, ink pooling in the curve of his wrist as he writes line after elegant line. His expression is soft. Focused. He doesn’t hear you at first.

Then he does.

And he smiles.

“My darling,” he says, standing. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head.

He opens his arms, and like the fool you’ve become, you walk into them.

He holds you, careful and still.

Then he whispers against your temple:

“You were always going to be mine. Even if it took a lifetime.”

You feel the contract in your bones then—not paper, not ink. But steel.

You wonder if, in another life, you would’ve loved him freely.

You wonder if he would’ve waited.

But you know this isn’t that life.

And Seraphim D’Aronn doesn’t wait.

He decides.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[sirenscradle]

Siren’s ATEEZ Fic recs!

hi friends! as ateez is my ult group and reading fanfiction is my comfort hobby, i wanted to share some recommendations because there’s so many talented writers here on this platform. it’ll be nearly impossible to list every single one i’ve come across but these are what i’ve gathered recently thus far! a lot of what i’ve been coming across are seonghwa, wooyoung, and yunho fics, so this is mostly a collection for these members by coincidence. there’s also a san rec in here! hehe

starting off strong, we have @faerouzia with their newly released dark fantasy, third age au seonghwa fic. the author’s provided playlists, moodboards, and really went above and beyond in cultivating a world i could feel palpably. this fic is severely underrated and i definitely encourage people to go an read it, especially if you’re a dark fantasy geek like me. here’s the fic link to Kingdom: At Grim’s End. the series is also listed as 21+ so please be mindful and MDNI.

next, we have a wooyoung hurt/comfort oneshot by @hjsmermaid. despite it being a shorter passage, it’s so well written that it honestly provided it so much meaning. i cried while reading because it reminded me of what love felt like when i was 17, and it was such a moving piece. i believe this fic doesn’t have any age warnings and there’s nothing for minor’s to be wary of reading other than mentions of smoking nicotine/cigarettes! it’s based on troye sivans song, strawberries and cigarettes which i also loved so much. here’s the link to the fic.

@captain-joongz fic deserve you is a seonghwa fic that also has a sequel, wonderful nothing. this was an unquestionably SEXY read. i’m a sucker for fics/stories with darker themes but do take note of the warnings before reading. seonghwa in this role is the reader’s brother-in-law… i was salivating. 18+ fic, so this one isn’t for you minors~

@armpirate like we were had me sitting in a dark room contemplating every love i’ve known in my personal life. it’s moving, heart wrenching, and stained with uncomfortable yearning. san was written as a character i could see as a genuine representation of a man who despite his flaws and misdeeds is the one who got away. this author also has many other fics on this platform i think people should check out! (18+)

@kitten4sannie is a staple for ATEEZ fics on tumblr. they’ve released a new fic, new light that’s a super spicy read based on an aged up!yunho who’s also the readers next door neighbor. i loved every second of reading it after work, because reading absolutely NASTY smut is the equivalent of having a cigarette as a treat. (for me at least, please don’t smoke y’all.) (as you’ve probably gathered, this is an 18+ piece!)

I’ve been O B S E S S E D with @peacheeeliz wooyoung smau, casual. now it’s never a safe bet to assume anything about an idol and their private life but i can definitely imagine wooyoung having commitment issues irl lol this take on it tickles me in all of the right ways and i always enjoy seeing the author’s update notifications (18+ series!)

@matzrionette has written an extremely dark circus au, master of puppets. i believe this is the remastered addition and it’s plot is something i haven’t seen anywhere else. it’s well written and is a seonghwa/yunho/reader fic! love seeing a double pairing, esp a seonghwa/yunho one. please be sure to read the series warnings, as this is a dark fic, but for those that enjoy darker and intricate plots—this is for you and it definitely was for me. (18+!)

heat of the night, by @onlyforwoosan is a seonghwa racer au… y’all this takes car sex to another level in the most delicious ways possible. there’s something about a semi-rugged man who doesn’t hesitate to protect the woman he loves but is also absolutely nasty and drives fast cars. (i hate car guys irl but not online from a distance so this is perfect for me. match made in heaven!

that’s it for now! i’ll start posting fic recs here and there. i’m also doing major blog housekeeping so i can arrange it to be a lot easier to navigate for any visitors! ٩(^‿^)۶ i’ll probably arrange it by tags so that people could find designated posts a lot easier via the search bar and my cleaning should be done by the end of this week. (hopefully)

here’s a link to my masterlist!

i’ve also released three new fics all ranging in theme from art apprentice au’s, ancient vampire x poker player au’s, and a stupid-but-gifted friend group, religious horror fic about exorcists lol. if that’s ur thing pls check it out, like, and reblog! <3 (all of my series are 18+ only, since i chronically write smut. i’m so sorry to my babies.)

for the thrill of the hunt is an ancient vampire seonghwa x ancient vampire reader x prey/poker player wooyoung fic! it’s a smut comedy with some fantasy undertones and backstories in knighthood lol. it’s also a short series, with plans of having special one shots based within the same universe.

fatal attraction is a art apprentice seonghwa x muse! reader x mentor! yeosang fic. it’s a complicated accidental love triangle spanning the timeline of a decade. this is 18+ and a two part series.

my newest fic, devil’s catch has been one of my favorites to write thus far. it’s literally my baby. it’s an ot8 x reader with a major focus on the hongjoong x reader pairing about a group of special grade exorcists trying to fight against the impending doom of the apocalypse. relationships get complicated and it’s going to be a packed, dark plot. this will be a longer series with a plan of at least 10+ chapters, but hopefully not 20 lol.

until next time friends!

[for-a-longlongtime]

You Can't Chase Away The Queers & Gays & They's

aka: have your little delulu fantasies but don't you dare be a homophobic/queerphobic cunt about it.

I'm so fucking serious right now.

A certain amount of people are being absolutely psychotically ridiculous right now over that Pedro poem published in the project by Mustafa (the poem isn't new, he had this on his blog in the early 2010s, btw). Within hours, people are yelling in public comments tHiS pROveS hE iS iNTo pUsSY + hEArTbRoKEn ovEr a wOmAN, PLUS sending anons to me and other queers saying 'this poem proves he's not gay!', 'stop writing f***** shit about him now!', further speculating, wanting receipts whether he ever talked about specific genders, etc.

You're losing the plot. STOP IT.

I'm not even gonna go into how appalled Pedro would be to know there's literally a Straight Crusade group that has been scouting socials since forever just to post fake stories. No, my concern is about all the queers, gays, and they's (the LGBTQIAS2+ community) among us fans -- especially the young ones, who are seeing all that anti-queerness and homophobia happening. It's 2025 and in so many countries queer rights are under attack, queer youths are suicidal at much higher rates than straight kids, and it still happens every fucking day that queers coming out means they're losing family, friends, jobs, housing, custody of kids, etcetc.

Let me clarify: I don't give a shit about Pedro's sexuality or who he sleeps with/dates. I’m not the person you’re gonna want to ask about any of that. Do I as a queer feel (and a lot of others with me) like he's been doing plenty of queer signalling through the years? Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's gospel/fact, and I'm sure as hell not trying to prove it or convince other people.

What IS a fuckin' problem though is when people and blogs are whipping up other fans into a literal frenzy, making them think that they need to 'defend' P or prove he's not gay. Sure, disect the poem and whatever else, knock yourself out, but do not send other people - especially not queers - plain ass hate about it, just because you want to impose your POV on them. Because you are harming people by making them feel like it's not okay to be queer/gay, and you're using Pedro as a means to do so. That's fucked up.

I'm not here to police anyone, but I'm telling y'all to have some common sense if this is something that you have either inadvertently or deliberately been doing. This is exactly why there are so few gay and queer male fans active in this fandom, because they see how much negativity there is at and how obsessive the compulsory heterosexuality is in some corners of the fandom. This is exactly why queer and trans folks feel unsafe to reach out and get to know other fans. This is why a lot of writers (queer and straight) often feel reluctant to write mlm/gay fanfic (be it P Boy x male reader/male OC, or P Boy x P Boy, or P Boy x canon character). This is why new queer/gay fans feel hesitant to put out work with queer representation, because they're afraid of negative comments or anons. And that SUCKS, because they want to tell their stories as much as other writers do, but it's damn hard when you look at the queer/homophobia that has been on the rise in this fandom as well as in society.

Is your ability to like his work, to like him as an actor, or even just as a person who does a lot of good stuff for marginalized communities, actually DEPENDENT on his (perceived) sexual orientation? On who he sleeps with or dates/has dated? To the point that you feel like you need to 'defend' him or prove things to other people? Because, first of all, in case nobody told you and it didn't occur to ya: he's not gonna fuck YOU. Second of all: wow. Get it together.

Finally, I can't believe I need to make this point, but: just because you don't like queers, doesn't mean they're gonna go away. Why are you reading my blog or Erin's or anyone else's tumblr that's clearly about queer stuff (we actually do indicate that already in our bio/pinned posts, you know) if you don't like it? WHY are you reading gay fanfic (which is about Pedro characters, not even RPF/Real Person Fiction, and YES - that is a very big difference) if it makes you angry? Most of all, why do you feel like it's okay to act like a fuckin asshole?

Stop reading things you don't like. Block people you don't like. Dislike stuff all you want, but just don't be a homophobic piece of shit about it.

Also, go read Erin's post right here.

[iamasaddie]

hey hi hello a little PSA

if you don’t like fics with age gap, if you feel repulsed by them, if you feel disgusted, if you hate them and shade the writers who write them, if you don’t feel seen in them, if for any reason they make your day worse - just simply please please do not engage with my stuff at any capacity. Not all of my fics are explicitly age gap, but a lot of them are, and the ones that are not most likely have it implied because I am a 27-year-old woman with daddy issues that finds old men hot. And yes, I am one of those people who finds the fact that they are older hot. No, I do not want to go to a therapist about it because it is not a problem for me. My free fics are for me first and foremost, and then they are for everyone else who shares my views and my kinks, and who appreciates what I do and how I do it.

Once again, I’m 27 years old and I am going to read and write fics about PP characters being involved with a mid 20s-early 30s girly, because those “readers” represent me at least in age range. When I’m 35 if I still write fics, I’m going to write about 35-year-olds that date 60-year-old Joel. And when I’m 45, if I’m still alive, guess what I’m going to do? Write about 45-year-olds who date 60yo Joel (it’s still gonna be age gap bruh idc). So unless you wanna build a time machine and jump to the time when I’m older, please stop shitting on work that brings me joy. Find an author who writes things that you like, or pay someone todo it, or write it yourself like I did when I couldn’t find fics that made me tingle.

If I see you shitting on age gap fics, or supporting the shitting on authors, you’re not my people and tbh most likely you’re blocked so you won’t even see this message.

Anyways, this was way longer than I intended.

age gap fics are hot give me your faves in the comments or reblogs 🩷

[endofthelinegang]

“how don’t you know the difference between your left and right?” with Walker please, where reader and him have a sibling dynamic (both in the Thunderbolts, I love this team so much. Now I think I understand how fans felt about the Avengers, which I wasn’t into the MCU at the time)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ john walker x fem! platonic! reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ the f word

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ wait stop because even if you fucking hate john walker this is funny shit. (2.1k words)

The mission brief was simple.

Sneak in. Secure the drive. Sneak out.

It was a three-step process, like a microwave meal or an Instagram tutorial on microwave desserts, and somehow—somehow—you were still managing to screw it up by step two.

“Left,” John growled through your comms. “Take a left at the fork.”

Naturally, you put up your fingers but then quickly decided that would get you bullied so you took a guess and ended up going right.

“...That’s your other left,” came the follow-up, clipped and already filled with the bitter disappointment of a man who knows better than to expect anything else from you.

You stopped mid-step. The hallway lights overhead were flickering dramatically—broken bulbs, unstable wiring—and in any other context, this might’ve been a suspenseful moment. Tactical. High-stakes. Because it was clear whatever danger was dangering had just been through here or was still right in that general area.

Instead, you blinked. “There’s no such thing as ‘other left.’” you scoffed and stood rolling your eyes. 

“Yes there is,” John hissed. “It’s called right.” The mission had only started moments ago and he was ready to come down there and shoot you himself.

You tilted your head, hand on your hip. “That’s a label society assigned. Much like gender and sporks. Though the idea of a spork is a lot more useful than the other labels, it’s a really fun word to say too.” Before you could repeat the word spork and somehow mindlessly start walking down the trail that screamed danger John made a comment,

“God, I knew I should’ve left you in the van.” 

“Joke’s on you,” you replied cheerfully. “I hotwired the van. You couldn’t leave me even if you wanted to.” There was a reason he kept you around, all of your illegal knowledge that you felt overly confident doing and sharing. In fact you would even show John Tiktoks and Reels of all the people your age putting it all over their public social media platforms. To which he was not surprised that half of the New York population happened to be these people.

A pause. A deep, deep inhale on his end.

And then, voice flat: “Turn. The hell. Around.” You sighed dramatically, like this was somehow his fault, and began rotating yourself in slow, half-conscious steps like a Sims character that couldn’t find a free tile.

And, because you knew it would drive him completely feral, you whispered into the mic: “...Which one’s left again?” You smiled at yourself turning back around and jogging out of the area he specifically kept telling you to get out of and stay out of.

You could feel the eye twitch through the comms. 

“Left is the side with your watch on it,” John said, enunciating each word like you were a foreign dignitary he hated but had to be polite to. “The same watch you said made you ‘feel like a spy, but slutty.’ Remember that?”

“I do. I also stand by that.” As much as he pretended to ignore you all the time he did recall everything you said. In all fairness the watch was completely blacked out with a leather band. 

“Great. So use your slutty spy watch to figure out which direction to go before I come down there and push you out a window.” John would’ve said something more violent but that would have started an actual argument. 

You gasped. “You said you weren’t gonna use your military strength on me!” You continued to walk back where you had started, you also realized John was kind of a total dumbass because there was like one window and it had bars over it. 

“I lied.” And with that, you finally—finally—pivoted the correct direction and continued down the left hallway like a reluctant Sims character with one trait point in Navigation and zero in Listening.

—

You met up with him two corridors later. You were lightly jogging, in fact almost skipping, and you might be wondering where this good mood was coming from. Nothing was better than a mission with just John because at the end of the day you could save your own ass you did not need him there. But messing with him, yeah, you needed that.  He was already standing by the server room door, arms crossed, jaw tight, the image of Grumpy Soldier Barbie—but in your defense, he looked like that all the time.

“You’re late,” he sassed looking you up and down. 

You rolled your eyes. “Relax. I was out here doing recon.”

“You got lost.” He whisper-yelled, not appreciating the very idea that you thought anything you had done was recon.

“Reconnaissance of the floor plan,” you said smoothly, brushing past him with your hand on the panel. “Maybe if your directions were better—”

“They were good directions. They were literally left. That’s it. That’s not even complicated. It’s not like I said ‘head northwest by the air shaft and look for the door with the red laser grid.’” He repeated real instructions from a previous mission he had gone on with Yelena. Instructions she also chose to ignore. 

“That sounds kinda fun actually.” You had no idea what he was talking about. 

“You are not allowed to speak anymore.”

He had the two of you on the move. The server room opened with a quiet click. You ducked in, he followed close behind, and for about thirty blessed seconds, things were normal. Professional. Efficient. Until you spotted the wires. John of course had you closest to the wires so that if you pulled the wrong one it would be your fuck up and not his. 

“Uhhh…” you said, hands hovering over the motherboard. “Which cord do I pull?” The board was a mess, yes there was green but all of the wires were so small.

John looked up from the small device he was planting in the far corner. “Green.”

You stared at the wires even closer, there were three different greens. There were different shades of every color and all of the greens were super far apart from each other which meant that they all probably did different things. 

“...Green which?” you asked, hands hovering over top of the crazy mess in front of you.

He looked over. Blinked. And then, with the slow patience of a father of four who just caught one of his kids trying to microwave foil, he moved you over, pointed directly at the correct green wire, and said—

“This green. Right here. Not seafoam. Not olive. Green.”

You nodded solemnly. “Got it.”

And then, because apparently you were put on this earth to test his willpower, you reached for the wrong one. Not slowly either you grabbed that motherfucker like you were really going to pull it up and out. 

“Nope!” he barked, grabbing your wrist before you could trigger an accidental building-wide meltdown. “Do you have some kind of death wish, or are you just genetically incapable of behaving?”

“I don’t respond well to being micromanaged,” you sniffed and pouted. He gave you the look—that devastating combo of older-brother exhaustion and someone who once had dreams before you happened to him.

“You know,” he said, voice low and tight, “I’ve had missions go off the rails before. I’ve had teammates flake. I’ve had intel turn out bad. But nothing—nothing—has ever compared to trying to get you to do something simple.”

You tilted your head sweetly. “That’s just because you’re not used to working with people as unique as me.” You held his hands and swung them back and forth before getting up as he watched you in plain horror. 

“Unique,” he repeated, dead-eyed. “Is that what we’re calling this now?”

You grinned. “You love me.” 

“I’d trade you for a ham sandwich.” He scoffed and started walking away from you to which you got right behind him and yelled in his ear, 

“A ham sandwich?” you repeated, mock-offended. “That’s so basic. At least make it like… a fancy club sandwich or something.”

He gave a long sigh, eyes skyward like he was praying for strength. “Do the job, dumbass.”

—

The escape route—because of course—was also somehow your fault. It started fine. Quiet hallway, clear egress, no hostiles in sight. The corridors were low-lit, industrial concrete with buzzing fluorescent lights overhead and peeling paint on the corners. You could hear the hum of distant generators, the faint tick of your watch, and the crunch of your boots on loose debris.

John’s plan had been tight. Simple extraction. The van was parked in an alley on the north side, GPS-tracked and synced to the route in your earpiece. Cameras had been looped, alarms temporarily frozen, and all you had to do—all you had to do—was follow him and not get distracted.

Until you stopped at the final turn and muttered, “Wait, I thought the exit was that way,” and pointed the wrong direction again.

He didn’t even look. He just kept walking. “Don’t you start.”

“No, but I really thought it was—”

“Left. I said left again. For the third time.”

“And again, I ask: my left, or yours?”

“HOW IS THAT A REAL QUESTION.”

“BECAUSE I’M WALKING BEHIND YOU. PERSPECTIVES CHANGE.”

He whipped around to face you mid-step, face flushed, hair slightly mussed, entire being radiating the energy of a babysitter who was about ten seconds from calling your mom.

“I’m going to ask you one time,” he said, slowly. “And I want you to really think about this before you answer.”

You saluted. “Aye aye, Captain America-lite.”

He visibly had to restrain himself from launching you into orbit.

“How—don’t—you know—the difference—between your left—and your right?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Thought for a second.

And then said, earnestly:

“It’s conceptual.”

John looked like he aged four years in real time.

“...Conceptual.”

“Yeah. Like, I get it in theory. But in practice? I just vibe.”

“You just vibe? This is tactical infiltration, not yoga.”

“Exactly. You gotta feel the space.”

“I swear to God,” he muttered, turning back toward the exit, “if you make me do paperwork on your death certificate I’m writing vibes as the cause of death.”

—

You made it back to the van, somehow.

Your boots hit pavement with a final, glorious crunch, and the cold night air slapped your face like a wake-up call from God Himself. The alley was still empty, shadows long and stretched under the flickering glow of a busted streetlamp that buzzed like it was shorting out on its final life. The mission had drained just enough energy from you that you were too tired to celebrate but not too tired to be smug. That perfect, post-chaos middle ground.

You both clambered into the van—the familiar creak of the door, the satisfying thunk as it shut behind you. John wordlessly dropped into the driver's seat, hands on the wheel but not starting it yet, like he needed a minute to recover from whatever the hell just happened.

There was a brief moment of quiet where you both sat there, the adrenaline fading, the mission technically complete. The drive buzzed in your pack. The radio hummed.

A random pop station played something way too upbeat for the mood. A pigeon flew overhead and nearly dive-bombed the van’s windshield for no reason except to keep you humble.

And then—

“So…” you said, angling toward him with a smug smile. “We gonna talk about the fact that despite all my ‘distractions,’ we still got out clean?”

He didn’t even look up. “Luck.”

“Skill.”

“Luck.”

You poked his bicep, still smug. “Admit it. You like having me around.”

He gave you a long, baleful stare. “You make my blood pressure rise like a balloon animal in a microwave.”

“But a fun balloon animal,” you said brightly. “Like, the dog kind.”

He closed his eyes. Whispered a quiet, resigned, “Why me.”

You beamed, settling back into your seat, feet up on the dash.

He didn’t make you move them.

And later, when you both walked into the safehouse and he saw you take the couch first, he didn’t say anything. He tossed you a water bottle. Turned on the shitty hotel TV. Sat down next to you like it was nothing.

The safehouse smelled like dusty air filters and microwave popcorn someone had definitely burned earlier in the week. The couch was too firm, the lighting was too yellow, and the remote had teeth marks in it—unclear if human. It was perfect. It was home—for now.

But when you turned the wrong direction again—again—to hand him the remote?

He just caught it mid-air, muttering, “Still your wrong left, dumbass.”

You grinned. “Still made the shot though.”

“Unfortunately.”

And that was it.

That was how John Walker—ex-Captain America, Thunderbolt, grumpy golden retriever in combat boots—ended another day stuck with you. His teammate. His human migraine.

His family.

Even if it killed him slowly.

Even if you never learned your left from your right.

Even if you made “conceptual directions” your new excuse for everything.

You, him, and the mission.

That was the job. That was the team. And, God help him, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

[heartz-for-de]

Hiii, Kirishima definitely needs more love.

Can we have a cute comfort confession fic? Reader and Kiri like each other but he feels like he's not good enough and is insecure about his quirk. So she comforts him and and tells him that her number 1? 😘

YES GES YES YES YES YE SYE SYE SYE SYE SYE SH YESSSS!

you knew better than to believe anything bakugo said, his half assed excuse as for why Kirishima had skipped training with the two of you sounded like straight bullshit.

“I’m gonna check on him, I mean cmon bakugo, Kiri? Missing training? It’s just so out of character for him.” You finally had said, breaking the silence. You grabbed a clean towel and wiped off the sweat that remained on your face.

“Maybe he jus’ wants to be alone, ever thought of that? Use your fuckin’ head..” he grumbled harshly at you, but you ignored it. Giving him a shrug and grabbing your bag.

Even if he wanted to be alone you still wanted to check on him, Kirishima meant a lot to you and you’d feel super shitty if he was going through something and he thought you didn’t care enough to check up on him.

If you were being honest with yourself, youd admit you were in love with Kiri. But you weren’t being honest, you were in denial. You didn’t want your best-friend. Especially not him—he was so out of your league it hurt to even think about trying to confess to him. So you pushed every outlandish feeling for him deep down in your stomach. Even if that meant you felt nauseous when you saw him smile.

While walking up to his dorm you tried to formulate something casual to say.

“Hey kiri, noticed you weren’t at training today. You okay?” No, too much.

“Hey, where were you today?” The hell? No sounds controlling.

“Hey kiri! You okay?” You nodded to yourself. That sounded normal enough. Not weird in any type of way.

When you reached his dorm you knocked softly, why were you nervous? You talked to him every day so why now was your throat drying up and why were you swallowing so thickly?

You heard some rustling, but no answer.

You sighed.

“Kiri?” You croaked out, it sounded weaker than you had wanted.

The rustling stopped and everything went quiet, the door slowly opened.

“Y/n, hey what’s up?” He asked with a small smile. His hair was down and his room was dark which was unusual for him in the middle of the day.

Something had to be wrong.

“Hey Kiri, just wanted to check on you. I noticed you weren’t at training like you had said you would be.” You reminded him. You silently cursed yourself, that was not the script you had rehearsed.

He gave you a weird, his nose scrunching up as he let out a restricted smile.

“Yeah, all good. Just lost track of time.” He answered a little too fast for your liking. Fuck the dumbass script.

“Kiri, is something wrong? Yknow I’m here for you.” You tried your best to console him, still not completely letting yourself say everything you had wanted.

His face contorted again. You swore you saw his eyes gloss over for a split second before he screwed them shut.

You pushed him softly into his dorm and closed the door. He looked shocked for a moment before you enveloped him into a tight hug.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong but, I just felt like you needed this.” You mumbled into his muscular chest. You felt his arms tighten around you.

You felt him take a deep breath once he finally released you.

“I’m sorry. This is so unmanly of me, I really don’t want you to worry about me.” He suddenly recluses.

“Hey, no Kiri. I’m always here for you, that’s what friends are for.” You tried to reason.

At your words, Kirishima flinched. He hated it. How you were right in front of him, in arms reach, but he couldn’t have you. You were just friends, and you deserved much better than him, you deserved the best, and he’d never be the best.

“Gosh—I’m even more sorry for this, but I can’t do it anymore.” His resolve completely melted as he leaned against the wall, his hands dragging down his face.

You looked at him, perplexed.

“What—“ you tried to ask but he was already continuing his speech.

“I tried really hard to pretend I didn’t feel a certain way about you, but I can’t do it to myself anymore. It’s torture, y/n.” He muttered with shaky breaths, his words spilling from his mouth like vomit.

“I love you. And I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s so god damn selfish of me to try and trap you with someone—someone so below you, but I can’t hold it back anymore.” The more he talked the more you felt your own eyes tearing up, not sure whether to be thrilled from his confession or heartbroken from the realization of why he never confessed.

“Kiri..” you composed yourself, looking up at him.

“No, please don’t try and console me with empty words. I am not asking you to just drop your life and be with me—that would be so fucking unmanly— I just needed to to tell you how I felt before I combusted from pressure in my heart.” He groaned. You knew he was trying to lighten the mood with light hearted humor, but every light scold he let out was empty and you saw no real sparkle in his eyes as he spoke.

“You, I mean you’re amazing. You have such a bright future and I- I don’t. I mean like look at my quirk compared to every other guys here. You’re gonna make it so far in life—I mean if you stuck with me I’d be like a god damn ball and chain.” He let out another dry laugh, this time it seemed as if it was to comfort himself rather than you.

“Eijirou, please—for one second— shut the hell up.” You finally got out, interrupting his seemingly never ending rambles.

You took a deep breath before you started talking, looking him straight into his crimson eyes. The same ones you fell in love with during first year.

“I understand feeling insecure, but you are one of the best heros I know. I’ve never felt more safe than when I am around you, please don’t talk about yourself like that. You have to be the manliest guy at this school, eiji!” You nearly bursted with raw emotion as you spoke to him, your arm coming up to caress his own as he looked at you like you hung the moon with your own damn fingers.

“—but, what isn’t manly is assuming how I felt about you. Kiri, I’ve adored you since that day during first year when you accidentally tripped bakugo and he chased you down the hall. I never in a million years would’ve thought you would’ve wanted me in the same way. I mean I thought you were out of my league!” You spoke softer, trying to soften the atmosphere with your tone.

Kirishima just stared at you, wide eyed and hunched.

Were you being serious? The girl of his dreams, stood infront of him, calling him manly? Saying she wanted him just as bad as he did her? He blinked a few times just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming—again.

All the while you stood there patiently, giving him the time and space he needed to process your words.

“I swear if this is some fucked up dream—“ he blurted.

“It isn’t, I promise.” You quickly retorted. You brought your hands up to his face in attempt to calm his seemingly buzzing nerves.

You then let out a soft gasp as he stood straight up, his frame towering over your own.

“Can I kiss you? I know we already went over the whole feelings thing, It just wouldn’t be right if I didn’t ask you.” He spoke heavily. His eyes snapping from your eyes to your lips.

The two of you stood in the entrance of his dorm room, the lights still clicked off. You smiled softly.

“Of course, you can eij-“ his lips connected to yours in an instant. The two of you meeting for a well awaited kiss.

You had dreamed of such a kiss before, waking up In a shameful state at the thought of your best friend kissing you. You couldn’t believe that was your reality now.

After a moment you pulled back, your eyes scanned his own dazed face. You’d never understand his insecurities.

“You’ll always be number one to me, no matter what.” You let out.

He stood there stunned once more, he felt like a god damn school girl with how flushed you had him everytime you spoke.

“Did you crawl into my brain or something? Why do you say exactly what I need to hear?” He teased you once he regained his own composure, his hands slipping to meet your waist. You’d never understand felt his breath against your lips and in an instant they were connected once more.

———

I don’t like how this turned out but I’m not gonna deprive yall of content:)))

[nicotachi]

my clumsy review aka my unorganized thoughts on Hit New Yuri Game "Love Curse: Find Your Soulmate"! you can buy it on steam here

cyn and i spent the past week or so playing through all 10 endings and i just wanted a place to write down all my thoughts. i feel like i have a Lot to say and barely anyone else to tell so i'm going to attempt to rein it in

under the cut is nothing but spoilers so tread at your own risk! also: i do not hate any ship, but if you are averse to ship hate you may not want to read any of my criticisms!

PLOT SUMMARY

you play as a 20 year-old lesbian (named selene yan by default) navigating her transition from college into the workforce. however, you are suddenly informed of a curse that will kill you in one year's time—the only way to lift this curse is to find your true soulmate (yay a girl) before then.

there are currently 4 romanceable options: your cute childhood-friend-turned-girl-next-door, your classmate's mysterious twin sister, your reliable upperclassman, and your intimidating boss at your internship. who will you choose??? 😳

OVERALL

wow. what a game!!! i have limited experience with visual novels as most of them have been linear. all the otome games i've played were written for straight female audiences (with the exception of kang jaehee of mystic messenger) and designed for mobile. this was my first foray into an honest to goodness Sit In Front Of Computer And Pick Your Girlfriend game, and this time for actual lesbians! and i liked it a lot! what stuck out to me with this game—and keep in mind my limited experience here—is that ALL the endings felt like legitimate endings, even the bad ones. for some characters, the bad endings even felt preferable! this made me feel respected as a reader/player, and gave me a sense of agency in that i was able to choose whatever ending i liked without feeling like other endings were more 'correct'. and boy, did i enjoy some endings much more than others.

there are two curious things about the game.

the first one is a unique mechanic. each character has two meters: an affection meter, and a ??? meter. i thought the affection meter seemed pretty straightforward: get the affection up and get the happy ending. however, this was not so simple for 3 out of the 4 romanceable characters with the second meter in question. if the ??? value reaches a certain number, this may trigger the bad ending for that character. while the ??? value is never outright explained, it seems to represent something different for each character.

the second thing that stuck out to me was that half of the characters' routes directly relate to the lore behind the curse. honestly, it took me a while to even remember the title of the game because the 'curse' part seemed irrelevant to me with my preferred route. while two of the romanceable characters' routes explain the origins of the curse and why you have it, the other two are completely independent stories that could live in a vacuum.

this is likely not the first time this has happened as this was a feature in mystic messenger as well; zen/jaehee/yoosung were labeled 'casual story' while jumin and 707 were labeled 'deep story'. however, it's still an interesting choice as i believe overarching plot relevance influenced the characters which influenced how much i liked each character and/or their route.

which brings me to the main reason i even started this review: RANKINGS. yes, i wanted to rank each ending, explain why i liked them, why i disliked them, and what i think they could have done differently. this is where my opinions will become Opinions so dread carefully (not a typo).

very conveniently, i saw this post which brought me this chart, which i will use to grade each ending:

and now...the rankings!!!

first, i will start with ranking much i liked each character. this is based on writing/design/overall vibes and enjoyment:

iris (by a fuckin MILE omg)

nyx

victoria

eleanor

next, here is the order in which i played so you can have some more context with each route's review:

Iris BE

Iris HE

Victoria HE

Victoria BE

Nyx BE

Nyx HE

Eleanor BE

Eleanor HE

True End

now, here is how i rank each route. this is mainly based on writing and enjoyment:

9. Eleanor HE

Score: ⭐

i'm so sorry eleanor fans. personally i think eleanor was done dirty. tragically, her pre-awakening chemistry with selene is very cute. she's the closest to a classmate that selene has out of all of her love interests, and therefore the closest in maturity level. their banter reminds me of like idk. rory and jess from gilmore girls. basically two people who feel comfortable riffing off of the other. and this is no coincidence; they mention several times how they feel they have known each other for years.

which is a shame, because the route starts going downhill after eleanor's memories are reawakened, which is pretty early on. her personality shifts and it no longer becomes selene x eleanor, but selene x someone who thinks she's jianghe. everything we know about eleanor is thrown out the window in favor of her becoming 'jianghe', whom we barely know anything about.

and i think that's one of the major issues: we never do learn much about jianghe. not in her HE, BE, or even the true end. we don't even get a sprite! how are we supposed to care about jianghe if we barely know her relationship with fuguang? was jianghe also a confident perfectionist like eleanor? was she just as playful? why do we so easily accept that jianghe = eleanor, when in other routes we make it a point that chimei =/= nyx and fuguang =/= selene?

sure, there are hints that eleanor has been controlling since before her memories awakened, but that's still related to jianghe as it's a result of the spirits she pissed off. maybe it would have felt better if being controlling were a core part of her personality, the way iris and nyx's flaws feel more baked into their characters (which is why i thought iris' house arrest was way more interesting but anyways).

what would i do differently? i honestly would have emphasized an internal struggle in which eleanor doesn't know if she wants to continue being jianghe—someone paralyzed by paranoia, fear, and regret—and instead live as eleanor, who respects selene as a fellow intellectual. the house arrest arc dragged on for wayyyy too long. it honestly made me root for nyx to come break us free. instead, what happens is we get a rather bland fairytale ending of us overcoming nyx and living happily ever after.

also, i find it a little unsettling that we never find out eleanor has been tracking us, especially since i read someone on twitter suggest she has been tracking us THROUGH THE SMART WATCH SHE GAVE US IN THE COMMON ROUTE!!! which honestly is a crazy cool detail

8. Victoria HE

Score: ⭐

(WARNING: i do not hate this ship but i can see how you might interpret this as ship hate, so beware)

i like selene and i think i like victoria (even though i wasn't a fan of her routes), but i think selene and victoria have negative chemistry. not a single unit of rizz together. 1+1=0. watching their mutual attraction unfold felt like watching one of those slow trash compactor videos. two cars backing into each other in a parking lot. just something very unpleasant that i didn't want to keep seeing, yet kept reading in hopes of being swayed—and it never happened.

TO BE CLEAR!!! this is NOT because i hate either character and not because of their age gap or boss/employee dynamic. my number one ship rn is gan/qing for god's sake which is both of those. and i think it's BECAUSE i love gan/qing and office romance that i was so put off by their development.

victoria is presented as this cold and intimidating boss who scares selene during her internship interview. and she just...becomes very soft and caring after that? she just starts hanging out with selene like she's on her level and texting her like a friend? to me, it felt like the writers wanted to ignore their power imbalance until they couldn't ignore it anymore, which felt worse imho. what's the point in even making them boss and employee if you can't lean into the forbidden love territory!!!

not to mention, the conflict in both routes is just...i feel like it doesn't do her character justice? victoria is this cold woman who has her own young subsidiary under the qi group, treats rosalie like an annoying cousin, but is powerless to go against them at the same time?

and when she does finally go against them, it feels...idk, too easy. selene barely even does anything honestly, victoria solves it herself. and she just sells all her shares for a cute intern she just met??? even her affection for us feels too 'easy'. i wanted it to come with more strings i think...the writing and reasoning just felt way too disjointed for me.

what would i do differently? for one, i think i would lean into the 'problematic' aspect more. this is the toxic yuri game for a reason!!

i would have preferred if victoria were engaged from DAY ONE. chapter 0 baby. it would have made her 'innocent' flirting with us all the more scandalous in hindsight and made us rethink her green flag status.

i also would have amped up their boss/employee dynamic with them both knowing it's a line they shouldn't cross (and do). for example, more subtle gestures from victoria under the guise of Work. hands brushing over paperwork, a hesitant pat on the shoulder, idk ANYTHING!!! GIVE ME SOME PRIDE & PREJUDICE!!! IN FACT JUST REBRAND GAN/QING AND HAND IT TO ME ON A SILVER PLATTER. it was a mistake to have so much of their flirting over text because it feels both out of character and kinda just? ick? idek. it would have been funnier if victoria were a super dry texter but gave mixed signals in person.

7. Eleanor BE

Score: ⭐

i gave this one more points because eleanor actually dies. NOT because i hate eleanor, but because actions have consequences and her death is the consequence of her and phoenix keeping selene in the dark and not respecting her agency.

however, it still has the flaw of the incredibly long house arrest arc, as well as something that bothered me: this eleanor feels incredibly vindicated by her actions, even in death. first it was the flower pot incident, then it was tracking selene and being able to die for her in the forest.

what would i do differently? well for one, i think eleanor should have had regrets in her dying moments. it would have been better if she had that final realization that hey, maybe controlling every aspect of selene's life, memorizing her schedule, and viewing her movements 24/7 IS bad and the reason she's dead. unfortunately, she's still too stuck on fulfilling jianghe's wishes and basically dies as jianghe.

6. Victoria BE

Score: ⭐⭐

i share the same gripes with her HE. however, i rate her BE higher because the ending is actually very interesting to me. i liked the line about selene realizing victoria and rosalie are still cut from the same cloth, that at the end of the day victoria will lean on materialism and privilege to keep selene at her side. the symbolism of selene kissing the ring instead of victoria herself is RAW AF. especially when contrasted with her HE cg (kissing the ring that belongs to another woman vs holding the hand wearing selene's ring, the drawn curtains vs open window, etc). really cool of the writers and artists to do that.

what would i do differently? same as her HE criticisms, but especially the bit where i think victoria should have been cheating from the start. i don't think it's unfair as there is evidence to support eleanor has been tracking us since the common route. i do appreciate that all the characters' flaws do show up in the common route/happy endings

5. Nyx BE

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

before this route: oh nyx is just that childhood friend who is a littleeee bit clingy and unsettling but i'm sure she means no harm. i saw her kissing cg in the trailer it's very romantic she's just doing her best

during this route: holy shit she's an evil demon from our past and the reason why we're even cursed to die to begin with?

no real notes. banger story that gave me my first peek into the lore, more music tracks that were great and stellar voice acting from nyx. the backstory reveal and how they met bell was sooo cute. the final scene was raw af with selene being like "no. i'm not going to die with you because i don't want to 💃💃💃" and wanting to bid her ACTUAL LOVED ONES a proper goodbye. metal affff

also, the common cg with chimei lying with fuguang is gorgeous af chimei is literally channeling hu tao there

what would i do differently? well this one's a bit shallow but.....can they redraw fuguang and chimei's sprites please. the cg is so good just make it match

4. Iris HE

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

i LOVE iris but i felt like the outcome of this route felt less deserved when compared to her BE. iris is such a compelling character whose cruel breakup with us was the result of her strong feelings of resentment (and let's be real depression). i NEEDED her to GET INTO her resentment!!! but what happens is that she is literally about to tell us wtf is her problem with her family when she gets interrupted by a phone call. and disappears from work. and we don't see her until a few days later by coincidence. and she begs for us to take her back and we do.

to be honest, i had played her HE second and initially rated it way lower than it is here, but i recently replayed it after the true end and enjoyed it a lot more than i did the first time. while their reconciliation was a little ? to me (see: next entry), their redo date was super cute. i love a good breakup and grovel and reconciliation, and iris giving the date her best was really nice to watch. she had spent all that time in the common route/beginning of her route flirting with us meaninglessly, so it was nice to see her doing it with the actual intent to charm us.

while i had initially disliked the scene in which she spills her feelings and asks us to to take her back when compared with the cafe scene in the BE (peak), i do like it for what it is, and i especially like the part where she politely asks us to not reject her as she doesn't think she can take it at the moment. 😭

the final section with the business trip was kinda meh (victoria, why are you asking iris who is supposedly on a different team and also a newbie to substitute for selene's senior coworker lmao), i do love the implied sex the night before. WE LOVE YOU FADE TO BLACK WE LOVE YOU DISCRETIONARY SHOTS!!! iris said it may take her a while to become intimate with someone (maybe someone who knows chinese can tell me what exactly she meant by 'intimate') but girl it only took you several months to eat her cookie huh?

what would i do differently? see the next entry mostly. but honestly, i would have revealed more about her family and resentment and hate here rather than leaving it up to the BE.

3. Iris BE

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐ (Spicy🌶️🌶️🌶️🥵)

if you haven't guessed by now, iris is my favorite character in the whole damn game. her bad ending was actually my first route as i totally fell into the xuejie trap and did everything i could to please her. consequently and to my surprise, i overindulged her and activated her dormant yandere state.

i had some suspicions about her as selene continued to rebuff her attempts to get back together, but i too was caught off-guard when iris decides to ROOFIE AND CHLOROFORM US. OMG. they even get into the weeds with the details of the kidnapping to show how scary the situation is e.g. iris feeding us literal crumbs and water in the dark. girl when can we pee?

but oh my god. that cg. that iconic cg that apparently made the rounds on twitter that i had thankfully avoided getting spoiled by but you know what? if i saw that cg first i'd have bought the game too. the game seems to sell at least part of itself on the idea that everyone has a dark side, but iris' ending takes it up a notch with "everyone has a dark side, and sometimes their dark sides are also sexy." because goddamn iris!!! her whole schtick is being miss perfect who is tired of being perceived as perfect and wants to bare her ugly side too, but sorry xuejie your ugly side is kind of sexy too soooo idk...

this is becoming a hornypost for iris i'm sorry. anyways um what would i do differently? my main gripe is while i commend selene for being much stronger than me, her reasons for continuing to deny iris in the BE vs her reasons for accepting iris in her HE make no sense to me.

the divergence in iris' route happens after the bathroom scene, in which you can either choose to walk in on her phone conversation/cry session (increasing her ??? meter) or try to give her some privacy (increasing her affection meter). interestingly, if you walk in, she will lie and claim she was trying to create a situation in which you two would bump into each other.

in the bad ending, you take her to the cafe where you had your first date and where she also dumped you and she pours her heart out about her family, her insecurities, why she broke up with you.

and you still decide to treat her coldly after that.

i can see how this would make sense, sure. selene is incredibly hurt. iris doesn't get to just hit the undo button because she's feeling regretful one month later. but this also doesn't make sense, because in the happy ending where you DO take her back such a conversation doesn't happen!

what happens in the HE after the divergence is: she stalks you at your social gathering (ironically she doesn't kidnap you in this one), is interrupted by a phone call before she can tell you more about her family, you find out about her family by very nicely asking victoria (simp) to disclose confidential info from iris' personal file, and you randomly bump into iris at school (iris has long since graduated), where she cries and asks you to take her back.

what??

not to mention iris' sudden slip into crazy. hotness aside, when and why does she decide to kidnap us? does she go out and buy some chloroform after eavesdropping on our resignation convo? i'm not opposed to the yandere thing at all, i just needed a little more believable buildup. she goes from completely cold and resentful of being needed to "i want to make you need only me" in the blink of an eye. maybe the writers could have connected it a bit more—maybe her doubling down into the dependable breadwinner role is her rejecting her most honest and imperfect self, realizing her true feelings were what pushed selene, her only love, away.

but anyways. still good tho.

2. Nyx HE

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

being a 'deep route', nyx's route does a good job of being a satisfyingly complete story that fleshes out her character while delving into the lore. the payoff feels good, and i like that the writers don't try to downplay nyx's red flags even after they officially get together. nyx being jealous of their cat that SHE originally took in herself is just as amusing as it is a concern.

what would i do differently? well, my main thing with selene/nyx is that while i do find them cute (as well as fuguang/chimei), i sort of get the sense that selene is partly with nyx because she sees her as her responsibility, much like the way fuguang saw chimei. while i was very impressed by selene's development from being the least interested in nyx (IMHO) in the common route to seeing her as a lover, i think part of me isn't fully convinced that she fully reciprocates nyx's intense feelings. their final cg is soooo romantic though it invokes the shoujo doki doki fr

1. True End

Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

holy shit. no notes. the true end appropriately ties everything together. i loved the extra insight into fuguang's personality, the extent of nyx's crimes, as well as more tragic bell moments.

there is NO WAY the writers weren't teasing a lil selene selfcest, because holy shit that cg? with the cheek touch? and selene admiring fuguang's calloused hands which were so unlike her own? and becoming hyperaware of the fact that they are different people who happen to share a soul? there is nooooo fuckin way that she didn't feel a lil something for fuguang. my god.

the idea that selene travels into the past to save her own soul and ends up staying behind to save FUGUANG'S soul is heart-wrenchingly beautiful. and she becomes this wandering traveler who makes sure to protect herself/fuguang's reincarnation for eternity WHILE legitimizing every single route is just. wow!!!

if her curse weren't already broken by the paradox, it would have been broken by her true soulmate literally being the one person who shares her soul. time travel ALWAYS equals yuri. so so good. perhaps an unintentional aesop about loving yourself lmao

what would i do differently? i know the moments after fuguang passes away are supposed to blur, but some actual onscreen interaction with jianghe would have been nice. we literally know the bare minimum about her!!

ok let's wrap it up

you know what it's way past my bedtime so i should just end it here. in closing love curse was such a fun read/play and i enjoyed all the ways in which it wrinkled my brain and made me think about what i liked and what i wanted. i highly recommend you go buy it and support the devs so we can show how much the world wants yuri!!!!!

EDIT: cyn had to remind me of the actual order in which i played the routes so i edited it accordingly LOL. i think it’s actually because i disliked victoria’s happy ending so much that i started playing the bad endings first again

also, i mention 10 endings but only rank 9. this is because the 10th ending is the one in which you die due to not establishing a meaningful soulmate connection in time. currently, we’ve only read through iris and victoria’s versions of it. i do like iris’ a lot (shocker) because she sees you as a blip in her radar, something that could have been. i’m ngl i laughed out loud at victoria’s because why is my boss situationship organizing my funeral and not my own PARENTS LMAO

[candysparks]

How they [Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim] meet Demon! Reader

[so sorry for posting this wo days later than what I said last time. My dog lost her fight to cancer and I cried so much I got really sick.]

To see the other parts click [Here] and [Here]! Want the Masterlist? Click [Here]!

Starting off with Bruce Wayne, the guy Demon! Reader hates the most! Their first meeting was almost as big of a disaster as Reader's meeting with Damian. Which is...not something to brag about. Though he wasn't even in civilian clothing:

At this point in time Demon! Reader realizes they can't exactly stay as a cat if they wanted to ward off other people. So they take on a human form that looks nearly identical to their demon form, but with a red headband to mask their equally red horns and a more humanish skin tone. And depending on the day they'll match their height and looks so they look the same age as Percy.

Percy doesn't really care for how Reader looks, he's just happy to be next to them. They're some what similar to his mom but so different at the same time. He just can't help but see them as a parental figure in his life, or a close friend.

But anyway. Reader takes on human form, one that is in a similar age range as Percy. And while Reader is a demon from the ring of Wrath, a ring that prioritizes fighting over anything else, that doesn't mean they don't like to dress up. Sooo Reader wears a red leather jacket to pair with their red horns, and some ripped black jeans. Maybe some black boots to pair off the black pants.

At this point Reader looks like a delinquent compared to the formal plaid sweater vest and white button up Percy has on. Bro looks like the exact stereotype of a Nerd but without the glasses, but he doesn't mind it much cause the sweater vest was a gift from Alfred.

Bruce, or should I say Batman, was patrolling around on the rooftops and happens to spot them right as Reader throws a killer left hook into the nose of a robber.

Percy, having delt with Reader for a while now, just lets it happen. Reader will cool down eventually and it's not like the robber didn't have it coming. I mean who tries to rob people when one of them clearly looks like they eat bones for breakfast? Dumbasses that's who.

Anyway Reader is currently going ham on this guy and Bruce is just watching with a 'what the fuck' look on his face. He watches as Reader throws the guy away and he lands in the trash. Reader then turns to Percy and lifts him up like a cat and walks off, grumbling under their breath as they get further and further away from Bruce. Though he catches a flash of blond hair and a puff of smoke joining them before he can no longer see them with just his eyes.

It isn't until he's back home in the cave does he realize that one of them was his kid. This gets him thinking about what types of people he's let Percy keep around himself.

Lets move onto Dick. He, unlike Bruce, was in his civilian clothes and was actually trying to look for Percy. Who would of thought Dick was actually trying to be a good brother? I would, that man is too good of a character despite his horrifying anger issues in his younger years as Robin. Can't blame him though! Lotta rage for just a small guy.

He thought of Percy as sort of an average kid. Nothing was wrong with him but at the same time nothing stood out, and for Dick that's all he could ask for. Seeing the fate of everyone who knew about his, and the whole batfams secret, made him really want Percy to be as bout as average as a blank paper.

Truthfully he wanted to hang out with his only normal sibling. Play video games, talk about silly drama going on in school, go on fun outings, things like that! If only he wasn't so busy being Nightwing...BUT!! Today he was off, he got Tim to cover for him by promising not to take away his stash of caffeine hidden in the cave, meaning he could finally take Percy on a proper Wayne shopping trip.

It's just too bad that Reader happened to be hanging out with Percy first. Can you just imagine how shocked Dick was when he saw Percy standing next to this tall, intimidating, teen dressed like they had anger issues and their magic power just so happened to be fire?? Don't get him wrong the black and red were a killer combo, very cool, very classic, but next to Percy? They looked like they were going to shove him into a trashcan and demand he fork over his lunch money!

Dick tries to step forward but as bad luck would have it he's swarmed by annoying paparazzi that won't let him through! From the gaps of the crowd he can see Reader ruffling smacking Percy upside the head! How terrible!

By the time the damn paparazzi leave Percy is nowhere near and Dick has a sickening feeling that he's hanging out with that no-good delinquent. It's his job as an older brother to properly protect his younger siblings from bad apples like those, so when he gets home he'll have a stern talking to with Percy...if he remembers by the time he gets home.

As for Jason...saying "It's complicated" would be putting it lightly. The last time he saw Percy it was when he broke into the Manor at 12 in the morning hoping to scare the shit outta Bruce or one of the others [Not Alfred. Never Alfred], only to come face to face with Percy doing a fucken summoning ritual with a creepy ass cat.

Now trust him when Jason says he's seen some weird shit in Crime Alley, but this? This was fucken weird on so many levels. Who would've thought that Percy, the walking definition of "kid raised by old timey grandparents" [no offence to Alfred, we like Alfred in this household, but damn], was actually summoning a demon.

Kid had the creepy cloak, a sigil put on the floor with what looks like red silly string, red candles, an offering placed in the center of the sigil, and a black cat with a red bandana tied around their neck. The worst part about it was that the sigil was actually glowing red.

Can you blame him for trying to stop it? For all he knows this could summon a world ending Demon! Which kinda has him conflicted, on one hand it's a "Hell yeah, kids got guts!" and on the other it's "Why the fuck would this kid need to summon a demon?? Tf is going on in this household?!" And it's totally not his fault the broken glass just happened to be where he was walking, honest.

The cat? That freaky ass cat? Yeah the cat gave him the creepiest look and then lunged at him all in the span of 1 second. No Jason did NOT yell, he's not a baby like that...he let out a very quiet and manly grunt when the cat bit the hell outta his hand!

Too bad he was up against a broken window. What was that saying again? Ah yes, flightless bird met gravity. Cue him falling out the 3rd story window and only surviving by pure luck and a well placed branch. Sure his stomach is gonna bruise like a bitch in the morning but at least he didn't go splat on the pavement. It's the little things...

The one thing that still confuses him about that night is that the cat was nowhere to be found when he tried to look for them. It's like they just...vanished into mid air. Freaky shit dude.

As for Tim. He's probably one of the weirdest guys when you think about it. Tim who was there the night Jason parents died. Tim who literally stalked both Batman and Robin without being noticed and pieced together their identity at the age of NINE [If I remember right]. Yeah...the guy who's way too smart that he actively nerfs himself with sleep deprivation and an addiction to caffeine.

So basically he knows something is up with Reader and Percy. Does he know exactly? No...but man was he this close to figuring it out. Weird cat hanging around Percy whenever the edgy kid wasn't able too? Said friend's eccentric 'uncle' hanging around when the kid was 'sick'? The gothic 'aunt' who showed up occasionally whenever the Uncle and kid were out of town?

Yeah he's not buying it. There's no way all of them are a simple family who just so happened to be hanging out at a certain spot near where Percy is. Are they a crime family trying to kidnap Percy?? For what reason? And it's too elaborate for such a small price Wayne's most unknown child will sell for.

So what could it be? It just wasn't really clicking for Tim until he saw Teen Reader with Percy.

It was a nice sunny day, well as sunny as you can get in Gotham, and Percy had just invited Reader out to one of his art competitions and surprisingly enough Tim was visiting the same museum but to keep an eye on a strange necklace that was claimed to be tied to the occult.

He got to witness Percy show such raw joy, something almost nobody in the household [aside from Alfred] has seen more than once. He saw the way Percy clung onto Reader's arm like a leech. And at first he was going to let it go, write Reader and their 'family' off as some weird eccentric family that just wanted to adopt Percy as one of their own.

Until he saw Reader snatch the necklace without breaking any alarms or anyone, other than him, noticing. And then it clicked. Reader and the family were a bad influence on Percy. You were trying to corrupt him, get him to turn to a life of crime!

Tim swore that day that he'd find someway to get Percy away from Reader and their family. Yeaaah like that was totally going to happen anytime soon. Keep it dreaming man....

[616ioi]

Oh boy, sakamoto days characters with a short chubby reader, who is shy, submissive as hell and she gets scared easily. Man they love your body, squeezing it, touching you everywhere, they cannot take their hands off of you!! Most importantly they love how jumpy you get and how you blubber something when they get closer to you >\\\<

Can be sfw or nsfw, whichever you feel like :3

cant think of a single character that wont look good with a chubby gf 😛

At nights, they stay up and watch you sleep (as creepy as it sounds). Thumpthump! Heat spreads through their body as you cling to them. This is rare. It seems like you can't stand being in their presence during your waking hours — shrinking into yourself when they loom over you, then frowning when they step away. Sometimes, they'd purposely tease, and poke fun, and prank you just to get a reaction, something different from the usually timid responses.

One, not so hidden, quirk; you're a scaredy-cat. Aww, how cute. I mean, it's not like anyone can't tell anyway. You have your emotions written on your sleeve.

You stutter and tear up when they scare you. You stumble and choke on your breath when they press a lingering kiss to your temple and, their most favorite reaction of all, the way your eyes widen and you straighten up when they walk in.

It's like you hate them.

Yet here you are. Naked under the covers, love bites on your neck. Just a couple of hours ago you were clinging onto them as if your life depended on it. The way you squirm and the way you tried to hide your face as their hands ran all over every curve and every squish.

They caress your hand, testing out the size of your ring finger and engraving it into their mind.

Shishiba. Nagumo. Gozu. Natsuki seba. Uzuki kei.

A sucker for this type of woman. Their type 100%. Though, I feel that, at first, this was more of a fantasy. They'd imagine having a pretty little thing such as yourself, to spoil and to love, yet when they gets to the point of actually being in a relationship (or anything tbh) they fumble and get just as nervous.

They're swearing in their mind, soaking their clothes with sweat and you seem just as anxious which doesn't help them! But they push through — only for you to reject them by running away.

They were so certain you'd return the affection, but knowing you and you terribly timid ways, it was going to take a while to get through you.

GAKU (he's as nonchalant as he can be but trust me, he feels like he unlocked a secret scene pack the second he looks into your eyes). Rion akao. Hyo. Taro sakamoto. Shin asakura. Kindaka. Kashima.

Obsessed. Obsessed. Obsessed. This is unhealthy; the way they think of you. They way their sadistic mind churns with need when they imagine teasing you until you twist and turn with embarrassment.

Sick; how much they want to laugh in your face and return home (if they can last for that long) to shove a hand down their pants. Nauseating; when they come in contact with your plushy skin, the blossoming red on their faces spreading down their body when you shy away from their 'innocent' touch.

You might as well kill them with love.

Haruma. Tenkyu. Kumanomi. Yostumura satoru.

So confused. This feeling is something wrong, maybe? Why do they feel so anxious... with the things tossing and turning in this stomach and the way their hearts push against their rib cage. Its so weird when you walk into the room all dressed up with a tiny smile and their demeanor brightens up. Everyone notices too, but oddly enough, it's not embarrassing to them.

They want to spend more time with you, but you don't seem to like them. So, they keep their distance.

That doesn't stop them from taking a picture or two of you, looking at it with heart eyes when they miss you. Sometimes they can't even stare at it without blushing and throwing themselves to the ground!

Osaragi. Kamihate. Lu.

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

hi! I saw somewhere that Jason is manipulative. Would you want to write him with a nerd reader? Maybe where he's like. An extra bad person?

Ooh yeah, Jason's darling being a nerd would certainly bring out an...interesting side of him. I hope this lives up to expectations!

Yandere! Jock With A Nerd Darling

Gn! reader

Warnings: Yandere character, gaslighting, sort of stalking, Jason makes mean comments, manipulation, emotional manipulation, Jason's a bad boyfriend, he's also really obnoxious, jerk mentality on Jason's part

divider credit goes to: @k1ssyoursister

Yandere! Jason who never would have seen himself with someone like you, not until he ended up in a class with you, anyway. He'd never been one to interact with the nerds (or the losers, as he liked to call them) during grade school, not even to bully them. He simply pretended they didn't exist, minus the odd rumor here and there. That little habit of his didn't change much once he got to college, especially with how much bigger crowd was around him. He had his crowd, and the introverted smarties had their own. There was even less reason to keep them in his mind than before.

Yandere! Jason who doesn't think much of you when he ends up sitting next to you in class one semester, on the first day of the class. It's a rather packed class, and he did arrive late, but he doesn't really care about the less-than-stellar seating arrangement. It's not like he knew anybody in the class anyways, so why does he care who he sits by? You clearly won't bother him, nobody with a brain would. If he's lucky, he'll be able to skate through the class without needing to do any groupwork.

Yandere! Jason who's quite pissed when he finds out that he is going to do group work, enough so that it's a rather large part of his grade. At least he's paired with someone who looks relatively smart. He'll just have you do all the work and he'll claim his grade. If you oppose that idea? Well...he'll cross that bridge if he gets to it.

Yandere! Jason who thought he'd hate being paired with a know-it-all looking loser, forced to listen to longwinded rants about lord knows what while he nods off into his laptop. He's surprised to find that you aren't like that, not really. You're smart, he can tell just by briefly interacting with you, but you aren't overly obnoxious about it. You'll spit out information when you need to, but for the most part you keep to yourself, doing your work quietly. Plus, you end up doing his portion of the work without complaining once it's clear he won't be doing it, so it's a total win for him! He gets a free grade, and he doesn't have to worry about some annoying groupmate!

Yandere! Jason who thought that would be the extent of your relationship. And yet...as each class passes, he can't help but look forward to the next one, where he gets to see you again. You don't speak much, but every word you do say has some sort of allure to it, drawing him in with every syllable. It doesn't help that your easy on the eyes, although a style switch up wouldn't kill you...

Yandere! Jason who slowly begins initiating conversation with you, mostly teasing, joking remarks. His occasional comments turn to regular annoyances that go on as the class progresses, never ending in their frequency. You don't respond most of the time, but your occasional protests are like music to his ears, filling him with an even greater desire to hear your sweet voice. If only he could get to know you better...

Yandere! Jason who slings his arm around your shoulder one day, casually chatting you up while you walk back to your dorm. He talks about everything and anything with you, mostly teasing still, being obnoxious as always as he asks you about yourself, probing for answers. You can try all you'd like to go anywhere else than where you live, but he'll just keep harassing you until you let him walk you to your dorm. He will find out where you live, regardless of your willingness to tell him.

Yandere! Jason who uses his newfound knowledge to harass you even more, not just during class. He'll figure out your schedule just to be able to catch you as you're leaving for class. Lord knows you're not going anywhere else. And don't try to change up your schedule so you can avoid him, because he will figure out what you're doing.

Yandere! Jason who would have laughed if a couple months ago, you'd told him he'd be paying so much attention to a nerd like you. It's not so funny now, not when you've made him utterly infatuated. Even he doesn't understand it. Why would someone as inconspicuous as you catch his eye? You're not like the models and athletes he's used to dating, you've got nothing particularly eye catching about you, so why does he crave you so badly? Is it because of your soft genuine nature, so unlike the prissy suck-ups he's surrounded by constantly? Is it your unconscious anxiety around him, turning you into a shy mess of a human whenever he speaks? Maybe it's the taboo nature of the relationship, a hunk of a guy like him with a pathetic teacher's pet like you?

Yandere! Jason who's unsure of a lot, but he knows one thing: you're too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Yandere! Jason who actually begins being a little nicer to you as time goes on. He'll drag you get you into the best parties on campus, he'll get you little gifts he thinks you might like, he'll even start complementing you more often. Of course, you aren't doing the most with your looks and he'll make sure you know that, but he offers to help you out, so it's not too meanspirited! If your what he's got to work with, then work with you he will. he'll make the perfect partner out of you yet.

Yandere! Jason who doesn't take long in asking you out, despite the jibes and jeers from his friends. They know of you, it's hard not to when Jason's been dragging you everywhere with him, but he doesn't care. He'll have you, no matter what his friends say. They'll like you soon enough.

Yandere! Jason who's ecstatic when you say yes, not that he expected any different. It's not like you had much choice either, with him publicly asking you out in front of his gang and all. Now he can really start getting to work on you.

Yandere! Jason who starts off slow, at first. He'll let you get used to the relationship before doing anything rash, slowly warming you up to his touch and affection. His obnoxious teasing doesn't let up, but rest assured, he'll make you feel loved and safe. He'll prove he can be a good boyfriend to you, if you'll let him. How can he expect to help you in any way if you don't trust him in the first place?

Yandere! Jason who gives it a couple months, implementing tiny, miniscule changes as he does so. Integrating you into his friend group little by little, getting you articles of clothing he'd think look good on you, asking you on more public dates every time you two go out. You don't notice anything, and he's grateful for it. It'll make the next transition much smoother.

Yandere! Jason who begins to get a little meaner after a while, though not by much. In fact, you could be misinterpreting things, conjuring up issues that don't actually exist. That's what Jason says, at least. What do you mean, he's getting more pushy about the clothes you wear? he just thinks you would look nice in the outfit he bought you, is that so terrible? What are you talking about when you say he's been making jabs at they way you talk and act? he's just been making harmless comments, what's wrong with that? Seriously, are you feeling ok? You're reading way too into things, this is normal in a relationship.

Yandere! Jason who knows you believe him, and he knows it's driving you crazy. He's not stupid; he's seen how your demeanor has shifted. You've started suppressing the little traits he's made comments about, consciously forcing yourself to behave in a manner he said he likes more. You've ditched most of the unflattering clothes you used to wear when he met you, changing your wardrobe to fit his tastes more. You've stopped talking about your more nerdy interests once you figured out he won't pay you any mind, staying quiet as he shows you what his actually interesting hobbies are. You're still nerdy, but he's changing you little by little. Just like he planned.

Yandere! Jason who can feel pride swelling in his chest as he sees how different your becoming, how pliant you are. He knew you'd be easy to shape to his liking, he knew you'd follow his lead, but it's still beautiful to see the fruits of his labor unfold before him. Of course, he still loves you, he always has. Even when you were still a nobody, he loved everything about you. But he needed to make you change, he needed to! Not only for himself, but for you. How was he supposed to carry on dating you and leave you as you were? You were a loser, a nobody, someone who only managed to catch his eye by pure chance. For the sake of his image and yours, he had to help you.

Of course...I does help that you'll listen to whatever he has to say, isn't it?

Yandere! Jason who does feel a bit bad for you. You've changed a lot of your personality for him, a personality he was rather fond of. He can see how quiet and depressed you've gotten since getting with him, and in a way, it breaks his heart. Still, it's for the best, he knows it is. He's opened up so many doors for you, surely you'll learn to adapt to his changes, right? He still loves you, you know that, right?

Yandere! Jason who knows you're still a nerdy, shy person at heart. But he can change that. He can break you down until you're everything he wants you to be, rebuilding you as his own perfect partner. You're still a work in progress, but that's ok. For you, he can be patient.

He can be patient.

I hope you enjoyed!

[eph3merall]

Okay okay hear me out. I soooo badly need a dealer!chris x reader where he gets jealous and/or possessive. It can be smutty if you’d like but I’d think it’s be funny (and hot who said thatttt) to see a reader who doesn’t like parties and she starts talking to some guy, not realizing he’s flirting with her, and Chris is fumingggg (I tried to leave this kinda vague so you could have more creative control, sorry kinda new at the whole tumblr thing too)

anon i love u. i think i maybe wrote something similar to this b4 but i literally dont know

the ice in your cup clinks with each shake of your hand as you laugh at your friends' words. you've abandoned chris for the night to be with your own friends and group of people, and chris had some stuff do with his clients anyways. you'd rather drop dead than sit through more drug deals and boring conversations, so you wandered off to entertain yourself.

the bright, colorful lights are honestly blinding you a little, and you hate the way everything and everyone is so loud—people are yelling and laughing, and the music feels like it's shaking the deepest parts of you inside your body. you have to strain your ears to hear the words people say to you half the time, and the whole party crowd never interested you.

it was always too rowdy, too much. you remember old friends used to coax you to a random house party to try and warm you up to them, only at the end of the night you're found standing anxiously in a corner and said friends are nowhere to be found.

you tolerate these types of environments after meeting the right people and hanging around the right friend group, and after meeting chris it got easier to come to functions like these without groaning or rolling your eyes just at the word 'party'. it doesn't mean you necessarily like them, but it's not like you'd rather burn alive than attend one for the night.

"god, and he was the cutest," your friend is practically gushing, droning on about how her recent hookup was some cute guy interested in photography. he had the "sweetest smile, loudest laugh, and biggest dick ever". you stared blankly at her, because you did not really need to know the last part.

"some things are good to keep to ourselves, y'know?"

"sure.. you just say that cause you dont get dick."

you roll your eyes and punch her arm, feigning offense. really though, a blush creeps up your face and makes you feel hot in the cheeks and all over your body—scorching coals seemingly getting thrown all over you and making you feel burning hot to the touch.

you don't say anything, because you do get dick. just, from the one person she probably wouldn't expect it from.

"okay, sure. you, you know i don't go around... with guys every night like you," what follows is your friends just scoffing and waving her hand at your face.

"oh, please! im not that bad. god, you should see how many men have rochelle hanging off their shoulder in the span of a day."

you don't need to hear it, honestly. rochelle, or, ro, is a frequent buyer from chris as well. you've seen a fair share of her character and personality, and how much cash she carries in her pockets. she's bitchy and rude, but you feel immediately guilty even thinking that way afterwards. using the word 'bitchy' sounds wrong too, she was just.. incredibly confident.

getting pulled from your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder, a cute guy with black curls is grinning at you. your eyebrows raise and confusion overtakes your features, because no one ever really walks up to you like that—no less a guy. if chris isnt scaring them off, there aren't many special, outstanding physical qualities you have.

before you know it, you're roped into a conversation. whether or not you even wanted to talk to this guy in the first place, he didn't give you much of a choice. he insisted on sharing his name, smooth talking his way into your little bubble with a mention of the necklace adorned around your neck, glimmering gently in the lighting.

you don't see your friend eyeing you a little, rolling her eyes around to search out some people to take shots with. and, not long after you start talking, enthusiastic grins are sent the guy's way. you learn that his name is mason, he's studying law and he has great taste in bands and music in general.

you notice the little things immediately, how his hands keep fidgeting, one shoving inside his pocket or scratching at the back of his neck, occasionally running a hand through his long hair—the action subtly reminding you of chris. what you don't notice, is chris eyeing you down like a hawk from across the room. his eyes are peering over the rim of a beer bottle at you, not at you, but at the guy you're talking to.

he knows that social cues aren't exactly your strong suit. it's like if a stranger were to hug you, you would just brush it off and say they were 'being nice'. it's ridiculous, because the guy in front of you was so obviously into you. who wouldn't be? you're a ball of sunshine, sweet and all smiles. hell, he found himself drawn to you the first time he met you. even after repeatedly telling himself he wouldn't be good for you, it was hard to stay away.

your moods were infectious, just like your laughs. sometimes chris doesn't understand why he has the urge to grin at just your giggle. he hates you a little for it, actually.

his fingers tighten around the neck of the glass bottle, rubbing his thumb around the bumps and indents in the glass to try and calm himself down. his jaw was tight, and every loud sound seemed to fade into a calm background hum.

chris knows that going over there wouldn't really be logical. it's not like the guy's doing anything to you worth fighting him for. you two are just talking. you'll lecture him later if he does, all confused and scolding. why'd you do that? are you like, kidding, chris?

he doesn't recognize the surge of possessiveness in him, lighting up his veins and making him feel wound up—like a jack n the box toy ready to burst open. it's not like he had a right to feel this way, because you two weren't anything more than best friends. his eyes scan the two of you up and down, surprisingly finding himself ignoring the bills that are trying to get shoved into his hand.

you're having a good time talking to this guy. mason is nice, and he enjoys the same things you do. he has great arguments, and even better ideas—not afraid to share them with you either. you think he's just being friendly, missing the brief way his eyes looked you up and down for a second and how his fingers twitched to reach out and touch you.

and then he did, a careful graze against your back that had you freezing up, tense. his hand slot behind your back, gentle on your body yet missing the way you seemed uncomfortable.

and, that's when chris was tumbling through people. shoving bodies aside and missing the swears thrown his way, his only goal right now to reach you. make sure you're okay, and then make sure he doesn't ever touch you again—because with the way your body was wound up like a tight coil he was sure you didn't want him to touch you. he felt hot with anger, rage filling him up—practically fuming.

then, chris' knuckles meets the guys face.

—

hai do we like do we hate im trying to write more ( this req was from like. multiple months ago .... )

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes @starclinexo @slvtf0rchr1s @itsmaddielouis @slut4chris888

©eph3merall 2025

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

CODES OF CONDUCT - S. HARUKA

codes of conduct masterpost codes of conduct playlist

cw ; afab!reader, swearing, semi-canon au, all characters are aged up (sakura and reader are 19-20), sort of wind breaker spoilers(?), mentions of sex, alcohol, mentions of drugs, thank you @aquazero for the amazing black n white dividers🫶

@x3nafix @neeeooon @narcjsistx @ohagiyoo @levihanmyotp @yorubl1d3 here ya go babes🫶

chapter one ; parties

word count ; 2.2k

you really hated this.

april had only just started recently, and yet your school year had already begun. something that sounded like a mix of a sigh and a groan drawled out of your throat and lips, your chin in the palm of your hand as your elbow rested on the counter of cafe pothos.

the sound of eggs and oil sizzling in a pan absolutely failed to console you, but the moment the smell of omelette rice entered through your nose, your eyes lit up. “thanks, kotoha!” you exclaimed, picking up the spoon set next to the plate of freshly made omelette rice. kotoha smiled, gazing at you as you shoved the omelette rice down your throat.

“yeah, no problem. you looked ready to faint during lecture today.” kotoha hummed. “did you skip breakfast again?” your face reddened, an embarrassed smile making way to your lips.

“well, no way was i going to be late again, right?” you remarked. kotoha's lips pressed into a thin line, raising an eyebrow at you as you continued to scarf down the plate of omelette rice in front of you.

“mhm. whatever you say.”

the moment you finished your food, kotoha took the plate away and washed the ceramic until it gleamed a pristine white. your eyes lingered on her as she did so; you really admired kotoha. she was amazing, majoring in both education and psychology while still having enough free time to work at the cafe and go to parties and social events.

unlike you, she's been in makochi since childhood. you only came to makochi last year to attend university here. you could have gone to tokyo university, especially since you were accepted there, but you rapidly realized that there was no way in hell you'd be able to live in an entirely different and heavily populated city with expensive tourist scams left and right. well, maybe you could go there for medical school. you majored in psychology anyways.

“i know this is really sudden, but there's going to be a party later at shiroko's house. you know, the one who's majoring in business and is so rich that he wipes his tears with lots and lots of cash.” kotoha began. “i know that you don't really like parties and socializing too much, but y'know, it's your sophomore year now, and i don't want you to be as lonely as you were last year, especially since we're not roommates anymore.”

for a moment, you stopped eating, meeting kotoha's hazel eyes. as embarrassing as it was, she was right. you didn't have any friends other than her, and you were too nervous to socialize. but not that you've moved out of the university dorms--the very reason you met kotoha in the first place--, you would really be seeing kotoha way less.

and you didn't know if anyone else would ever be kind enough to invite you.

you bit into the inside of your cheek before managing a shaky smile. “yeah, uh, sure. send me the address and i'll try to go. i don't think i have a shift at the library today.” that wasn't a lie. your part time job at the library indeed didn't happen to take place today. kotoha grinned, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears.

“great! it starts at nine. i'll see you there, okay?”

you nodded, finishing your plate of food and sliding it to kotoha. you left the cafe, walking back to your apartment while scanning the streets to see if there were any new stores or restaurants. your eyes lingered at the front of the town, where a large sign stood. it changed every week, advertising different stores from around town. but the locals--including kotoha--always looked at it with what seemed to be grief.

but whenever you asked, they always replied with something similar to or the exact response of “you'll understand when you get to know about bofurin.”

you've never heard much about bofurin, but when you did hear something about it, it was never good. usually the words “violent” or “ruthless” would be muttered under someone's breath whenever they spoke of bofurin. at least, the people who weren't the locals who spoke of it. the locals always seemed so uncomfortable when bofurin or furin are brought up. but you knew that furin was one of the old high schools in makochi that was torn down and rebuilt a few years ago in favor of a new hospital.

stepping into your apartment, you nearly fell face first into your futon, a long groan exiting your lips. finally, you could rest, even if it’s just for a little bit. god, how you fucking hated lecture. your apartment was miniscule and run-down, but it was livable. it had air conditioning and heaters after all.

you leaned over to your table, taking your computer out to complete your homework as quickly as you could. but your mind began to wander elsewhere as you researched about mental disorders, and before you could stop yourself, you opened a new tab and typed “bofurin” inside of the search bar, eyes unblinking as the page loaded.

nothing. truly nothing appeared in the search results.

frustrated, you typed in “furin”. this time, a few results appeared, though most of them were either about how the school was once extremely violent a few years ago or it was about the school being torn down and rebuilt into a hospital, though all of those articles had little--if any--views. after a bit too long of doom scrolling, you found a single article about how furin was being shut down. but that article was from over three years ago. it probably wasn’t even of much use anymore.

annoyed, you closed the tab and began your daily dose of doom scrolling on tiktok. liking videos here and there, giggling at an edit of gojo here and there, just the usual. of course, you couldn’t abandon your homework completely, researching a bit more every time you reached the “liking too frequently. try again later” mark on tiktok.

before you knew it, it already reached eight fifteen. shiroko’s house was, if you remember correctly, thirty five minutes away by foot. makochi was safe after dark, and you didn’t want to spend your scarce amount of money on an uber, so you might as well just walk there.

at eight thirty, after throwing on a cardigan and some jeans, you stepped out of your apartment, your heartbeat in your throat. you still really didn’t want to go in the least. loud music from the speaks made you nervous, and the heavy smell of alcohol mixed with drugs and vape made you feel nauseated. you also didn’t want to go to another singular room and walk into a couple in the process of making out.

but you know what, it’s okay. everyone had to step out of their comfort zone, right? and you didn’t want kotoha to worry about you anymore. she had to balance work, being a double major, and caring for the elderly in the town. she had enough on her plate already, and worrying about you would only make her life so much harder than it’s supposed to be.

but there were more reasons than just that. kotoha was definitely hiding something from you. you didn’t know if she was hiding some sort of secret boyfriend or if she was talking shit about you behind your back--not that you think that she’s the type of person to do that, but things happen--or if she just doesn’t even like you that much and is only friends with you out of pity. but you needed to know. you had to know.

the night was chillier than you would have expected, the gooseflesh crawling up your arms when you stepped into the inky night full of dots of stars. it was april, it usually wasn’t this cold. oh, whatever. you wouldn’t even be staying at the party for too long anyways.

after the long thirty-five minute walk, you arrived at the largest mansion in the town. neon lights illuminated through the curtains, and you stepped in stiffly. instantly, you were hit with waves of heat and far too loud music screeching in your ears. already, you wanted to leave. but no way you were that weak. you had to stay. for the sake of your pride and curiosity.

you awkwardly snaked around the house to the kitchen, a group of juniors drinking beer together. you weren’t old enough to drink yet, and you wanted to save your first drink for your twentieth birthday. fuck it, you came here to socialize, and yet you’re hiding in the kitchen like a coward. you should be out in the living room talking to the hot senior girl who was laughing with her friends or something.

after a few minutes of negotiation with your brain and your heart, you finally decided to walk to the living room. but before you could even take a step, you felt a large hand on your back, and the reek of alcohol contaminated your senses.

shit.

turning around rapidly, you saw a man standing in front of you, red faced and stupid. he was definitely drunk, from what you could tell. you’ve seen him around campus before. he was a senior. “hey, you’re pretty cute. wanna come with me upstairs and--”

“uh, no thanks!” you exclaimed, stepping away from the situation nearly instantly. you slithered your way to the front door, holding your breath the entire way there. this was like one of those horror games on roblox, where you don’t wanna get jumpscared.

finally, you reached the front door and shoved it open. you would have to apologize to kotoha later, but your concerns were valid. you really fucking hated this. when you gulped in the cold night air, you thought you were safe. but the moment the reek of beer stung your senses again, it was almost as if shards of ice were slipping down your throat.

shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit! thank you mom for giving birth to me and raising me. thank you dad for raising me. thank you--

“hey pretty, don’t be such a bore. come on over here and we can--”

you began to walk away rapidly, pulling out your phone to call the police. did this guy not know how to take a goddamn fucking hint? big ass footsteps stomped behind you, and you could feel the white hot heat bubbling in your chest. god, why was he so fucking annoying? you really needed to file a restraining order.

but eventually, all of your irritated thoughts vanished as the footsteps got closer and closer. your stomach twisted and turned into knots, and before you heard a swish in the air. you were dead. you were definitely dead after this one. you prepared yourself for the impact, whether it would be a hand on your shoulder or a hand clasped over your mouth. you raised your hands to your face and shut your eyes close, begging for the impact to be not too painful.

but the impact never came.

“take a hint. can’t you see that she clearly doesn’t want to talk to you? you’re pissing me off.”

you heard a loud crack along with the sound of a hit, along with something falling on the dark road. you squinted an eye open, and slowly, you dropped your arms. a figure stood in front of you, and in front of the figure stood the guy who had been following you, laying on the concrete with a bloody nose.

for a few moments, all you could do was stare at the figure in front of you. the person who had saved you. your savior. “i, uh…thank you.” you stumbled over your words, eyes blinking furiously and palms sweaty.

they remained silent, but you could feel a sudden wave of heat radiating off of them. “uh…uhhhhhh, i-it’s nothing. he was just-- just pissing me off. nothing else.” their back was still turned to you, and you could see that their hair was two different colors. even if it was dyed, it was still gorgeous.

before you could process their words, they suddenly seemed to turn unbelievably irritated. “why are you walking in the dark streets alone at night, and as a girl? don’t you know how dangerous it is?!” they exclaimed, finally turning to face you. they had different colored eyes as well. how pretty.

“you’re alone too.” you pointed out, albeit still undeniably grateful for them.

“well i’m a guy, which lowers my chances, and i know how to fight. clearly, you don’t.”

as thankful as you were for your savior, you were definitely getting a little bit pissed off. you brushed the topic off. “well still, thank you. is there anything that i can do for you?” you asked, already taking out your phone once more to enter your bank account. you had little money, but it was the thought that counts, right?

you expected money. maybe to treat him to a meal. maybe to give him a home for a few days. who knows. but instead, your eyebrows raised at his request.

“take me to cafe pothos.”