#if you’re actually reading this I’m so sorry

[moonstruckme]

hi maeeee!! can i request a poly! marauders where maybe reader is fighting with only one them and the others are shocked when they find out and try their very best to fix it even though things are quite tense? thanks maeeeee ilyyyy💐💐💐

Thanks for your patience with this one angel! It's not as angsty as I planned when I started writing it, but I hope you enjoy it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

It’s James who finds you this time. You’re curled up in a corner of the couch, pretending to read whilst secretly feeling sorry for yourself. Your boyfriend sits next to you, touching your shoulder so that you turn to him for a kiss. 

“Still upset?” he asks after a peck. 

You ignore the complicated, knotty feeling that makes itself known in your chest. “Not at you.” 

“No, I know.” James smiles a little, gifting you another kiss. “I’d be coming in here with my tail between my legs if you were. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of either you or Rem’s wrath.” 

You stay quiet. You wouldn’t go so far as to call what you’re feeling wrath—that seems a tad dramatic to describe the low flame of vexation you’ve been burning for your tallest boyfriend—but you don’t feel like opening yourself up to the subject with James. You’ve already heard it from Sirius this morning. 

“Angel.” James gives your shoulder a cajoling squeeze. “Come on, when are the two of you going to get past this? It’s very awkward sleeping in the same bed with two people who are quarreling, you know.” 

“We sleep exactly the same as every other night.” 

“There’s underlying tension,” he counters lightly. You roll your eyes, and James laughs. “Oi, don’t get cross with me now, too. I’m just telling you about my lived experience.” He leans his head on your shoulder, all sweetness and treachery. “You’re really not gonna forgive him? You know he’s gonna stick you with Sirius in the divorce.” 

You huff a laugh. James grins up at you hopefully. You know there’s some sense to what he’s saying; one of you has to be the bigger person eventually. It had started small, a stupid disagreement, but you and Remus are each stubborn and petty enough to not want to admit where you were wrong. Now you’re more angry with him for being angry with you than for anything else. 

When you think of his coldness to you—never mind the fact that you’ve been cold to him in turn—that flame of vexation burns a little brighter. 

“I don’t know why you’re over here trying to convince me,” you tell James. “I won’t have any problem forgiving him if he actually apologizes.” 

James sighs. You look down at your book to avoid his disappointment. 

“Okay, then. But he does feel really bad, so you know. He’s in the bedroom with one of his headaches, and he asked if you were still upset with him.” You look up. James levels you with a weighted look. “Could probably really use a cuddle, if you two were on good terms.” 

James is at least only somewhat smug when you abandon your book to go to the bedroom. You pass Sirius in the hall, who gives you a smile and a firm peck on the lips, likely having just left Remus himself. You enter the bedroom expecting to see the curtains drawn, lights off, and your poorly boyfriend in bed, but instead Remus is standing, well lit by the daylight streaming in through the windows, book tented on the bed still made from this morning. He appears as though he was just on his way out. 

“Erm, hi,” he says, brows pulled together in the middle. He looks to be studying you. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” you answer, bemused. “Are…are you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The door clicks shut behind you. You startle at the sound, not having closed it yourself. Then, you watch as a resigned sort of irritation comes over Remus’ features at the same time as it settles into you. 

“Pricks.” He moves past you to the door, jiggling the handle. “It only locks from the inside, you twats.” 

“Love you too,” comes Sirius’ voice. “You can come out after you kiss and make up.” 

“And say you’re sorry!” adds James. 

Remus scowls. 

“Open it,” you tell him. 

“What do you think I’m trying to do? One of them is holding it shut.” 

“Let me try.” 

“Be my guest.” Remus steps back, letting you have a go at the handle. By putting everything you have into it you manage to twist it, but you can’t get it open even an inch. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, gorgeous.” Sirius sounds smug enough to make your face feel hot. “James is holding it on the other side here, a few more minutes and you’ll make him break a sweat.” 

You let go of the handle with a huff, turning and stalking towards the bedroom window. You start moving the desk out of your way. 

“Would you really rather climb out the window than be in a room with me?” asks Remus. You look over your shoulder, and he’s sitting on the bed, side-eyeing you with his back propped against the pillows. 

“It’s not about you.” You shove your hip into the desk, budging it enough for you to get at the window latch. “They lied and made me feel all guilty just so they could lock us in here.” 

“What’d they tell you?”

You try to get your fingernail behind the latch. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Sirius had me thinking you were quite upset.” 

“Yeah, and probably that I was asking after you, right? James told me you had a bad headache.” 

A chuckle. “That was enough to make you come in here looking so flustered?” 

“My mistake,” you huff, but it turns to a short whimper when your nail breaks. “Christ, you’d think they’d make these easier to open. What if there was a fire?” 

“Don’t go out the window,” Remus says calmly. “You’ll ruin your tights.” 

You work another nail behind the latch. “I can’t just let them win.” 

“Mm. That’s a bit of a problem for you, is it?” 

A bitter coolness settles over you. You turn, crossing your arms. “Something to say?” 

Remus picks up his book, cornering a page. “Just making an observation, is all.” 

“Remus,” you say sternly. “Don’t act like you’re any better. You could’ve apologized at any time.” 

Your boyfriend levels you with a look. “Would that really have made a difference?”

“Yes!” 

“Honestly?” He looks like he doesn’t believe you. “All I have to do is say I’m sorry, and you’ll forget about all of this and be completely happy with me?” 

You shake your head, bewildered. “…Yeah. I mean, I would want to know that you understood how you hurt my feelings, but yeah. Really, it’s not that complicated.” 

Remus’ expression softens. “I do understand that, dove. Do you understand how you hurt mine?” 

“I…” You find you can’t quite look at him. “I imagine it’s sort of similar. Because I’ve been cold to you.” 

“And because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says. It doesn’t sound like I told you so, not smug so much as gentle. “But it was a small thing to begin with, wasn’t it? I’m ready to be past it.” 

You frown at him. “It’s not about the argument for me. I’m already past that, it’s just everything else.” 

Remus considers you. “Would you come here, please?” 

You swear you wouldn’t go if he didn’t sound so kind. But you find yourself with your legs curled underneath you on the bed in front of him, Remus coaxing your hands into his. 

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes. “It was a silly argument, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” 

You chew the inside of your cheek, sizing up whether he means it. “I…also could have been less stubborn,” you admit begrudgingly. Your tone softens. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, too. I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” Remus’ touch coasts from your hands up your arms as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. “Are we okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, mollified. 

He smiles at you. “Hear that?” he says towards the door. “You can let us out now.” 

There’s no response. 

Remus frowns as you get out of bed, going to try the handle. The door comes open, revealing and empty hallway. 

“Pricks,” Remus mutters. 

You find your boyfriends in the living room, James flicking through channels on the telly while Sirius reads the back cover of your book. James notices you first. 

“Oh, hello.” He grins at you as Sirius looks over. “All sorted, then?” 

You’re half tempted to pretend you didn’t make up just to spite them. When you look over at Remus, you suspect he’s thinking the same thing. 

“That was sort of mean, lying to me like that,” you say to James instead. 

He looks a bit contrite, but Sirius says insouciantly, “You were never gonna do it by yourselves, babe. We weren’t ready to start divvying up the furniture because you wanted to have a row.” 

You kiss your teeth. “I think I might be having a row with you now.” 

“What, us?” James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “What for?” 

“You lied to us both to make us feel bad,” Remus reminds him, “and then locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius isn’t impressed. “Well, it wasn’t really locked, was it. If you’d gotten desperate, you could’ve taken it off the hinges. Or just checked again after a couple minutes.” 

“She broke her nail trying to get the window open.” 

You hold up your torn fingernail as proof. Sirius coos, reaching for your finger and bringing it to his lips while you scowl at him. 

“Sorry, lovie. We had a plan to bring you food in a couple hours,” says James. “We were even going to let you out for bathroom breaks if you needed to go.” 

“Really, you wrapped it up much quicker than we were expecting,” Sirius praises. He’s still holding your finger, drawing his thumb up and down the side in easy, consoling strokes. “We thought you’d ice each other out until supper at least. I’m quite proud of you.” 

Remus scoffs. 

“Oh, come now.” Sirius grins. “Give us a kiss.” 

You roll your eyes but turn to Remus, extricating your finger from Sirius’ grasp to meet him in a chaste kiss. 

The other boys cheer. “There we are!” James tilts his face up expectantly. “Now one for me.” 

You and Remus exchange a look. 

“No,” you say coolly, “I don’t think so.” The two of you go to sit on the far side of the couch, away from both Sirius and James with you curled against Remus’ side. He looks a tad smug as he puts his arm around you. 

“Oi!” says Sirius. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made James pull his sad puppy face. What do you have to say for yourselves?” 

“You lied to us,” you say again, slowly, with emphasis, “and locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius scoffs. “So dramatic.” 

“Oh, that’s rich.” 

“Will it help if we say sorry?” James asks meekly. 

Remus looks at you. You shrug. 

“Maybe,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to try and find out.”

[littlecrow4]

This is officially the LONGEST I’ve spent finishing a piece AND AGAIN ITS ALL BILL’S FAULT!!!

I’m gonna start sneaking in little Bill’s so it’ll be a fun little game of “Spot the Bill”

[lovecla]

TAKE IT EASY (OTHERWISE I’M LEAVING) | connor bedard.

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, single chapter:

ᡣ𐭩 — pair: connor bedard x fmc (olivia)

ᡣ𐭩 — synopsis: in which connor bedard’s girlfiend, olivia, is tired of seeing her boyfriend destroy himself every single day.

ᡣ𐭩 — word count: 3.1k

ᡣ𐭩 — chapter warnings: inspired by the song “you” by chase atlantic, angst, hurt with a dash of comfort.

ᡣ𐭩 — from me to you: the second chase atlantic released this album i knew i had to write something inspired by it. i missed writing for bedsy and since he’s our golden, hardworking boy, i thought this was very fitting. hope u like it 🤍

ᯓᡣ𐭩

but you've been diggin' up the truth

haven't slept in like four nights now

blame it on substance abuse

out in the deep end, i'm swimmin', i'm swimmin' again

YOU WOKE up startled with the loud bang coming from somewhere inside your apartment, your whole body jumping and your heart starting to race inside your chest.

Now, almost fully awake, you stare at the clock sitting on your bedside table, reading the time. 4:13 a.m., and when you pat the other side of the bed, where your boyfriend of two years should be laying, you frown as you find it empty and lukewarm to the touch.

“Connor?” You whisper, scared to wake him up unnecessarily, even if you knew he wasn’t lying with you in bed. Again.

You get up, the fabric of his old Blackhawks sweater heating up your skin, as you put on your slippers and leave the bedroom, noticing traces of Connor’s absence here and there— his slippers aren’t by his side of the bed, his duffel bag isn’t on the hallway like it usually is, his water bottle isn’t on the couch like he had left it last night, when you both went no sleep at one in the morning.

So that’s why you don’t understand what he’s doing by the front door, ready to leave, even if he had only slept for three hours.

“Connor?” You call again, watching as his blue eyes look at you, surprise and guilt decorating his expression like a famous painting hanging on the Louvre’s wall. “What are you doing?”

Your voice is still soft, and despite the scare, your eyes can barely stay open. You’re tired, tonight was the first night you had allowed yourself to sleep freely since now you were done with your exams. And you were happy because you managed to convince Connor to come home earlier, at eleven instead of midnight, just so you could spend some time together, like you used to do when you started dating.

“Liv, hey,” he whispers, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

That’s when you realize what he’s doing. The bag, the stick on his hand, the outfit. He’s—

“Are you serious right now?” You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. “You’re going to the rink? At four in the morning?”

“Baby, you know I need to,” he tries to sound convincing and if it wasn’t for the fact that this is probably the hundredth time he’s done this, you would’ve actually believed him. “We have a game coming up and—”

“Yes, I am well aware of that, Connor. But you went to sleep at one. Two nights ago, you also went to sleep at one and woke up at five. And the night before, and the night before that too.”

You don’t try to hide your feelings anymore. You want him to know you’re upset, and you want him to know that this, whatever the hell he’s doing, isn’t okay.

“I know, baby, but you know I have to keep practicing so I can help the guys.” He’s now facing you, his body visibly tense.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Connor, what the hell. There are other twenty fucking people in your team, you’re not the only player there. It’s not your responsibility only!” You cover your face with your hands, truly upset.

“Liv,” he calls your name, and it hurts to even hear it, because his voice is so full of guilt and shame. It makes you feel sick. “You’re not being reasonable right now. This is the NHL. You know how hard I’ve worked for this. There are people counting on me.”

“And I’m not one of them?” You whisper, making eye contact again, only to realize you’re not strong enough to have this conversation at four in the morning.

“Liv—”

“It’s fine, Connor. Go to practice.” You sigh, making your way back to the bedroom, praying that he doesn’t notice the tears running down your cheeks.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

you said, "take it easy, otherwise i'm leaving

yeah, i don't wanna stay and watch you die",

ᯓᡣ𐭩

CONNOR HAD an injury.

His jaw had been fractured, and he had to go to surgery to fix it. You were in the arena watching the game with Connor’s sister when it happened, and you had never been so scared.

You know Hockey is about hitting people as much as it is about playing and winning, but you won’t lie and say your heart doesn’t hurt inside your chest whenever you see Connor getting hurt on the ice.

And you aren’t dumb. You know that some players will purposefully hurt him just because he’s good. And even if people aren’t one hundred percent sure that that is what happened that night, you still remember the terrible feeling of losing when you were in the ambulance with Connor to the hospital, trying your hardest not to cry in front of anyone because you know what they would say.

She’s not tough enough to date a NHL player.

But you believed yourself to be tough. The only problem with all of this is that you knew Bedard would never take great care of himself, meaning that you’d have to be with him twenty-four-seven, which wouldn’t be a problem, if only he accepted your help.

Now, four weeks after the surgery, you’re inside the United Center, the Blackhawks arena in Chicago, stomping your feet as you walk towards the rink, the sound of your steps being muffled by Connor’s constant skating.

“Connor.”

You have to call him a few times so that he can finally get out of his head and look at you; once again, those blameworthy eyes looking down at you, as he skates closer to the benches where you were standing.

“Liv.”

“What do you think you’re doing, Connor?” You snap. “You’re supposed to be resting. You’re definitely not supposed to be on the ice.”

“I know, but my jaw is just fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He removes his helmet, running his gloved hand through his hair.

“It didn’t seem like it was fine last night when you had to swallow a bunch of pain pills because it was hurting. Connor, don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?” You can feel your face heating up, and you’re trying so hard to keep your shit together but— “You have to allow your body to rest. If you keep up with this, you won’t get better—”

“That’s not an option, Liv, and you know it,” he hissed back, now looking more distressed than guilty. “This is my life. And I did allow myself to rest, I spent four weeks doing absolutely nothing, just like the doctor asked me to.”

“He said six to eight weeks, Connor,” you sigh, tired, not actually believing you’re having this conversation with him. “Please. Just think about how I feel when I know you’re not well enough to be here yet you still are.”

He pressed his lips together, placing his stick on the floor next to him and moving his helmet around his hands.

“Liv, you know I love you but this— Hockey is what I am. It’s what I do. You have to understand—”

“And I have done nothing but understand you!” You shout, finally losing your cool and snapping at him, your loud voice echoing through the empty arena’s walls. Connor takes a step back, but now you’ve already started and you won’t can’t stop. “Ever since we met, I have been nothing but understanding. I stood by your side at all times, even when what you were doing wasn’t healthy for you!”

“Olivia—”

“I went to sleep alone and cried more nights than you could ever imagine,” your voice cracks, and your stubborn tears are already rolling down your face. “I still supported you no matter what. I cooked your meals, I packed your bags, I went to those ridiculous gala dinners and I did it all with pleasure because I love you and you’re supposed to do these types of things for the people you love!”

“Baby—”

“So you don’t get to stand in front of me and ask me to understand how badly you treat yourself and how you don’t care about anything else besides Hockey when I gave up everything to be with you!” You try to wipe your face, stepping back when Connor tries to reach you. He frowns when you flinch. “I gave up my freedom because I wanted to be with you and God knows I’d do it all over again because I fucking love you.”

“Baby, I know all of this and I’m grateful, I really am but—”

You let out a wet chuckle, shaking your head. “There’s always a but with you.”

“Hockey is important to me, baby.”

“And I am not.”

The silence after your words is cruel, and it tears you apart, scratching your skin and making your insides hurt. His blue eyes, your favorite color to ever exist, are also filled with tears and you hate to see it. You hate to feel bad about saying these things.

The thing about loving someone is that the thread between giving up yourself for them and giving yourself to them is really thin.

You love Connor Bedard. Have loved him for years now. He makes you happy, he listens to you, he’s your best friend.

“You know that’s not true, Liv,” he gets closer, the sound of his skates hitting the ice making you want to puke. “You know you’re more important to me than any of this. You know I love you.”

“No, Connor, I don’t,” you whisper, smiling even when all you feel is pain. “I can’t do this. I won’t watch you d-destroy yourself and not do anything.”

He removes his gloves quickly and grabs your wrist, cold fingers holding your arm down. “Olivia, wait.”

“No,” You shake your head. “I need time. Sorry.”

You don’t look at his face as you leave the arena, and you certainly don’t listen to his voice shouting your name, over and over again.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

i don't know what to do

i’m stuck in a loop, stuck in a loop

ᯓᡣ𐭩

HE WATCHES you talking to the children from afar.

You’re sitting on the floor, and it’s so obvious you’re better different from everyone else at the party. The children surround you like you’re their favorite princess or superhero, all of them wanting a little bit of your attention.

Connor feels like he should be offended, since those kids were there to see his team in the first place. It was some kind of reunion Foligno arranged with the media team, inviting some of his son’s friends and some other children with less opportunities.

But he isn’t. First of all, he’s thankful because if it weren’t for your charm, he would be the one having to deal with the children, something he wasn’t very fond of. Sure, he likes kids and he’s happy they like him, but if he could avoid social interactions, he would.

Besides that, watching you happy is something that he had missed, and he feels like shit for it. He knows he hasn’t been a good boyfriend, and he knows he should do better. Ever since that one night at the rink, you haven’t been the same.

But if he thinks about it too much, he realizes that you haven’t been yourself for a long time now.

And it hurts.

It hurts because he doesn’t know what to do. He loves you, the very first girl he fell in love with, but he also loves Hockey. As a young player in the NHL, he feels like he constantly needs to prove himself to others, and since people give him so much attention, he needs to keep on being a good player.

He doesn’t know how to balance things, how not to spend hours and hours without end on the ice, muting all of his doubts and worries while he keeps throwing the puck in the net.

You smile at a little boy who’s now handing you a flower, and Connor smiles as he watches you ask the little boy to put it on your hair, laughing when the other kids stop their babbling to clap at your newest look.

You make eye contact with him, and he feels himself getting devastated when he notices that the shine in your eyes lessened a little when you looked at him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

(why do you hate me?)

i could never hate you, despite the words that you've been sayin'

i’ve been having breakthroughs

and hoping you were proud, just maybe

anxiety drives me insane, and my newest addiction is pain

i know i said it was a ‘phase’

five years later, still stuck in my brain

ᯓᡣ𐭩

CLOSING THE front door with a sigh, you let your first sob out. The tears won’t stop, and you don’t bother to wipe them, it would be pointless.

All you want to do is slide down to the floor and stay there, letting the hardwood hurt your back and get you dirty, but you can’t. Your car decided to break in the middle of the road on your way back from college, and you had to walk until you found the nearest telephone to call your insurance company, which would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the terrible storm going on, the water drops penetrating your thin shirt like you weren’t even wearing anything in the first place.

It’s just one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong, but you’re already so fed up with life lately that this all seems too much.

“Liv? What happened, baby?”

You lift your head up faster than you should've, because now you can see tiny, black dots floating around in your vision. You weren’t expecting to see Connor at your house, much less wearing the apron you gave him when he prepared his first dish by himself two years ago— a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Connor,” you whisper, not looking him in the eye. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I texted you,” he says, removing the apron that read “cook it yourself, cunt”. “What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

You don’t say anything, mostly because you’re certain that if you let one little word slip past your lips you’ll start crying uncontrollably once again, so you just shake your head and leave your things on the floor beside you, walking past him so you could get to your room.

He’s quick to follow, though, watching as you remove your wet clothes and get in the shower, both of you silent and lost in your own thoughts.

Not talking to Connor about your feelings feels weird, but you can’t help but feel like you’re holding him back. It’s sickening, because all you want is to stay with him and be happy, but sometimes loving is also letting go.

You get out of the shower, feeling the tears coming back when you spot the change of clothes Connor left for you on top of the toilet lid— his shirt, his pants, your favorite panties.

He knows you too well. He knows who you are as a person and he knows who you want to become. He knows your fears and your ambitions, he knows your dreams and hopes. He knows what you stand for and what you absolutely despise.

He knows you.

You change, and leave the bathroom quickly, wanting nothing more than to lay down and sleep for days.

“Some lady from your insurance company just called, saying your car will be ready next week,” Connor says, and only then you noticed he’d been standing next to your wardrobe the entire time, crossed arms in front of his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me your car was broken?”

You shrug. “I knew you were at practice. Didn’t want to bother you.”

“So you walked home? In the rain?” You can tell by his tone that he’s upset, but there’s nothing much you can do.

“I mean, what did you want me to do?” You scoff. “My phone died and I had no cash on me. And honestly, we both know that you would never leave the ice for something like this.”

“Liv, you know that’s not true,” he whispers, getting closer to you. “You know that I’d leave at any moment if I even knew you needed me.”

“Whatever,” you mumble before reaching for your phone in your bag, the device thankfully still dry, and put it to charge, removing the hundreds of pillows you have on top of your bed and throwing them on the carpet floor, already visualizing the amazing sleep you’d have.

“What are you doing?” You feel his hands on your back, his body closer to yours than it’s been in a while. “You haven’t had dinner yet. I cooked���”

His sad tone makes you break again, and you hate yourself for it. But you still love him so much, and it hurts to see what you’ve become.

“Liv, please, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads, turning you around and wiping your tears with his thumbs. “I’ll fix it, I promise. Just tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

“Can you fix us?” You whisper, resting your head against his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. He smells like home and the winter. “Can you fix what we’ve become?”

He’s quiet for a while, long fingers caressing your hair, like he used to do back when you had started dating.

“I’m trying, I swear I am,” he whispers back, and you can finally hear genuineness in his voice. “You’re everything to me, baby, and I won’t lose you.”

“I’m not asking you to give up on Hockey,” you explain, watching as your tears stain his shirt. “I’m just asking you to take care of yourself. Connor, I need you to take care of yourself.”

“I know, baby, and I’m sorry,” he kisses your cheek, the first time his lips touch you in more than two weeks. “I’m so sorry.”

You listen to his heartbeat and sigh, choosing not to say anything. You know the only way you can find out if he’s being genuine or not is with time, because only it will tell if you’re fixable or not.

But as you let yourself sleep close to his body that night, losing yourself between the sheets and his arms, you can finally breathe again.

Because he said he’ll try, and Connor Bedard always tries his hardest with everything.

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part Three)

Ledger! Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of violence

Words: 4.1k

Chapter Summary: The third session with the Joker, and as you try and delve into the man he is, you can't help the connection you feel. Seems he might feel it too...

part 2

Notes: Hello everyone! Apologies for the wait, took a bit longer because of Halloween, was having too much fun to write. But here we are! This series is def picking up the pace now and soon we will dive into some real chaos lol. Please enjoy :) (I love inputting bits of Arkham dialogue in these because i can >:) )

_____________________________________________

On your way to work, it seems Gotham is in shambles. 

There seems to be some type of announcement going on, by someone from the GPD. You could care less, honestly, especially since you need to get to work before you’re late, but what piques your interest is the crowds of people. There is an obvious rift amongst them. Some of them hold signs displaying the infamous bat symbol, crying out in favor for Batman, it seems, some holding children at their hip who cry for the man they’ve lost. The other half push back against the pro-Batman crowd, yelling things like ‘murderer’ and ‘fraud’. The tension is so thick you can taste it. These people might tear each other apart.

Oh, if only Joker were here to see this. He’d never shut up.

A woman bumps into you, clutching a sign with that bat symbol painted on it, with words beneath it reading ‘come back’. You sneer, and she retreats back to her other Batman groupies. How could anyone get so worked up over a man in a mask? Take the mask off and we’re all messed up inside. Batman had worn the mask of a hero, parading around as Gotham’s salvation, and yet he killed people just like his enemies had. Like Joker had. Except Joker didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t. 

Mr. Dale may be right about keeping all this from Joker, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. He’s going to get out eventually and see all this mess. They can’t hide it from him forever. Even if he’s on house arrest for the rest of his damn life, he’s the Joker, and they won’t be able to stop him. They’re just scared. Scared that the Joker may have won. 

You walk through the city, broken into chaos, all the way to Arkham.

———————————————

This time when you enter Joker’s little conference room, he lacks his usual straitjacket, and you’re both surprised and relieved that your bosses actually listened to you. His asylum garb has been replaced with the usual Arkham patient outfit, an orange baggy shirt with matching orange pants. Immediately, as ashamed as you are, your eyes go to his arms, which are surprisingly lean and toned, probably from numerous fights. You trace his arms down to his hands, each of which have a separate handcuff linked to a man made circle jutting from the table. You look at every crinkle, every callus, every line. Human hands. Dangerous hands.

“Uh, doll, my eyes are up here, ya know.”

Shit. You look up into his eyes as you take your seat, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m… sorry, I was just-“ You try to search for an excuse, but it’s clear from the teasing look Joker gives you that he’s not looking for one. You flush. “I’m surprised they let you out of the jacket.” I’m surprised your hands are so normal. 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t from my good behavior,” he clucks, his tongue hitting the top of his mouth. “Did you ask them to get rid of it?”

You can’t tell if he’s angry or not. “I did.”

He breaks into his signature, manic grin. Not angry. Good. “I knew I liked you, doll.”

Joker doesn’t say ‘thank you’ or ‘I appreciate it’ but somehow, this is better. It’s probably as close as you’ll get to hearing those words from him and it ignites something in you. You feel proud of yourself. Proud that he’s proud of you. Before you can return his smile, you remember ‘hey, wait a fucking second, this is my patient The Joker we’re talking about here’. You settle for a small smile. Be professional. “Mr. J, I wanna start this session off by just saying I think we’re making some good progress-“

“Doctor y/n, you seem to have quite the fascination with my hands,” Joker interrupts, a giggle rising in his throat. 

Dammit. Were you looking at his hands again? You didn’t even fucking notice. You’re not trying to. You’re probably just a little shocked. Again, it’s like pulling back the curtain, getting a glimpse at the man behind the act. And there he sits, with such human looking hands. “Excuse me, I’m just…” You search for the words. “I’m not used to seeing you without being all wrapped in a jacket.”

“Well, ah, they’re just hands. Did ya think I’d have talons?”

“Maybe. Or maybe, like, robotic hands. Rocket launchers for hands. Something cooler.” Are you teasing him? Your patient? You might be teasing him, just a little.

At your teasing, his smile shifts sideways into a smirk, eyes thinning. “Cooler? What’s cool is, ah, what these hands have done. They’ve been the cause of the end of so many lives.” He tries to lace his hands together, but the handcuffs keep his arms too far apart, so his fingers touch only slightly. “Now, ah, where were we?”

You stumble to find the words. So much for professionalism. “R-right, sorry. I think we’re making real progress here. Yesterday was a good session, and I’m hoping today will follow suit.” You bring out your clipboard. Click your pen open. “Now, why don’t we pick up where we left off? We were analyzing your crimes-“

“Spectacles.”

“Whatever you wanna call em’. Now those are only one part of the man you call the Joker-“

“That is, ah, my name, doll face.”

You hold your hand up. “Let me finish. We haven’t talked about you. About this person you present as the Joker. And yes,” you say roughly, before he can cut you off again, “I know you say that you and this character you present are one in the same, but nobody is exactly the person they put out. I mean, you did say we all hide behind a facade. So, let’s talk about Joker, the one we see on TV getting the best of Batman.” You scribble a little picture of him, smiling wide and in his signature purple suit. Jutting your chin, you gestured for him to look at it. “This will be the outside Joker…” You do another little doodle, one of Joker without his makeup and in the Arkham garb. “And this will be the you in here.”

The Joker looks down at your drawings and bites the inside of his cheek. “Not much of a difference, doll face, except that I look even crappier in here.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you proud of the person that Gotham has come to know?”

“Define proud.”

“Do you feel a sense of satisfaction over the person you allow Gotham to see? This crazy clown figure?”

Joker tilts his head back, thinking, and you can’t help but stare intensely at his neck, tracing down his throat to his Adam’s apple, which moves as he swallows. Geez, what is up with you and the staring today? Luckily, he doesn’t think for long, tilting his head back down to look at you. “I’m just fine with whatever I showed to Gotham. And I don’t regret-tah one bit of it.” Looking all smug, he smirks. “I’m not proud of who I am, I relish it. Bask in it. The Clown Prince of Crime, they call me! Nothin’ better than that, doll. Means I’ve made a difference.”

“You’ve certainly made an impact, Mr. J. For better or for worse.”

“And whaddya get out of all that, doll? That I’m some kind of egotistical maniac?”

“Let me do the analyzing, please, Mr. J.”

He grunts. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile. “You say you’re proud, but clearly it’s not enough,” you tell him, scribbling notes underneath the doodle of him. “When you get out of here, you’d like to go back to all that, wouldn’t you? Go back to testing the B-Man?”

“Batsy and I just fit so well together, dolly. We’re meant to chase one another to the end of our days!”

If you can find him. “All the stuff you pulled then, did it really amount to anything if you want more?”

“Oh, doll, it’s not that I want more. I’m not just some kinda freak gettin’ a good fix when I cause havoc. My point just keeps needing to be made!” He winks at you. “Course, I know that if I get out of here I’ll have to behave.”

You seriously doubt Joker even knows the concept of behaving. “B-Man would just get you again, would he not?”

Joker cackles. He laughs at everything but you’re always confused when he laughs at something you don’t find remotely humorous. “That’s the fun part! He and I, we’re like a cat and mouse, like in those old cartoons. We’re just chasing each other in damn circles and, ah, the fun doesn’t-tah stop until one of us falls.” With a cruel smile, he flicks his fingers, as if toppling something over. “And I don’t intend to be the first to fall.”

“And after B-Man falls?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, I suppose. Doesn’t sound very fun. Why, you got a soft spot for the Bat?”

“For Batsy?” Technically, you’re not supposed to be very vocal in your own opinions, especially when they do nothing to help, but wouldn’t it be good for Joker to know you’re with him on some things? Not that Joker has too much disdain in Batman, he clearly loves to mess with him, but obviously the two are on very different sides. You want to show Joker you stand with him. “Absolutely not. The Bat hasn’t done anything to benefit me. If anything I feel more… useless. This man in a mask gets to go around fighting criminals and gets praised and here I am busting my butt everyday and what do I get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You clap a hand over your mouth. Way to go overboard. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

The Joker, of course, doesn’t care that you rambled on. He looks amused. No, not just amused, he looks pleased. His whole face contorts into an evil grin. “Well well well, doll face, nowwww we’re talking. Why didn’t you tell me you loathed the Batman so much?”

“Didn’t think it important.”

“Well, ah, I find it important. Looks like we wanna both go after the Batman, don’t we?”

“Go after him?” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Obviously I’m not going to do that.”

He scooches forward. “But you’d like to. Come on, doll, given the chance, wouldn’t you wanna, ah, take the Bat down?”

For some reason, you actually think about it. If you really did have the chance, would you want to bring down the Bat? He was already down now, obviously, but if you had had the chance before then, would you have taken B-Man down? Before you can even dive into it, you snap yourself out of it. Why would you even care to do all that in the first place? Imagine you, beating up Batman? You’re not crazy. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Joker shrugs. “That isn’t a no.”

Things are going far from where you need them to be. “Let’s take this conversation back to you, Mr. J. How about we talk about the Joker in here? Nothing left for you to do except sit and think. You’re not out causing havoc, you’ve been stripped of your weapons and your makeup, what do you feel about yourself now?”

Already, you can tell the Joker isn’t too fond of the question. He squirms uncomfortably in his chair, muttering things under his breath that all sound nonsensical to you. For some reason, you kinda like it. It’s about time you get under his skin too.  “I feel like I wanna hurt someone,” he answers, clenching his fists. “I just wanna get out there and get back to everything.”

“Okay… see, you’re angry at being in here, and you don’t know how to handle your emotions so you’re resorting to violence.” As much as that’s probably true, you’re almost sure that if you were stuck in Arkham, you’d wanna hurt a few people too but that won’t help.

“Violence solves a lot more problems than ya think.”

“Not mental ones. I think I’m seeing what’s going on here, Mr. J.”

Joker taps on the table, a random pattern of noise. “And that is?”

You point with your pen between the two Joker sketches. “Both these people have unresolved problems, problems coped with by violence. Plenty of people do this, but they don’t go around trying to make their points to the whole damn city. These huge acts of violence are outcries and you don’t even realize it. You have no one to turn to to sort your feelings out with and this is what the outcome is.” You look back up at him, and it’s clear he’s confused. “I told you at our last session, you need company. Someone you can relate to, empathize with, talk through these feelings with.”

He frowns. “And what about you, huh? You’re, ah, just as alone as me, not a soul to talk to, and yet you’re not blowing up hospitals.”

Will he ever quit trying to analyze you? “I have other means of coping, Mr. J. Whatever happened to you… it made you hurt. And this hurt, it turned you away from people, even though we need companionship. We seek attention and validation and yet I fear you’re seeking it in all the wrong ways.”

“Who says we need companionship?”

“Human nature. Our hearts. Your mental state,” you say harshly.

His tongue pushes out his scar as he licks the inside of his cheek. “Feistyyy. I like it when you’re all, ah, riled up.”

Joker was really pushing your buttons now, and it was worse that no matter how upset you got at him, he’d find some kind of enjoyment in it. You really couldn’t win some of the battles he put you up against. Yet, the purr in his voice made your cheeks heat. You could never tell when to be angered or enamored. “I really do think that whatever happened in your childhood resulted in your detachment from emotion, and a distrust in people, and this mix of the two… well, it hasn’t been the best for you.”

“So, whaddya suggest? I go mingle with some of the other Arkham patients? Spend some quality time together finger painting and singing Christmas carols?” His laugh comes out as a sharp exhale. “I don’t think friendship is gonna fix me, doll.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest any of that,” you assert. “I just think that isolating ourselves from not just people but also feelings, now that doesn’t get us anywhere good.”

“Clearly,” he giggles, lifting up his cuffed wrists. “But I’ve been doing just fine, doll, aside from this little incident of being locked up in here.”

It was like the Joker just considered Arkham some bump in the road before he could continue his anarchy. That wasn’t good. He couldn’t have his heart set on going back to taking down Batman, no matter how good his reason. Especially considering, well, Batman was nowhere to be seen. Gosh, you wish you could just tell him. Maybe he wouldn’t see it as motivation, maybe it would shut down all his ideas. There was just far too much risk with everything. Say something, say nothing. The Joker was a lot of uncertainties. “But you shouldn’t have to be locked up in here. You don’t have to be if you just try and listen to me. I really want you to get better.”

“I don’t need to get better,” he growls. “The way other people feel, it’s just a soft spot for others to exploit. I’m already winning because nobody has anything on me. Chaos stirs something inside me, isn’t that enough?”

“No, Mr. J, you need more than that,” you plead. Why is he so stubborn? “Just a little company can do wonders. Just some faith in someone.”

“So they can do what? Push me down on my knees like some kind of sinner, making me beg for forgiveness? Making me change my ways? You really are crazy if you believe that.”

Joker is impossible, really. You don’t know how else to get your message across, how to make him listen. So instead, you think back on your deal, take a deep breath, and give him a story.

“When I was ten years old, the kids at school all decided they hated me so much that they all pretended I didn’t exist. I’d try and approach people and… and they never even acknowledged me. It followed me all throughout the rest of my school years.” You mess with your coat, fidgeting with the buttons, not quite able to meet Joker’s gaze. “I know how it feels when people hurt you.”

You wait, wondering if the Joker will give you a story back. You’re surprised when he opens his mouth to speak. “Once, ah, when I was just starting out, one of the criminals I hired managed to sneak up on me, knocked me to the floor real good. Kept babblin’ on about how I was a freak, how I’d never amount to anything, the heel of his boot digging into my back.” He stops, taking a deep breath, and you wonder for a moment if he’s going to stop all together but he continues. “Course, with all his ramblin’, he failed to notice me grabbing a blade. I stabbed him right in the foot, and oh boy, did he scream. I gave him the nastiest beating of his life, I’m sure. Blood all over the floor. And right before I was done, I made sure to give him and I matching smiles. Die with a smile, no?” Joker holds his chin up. “I don’t need people. People don’t care.”

It’s only a single story yet you realize the Joker has so much behind him. So many incidents that seemed to have fueled the thunderous rage beneath his skin. This man, finding humor in the wickedness of the world, wanting to show that everyone is essentially just as rotten as he, has been torn apart over and over again. Society had crushed the both of you yet here you sat, a doctor, and there he sat before you, a madman. In your anger towards the world, you had sought to try and help it, and in his anger, he wanted to burn it all down. You still had hope left in people, he had let that all die away.

He said people didn’t care, but you cared. This was more than just a way towards a paycheck, you really did want to help him. That’s what you’d always wanted for every Arkham patient. Yet the others did not quite distrust people as much as Joker did. Joker didn’t have anyone for him. How was it that Batman, a murderer playing superhero, still had half the city on his side and yet everyone just wanted Joker to rot away in here? You think about yourself, and how much better you would feel if you did have someone, if you had been given love and support along your miserable journey. If you could give Joker the support you’d always wanted, well, maybe that would change something in him.

“We’re both pretty messed up, huh?” you finally say, deciding not to comment on anything specifically about Joker’s anecdote. No need to keep talking about something so horrific. Joker didn’t need that. He needed comfort. 

Joker blows air from his nose, smiling softly. “We are, aren’t we? Just a buncha freaks.”

“Freaks still need to stick with other freaks.”

“And who have you got exactly, Miss l/n?”

You freeze. Nobody. Absolutely nobody. He knows it. Yet for a moment you feel… well, embarrassed. Your hand creeps to your warming face, your eyes feel suddenly watery. You don’t have your parents anymore. No old friends from school or college, not that there were many to begin with. No coworker friends, shitty bosses. All you have is yourself and you hate it. 

Joker seems to notice that his comment didn’t go down well, and he holds up his hands like he’s gesturing for you to stop, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Uh, doll, I didn’t mean to pry…”

“No, no, it’s fine…” You quickly wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Just wasn’t expecting the question, I guess.”

“Right,” he mumbles. “It wasn’t, uh, meant to be an insult.”

You let your eyes flutter close for a second and take a nice, long breath in. When your eyes open again, you straighten yourself out, contemplating your next words. “I know how it feels to be alone, Mr. J. More than anything.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, your fingers drifting towards his own, which are splayed out on the table. He sits up very still, unmoving save for a twitch in his jaw, as he watches you place your hand on top of his. You’re not sure what you’re doing, but you need your point made. “I… I know how much you think you don’t need people, but people offer support and guidance, and if I could have some of that right now, for fucks sake, I would.” You sigh. “I don’t have a lot of friends.”

Joker’s tongue slowly traces along his chapped lips. You wish you knew what he was thinking. You hated how well he read you and you could hardly get anything on him. Finally, he speaks. “Well, you got one now.”

The Joker, a friend. It sounds like the stupidest thing in the entire world. This was someone who had hurt and killed and destroyed. Someone who was close to no one, the people around him with one purpose: to serve him. He had said how loyalty didn’t come for free, that it needed to be bought. If something so simple as loyalty was seen as a transaction to him, did he even comprehend the concept of companionship? He must have, at some point, whoever the man before the Joker was. But the person you were dealing with was not that man, you were dealing with Joker. Joker did not seem a man who connected with anyone yet he tells you how alike the two of you are, and you can’t help but believe it. Alone in the world, the two of you. Maybe he can’t yet bring himself to make a real connection with anyone but, goddammit, you wanted him to try.

Why not be alone together?

It would all be in hopes of helping him, you told yourself. Whatever relationship the two of you were forming. If he could have someone to talk to, not just in a professional sense, but someone who would really be there for him, you think that would help a lot.

That’s all this is. This is to help him.

You squeeze his hand. “I like the sound of that, Mr. J.”

—————

It started off as a joke, really. 

Joker didn’t want to be analyzed. The first night he had been brought into Arkham, he had been poked and prodded, as doctors tried to decipher what kinda pills to stuff him full of. Joker had tried to fight them off, but they had injected him with something that made him sluggish. Just a few hours later was when they had sent in all the psychiatrists to try and fix him. Joker didn’t need to be fixed. He was an agent of chaos, a force to be reckoned with, something they just couldn’t comprehend. Then you’d come along, and you were so lonely, and Joker liked toying with things that were easy to break. Except you’re nothing like the others. There’s something about you, this way that you interact with him, the way you don’t see him as some freak. When you stare at him, you don’t look at him like he’s a monster. It’s strange.

Joker doesn’t do friends. The term itself means nothing to him. It’s a meaningless word. Most words are meaningless to him, empty sayings. Yet when you look at him with those eyes, like he’s your equal rather than beneath you, Joker does feel something. Some kind of connection. He’s never thought about killing you, which says something. It’s the only way he can describe this feeling towards you, something other than the pure disdain he usually feels towards others. There is something… warm about you. Joker didn’t like it. Yet he let it happen anyways.

Long after you’re gone, when he’s strapped onto the metal slab the Arkham guards call a bed, he thinks on some of your words. You thought a companion would help him. Someone he could rely on. Someone who would truly be loyal.

He smiles wickedly to himself. You might just be right.

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey

Lmk if you'd like to be added! Hope the @'s are working lol...

[lgbtqreads]

so this is… not the kind of question that would usually be asked here, but i’m still not doing well after the election news (i don’t live in the us, but things in the world just feel hopeless rn and i’m still struggling to get out of that mindset), so i was wondering if you had any recommendations for queer books where some central part of the book is about living under a right-wing gov, or any kind of corrupt regime where being queer is a risk. maybe something about the 2016 election specifically, if queer books have been written about that? idk, i just want to read something that acknowledges these feelings but is also kinda sorta hopeful in the face of them, if that makes sense? i’m sorry — i know this is a pretty detailed ask, and close to current events. i hope that you’re doing okay <3

It’s actually a totally reasonable question to be asked here, though I’m sorry you have to ask it <3 I’m thinking of a few different things, and hopefully something will click. I think the closest fits are Let’s Get Back to the Party by Zak Salih and My Government Means to Kill Me by Rasheed Newson, and I’m just gonna link this post because they’re both in it: https://lgbtqreads.com/2024/10/02/happy-lgbt-history-month/ and honestly most of the books in it would be good reads for this, I think. The queerness isn’t really the central part, but I’d also mention This Rebel Heart by Katherine Locke, which is about the 1956 Hungarian rebellion. I hope something in there helps, but if you need to come back and get some total fluff recs, I can provide those too.

[oimitocat]

HEARTBEAT | OS

yeonjun, kai (seperately) x gn!reader

angst + subtle fluff + crying + insecurity + breakups + idol au! + unhealthy mechanisms + 6thmember!reader + implied depression

a/n: can be read as M!READER. i’m sorry if this is trash, i feel like i this isn’t very good ;(

from his earlier training years, yeonjun knew who he was. he was talented. other trainees feared being paired up with him- they would never fully shine next to him. it’s not something he boasts about, he is proud about it, of course, but… he remembers how lonely it was.

remembers how hard he had to keep exceeding if he did everything flawlessly. he couldn’t give anything less than what he has so easily done up until then. yet…. you managed to be on his level. easily. naturally.

you enamored him from the moment he saw your name at the top of the weekly evaluation scores. second. you were second.

“wanna go eat something?” yeonjun asks with a smile, appearing before your view.

you were looking at the schedule your manager sent. once more, you’re more prone to being in the dorms or your studio than going out the city for anything. yeonjun has a busy month after tomorrow.

you’re always second.

“i’m good.” you say flatly.

unsure if you’re joking, yeonjun prods. “n/n, let’s go eat! i’m craving something from the corner store. oh! how about that phò you like? let’s go! i also heard we can take a car-“

“yeonjun go by yourself.” you groan.

“eh?” yeonjun pouts, sitting on your bed and shaking you. “n/n are you okay? you mad? you upset?” he asks, but he’s joking. he’s not actually concerned.

he always has other things to worry about.

“i wanna be by myself today, yeonjun.”

“well i don’t care! i want to be with you before my promotions start up-“

“well i don’t.”

yeonjun pauses, realizing you’re actually not in a good mood. he stares at your figure, back facing him. he hesitates before shaking you gently, “y/n-“

“ugh do you have to be so annoying? no one wants to be around your twenty four seven!” you huff as you sit up to glare at him.

he stares at you, surprised. “what are you talking about-“

“you’re always so full of yourself! always wanting the attention on you! you just want to go out so that someone spots you and they post about how you’re roaming around! you always do this!”

yeonjun fidgets with the bedsheet that fell over his lap, his heart sinking. “that’s not true. what are you saying? i want to spend time with you! we’re dating!”

“out of what? pity?” you grit.

“huh? no-“

“get out.”

and he obeys. there’s no fight in him. he’s never fought with you. this is completely new and unexpected. he’s never seen you so angry and hurt. where did this come from?

he’s seen the light die in your eyes. debut was hard. the career path is brutal. fans can be just as brutal as they are loving. he’s seen how your eyes lose that brilliancy he had loved. that loving passion dimming to a bitter craving for success you probably don’t even want now. yet you always smile. you always make the most of it. you try to.

how long have you been trying for? had he not been careful with you?

“good morning,” he says when he walks inside your room the next day.

you’re awake. he knows you are.

“i brought breakfast from that place you like.” he says, sitting on your bed. “y/n we need to talk about this.”

“there’s literally nothing to talk about. i’m sorry for lashing out. i know i’m the worst.” you say.

yeonjun shakes his head, taken aback. “i didn’t say or imply that. i just want to know what’s going on-“

“nothing. it’s literally nothing, i have nothing going on, you clearly do. don’t you have to fly out later?” you say bitterly.

what’s this about? he frowns, “well yeah but i know something’s wrong. you’re upset-“

“i just want to be alone! can’t you respect that?” you groan.

yeonjun pauses. he doesn’t want to comply but he thinks it’s best. he just stands and goes out. you don’t come out all morning. he doesn’t know anything more until later that evening. his flight is at 8 pm. you haven’t touched what he brought for you. it gives him an unpleasant feeling.

his heart is heavy again. where are you? why aren’t you answering his calls or messages? why aren’t you in your room?

“y/n? i saw him go to the studio,” beomgyu says when he’s called by yeonjun.

you’re hardworking, he knows that. but he’s learned that you push yourself on days you want nothing to do with anything or anyone. you were supposed to kiss him farewell for his flight. you were supposed to hug him and say you missed him already.

‘ i have nothing going on, you clearly do. ‘ what did that mean?

you said he was full of himself… why did you say that? what made you say it?

and when he peeks inside the studio and sees you furiously writing in your notebook- he realizes. you have the headphones on and you only do that when you want no one to disturb you. yet, yeonjun doesn’t like letting things go too far. he needs to clear this up. he doesn’t want to leave knowing you’re like this with him.

“y/n…” he calls out gently, putting a hand on your shoulder.

you jump and stare at him. your expression of surprise turns dark fast. “what? aren’t you supposed to be packing?”

“i can’t see my love before leaving?” yeonjun frowns. “y/n why are you upset with me?”

“i’m not.”

“you said a bunch of hurtful things.”

“i did not. if you can’t handle the truth then maybe you can’t handle life at all.” you grit.

yeonjun finally feels something click. he has never realized what was happening until now. he should have pieced it together before. he should have seen how you started distancing yourself. mentally. emotionally.

physically you’re here.

“i’m tired of being the only one who loves you.” he says, eyes glimmering with tears. he swallows the lump in his throat, “i need you to love yourself too.”

you pause. he’s… right. “yeonjun.”

“i’ve done everything i can. i love you, i treat you good. i’ve been by your side since trainees and i’ve fallen in love with you. yet, i’ve never seen you appreciate me what i appreciate.”

“just get out-“

“why do you push me away? i’m not you,” he begs, “you can’t push yourself out of your body, but why do you push me away?”

“STOP BEING RIGHT. DAMN IT!” you slam your fist down on the desk, your notebook and pencil jumping.

yeonjun swallows, looking away. “then stop being your biggest hater… i’ve been your biggest supporter… don’t hate me too…”

you bury your face into your hands. you sob. “i’m sorry… i don’t know why i do it. i hate that the most.” you say after a long silence, yeonjun never leaves.

he’s never dared to.

why do you hate it do much?

“y/n… you need help…” yeonjun says softly, kneeling before you. his hands rub your knee. “i know you’ve felt like a less important person ever since our career has grown… but we’ve always appreciated you more than anyone and anything.”

“i know,” you sniffle, “i just… feel so alone. seeing how you even the company leaves me in the shadow sometimes.”

yeonjun quickly pulls you to the floor and with him. he hugs you and rubs your back. you sob, finally letting it out.

“i love you… i’ll do whatever i can to make this better,” he whispers.

and you can only cling to that taboo truth.

there are multiple things that have made kai decide that if he ever goes back in time he’ll never be an idol again. yes, there are a lot of things he’s grateful for experiencing and having the opportunity to do but the reality is that this is a harsh path.

the negative remarks. being overworked. the only true reasons he stands firmer are the members.

and you.

yet, it’s felt lately as if neither of you are in a relationship. all of you were exhausted from the concert tours. the company is pulling too many strings and neither of you are strung together.

“huh?” you take out your headphones, looking at him.

“can we talk?” he asks, fidgeting.

you drop everything, hoping off the game without a say. you’ll explain later, kai is always your priority.

“what is it? come here,” you move away from your desk and stand.

the two of you wander to your bed. you’re sitting opposite of him, criss cross. he sits on the edge. you don’t question it, thinking he’s just having a moment where feeling on edge makes him be just that. he’s not looking at you.

“i just feel like we haven’t actually been… lovers.”

you blink. “you want… sex right now?”

“no,” he looks up at you with wide eyes. “n-not in that way! it’s just… we’re literally so busy…. we just came back from our tour and starting tomorrow we have to start meetings and stuff to work on our next album…”

you nod, blushing. you feel a little embarrassed for assuming he wanted sex but you couldn’t help it with how he worded it. “is this about not spending much time together?”

he nods, “yeah… it feels like we’re not dating… i can’t remember the last time we were like this…”

“well it’s kind of always like this, isn’t it? we’ll have our moments soon.” you assure, placing a hand on his knee.

“we could’ve had a moment but you chose to be with your friends and your game.”

you pause, “ah- i mean yeah, okay but we’ve been stressed from all our past schedules. you know i destress through video games or being in the studio. you could’ve been in my room!”

he looks at you. you can’t decipher that look.

you’re everything he’s needed to keep afloat when he’s drowning. yet….

“do… still want this?”

you blink, “want what?”

kai swallows, “us. a relationship.”

you look around, unsure what’s happening. “of course, kai why would you ask that?”

kai shrugs, looking down at the bedsheets, “i just feel like we’re too busy sometimes to even take care of ourselves…”

“that’s the whole point of us being together,” you scoot closer and take his hands in yours, “baby, remember when you just dropped during practice and cried from how tired and exhausted you were?”

kai bites the inside of his cheek and nods. he doesn’t look up at you.

“but it’s always you taking care of me,” he tries, almost in a begging tone. “aren’t you tired? i can’t even take care of myself and i feel bad with not just everything that’s happening but knowing we have a relationship. it’s so many things i need to care for but i can’t even care for myself. everything is just too much sometimes.”

“i get that,” you rub your thumbs over his skin, “kai i get that… but you know i’m here for you-“

“and who’s there for you?” he asks accusingly.

you gently pull your hands away from him. you analyze him. you heart races. “kai… are you… tired of me?”

kai’s eyes suddenly dart towards you. “i… i’m tired of everything y/n. i just want to go to sleep and never wake up.”

you take in the glassy look of his eyes and your heart goes heavy. “do you… not want to keep our relationship going? is that what this is? i know we have a lot going on but-“

“but what’s the point?” he asks, “y/n you deserve more than this. i genuinely cannot find myself spending energy into a relationship when i’m putting more than everything i have into my career.”

you grow baffled, “kai this is our career. we’re a group-“

“exactly! we all have so much to do and so much is expected of us. i fought with myself to get out of bed and come here. the thought of spending time with you a-bored me. it felt like a chore.”

“i’m a burden to you?” you ask.

he falls silent. not daring to look at you.

“when did this start?” you ask, looking down at the bed sheets. you sit back and cross your arms in a form of hugging yourself. “when did loving me become a chore for you? did i do something wrong?”

you’re not enough. that’s all you’re hearing. you’re not enough for kai to feel like he’s enjoying his life. instead, you’re something… someone he feels like is dragging him.

“no, no,” he groans, “you’ve always been my anchor y/n,” he tries, “on my worst days you’ve been more than enough but i just. i can’t be the same for you. i receive and receive but never give back. you don’t deserve that.”

you swallow, “i-i don’t care. you deserve everything i have to offer-“

“i don’t want it.” he says soft, looking at you, “not anymore.”

“but… why?”

“because i’ll burn you out…”

“no you wouldn’t-“

“i will and i’m doing this for the both of us-“

you huff, “don’t you love me?”

with a long, sadden stare, he looks at you. you slump. you watch as his mouth moves— saying exactly what you hoped wasn’t real. you watch as he stands. you watch as he pauses.

a friendship is all you could have. are you better off being coworkers… friends… than lovers. he knew this would happen too. he just wanted to see how far you two could go.

still, you always try. “this was never going to work, was it?”

“no.”

[samandcolbyownme]

Could you please please do a reader x johnnie, we're johnnie was ending his stream and he accidentally doesn't, and reader comes into the room for whatever reason and everyone in the stream is like 'WHAT' 'WHAT IS READER DOING HERE???'

Warnings: none, swearing, kissing, fluff

Word Count: 701

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You cracked open the door, peaking in to see Johnnie strumming his guitar softly as he talks back and forth with the viewers.

“Yeah, yeah, I have a new song coming out soon.” He nods, looking up at the screen, “Were actually filming the music video for it over the next few days, which I’m excited about, um..”

He looks over, giving you a smile when he sees you looking in.

He looks back to the screen, “This video will be.. I don’t even know how to explain it, honestly, it’s cool, I’ll tell you that.”

You push the door open more, slowly and as quiet as you possibly can, sneak over to sit on the floor by his desk.

He leans forward, reaching out to grab your hand before sitting back up, “I’ll give you a little preview of the song, the acoustic version if you will.”

He clears his throat and you rest your chin on your knees, watching up at him as you listen to his voice fill the room.

You swayed back and forth, closing your eyes as you know he’s really serenading you in secret.

He hums a little before picking up with the words and you smile up at him, giving him a thumbs up when he glances down at you.

He smirks, shaking his head before looking back up at the screen, “Why am I all of a sudden so smiley? Well I- I’ll put it this way, until you have a work of art in progress that you’re exited to get out, you wouldn’t understand.”

Johnnie tilts his head, “That sounded absolutely dickish, my apologies. I’m just so happy to get this out for you guys.”

You reach over, secretly laying your hand on his leg under the desk and he leans back, “Alright guys, I think I’m going to call it a night, I’ll get back on tomorrow and fill you in on the first day of the music video shoot.”

Johnnie sets his guitar down and leans forward, “Thank you all so much, I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He clicks off and turns the chair towards you as he takes off his head set. You stand up, “Good stream, J?”

“Yeah, it was good.” He nods with a smile, biting down on his lip rings, “How was dinner with Tara?”

You nod, walking over to stand between his knees, “Actually really good, I brought you something back.”

“Oh no way! I’m actually starving.” He slides his hands up your thighs and lays them on your hips, “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” You run your hand through his hair and look over at the computer screen. Your heart skips a beat as you see the chat still filling with messages.

USER.ONE: UMMM HELLO

USER.TWO: WAIT Y/N!?!?!? Am I seeing this correctly???

USER.THREE: WHAT IS Y/N DOING THERE!?

USER.FOUR: is that Y/N Y/L/N?????

USER.FIVE: Y/N and JOHNNIE OH OH OH

USER.SIX: I HAVE NO ONE TO TALK TO ABOUT THIS!!!!!

“Uh, Johnnie.” You tap his shoulder and he looks over, “What- oh fuck. I’m sorry. I thought I-“ he laughs slightly, “I thought I logged off.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “It’s fine.”

“Sorry guys.” Johnnie puts his headset back on and sighs, “I guess this wasn’t goodbye.” He laughs, “So I guess, um..” he looks up at you, “I guess the cat is out of the bag, huh?”

You nod, sitting down on his lap, “I guess so.” You smile as you wave to the camera, “It’s me, Hi.”

USER.SEVEN: so it’s TRUE!?

USER.EIGHT: ohhhh this is so goooood!!!

USER.NINE: WHAT THE HELL I CALLED THIS SHIT!!!

USER.TEN: STOP IT THIS IS PERFECT

“I’m glad to see that they’re responding well.” You smile and look at Johnnie. He looks up at you and gives you a smile, “If they didn’t, then that’s on them.”

He leans in, pecking your lips, “I love this girl.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thank you so much for reading! I love you all so much! 🖤 catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[lightlycareless]

The oneshot we were all expecting!!!!!! Or at least the one I so desperately wanted to write 🥹 I just adore our two little lovebirds in this setting—their first kiss and date ajkhgjkaghjkahgjkahsgjkashkgaskghaj ANYWAYS

warnings: highschool au. naoya is completely evangelized so don't expect his usual shenanigans. he's also somewhat of an obnoxious dork. fluff. also minimal proofreading (?)

Happy reading!!

[I’m almost there!! There was a small delay on the train, but I’m almost there I swear!! I’m sorry, please wait for me 🥺]

Naoya must’ve re-read your last message a thousand times, but far from making him angry, or even easing his anxiety… it just made him feel worse.

As if the seconds he spent waiting for you weren’t agonizing enough, now that he knew you were very close, he couldn’t help but worry about your reaction. If you’d approve of him, his itinerary for the day—

Or most importantly, his appearance.

Up to that point you had only seen him in his everyday boring jujutsu uniform, with a few exceptions of casual attire after class. Never situations where actual effort beyond the bare minimum was placed.

So naturally, he had to go all out on your first date with him.

Was it too much?

Maybe. Though some would argue this… style was expected of him. Expensive, borderline excessive, from head to toe black in brands many could only dream of affording—it was obvious that Naoya had money to spend, and he wanted the whole world to know.

Mostly you. Everyone else he really didn’t care for—he just wanted you to know what he was willing to do and provide for you. Nothing more, nothing less. 

And such was his determination that he almost forgot another important matter, the one that ended up affecting him the most ultimately: his reaction to seeing you all dressed up for the date.

With a black short skirt alongside a beige oversized turtleneck, accompanied by black thighs that sparked something inside him… Naoya simply wanted to scoop you up and gush at your adorableness. He literally didn't think you capable of being any prettier, and yet, here you were, proving him wrong. Just like every day.

“I’m so sorry Naoya, I hope you weren’t waiting for too long!” you breathed, rushing to his side. Even if you had kept him waiting, all those silly trivialities disappeared the moment you stepped into his sight. 

“You didn’t.” he lies, doing his best to contain the blushing mess settling on his face. “I just got here.”

“That’s not true.” You giggle. “You’ve always been punctual!”

Yes, that's true. And when it comes to you he was far worse; in fact, for today he had actually arrived three hours earlier just to make sure that all the places in his itinerary were still available. 

Naoya had reservations anyways, but there’s always some fool...

“The same way you’re always pretty.”

Now it’s your turn to fluster; what a nice way to turn the tables.

“You’re not so bad yourself, boyfriend.”

Naoya smiles; he's been waiting so long to earn that title, and naturally, it's much sweeter than what he imagined.

“You ready to go?” he asks as he takes hold of your hand.

“Yeah!” you nod eagerly, squeezing him back. “Where are we going first? The aquarium?”

“Yes. Unless you’re hungry, princess. If so, we can get a bite.”

“No, I’m not hungry yet. But I guess we could get  something to drink.” You suggest, already looking through your options.

“Whatever you want, and don’t hold back. Remember it’s all on me.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words. 

“Thank you.”

He smiles.

Naoya had previously scoured the area for nothing but the best coffee shops to give you the most amazing experience possible, nothing short of suitable for his little mochi…

Though his efforts would ultimately be for naught, since you’d take him towards a personal selection instead, initially a recommendation from one of your classmates, now your favorite spot. 

But it wasn’t all bad as Naoya feared, in fact, it was much better than he anticipated; the pastries, while peculiar, were surprisingly tasty. Even for someone like him who wasn’t all too fond of sweets. Yet, what he liked the most was the cozy ambiance that set for an… intimate setting.

“You know, you’re awfully cute when you do that.” Naoya murmurs, a sly smile as he places his hand over yours, inching closer to you.

“When I do what?” you ponder curiously.

“Don’t act coy now, you know what I mean.”

“But I’m not… doing anything.” you frown.

“Is that so?” Naoya laughs.

“Don’t tease me…” you murmur. Your poor heart was already on the brink of bursting out of your chest by the happiness of being so close to him brought you—

You almost passed out once he got much, much closer to you, pressing his thumb at the left corner of your lips and wiping the remnants of your delicious tiramisu…

“Oh, Naoya—that’s—!” you covered your face with your hands. “Stop it! You’re just trying to embarrass me…!”

“Hmmm… really? How could I possibly do that?”

“You—you know what I mean! Don’t act like you don’t!”

Well, you’d better get used to this playful side of Naoya if you’re to be his girlfriend, for he doesn’t intend to stop anytime soon—though he briefly manages to stop when in the aquarium.

Yes, even for someone “cool” like him, the aquarium was quite enjoyable by itself, the kind of place he wouldn’t mind returning to later on again…

Especially if he gets to admire you gleefully observing the fishes, gushing at the ones you considered pretty, if not odd, while taking pictures of them.

There’s just… something about seeing you like this that makes his heart feel warmer, tighter, his feelings for you growing stronger the longer he stares at you, eventually leading him to the thought he’s plentifully considered before—but never brave enough to push for it.

But now… considering all this… he believes perhaps, it’s finally time for that.

Nonetheless, he’s yet to traverse his biggest obstacle, which is setting up everything for that to happen— if it was even meant to occur in the first place. 

Just consider this: Naoya is intimidated by the notion of asking you for a picture, hiding his phone as soon as you turn around to face him.

“It’s—It’s nothing.” He stammers, looking away as he promptly shoves his phone down his pocket. “Just wanted to check something—I think I got a message or something...”

“You know… if you want a photo of me all you have to do is ask.” You suggest, moving closer to him and intertwining your arm with his, resting your head into his shoulder. To think that just a few moments ago the roles were reversed… Oh, how you adored Naoya. “Might even throw in a pose or two for my shy boyfriend.”

“I’m not shy.” Naoya frowns.

“No, of course not.” You giggle, standing on your toes and kissing his cheek. “Never.”

Once done with the aquarium, Naoya’s itinerary continued to the nearby mall, where he’d encourage you to buy something nice—or more like force you to do it yourself, since he was set on purchasing whatever he assumed you’d enjoy. So, if you don't want to end up with things you might not like, you better step up— before getting something to eat.

But while most of his plans were made with the purpose of distracting you, he won’t deny that he’s greatly benefiting from them too; because once he set his mind in achieving that today, Naoya turned into nothing less of an anxious mess, constantly wondering what he needed to do to achieve the same thing he’s been dreaming of since he’s set his eyes on you. 

As well as trying to overcome the insecurities that came with it, what could ultimately ruin the small relationship he was starting to build with you.

What if you didn’t want to? What if you accepted this date to get to know more of him, deciding the best way to continue was by taking things even slower?

If so, he’d only ruin everything with his silly request!

But this—this isn’t anything new. A lot of couples have done it many times! And will continue to do so even after the two are no longer around. 

«Don’t you think if this is something she wanted to do,  she would’ve told you already?» Naoya cruelly scolds himself. «If I make this decision myself, I’ll only end up pushing her away—»

“Are you ok, Naoya?” you ask, having noticed how eerily silent he’s become since… a while ago, really. “You haven’t even tasted your ramen”

“Ah, yes— I’m fine.” He responds, wiping the sweat off his hands on his coat before looking at you. “I just remembered there’s an assignment I need to do.”

“Oh, is it urgent? We can head back if you—”

“What? No! Why would you suggest that?!” Naoya gasps, you blink. “I—I mean—I still want to spend more time with you in the city.”

You press your lips together.

“Are you sure it’s nothing? We can always go out another time…”

“No. I want today to be special, it’s our first date, after all.” You blush.

“Alright, I’ll believe you.” You say, smiling. “But only if you eat, if not, we’ll head back to the school!”

Maybe filling his stomach will ease his nerves, an empty stomach was never a good basis to make decisions on. 

And yet, it simply made his uneasiness grow bigger, if not worse—like he could puke at the mere thought of disappointing you, even when you’ve consistently shown how happy you are with all that he’s done for you.

Or so that’s how you wished to feel, because it wouldn’t take long before you noticed Naoya’s… distance. His prolonged silence that begun just after leaving the aquarium—the now bane of your existence—completely different from when the day began.

You didn’t want to take this mishap and use it as fuel for your insecurities, but with nowhere else to go and no answers to obtain, it just happened. You simply… began to think that maybe, he didn’t like you as much as you hoped. 

Perhaps you’ve come off too strong with him back then; or maybe you’re too weird for his liking, you shouldn’t have gotten too comfortable with him too early in the relationship—

Not that it mattered anyway, because you were absolutely sure he was now considering not being with you anymore.

Evidently, the two were going through quite the emotional turmoil; but it wasn’t until you realized that the time to return home was fast approaching that you decided to take the first step and end all confusions once and for all.

If the day was going to end like that, you might as well know why.

“Na—Naoya… did I do something to upset you?”

Naoya immediately blinks, snapped back to reality and startled by your bold accusation.

“No?? Where is this coming from??”

“I—I don’t know, I guess you… well, I just concluded that since you got all silent out of the sudden… it must’ve been because of me.” you quietly explained. “Because I disappointed you.”

“I hope to never hear that from you ever again.” Naoya frowns, his stern reaction making you further embarrassed, avoiding his gaze subsequently. He sighs.  “Lool, Y/N… I didn’t mean it that way.”

“...Just tell me. What did you not like about me? What is something I did?”

“All you’ve ever done is be perfect, so no.”

“Then what is it?” you ask once more. “Is it the assignment you told me?”

“No, that’s not it. Not at all.” Naoya quickly responds.

“Then tell me, please.” you breathe, getting desperate at the lack of answer—for every denial felt as if the knife of his indifference twisted deeper and deeper into your heart. Inching you closer to the possibility of you being the cause of such distaste, he just didn’t want you to make a scene. “If it’s something I did—”

“Seriously, stop it already, Y/N!” Naoya gasps, immediately cupping your face and forcing you to see him. You try your best to avoid his gaze to befall your teary one, but ultimately you fail at his persistence. “What do I need to say to get through that stubborn little head of yours??”

“…The truth, I guess…” you sniffed, there’s no point holding back the tears forming in your eyes anymore if they were already soaking your cheeks. “...What changed?”

Naoya swallows, already feeling like shit by having made you cry—a sight he will never forget, nor will he allow to occur once again by his own merit—worse when his heart just kept pounding loudly and painfully against his chest, a combination of his uncertainty when approaching the topic, and regret for your reaction.

But even then, he wholeheartedly prefers to deal with his embarrassment, than his guilt for having hurt the woman of his dreams.

The faster he mends this, the quicker you’ll be back to the same bubbly girl he fell in love with. Or so, he hopes.

“The truth is… I’ve been thinking about something. About that.” Naoya begins, voice trembling as he looks at you. 

“I don’t… follow.”  you say.

He swallows once more.

“The reason why I’ve been quiet is because I want to do something with you.” He quickly adds, it’s obvious by the way he speaks that he’s very nervous, fearful that you might judge him afterwards. But only if he knew… “I want… to… kiss you.”

“O—Oh!” you gasp, and suddenly, everything seemed to make sense. “Naoya, is that why—”

“Ye—yeah. And I didn't know how to bring it up without making you uncomfortable.” Naoya explains. “That’s the reason why I kept quiet. I… I never meant to upset you.”

“I… I didn’t know you were—”

“I knew it was a stupid idea, I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? You probably haven’t even considering the idea—forget I said anything—”

“No, Naoya, don’t—don’t say that.” you say, pulling his attention back to you. “Because that’s not true.”

“What do you mean?”

“...I guess I mean to say I… I’ve also considered it. I have also been thinking about it, quite often too…” you confess, embarrassed. “I’d be lying if I said otherwise…” 

“Y/N…  you mean to say you also…”

“Y—yeah, I mean… who doesn’t want to kiss their boyfriend any chance they get?” you ask. “I just didn’t bring it up because… well, I wasn't sure if you wanted to.”

“It’s all I’ve been dreaming of.” He reveals as well, your heart quickens once again. “...Did you hope it would happen today?”

“M—Maybe!” you shriek. “It’s not too soon, is it?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Naoya admits. “I think some might even say we’re running late.”

You frown. “Not that it should matter, it’s our relationship. Our decision—and I… choose to wait if you so desire.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore.” you say. “I… I want to kiss you.”

“Then let’s do it—” “But what if you don’t like it?” it’s your time to worry. “I… haven’t kissed anyone else so I don’t know what to do…”

Naoya blinks. Did he hear that right? But far from being inundated with that peculiar rush most got in a situation like this, he was greatly worried about making this a moment you’ll enjoy.

A moment he won’t ruin by his own inexperience.

“Am I to be your first?”

“I mean, I guess if you count that one time when I was 5…”

“I don’t like the thought of that.” Naoya frowns, jealous. You let out a breathy chuckle.

“It was a silly bet, Naoya. Didn’t mean anything.” But you still made the conscious decision to not tell him who it was—if this is how he got at the mere thought of someone else kissing you, you could only imagine what he’d do upon learning it was actually Satoru all along. “Not when I only want you.”

Naoya swallows, his heart skipping a beat.

“Then… what are we waiting for…?”

After a quick debate, the two end up settling for a small, nearby park to finally do what their heart’s desired, into a somewhat secluded eye where no one else would see them obnoxiously (but sweetly) try to kiss each other for the first time, yet intimate enough to persuade them into actually doing so.

Truth be told, the more you and Naoya realized how close you were to actually doing, the more… anxious you felt. To believe you were simply a few moments away from kissing your boyfriend for the first of many times… This might as well be your first kiss!

Might be Naoya’s too.

“N—now what?” you whisper, unsure how to proceed, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I—I guess we kiss.” He swallows, gently squeezing your hands. “Do I just… lean?”

“Ye—yeah.” You nod, cleaning up all the strands of hair that obstructed your face. “And I guess I’ll just… move to you.”

“Ok.” He nods, taking one last deep breath. “Then… let’s do it.”

…

…

…

“You said you would lean down, Naoya.”

“I can’t if you’re staring at me like that!”

“I’m—I’m not staring!” you cry back. “I’m just—I’m just being attentive!”

“Yes you are, you’re looking straight at me with those big eyes of yours!”

“Where am I supposed to look, then?! How am I supposed to know when to move??”

“Not me?? Close your eyes!”

“But what if you bump into me?!”

You’ve unknowingly awoken a fear within Naoya, as if the worry of your approval wasn’t enough.

“I’m not—I’m not going to bump into you.” He frowns. “Why would you even suggest something so silly… Do you know how weird you look staring right at me?”

You frown.

“…You didn’t have to be rude about it…” Naoya immediately regrets the way he spoke to you.

“No, princess, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He says, cupping your face once more. “That was just my nerves talking.”

“…I’m nervous too.”

“I know, I know. But I still want this, more than anything in the world.” Naoya adds. “So please… trust me. I promised to take care of you, didn’t I?”

You smile softly.

“You did.”

“Then just close your eyes and let me do everything else.”

“O—okay…” you nod, sighing before eventually closing your eyes, trying your best to relax and prepare for the fateful moment that would mark the beginning of this beautiful relationship.

Unaware of Naoya’s intent stares; it was almost ironic how he complained about your gaze when he was doing the very same thing now…

But he wasn’t exaggerating when stating he really wanted this. In fact, he probably wanted this much, much more than you. To finally be connected to someone that would appreciate him for who he was, not for what he represented…

Naoya never imagined a moment like this could ever happen with someone like him, like his family and it’s expectations.

Yet, it’s like he summoned you out of his thoughts and now, here you were, materialized before him and ready to give him all the love he deserved—through the adorable pout you were unwittingly doing, awaiting for his kiss, to the way you stood on your toes, your own way to help him out when he eventually leans down. Were you even aware of how adorable you were to him? If not, it just transformed his perception of you into something even lovelier.

«I won’t keep you waiting any longer» Naoya promises as he readjusted his gentle hold of your face, giving you one last smile before finally beginning to lean down towards you. Taking in your scent, your softness, your warmth…

Closing his eyes when just a few millimeters away from your lips, preparing to take in your affection, and then—

He kisses you.

Carefully and sweetly, his world is suddenly filled with color when his lips finally touch your soft ones, the very sensation he always imagined you’d have—no, this was much, much better than all he could conjure up.

It filled a void he’s been desperately craving to satisfy, the need to feel loved, cared for, needed—you gave him all that with just a simple gesture…

How could he not fall more in love with you? His life had become far more thrilling with you in it, and this was only the evidence of such.

And while it ended as a quick kiss, nothing short of inexperienced, found with some hesitance along the way… none of these things mattered in the bigger picture.

To you and Naoya, this was the official declaration of each other’s love, leaning deeper into each other’s embrace once eventually separated.

“S—so…? How—How was it?” you ask, doing your best to push down your heart from coming out your throat as you glanced up to him. “Was—was it… good?”

“Ye—yeah.” Naoya quietly admits, resting his head alongside yours. “It… tasted like ramen.”

“You—stop it! Be serious!” you fret, already a nervous mess when asking for his opinion, his comment simply made it worse!

But naturally, he was only making a slight jest of the moment, his instinctive reaction to trying to ease his jumping heart from bursting out of his chest, as you’d come to notice when placing your ear next to it—it’s the first time you’ve ever heard such quickness coming from him… enough evidence to know he enjoyed it, much to your delight.

“I like it.” he confesses, you smile, leaning deeper into his chest. “It was… much, much better than I expected.”

“I can hear that.” you giggle, hugging him tightly. “... I liked it very much too.”

“Enough to kiss me again?” he teases once more, you blush.

“I don’t know if my poor heart can take it.” you jest back. “My ears are ringing too.”

“Well, you know what they say—the more you keep doing something, the more comfortable you feel with it.” Naoya implicitly suggests.

“Are you saying…”

He nods. “...but only if you want… please.”

You grin.

After such a lovely date, and with so sweetly that he asked…

You had no other option. Not that you’d have many once Naoya grew confident enough to kiss you over and over again later on, if anything, you’d soon find yourself begging him to give you a second to breathe. It would be a miracle if he even gave you a chance to speak in between kisses!

But oh, who are you kidding? Deep within, you knew you enjoyed it, always looking forward to the moment the love of your life would come rushing to steal all your kisses away, you’d probably won’t have any to share by the end of the year!

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“By the way, princess. Why didn’t you want me to pick you up? It was nothing, you know? I could’ve easily gone to your house and done so.”

“Well, because I didn’t want to inconvenience you.” you say, he frowns. “I know, you just said it wouldn’t. But I also felt like taking the public transport, I haven’t used it since we got out on holiday.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you taking the public transport, it’s… unbefitting for someone like you.”

“The public transport isn’t that bad, first of all.” You say, tightly holding his hand as the two headed towards the nearest station, time to head back home unless you wished to deal with an angry father. “...But if you really want to know… I didn’t ask you to pick me up because I didn’t want your motorcycle ruining my outfit.”

“Ruinning your outfit—really? Is that all?” He chuckles. 

“Hey, don’t judge me! And besides, you should know too! You’re quite cautious too, to put it one day.”

“I wasn't going to pick you up with the motorcycle, I have cars too, you know?”

“...A car?” you blink. “You have a car too??”

“Cars. Plural.” Naoya explains proudly. “I just choose whichever matches with what I’m wearing.”

“Naoya, I knew you had money, but that’s just ridiculous!”

“It’s our money now, actually.” He says. “All that is mine is yours; so technically the cars are yours too.”

“No Naoya, oh my god.” you gasp. “I can’t—I can’t accept that! Just what did I get myself into?!”

“Hmmm, I don’t know, I guess the best time of your life?”

You blush.

“That would be one way to put it, I guess.” You frown, making him laugh and subsequently press a kiss on your cheek, on your lips…

“As long as you’re with me, you’ll always have what you need.” He swears, pressing one last kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want, I’ll make sure you have it. And I won’t stop at any limit to achieve so.”

Whether he referred to love, or monetary possessions, both guided you to the same conclusion:

“I know.”

NGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Nothing was ever the same after that point; 🥺 I just... well, I hoped you liked it!! I wanted this to be as sweet and somewhat awkward as possible lol they're teenagers, after all; but not enough to ruin the experience. I hope I managed to convey that 🥹

Luckily I have another version of their first kiss so if you don't particularly enjoy this, there's always another 😏 but i'll get to that one eventually.

Now, take care, and hope you have a wonderful day!!

[gnawer-of-table-legs]

IF YOU LIVE IN THE US, PLEASE READ AND PREPARE

this is not meant to cause panic. Panic helps no one, and we WILL get through this. I’m not the best at giving advice and this post is a bit rushed. If you have any other ideas, please reblog with additions or suggestions for changes.

“Delete the terms sexual orientation, gender equality, awareness and sensitivity, diversity, equity, inclusion, abortion, reproductive health and reproductive rights out of every rule, regulation, contract, grant and piece of federal legislation that exists....”

This is an actual quote from Project 2025. It’s not TRUMP’s plan, but he has a very similar one (Agenda 47), and he definitely won’t stop the Republican Senate majority from carrying either of them out.

….So life sucks for Americans (and everyone honestly) rn but the fight is NOT over!! Stay vigilant, stay prepared.

Educate yourself on project 2025/agenda 47 to the fullest extent. If there’s something on that list that you NEED and will be banned, take care of it as soon as possible, if you can.

For example: Those behind Project 2025 want to get rid of no-fault divorce. That means that if someone wants to leave a marriage but their partner doesn’t agree, they’re essentially trapped. That’s dangerous! If you want to leave a marriage, do it NOW. If you’re in a bad relationship, do NOT marry, get out of there. Even if you’re in a good relationship: please, please, PLEASE keep in mind that you may not be able leave it if you get married.

Take advantage of existing programs while they still exist and are relatively accessible (healthcare, etc).

Do research on queer/disability/etc support groups and general life tips and share them around in case that information becomes unavailable in the future. In a similar vein, take note on whether having a diagnosed mental illness or disorder would be helpful or detrimental in the future (again, see the above quote).

Download and Save forms of media that you think you may no longer have access to (fanfic, etc). Since KOSA (or some similar internet censorship bill) may pass, take note of what mediums you can use to stay in contact with online friends and support systems. Some suggestions i've received:

Scratch (the coding website) <- may be affected by KOSA but parents are less likely to look twice at it. Again, may not not be affected by KOSA since they already have filters set in place (for swears/violent language, not for queer topics. that may change).

Google Docs/Photos/Chats. All you need is a google account

Apple Photos: you can make chats somehow

**************It goes without saying that you should always be safe online and limit the amount of personal information you share. Please be responsible. **************

Reblog, and add further ideas if you have them— we can and WILL get through this!

edit: maybe this seems a bit too urgent, sorry. Just. Keep an eye on legal proceedings and take advantage of what is currently available. I’m not saying that everything in project 2025 WILL happen, but the conservatives DO have control over the Senate. Please, please plan ahead

[thealogie]

Gotta preface it with ‘I’m not from the US, so obviously don’t understand lots about how election results affect everyday life of people living there’. Also, if I suddenly, still being myself, became a US citizen with a right to vote, I can’t imagine voting for Trump. Saying all that, I don’t think labelling half of the country, tens of millions of people, genuinely evil is very productive or even mentally honest.

I am from the part of the world, which suffered from both republican and democrat US administrations, and lately most of the geopolitical games resulting in tons of blood, have been played, obviously, by democrats. I have to say that I find their utter hypocrisy deeply disgusting. At least your republicans, how I see it, don’t even mask being monsters, they say it like it is. When two negotiating sides state their goals outright, it is possible to come to an agreement at least marginally better than when one side is always being two(3,4,5)-faced, making a point to wrap their actual goals (if they even know them) in pretty words about democracy while double-crossing their negotiation partner even before the ink has dried.

I know that you’re from Iran and are aware of how deeply destructive US foreign policies can be, increasingly so since the start of this century. With one caveat that Trump seems to be especially hostile to Iran, and a democrat would’ve been marginally better when it comes to the US policy regarding Iran. It’s not the same for all parts of the world though, so we might not all be unbiased observers here.

I know that foreign policy doesn’t decide US elections, I only wrote this longwinded nonsense to say that maybe there are solid reasons for half of the US to prefer Trump and reject the democrats, like for the rest of the world there are reasons for either. Economic, political, whatever. Maybe liberals should look into these reasons before dismissing millions of people as genuinely evil, like Hillary did in her time. Idk about you, but when she called half of the country ‘deplorables’ or whatever, no one I know and no one I read (not from US) felt sympathetic. It just sounded incredibly entitled and delusional, and plain dumb. And it looks like since Hillary democrats haven’t learned or even attempted to learn anything, it’s still ‘half of our nation is broken and evil and we can’t do anything about it’. But it’s not how people work, in my opinion. Yes, they might not care about minorities first, they might care about themselves first, but doesn’t it mean that politicians should identify their problems and offer solutions? Isn’t it how it works? Dehumanazing Trump supporters will only radicalize them more, isn’t it what in fact happened, and how it always works with people in general?

Idk about life inside the US, like I said, but how I see it, the only ones to blame here are democrats and liberals in general. If people in the world, and I’m sure inside the US, will see that they finally start addressing the problems instead of hiding behind empty rhetoric, if the level of hypocrisy and delusional entitlement decreases at least to some degree, the support for right-wing populists will also decrease, I’m sure of it. Because most people are not ‘genuinely evil’, but they become embittered and cruel when their concerns are continuously dismissed, things start to fester resulting in ugly political outcomes. I mean, I know you know all this, sorry for being so boring and longwinded. It’s just that I usually like your takes (I came for MASH and stayed for the neighbors as well), including political ones, but here I got a bit of a whiplash, sorry.

I appreciate this thoughtful note. You don’t have to like my takes for us to be on friendly terms. And to be clear I do forever and always blame democrats and liberals for not energizing the people who agree with them.

But as you say you don’t live here and so there’s no way for me to convey to you without asking you to spend months reading right wing political accounts here and talking to people here that a sizable number of the people who support this man are genuinely bad people and want me and people like me out of this country.

This comes from hundreds of personal encounters over the past 8 years and spending the past three months reading dozens and dozens of pieces of reporting that are like “I went to talk to voters in a small town, here’s what they had to say.” And the things you hear are: purge this country of immigrants, make America a dominating force in the world again, get us back to traditional values where women are popping out babies…oh yeah and also the economy would be better under him.

Like idk what you want me to call sexist, homophobic, white supremacists but I think they are evil. And I think it used to be that the Republican Party was more polite about all of these beliefs so I could understand people being disaffected and voting for them for reasons other than hating other humans but now we’re just saying the quiet part out loud and there’s no plausible deniability

[ariasakka]

Viktor arcane smut

Talks of body insecurity, smut, fluff, 18+, female reader, similar/same age as Viktor, pussy eating, etc

Nobody has been able to make you cum before. Your best friend Viktor can help you with that.

If anything in this makes you uncomfortable at any point please don’t continue to read. <3

Enjoy ;)

Viktor is your best friend and has been in love with you for years. Jayce keeps hitting on you but you don’t like him. Viktor feels a little jealous every time someone flirts with you especially Jayce but tries not to let it be seen.

You often spend the night at Viktors place because hes your only friend and you’re his closest friend.

You and Viktor were gifted some fancy drinks after presenting your new idea to the council. You both go back to his place after and decide to celebrate. That and neither of you really feel like being alone. After all you both get along with each other better than anyone else. No one knows the two of you better than one another. Late night talks are always both of your favorite. After a few glasses of the worst alcoholic beverage you and Viktor have ever tasted you both lay down on his bed feeling tipsy and exhausted.

Viktor

“I saw Jayce eyeing you all day again.”

You

“Ugh I know, wish he’d leave me alone.”

Viktor chuckles lightly

“You don’t like him back at all? Not even a little?”

You

“I don’t want Jayce. He’s barely even an acquaintance in my eyes. I’ve always gone for men like Jayce. Not because I find any of them attractive but because I feel like I have to. To feel more feminine…or maybe not even just feminine. I guess more petite next to them? Womanly? Weak? I don’t know. None of them have ever been able to make me finish either. But I guess that’s my fault. It can’t be this hard to cum for other women. I don’t really see a point in dating if I don’t find hardly any men attractive plus they don’t satisfy me at all regardless of the non existent orgasm.”

Viktor

“Have you seriously never came with someone else before?”

You

“…no”

Viktor

“Does foreplay not make it easier? Or at the very least more enjoyable?”

You laugh

“Foreplay? That only exists in fiction. Men are not into that thing.”

Viktor

“Boys are not into that sort of thing. What about oral? Clitoral stimulation with the tongue? I feel as though that can always do the job. It’s not too rough nor too gentle. It’s quite intimate and romantic at the same time.”

You

“Um…no man I’ve been with as ever been into that.”

Viktor

“What?!”

You

“Not necessarily because of me they’ve always just said they don’t do that to any woman because “it’s weird” or whatever.”

Viktor sighs

“Let me guess they request oral from their women though.”

You

“Um well….i suppose..”

Viktor

“I feel sorry for you. I assure you men who are actually interested in women don’t prioritize their cock.”

You

“Then what would they even get out of sex if not that?!”

Viktor

“Do you really think men can’t enjoy sex if their dick isn’t involved in the equation?”

You

“Well yes. All men are like that. Aren’t they?..”

Viktor

“Absolutely not. Again men *who are actually into women* will be just as if not more satisfied with his face inbetween her legs.”

You

“…”

Viktor

“Real men have far more enjoyment with foreplay or oral, etcetera than just boring average penetration. It is not impossible for you to cum. You have just been unlucky with men who should look into fucking men or better yet themselves.”

You

“I guess. I’m still convincing myself it’s impossible though.”

Viktor

“Tsk. Jayce is nice but he would probably not know how to satisfy a woman so I suppose you are dodging a bullet there my friend.”

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

Viktor

“Well…what about Jayce’s looks? Do you like him in that regard?”

You

“He’s far from my type in looks as-well.”

Viktor teases

“Do you prefer even more muscular men then?”

You laugh

“Absolutely not! Quite the opposite actually but i always feel huge next to them. If I found a man i actually like he’d never go for someone like me. If he wouldn’t find my body unattractive he’d probably be put off by my strength. Men are always so inscure when I’m stronger than them..”

Viktor feels a warm feeling in his chest when he hears you say “quite the opposite” in hopes he’s closer to your type. That feeling quickly fades when he hears you insult yourself.

Viktor

“You can’t possibly think that can you?!”

You

“What?”

Viktor moves his face closer to yours on the bed in annoyance. He has to make sure you actually hear his words. Take them in. Believe them. You putting yourself down like this is making his head spin.

Viktor

“One you can’t possibly think you’re big. You’re quite small. For Christ sake you’re average height. Two you do not have to be this stupid beauty standard of stick and bone to be beautiful. Three you’re far from huge. Thats never once been a thought in my mind. Four you’re strong. Very strong but any man put off by that is a weak one!”

You

“There are women smaller.”

Viktor

“And you’re still the most beautiful one of them all.”

You

“You don’t have to be nice to me Viktor. I’m just rambling nonsense.”

Viktor

“All women have their own insecurities of course but I truly mean it. I do. You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I truly mean that. I’ve always thought that. I can’t possibly understand how you could think differently.”

You

“I-“

As he was talking he didn’t notice his face had gotten so close you yours now that your his nose was brushing against your cheek. He was so mesmerized with your beauty. So taken aback that you couldn’t see what he saw that with every word he spoke he grew closer and closer to you getting lost in your beauty. He can feel your warm breath against his face. He can hear every shaky breath you take. He was unsure before if you’d ever feel for him an ounce of what he felt for you. In that moment he knew you felt something. He could tell with every fiber of his being. He didn’t care if you felt the exact same intensity for him as he did for you at least he knew you felt something for him and that was enough. All he wanted to do was to please you. Make your legs shake. To make you feel loved. To cherish you. To hold you.

You both paused for a moment. He was lost in thought of you. Before you had time to respond he placed a gentle kiss on your warm lips. To his surprise you reciprocated. You gently tugged on his shirt pulling him in for more. He had always been your type. Always been the one you wanted. What you needed. You were too afraid to ever let him know before. Worried he wouldn’t feel the same way. Most importantly even more worried to push away your best friend. Your only friend. You didn’t know if what Viktor was feeling was just lust or love. The way he was kissing you. The way he was talking to you. It couldn’t help but make you feel as though it was both. You had never felt something this intense. Not even sex made your body react this way. You never wanted it to end.

Viktor felt intoxicated and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. Viktor hovered his hand above your waist desperately wanting to feel your skin with his hands but waited for your okay. You gave him a nod in approval when you saw his hand. With your nod he places his thin fingers on your waist gently tracing them under your shirt. Viktor pulled you closer to him with each kiss until neither of you get any closer together. He couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers into your mouth and tighten his grip on your hip every time you tugged on his shirt.

Viktor pulled away from your lips for a moment. He looked at you with need.

Viktor

“Please, please, I want to make you feel good.”

You

“I- I can’t finish you know that.”

Viktor groans

“I know you can. And if you really can’t at all then I at least know I can make you feel pleasure, please.”

You don’t respond too lost in the way he’s looking up at you with desire.

Viktor traces his fingers gently from your waist down to your legs to your knees then back up again.

Viktor

“I can’t let you live your whole life without feeling pleasure.”

You

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes. Just..do whatever you want.”

Viktor leaves your skirt on. He places soft passionate kisses along your neck while undoing your pants bringing them to your knees. You help him by kicking your pants fully off having them fall to the floor. Viktor slides his hand down on top of your panties and gently traces circles over your clit.

Viktor

“Do you want me to make your pussy feel good?”

You nod in response. You can’t help but moan in excitement as he starts to move his fingers up and down your wet slit over your panties.

You wonder if you’re feeling this good because of his skill or just because it’s Viktor.

Once he can tell you’re soaked, Viktor slowly slides your panties off. Admiring your bare pussy intensely starting to drool a bit at the mouth.

Viktor

“Fuck such a pretty pussy. Can I give it a kiss? Please?”

You

“Mm yes you may.”

Viktor slides himself down on the bed until his face reaches your cunt. He lays on his stomach and presses his face down into your folds. Smothering himself in your juices. He gently traces his tongue along your clit. Gripping your thighs in place as you start to shake from pleasure. You were already feeling so much bliss you couldn’t imagine what on earth an orgasm could feel like. How could you possibly feel better than this.

Once he can tell you’re enjoying this and getting used to the feeling he slides two fingers inside slowly. Gently thrusting them back and forth. Fuck you never knew sex could feel this good. After a while you start to unconsciously buck your hips into his face. When he notices this he starts to scissor his fingers inside of your hole sticking his tongue in between his fingers rapidly licking your insides. With his other hand he gently holds two fingers to your clit. He doesn’t move them, Viktor doesn’t want to overstimulate you too much. The bucking of your hips should stimulate his fingers on your clit enough. Viktor can feel you getting closer and closer to release. His boxers are soaked with precum from the sight of you. The taste of you. The sound of you. If he was to grind into the mattress he could cum in under five minutes but he won’t. He’ll hold back. This is about your pleasure. A few more licks deep in your cunt and your gushing cum all over his face. It doesn’t matter how much you shake his face never leaves your pussy it’s like he’s glued to it. He groans as he tastes your cum. The sight of him licking up every drop is making your brain go numb.

Once he’s cleaned you up he sucks your juices off his fingers before bringing his body up in between your legs. Resting his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

Viktor

“Did I do alright?”

You

“You did perfect. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling that good.”

Viktor smirks and says smugly

“I knew you could cum.”

You smack his arm gently in response before wrapping your arms around his back. Holding him tightly. He feels so good like this. You’ve wanted to hold him like this for so long.

You

“Do you..want me to do anything to you?”

Viktor

“No, no. This is all I needed. Do me one favor though?”

You

“Anything.”

Viktor

“Stay here tonight. In my bed. Let me fall asleep in your arms like this. Let me call you mine tomorrow.”

You

“Call me yours?”

Viktor

“Is it not painstakingly obvious I’m in love with you? Do you not feel an ounce of the same?”

You

“I’ve felt the same for a while. I just..I just didn’t think you felt that too. Or maybe I didn’t want to believe it because it would be too good to be true.”

Viktor

“Let me keep being too good to be true. Please. Let me spoil you. As more than a friend. Be mine.”

You

“I’m yours.”

[sammyvhs]

home : 1.09 pt1 — jess’s sister.

You’re not stupid. At least you hope not. You pray you’re not. You knock on their motel door a little less sure of the fact, maybe it’ll increase in confidence when you see them.

It doesn’t. The second your eyes lock with Sam’s half-asleep ones you’re positive your breath hitches just enough that your heart stops beating momentarily. His messy hair, his exhausted expression, the dark bags under his eyes even him still wearing jeans and a shirt.

“Hey, you came.” You nod and lean into the hug he pulls you in for. His cologne is palpable, the same one he used to wear in Stanford and it’s comforting for you to know he hasnt thrown the bottle away.

“I came.” You whisper, letting go and stepping inside when he moves to let you in. Dean’s on a bed, looks like he’s sleeping peacefully. You wish you could too but everytime you close your eyes your sister is on the ceiling. Sometimes she’s calling out for you to help. Other times she’s telling you that you’re the reason she’s gone. Your carelessness. You didn’t lock the doors. The windows, you were fast, you didn’t hear anything, you—

“You okay?” Sam pulls you away from the dark thoughts and you nod. “Okay well, Dean’s asleep and I don’t think we’ll talk much right now, you can catch a few hours.” you nod at the offer, thanking him quietly. You're still in jeans yourself but you don't mind since you're not sure you’ll be sleeping. 

“I’ll take the couch.” he stares at you like you just said bruised his ego then shakes his head. “Sam, im serious, i dont sleep—”

“Vampire?” he jokes half heartedly and you smile.

“I just mean i usually take power naps. Please, sam, just take the bed.” he ends up pulling you on it next to him and you’re not sure why for the first time in months you fall asleep with no nightmares.

Sam doesnt. Sam wakes up suddenly, forcing you out of your sleep, to a nightmare. You’re shuddering thinking of the fact that you felt that safe in your dead sister’s boyfriend’s arms.

You pretend you’re asleep until sam’s breath gets softer and peel yourself off the bed and to the couch. Theres not much to do at four in the morning so you read, you snoop around for a bit, wonder how much sam would hate you if you opened his bag, and eventually take another nap on the couch. 

Still no nightmare, you wake up to the sound of Dean’s boots tapping against on the floor. You quickly sit up a little, taking in your surroundings.

“‘Morning, sweetheart.” your lips apart, sure you're going to respond like a normal human with ‘good morning’ but it doesn’t come, you just nod. “Want coffee?” only then do you notice the two paper cups in his hand.

“Sure, thanks, Dean.”

“Didn’t know what you liked so i got it cream and sugar.”

“It’s good, that’s how i usually take it.” totally not true, you actually take it with milk but you’re not sure you’re staying long enough for him to have to know that. He smiles at you, taking a seat next to you on the couch. “I’m sorry for showing up so suddenly, Dean.” you mumble before trying the coffee. It’s not bad, not your usual taste but definitely still enjoyable.

“‘S no problem, you’re always welcome with us, i gave you my number so you could call me at anytime.” you can’t be held responsible for any of the fluttery feelings in your stomach after that. 

“I guess… i felt like i was slipping, you know? My parents— me and jess never talked to them and they didn’t even call me when she died, i literally had no one, as pathetic as it sounds. Our dad’s side hates us, my mum’s side is on the opposite side of the world and they’ve been calling me but it’s not the same. Its not fair to do this to you two but i dont now what else to do, i just wish someone would tell me.” you're not certain when the first tear started flowing but your thankful its the only one.

“Hey, we’re here for you. Always.” Somehow, you don’t believe it.

[written-in-flowers]

Lovesick: Chan x Male!Reader Pt. 4

Pairing: Bang Chan x Male!Reader | Side pairings: Minho x Chan, Minho x Male!Reader (unrequited)

Word Count: 7k

Genre: Horror, Angst, Smut | AU: Yandere!au, Videogame!AU, Highschool!AU

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary: After being sucked into the dating simulator "Lovesick", Park YN has to defeat five rivals to reach his goal. However, he soon learns his rivals aren't the only thing he must contend with for Chan's love.

Tags: Graphic depictions of violence, Main Character Death, dark fic, dead dove: do not eat, yandere behaviors, yandere!reader, stalking, murder/violence, blood and violence, toxic relationships, mentions of murder, unrequited love, mentions of domestic violence, school massacre/genocide, implied teacher/student relationship, homophobic parents, mentions of bullying/trauma, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, high school setting, anal sex, anal fingering, edging, eventual smut, pool sex, locker room sex, blowjobs, choking.

A/N: PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE READING! I'm not responsible for any feelings you end up having because you ignored this warning and the ones above.

Han Jisung: Tuesday < | > Seo Changbin: Monday

****

You arrived at school before either Jisung or Chan reached their lockers. Despite your growing desire to stalk Chan, you followed Jisung instead. You noticed the gift box he carried throughout the school, and wondered what was actually inside. No doubt it will be a new manga or an anime-related item. You briefly thought of what gift you'd give Chan, but instantly shut it down. That’s not who you are. Chan is a game character; you can’t take him home when you win the game. 

‘Ah, but how nice it’d be to keep him.’

You pushed that out of your head and kept walking. You followed Jisung up the stairs to the second floor, and waited for him to enter his classroom. As you stood by the drinking fountain watching the door, someone came up behind you. 

“Ah, Minho-hyung!” you jumped back into the wall, seeing the older boy standing there with a small grin. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry, YN-ssi,” he frowned, “I didn’t mean to. You seemed deep in thought and I didn’t want to bother you. You’re on the sophomore floor again.”

You’d throttle him if you could. Lee Minho was becoming a pest that you couldn’t flick off. “Um, yeah, I stopped for some water,” you gestured to the fountain. “I was heading up to the library to study some before class.” 

“Wow, such a diligent student,” he grinned. “Most kids go back outside or mess around in the classroom.” 

“I guess so…yeah.”

Minho gazed around the hallway then shortened the space between you. In a whisper, he said, “Look, YN, I’m not going to turn you in or anything, but I wanted to warn you: getting involved with Hwang Hyunjin is a bad idea.”

You froze and examined Minho’s face. He saw the seriousness in the narrow, dark brown eyes, mixing with a tinge of concern. “I don’t know what you mean,” you replied innocently. 

“I was throwing away some trash from the student council room when I saw you talking to Hyunjin in the art room,” he began. “I saw you…purchasing…some stuff from him, and I wanted to warn you that you shouldn’t do it again. What if a teacher caught you with that stuff? You could get in serious trouble and get kicked out of school.”

“What I do in my free time isn’t your business, Minho-hyung.”

“I know it’s not, but I…I don’t want you to get kicked out over something stupid.”

“Why would you care if they kicked me out?”

“Because…” Minho hesitated, swallowing a lump in his throat. You saw him give your face a once over before saying, “Because, the school is known for having high academic achievements. A lot of the students here come from prominent families who want their children to receive the best education. I think having someone like you here makes this place look better. You have really high marks, good examination scores, and you’re part of the school’s swim team. I’d hate to see all that potential go to waste because you decided to start interacting with somebody like him.” 

“I appreciate your concern,” you said, “But, I have my reasons for meeting Hyunjin. We’re not friends or anything. I just needed some stuff from him.” 

“I see…” he nodded. “Still, Hyunjin runs with a bad crowd, and it’d be a shame if you got mixed up in it.” He changed topics and said, “I was actually heading to the library too. The student council is starting a campaign for school safety. The council and I feel it's important we make people aware of safety tips they can use when they’re alone. I was going to start designing the pamphlets to hand out. Maybe you can help me with them; I hear you’re very creative.” 

How could he have heard that? You haven't talked to anyone besides Chan. “No thanks, Hyung. That sounds admirable and everything, but I gotta go do something before the library and I might miss it if I keep dawdling. I’ll see you around.”

 “But, YN-”

You slipped away before he could say anything else. Who did Minho think he was butting into your business like that? He had some nerve thinking you should take his advice. You managed to make it to Jisung’s classroom, and your heart dropped. Jisung’s bag was hanging from his desk hook, but the gift box he’d brought with him was gone. You frantically gazed around the room to see if Jisung left it somewhere else, but it was pointless. Quickly, you went back down the corridor to the staircase. If you were lucky, you might catch Jisung before he gave the gift to Chan. They’d most likely meet in the school garden. You felt your phone buzzing, and you hastily pulled it out.

“Lee Minho seems to really like you.” 

“Whatever. I don’t care about him.” 

“You should reconsider Chan, to be honest.” 

“What?! No way! Then I’d be stuck here!”

“But, isn’t Minho the more obvious choice here? He’s handsome, intelligent, successful, ambitious, and strong. People really look up to him, and being seen with him would raise your reputation A LOT.” 

“My reputation is fine, thanks.”

“His family is extremely rich too. His mother is a politician. His dad owns the largest chain of department stores in the world. He could make you happy, give you the world on a platter. You would want nothing with him on your arm.” 

You stared at the screen. “I don’t want Minho. I want Chan.”

“Okay, yeah, but does Chan want you?” 

“He does! That’s what I rebuilt this whole game for! I rebuilt it so that I could get closer to him and make him love me!” 

The confusion fueled your desperation. Without saying anything else, you put the phone back in your pocket and continued onwards. The phone continued vibrating against your leg. Bott’s dumb advice could wait. You walked through the school until you reached the outside, which was still packed with students heading to their destinations. You’d reached the school garden entrance when you gasped. 

“Here, Chan,” Jisung and Chan stood by the shed again. He held out the white and red gift box, and said, “I got you something. I felt awful about yesterday and the day before, and I hope this makes it up to you somehow.” 

“Jisung-ah,” Chan smiled fondly, “You didn’t have to get me a gift.”

“I wanted to,” he said, a light blush on his cheeks. “You’re…you’re very special to me. I look up to you a lot, and I’d hate it if you thought less of me.”

You prayed that Chan wouldn’t open the gift. You prayed that somehow, someway, he’d save it for later and give you time to replace it with your own. Unfortunately, the cards weren’t in your favor. Chan untied the bow and opened the box. He pulled out a new copy of Eternal Light, which made Chan’s face light up. 

“Wow! Jisung!” Chan nearly laughed, “This is the newest one! How’d you get it? It isn’t supposed to be out yet here for a few months.”

“My dad had sent it to me,” he smiled. “He’s in Osaka right now, and he saw it in one of the anime shops. He thought I’d like to have it. I read it all in one night, and I thought you’d like to keep this one. It's a special edition too! The creator signed the inside!” 

“Jisung-ah, I couldn’t keep this. It’s yours.”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Jisung insisted. “I preordered mine ages ago, so I’ll have my own. I wanted you to have this one.”

“This is…this is really wonderful, Jisung. I really love it. Thank you.”

You bit down on his lip so hard, you nearly drew blood. Everything you’d done yesterday had been for nothing. You wanted to kick something. You wanted to scream. You’d failed to stop one of the interactions. Your odds of ruining their friendship dropped a few points. Rage burned through every vein in your body, scorching the delight to make way for the anger, and the world turned gray and red again. 

“Doesn't killing him sound better now?” Bott’s newest message came. “You lost a chance at sabotage. It'll be hard to make up for that now. Like I said, the second floor is usually empty after school. There's a supply closet with some things you could use. Ooh! There's this cool knife in the Occult club you can use or this big wand thing in Drama. They make great weapons.”

“I'm going to have to do something else. Murder would be too suspicious right now.”

“Where's the fun in that? That's one of the best parts!”

“Maybe I can gossip about Jisung? You know, lower his reputation so he leaves school. If I start now, then it should work by the end of the week.”

“Or you can just KILL THE FUCKER!”

Your heart started pounding in your ears, making it hard to keep your breath steady. You stayed by the entrance as both Jisung and Chan left together, trying to control the anger burning inside you. You observed Chan’s form as he walked away. You wanted him so badly. You wanted every part of him. Nobody would love him the way you would; nobody cared about him like you did. Had you not proved that much with all the trouble you went through for him? 

“Killing these rivals literally makes your life so much easier. It's fun. Not all this sneaking around stuff.”

Wait, no. You are doing this to get home. You had no interest in really staying with Chan. But, you’d bring him along home if you could. Then, you could have him all to yourself. 

“Take advantage of your rage mode, and find Jisung! A little bit of murder doesn't hurt anyone.”

Needing to control your “rage mode”, you stormed up to the boy’s bathroom where solitude lived in the tiled room. Hints of cleaning chemicals and fluids reached your nose as you bent over the sink. You tried splashing water on your face to remove the vision, but it didn’t seem to work. It only grew darker thinking of Chan in Jisung’s arms. You pictured a successful confession that led to the pair becoming a couple, and you receiving a ‘game over’. Then, you’d die. You thought of Chan being kissed and touched by Jisung; them going on dates, going on trips and enjoying life together. That should be you. That was going to be you. You slammed your hands on the sides of the sink as you thought of the couple somewhere else right now. What if all his new coding caused Jisung to reveal his feelings earlier? They could all think for themselves now after all. It was possible. 

You screamed through gritted teeth and smacked the hard porcelain again. You couldn’t let that happen. You just couldn’t. You cursed yourself for having messed with the game’s design in the first place. Pride and ambition put you on this path, and now you have to redo everything over again. You took out your phone. 

“Hello?” 

You gasped at the high voice of Han Jisung from the bathroom’s entrance. You spun around to see him walk in with concern on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked, seeing your wet, red face. “You look sick. You should go see the nurse.”

“And you should stop seeing Chan!” you retorted. 

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I see how you look at him! I see the way you’re always going after him! Leave him alone, he’s not yours!”

“Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but you should probably go to the infirmary and lie down. It’s not good to let stress get to your head like that.”

“You better not confess your feelings before Friday,” you said through gritted teeth, death in your gaze. “Or I’ll kill you. I swear to god! I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You shouldn’t say things like that to people,” Jisung frowned. “That’s a serious threat to make. I could report you for that, but…I can see you’re very upset right now, so I’m not going to take it seriously.” He moved carefully towards you, “Now, as for Chan, he’s my friend. Yeah, I have a crush on him and I want to tell him how I feel, but you’re nobody to be telling me what I can and can’t do. I like him, and I’m going to tell him.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” 

Too deep in your anger, you had not noticed the change in personality. Jisung was normally soft-spoken and shy. But, here he was standing his ground and almost provoking you. It was a trick. It was a damned dirty trick. 

“Chan probably doesn’t even like you,” Jisung spat, “You’re the weird new kid who follows him around. You think I don’t see you constantly stalking him whenever he leaves the garden? Or how you leer at him during lunch times? I know it was you who stole the book from my bag. I know it was you who poisoned his lunch. I’m not gonna let you keep sabotaging my friendship with Chan because you’re a creepy little shit.”

“I’m not creepy…and Chan does like me! He will like me!” the words ripped through your throat and out of your mouth like venom. You grabbed the sink with trembling hands, trying to steady yourself.

“Psh, as if. Why would he want you when he could have someone who actually cares about him?”

“Because he won’t have a fucking choice!” 

In a howl of fury, you launched forward and tackled Jisung to the ground. Straddling the skinny boy, you grabbed both sides of his head and slammed  it into the hard floor. Too dazed from the first hit, Jisung didn’t have time to try pushing you off or fighting back. Your screams filled the small room. You could feel the tips of your fingers hitting the floor at the same time as Jisung’s head, blood starting to soak through the dark curls and onto the skin. You finally stopped when you heard the final crack, and saw Jisung’s head split like an egg. Blood poured out onto the floor, and pink brain matter showed beneath the split bone. You heard nothing except the loud pumping of your heart. You stayed kneeling on top of Jisung as you took in the boy’s lifeless expression. Pure wrath powered through you, your fists curling as they shook. You couldn’t stop it. Simply seeing his pretty face underneath you, bloody and lifeless, only made you angrier. 

Maybe killing was the fastest way to get home. 

“YN?” 

Through the pulsating grayness, you saw Minho standing at the door. You should scramble from the body. You should come up with a lie that Jisung attacked you; that this was self-defense and you weren’t at fault. However, all Minho did was calmly lock the bathroom door. 

“I guess that’s a wrap for Han Jisung,” he sighed, hands in his pockets. “This won’t be hard to clean up.” 

“Wha-what?”

“Jisung is the sabotage route,” he said, “But I told you murder is a better option.” 

“But-B-But…”

“Don’t worry about the students,” he dismissed, “I sped up time so everyone is in class right now. I normally stick to the phone, but when you freaking ditched me, I might have amped him up a bit. I knew you might crack but, shit, dude…You did a number on him,” he said with a soft laugh. 

His voice wasn’t scolding or angry. It was soft. Soothing. 

“I’ll admit though,” he continued, not concerned by your shocked expression, “Watching you sneak around school and come up with ways to sabotage your rival was getting intriguing. But, when you spurned me today…I guess I got carried away with the coding.” He looked down at Jisung with you, “You know, I never get tired of seeing them killed? I know that sounds weird, but you’d be surprised at the creative ways people think of murdering their rivals. One guy tried setting him on fire once,” he snorted a laugh. “Another player beheaded him. I made so many interesting, unique ways of getting through the levels, and you chose the sabotage route. I used to call it the pacifist route since it doesn’t involve murdering or kidnapping anyone, but you’ve made it quite interesting. Like, that thing with distracting the nurse! Most people waited until she went into the next room. I really like your thoroughness.” 

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

Minho pulled out a smartphone from his pocket, started texting and waited. The pink phone vibrated loudly. You fished quickly to pull it out and read Bott’s next message. 

“Hey, dumbass. Did you really think I wasn’t in the game with you?” 

The older boy laughed at your dumbfounded expression. “You’re…Bott?”

“Yup,” he nodded. “I'm the developer’s self insert character. I am Bott, your know it all guide to Lovesick. I usually just drop suggestions and hints on what to do, but you made me curious. I didn’t think you’d explode like this though,” he chuckled. “Jesus, you obliterated him.” 

“I…I don’t know what’s happened to me,” you admitted, looking at the blood drying on your fingers. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s like all the pent up frustration at this game lashed out.”

“That and not having Chan, right?” 

“I couldn’t stop myself. It’s like my anger has this tight grip on me, and makes me do it. When Jisung started saying that Chan would never love me, I lost it.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said. “It was the same for me when I lost Chan.”

“When you lost Chan?”

“The real Chan,” he elaborated. “In the real world, he’d been a guy that I knew from school. I had a super big crush on him, but was too scared to say anything,” he said. “I thought I could make an exact replica of him. He’d be in my image and he’d love nobody but me. I figured if I couldn’t have Chan in the real world, I could have him in a fantasy one. I created Lovesick as sort of an rpg horror game where you had to kill other people who wanted your crush. Chan was my muse, my inspiration, my whole world. I wanted him so badly. I wanted to kill anyone who got in my way.” 

“Did you?”

“Obviously not.” He then said, “Things only got worse when I finally plucked up the courage to tell Chan about my feelings.”

“What happened?” 

“He rejected me…I told him how I’d felt about him for a long time. I said that I wanted nobody but him. He made me feel alive; he gave me a purpose to keep going in life. I told him he’d be happy with me; that we’d be so happy together…but he said no.” You saw sadness begin to creep over Minho’s face, “He told me a friend of his found out about the game. They said that I’d created a love interest that looked like him, and he said it freaked him out a little. I tried saying it was a coincidence, but he didn’t believe me. He said I had no right to use his likeness in a video game without his consent, as well as using his name. He threatened to sue me if I didn’t take him out of the game.” 

“That must’ve really hurt.”

“It tore me apart. I couldn’t give up the game, which was my only source of true happiness and validation. But, I also wanted to keep Chan in my life. Later, I was served papers to either take down the game or remove Chan from it. Lovesick’s Chan was the only piece of him I had left. It was the only thing that still kept him in my life, even if it wasn’t in reality. I wanted to die. If I couldn’t have Chan or Lovesick, then why should I keep living? So, I took a kitchen knife and killed myself…I don’t know how it happened or who was responsible for it, but my soul somehow latched itself to the game. I woke up the way you did: in the bedroom before school.” 

“You played the game then?”

“And won,” he grinned proudly. “I thought I’d finally get to have Chan, and life would be great, but then the game restarted. I didn’t get to keep Chan. I stayed within the game, though Chan continued to be out of reach. It’s like this place is some hellish time loop. Whoever gets stuck here, stays here until they either win or die.” He sat back on the floor, despite the blood pooling nearby. “I continued playing the game in an endless cycle, killing my opponents in a variety of ways just to have a few seconds of Chan’s love. It became tedious. I got tired of having to do all the hard work whenever I killed or ruined someone. Then, it was like the game itself answered my prayers.

“Some idiot picked up the game after it had been developed and released into the world. I don’t know if he died or was hypnotized or what, but he somehow ended up here like me. He suddenly became the game’s main character, and I was booted into a regular NPC. Well, dude, this is my game. I can’t be a damn side character. I made myself a rival by messing around in the control room like you did. I changed my appearance, gave myself top boss-level status, and lived within this little world I’d made in my basement. I created the persona of Bott, a sassy, know-it-all who guides players through the game, and watches the chaos happen. I knew nobody would ever actually reach Chan, since I always outsmarted or simply killed them before they could get to him. When they lost, they’d get a cut scene of me confessing my feelings and Chan accepting them, followed by him kissing me.” 

He turned his head to you, “It wasn’t until you came that things got interesting. I normally keep my distance from players until they reach my level, but when you redesigned the game to work in your favor, I couldn’t help myself. I meant it when I said I’ve never had a player like you before. You’re following the rules of the game, but you’re not at the same time. I’ve really enjoyed it so far.” 

“Um…thanks.”

“I also didn’t expect you to actually develop feelings for Channie,” Minho said. “The other players might’ve found him attractive, but they never tried making connections with him before.” 

“I don’t know what I’m feeling exactly,” you admitted, looking at your blood stained hands. “I thought it might be Sunghoon’s coding still in my system, but it doesn’t feel that way anymore. It feels so…real.” 

Minho stared at you for a moment, taking in your expression and he clenched his jaw. “I know what you mean. Things can feel pretty real in a video game world, huh?” He stood up from the ground, and lent you his hand, “Come on. Lunch time is gonna start soon, and you gotta get cleaned up.” 

You felt too exhausted to say anything else. You helped Minho wrap up Jisung’s body, and clean up the bathroom like you’d done the first time. You carried the corpse through the empty hallways and outside to the school garden. You both thought it’d be fitting for Jisung to be buried near his precious strawberries. You watched Minho as the latter dug up the hole with you. 

His story sounded like something out of an anime or a really cheesy drama. The betrayal and heartbreak made sense, but something about the story worried you. Killing himself over a video game was pathetic. You thought back to Jeongin’s warning from before. He told you not to listen to Him, and you suspected he meant Minho. 

“Well,” Minho breathed out, brushing dirt off his hands, “That’s him settled. Changbin’s next.” 

“I know.”

“Got any ideas on what you’re gonna do with him?”

“Not really. I know nothing about him aside from him being athletic, and that’s pushing it,” you said, doing the same and putting the shovel back in the garden shed. 

You’d have to check the student info before proceeding forward. You figured you’d tail Changbin tomorrow to get a feel of his routine and the people in his life. Perhaps then you could come up with something. You still had many things to process before moving on to the next day. 

“Wanna grab lunch together?” Minho asked. Before you could decline, he added, “Being seen with me would boost your reputation immensely.”

You chuckled, “Eh, I think my reputation is good enough, thanks.” You really wanted to see Chan. Your body ached to be near him. The morning left you feeling drained, and Chan always brought so much relief. “I gotta get started on getting some skill points.”

Minho saw right through the lie, “You can get those later at after-school activities. I’ve seen your friends list, and it isn’t as long or as balanced as you think.” He took your hand in his own. You noticed how cold Minho’s hands were, the bony fingers slipping between your warmer ones. Rather than connecting you, you felt it separating you more. “I’m telling you. Reputation and friends help in the long run. Can’t you humor me for a bit?” You heard the hopefulness in Minho’s tone, “I did just help you bury a body. You could at least have lunch with me.”

Chan might be in the cafeteria by now. You guessed walking with Minho wasn’t as bad as going alone. You nodded, and you both set out for the cafeteria. Walking beside Minho, people smiled and nodded their heads at you. You worried that maybe they knew what you’d done to Jisung, but that really was foolish. You didn’t have blood on you anymore, and all evidence laid buried in the garden. As they walked towards the cooking club room, a younger student came out holding a tray of pecan swirls. You noticed the pink streaks weaved into her thin black hair. 

“Hey YN-oppa! Hey Minho-oppa,” she beamed, “You guys want some swirls? We just finished making them to promote the club!”

“Thanks, Chorong-ssi,” Minho smiled, taking one with a napkin to bite into. He spotted your stunned face, “YN-ah, aren’t you gonna take one? Chorong and the club worked hard on these.” 

“Sure.” 

You took one and bit into it, seeing the pleased smile on the girl’s face. It was delicious, with its mixture of cinnamon and pecan flavors. 

“It’s great,” you grinned at her, “Thanks.”

She smiled, “I hope you join the cooking club, Oppa. We’d love to have you.”

You raised an eyebrow, nodding as you bit into the sweet treat again. 

“See you around, Chorong-ssi,” Minho told her, steering you away before you said anything. 

“What was that about?” You asked once out of earshot. 

“I told you being with me raises your reputation.” He then said, “And, well, you’re attractive and Do Chorong likes any guy that’s remotely attractive.” 

“School slut?”

“Far from it,” Minho explained, biting into his snack again. “I created her in case a player wanted to go the ‘matchmaking’ route with a rival.”

“Matchmaking?”

“Yeah, where you find out what your rival likes in their partner, mold an admirer to their taste, and then pair them up. Since Chorong likes everyone, she’s easy to use.” 

You decided to keep that in mind for another time. 

That was when Jeongin came walking towards you. Minho, busy finishing off the pecan swirl, did not notice the panicked realization that came over him. Other people might not see it, but you did. He looked away from you right as he passed by. You wondered what it could be about before you realized you and Minho still held hands. 

Jeongin meant Minho in his warning. 

Minho walked beside you with a satisfied, happy expression, nodding at faculty and students who recognized him. Someone might have thought he walked on clouds. You were unsure how to feel. A lingering uncertainty bundled as you looked at Minho. A cold sweat rushed over you, sticking to your skin and making your hands clammy, when you realized it. This is a game of manipulation and deception. You tried pulling your hand away, but Minho quickly captured it again when they reached the cafeteria doors. Walking past tables, people saw your joined hands, then started whispering to one another. You caught envious glares or excited faces from other students. You knew what they were thinking, and wished they didn’t. You slid your hand out of Minho’s once more, but he instantly recaptured it. 

“Don’t do that again,” Minho warned. 

“I don’t want people getting the wrong idea about us,” you said, glancing back to the room and searching quickly for Chan. 

“You mean you don’t want Chan getting the wrong idea.” Minho sighed, pushing hair from his face, “It’s only lunch. I want to get to know you, YN. There’s no harm in that, is there?”

“I’m supposed to be trying to get Chan to like me.”

“No, you’re supposed to get your beloved,” Minho corrected you. “Whether he actually likes you or not isn’t important to the goal. All you’re meant to do is get him. It’s not my fault you started messing around with the universe to make things work in your favor.” He gave your hand a soft squeeze, “Don’t worry about Chan for now. Let’s grab some food and talk. I know a nice spot in the courtyard where we can get some shade.”

You guessed you owed Minho that much. If he were after you, he would’ve turned you in when he saw you on top of Jisung, but he didn’t. He’d helped instead. You nodded, and let Minho guide you into the lunch line. You hardly paid attention to the food being served or how Minho took hold of your hand again. You thought back to Chan, who was most likely on his way or would be enjoying himself in the garden. You hoped so, then you could look at him at least. Seeing Chan brought so much comfort, which you needed after today.

You and Minho took your lunch trays to the school courtyard. Disappointment sunk your stomach when you didn't see Chan anywhere. You took a seat with Minho underneath one of the trees, and wished to see Chan soon. The older boy began digging into his meal, while you idly pushed noodles around on your plate.

“What’s wrong?” Minho dared to ask, as if you'd not murdered and disposed of a body two hours ago. “Not hungry?”

“I’m fine,” you said, spooning some broth into your mouth. “Just thought Chan might be here.”

“He’s in the garden,” Minho said, “Probably on his way to the cafeteria.” 

“How do you know?”

Minho smiled, biting into a piece of chicken from his plate, “He was supposed to meet Jisung there. But, now that Jisung isn’t going to show, he’s gonna assume the underclassman forgot about their meeting and go to lunch.”

You washed the noodles down with juice, though you barely tasted anything. “Somebody will notice he’s missing,” you stated.

“And they’ll tell one of the teachers-” Minho nodded.

“-The teacher will then call the police to report it-”

“-The police will probably show up here-”

“-And question everyone-”

“-Decide that they have no evidence or suspects and leave-”

“-And Jisung will be declared ‘missing’.” You then said, “I noticed nobody’s gone asking questions about Kitae. Why is that?”

“The staff did report him missing,” he ate more, “And they questioned some people, but nobody saw anything. They don’t have any reason to question you because you weren’t seen with the body or a weapon.” 

“Did they question you?”

“Of course. I’m the student council president, and Kitae was the Freshman class’s representative. They asked if I knew where he went after the morning council meeting, and I said I had no idea. I told them Kitae and I weren’t particularly close, and they took it as that.” He then added, grabbing a tangerine on his tray. “As easy and fun as murder can be, it wouldn’t be wise to outright murder Changbin. The more deaths or disappearances that happen here, the higher the safety alert goes. The principal already warned the hallway monitors to keep their eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. They’re all anxious to find who’s responsible,” he eyed you as he peeled the skin, “So, we need to make it look like an accident. We need to be careful. We gotta work out a strategy for Changbin.”

“We?”

“I might as well help you openly,” he shrugged. “Bott clearly wasn't effective. If you’d played the game the way you were supposed to, then you would’ve gotten through this level quicker.” 

“But, that’s so boring. It was kind of fun scheming to get my way. Difficult and tedious at times, yeah, but still fun.” You picked at the small section of kimchi the school served, “Changbin’s going to be a challenge though.”

“Why’s that?”

“I know almost nothing about him. I know he’s the athletic archetype, and is on the swimming team. His dad does business overseas, and he’s traveled around, but that’s about it.” You sat in thought for a moment, “I’ll need to tail him when his week starts, and see his routine.” 

“He’s definitely a superstar athlete,” Minho agreed, “He’s not only on the swim team. He does track-and-field and soccer too. He’s got a creative side, from what I’ve seen in the art and photography clubs. He’s reasonably popular around school, but not enough that he’s surrounded by people so less witnesses and more chances to lure him away from crowds.” He looked over your shoulder, “Ah, speak of the devil.”

You glanced over to see Changbin walk into the courtyard with a group of boys. You noticed their letterman jackets all depicting different sport logos on the arms. Changbin had the swimming logo on his right sleeve, along with a running man patch and a soccer ball. He and his friends stood underneath a tree across from you and Minho, not paying attention to the people looking at them. You watched Changbin. He smiled freely and laughed often. You saw that he carried a clear green water bottle. Inside was a thick substance that could only be some kind of protein shake. You were sure Minho threw it in there so the player had opportunities to poison Changbin’s drink. But that would be too obvious and too stupid of a move right now. 

“Is he smart?” you asked, seeing Changbin pretend to box with one of the other boys. 

“Eh…define ‘smart’.”

“I’m sure he has to be if he’s able to stay on all these teams.”

“Not if he’s super good and has won medals and achievements for the school to brag about,” Minho said. “Whenever he obviously fails a test, the teacher passes him anyway. They need to keep their star athlete in school.”

“Why would Chan like someone so dumb? He should be dating someone on his own level intellectually. You know, somebody he can talk to and have deep conversations with,” you said, “Not a neanderthal who can do a few good laps around a pool or a track.” 

“Changbin might have an empty head, but he’s thoughtful and sweet. He’s very passionate about his hobbies and interests, which is something Chan likes. They don’t share similar tastes, but Changbin is willing to teach him and Chan enjoys learning new things. He cares about other people, and always tries his best at anything he does. Chan likes that sort of thing. Changbin likes Chan because he’s athletic too, and very smart. He's Whimoon’s golden boy," Minho said, eating another piece. "Everybody likes him. It’ll be hard to convince people he’s done anything wrong.”

“Okay, so what do you suggest then?” 

“Poison his shake, obviously.”

“Wouldn’t another death put the school on alert?”

“Not if it looks like an accident.”

You thought about it for a moment. Jeongin’s warning floated through your head once again. Play by the game’s rules, not Minho’s. But, surely Minho is the game if he created it? You stared at Minho’s smirk, eyes glinting with mischief, and couldn’t get Jeongin out of your head. 

“Is there anything else I can do?” you asked after a while. “Poison seems so easy.”

“It is. That’s why you should do it,” he said. “It wouldn’t be hard to get poison. You can either make one in the chemistry lab or buy one from Hyunjin. It’ll cost you a lot to buy it from Hyunjin, but I can always change that for you.” 

“Death sounds risky.”

“This game is all about risks. Poison him. It’ll be worth it to see him choke on his gross protein shake.” 

“Shouldn’t I, as the player, get to choose my own route?” 

“I’m the developer. I’m only trying to help you.” 

Play by the game. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll figure out a way myself.” 

Realizing he wouldn’t win this time, Minho sighed defeatedly. “Tail him next week and see if you find anything you can use against him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everybody at this school has secrets,” he said. He moved closer to you and faced the groups in the yard. “Each of them has something that you can exploit if you choose to. Like Song Sungmi? Her parents are actually poor, and she pretends to have money so she can fit in. Jeong Yunho? He runs a secret gambling den in his family’s basement. And let’s not forget Park Yuri who sells naughty photos of herself on the internet.” He took up another piece of tangerine, and said, “Changbin has one. You only need to find out what it is, then you decide what to do with the information.” 

“What’s the secret?” You asked him. 

“Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you,” Minho sneered, giving you a wink. 

“I’ll figure it out on my own then.”

Minho huffed, and moved away from him. “You can do several things with his secret. You can expose it so then he feels humiliated and withdraws from school. You can blackmail him and force him to stop liking Chan. You can use it to befriend him, even.” 

“Huh, interesting.” 

“Very.” 

Exposing a dirty secret sounded like an intriguing route. You knew another disappearance could make things harder. You began wondering what Changbin’s secret could possibly be, since he seemed far too sweet to have any. You spent the rest of lunch trying to figure out what route to take with Changbin; Minho spent it staring at you. 

****

You sped through the rest of the day to get to swim practice, the only place you saw Chan uninterrupted. You walked into the locker room to see the other team members preparing for the pool. You peeked into the aisles of lockers before finding Changbin. He sat on the bench in his uniform, texting and smiling at his phone. You noticed it wasn’t a smartphone but a slim black device with a plain cover. You took note of this and moved onwards.

You passed by into the next aisle where you found Chan by his locker. Like everyone else, he immediately switched from his school uniform to his swim uniform. You took a second to admire his body in the tight uniform. You'd do anything to steal those trunks and take them home. You briefly thought of the napkin you’d stolen and the faint saucy scent that had been on them.  

“Hi, Chan-hyung,” you smiled, coming up beside him to open your own locker. 

“Hi, YN-ah,” he replied. “I didn’t see you in class this morning. I hope everything’s okay.”

“Oh, everything’s fine,” you said. “My alarm didn’t go off and I overslept.”

“Alright, as long as you’re okay,” Chan grinned. He then hesitated as he reached for his swim cap. “YN-ah, this might sound like a personal question, and it’s none of my business, but I’m only curious.”

Your stomach churned, but you still said, “You can always ask me anything.”

“Are you and Lee Minho dating?”

You laughed nervously, pushing hair from your face, “Um, wh-what do you mean?”

“Well, I was in the cafeteria today and I saw you two holding hands. I thought maybe there was something between you guys.”

You knew this would happen. You scrambled for an excuse, any excuse, to explain it. The thought of Chan losing interest because he thinks you're taken lodged a breath in your throat. “No, no,” you said quickly, “We’re not dating. Minho’s student council president, and he wanted to show me around.” 

“By the hand?”

“I guess. He said it was so I didn’t lose him in the crowds. I suppose people took it differently.”

Chan’s worried expression brightened after this. That must be a good sign. You changed into your own swimsuit, but couldn’t keep your eyes off Chan. Why had Chan worried about you dating Minho? The prospect of Chan developing feelings made you happier than you'd ever been. Perhaps you might get to leave this damned game world sooner than anticipated. But then that meant leaving Chan as well. 

Walking to the pool area with Chan, you imagined him confessing his feelings to you on Friday. The game appeared to be running differently since you reconfigured it. It’d certainly speed things up if Chan fell in love with you. But, the dreadful thought occurred to you again. If you leave Lovesick, then you’d have to go home. You’d go back to your boring life that’s void of Chan. You’d have to continue life without him, and the thought alone nearly brought you to tears. You couldn’t stand the thought of not having him. You needed him. You didn’t care if it was your game files fueling these ideas; you loved Chan. You loved him more than anyone else; your rivals only liked Chan for his looks. You loved him for his heart. 

You considered ways of getting Chan alone before Changbin appeared. Your blood simmered seeing the two exchange friendly words, watching the other members swim. You didn't like how Changbin looked at Chan. You didn't like the way Changbin’s boyish sweetness seemed to shine brightest around Chan. Your Chan. YOUR. Chan. You tightly gripped the towel ends on your shoulders, absentmindedly pulling them tighter on the nape of your neck. You'd love nothing more than to strangle the stupid boy until his face turned purple, but no. Another death on campus could make things more difficult. You needed to know Changbin’s secret.

Quickly, you dove into the pool and began swimming towards Changbin and Chan at the other end. When you reached them, you climbed out and rubbed off excess water from your face. Chan turned his head at the sound. 

"Chan-hyung!" you smiled excitedly, "Did you see my dive? I think it was one of my best."

"I'm sorry, YN-ah," Chan said apologetically, "I didn't. But, I'm sure you were great."

"It was okay," Changbin voiced disinterestedly. "You were a bit shaky at the beginning."

"I'm still getting used to jumping off your boards," you told him, keeping the defense out of your voice. "The ones at my old school were a bit stiffer, and these boards  are so springy." 

"That's okay. You'll get used to them soon," Chan assured you. "I heard you're very good."

"Thanks. You're good too," you replied. 

Changbin's eyes glinted with envy before turning away. 

“Wanna race, Hyung?” you asked Chan, putting a daring tone into your voice. “Loser buys snacks after practice.”

Chan grinned, dimples sinking into his cheeks, “You’re on. Changbin-ah, you want in?”

Changbin stared between them, and shook his head, “Nah. You guys go ahead. I, um, have stuff to do after practice.”

“What’s up? Too chicken to race me?” You challenged with a smirk.

“YN-ah, don’t be mean,” Chan nudged you playfully. “Changbin has a busy schedule, so he’s always running off after practice. He can join in another time, right Binnie-yah?”

“Yeah. Another time.”

He was hiding something; he couldn’t meet Chan’s eyes as he responded. You headed towards the springboards with Chan, but turned to look over your shoulder. Changbin had picked up his phone from the depths of his towel, and was texting someone. A dealer? A secret lover? You were eager to discover it, but you’d have to wait for Changbin’s level. The wait alone could kill you. 

“How many laps?” Chan asked, stepping onto his board. 

“Two.” 

You and Chan began your friendly competition. You won the first round, but Chan won the second. Declaring it a tie, you both left the pool when practice ended. You offered to still pay for the snacks, but Chan’s money hit the snack counter first. He was so sweet. You truly saw yourself becoming Chan’s boyfriend. 

*** Later That Night ***

This was bad. This was very bad. They’d certainly never expected it to happen. 

Minho never revealed himself to players before. He usually stuck to the shadows and played ‘Lee Minho, Student Council President’ as the player stumbled their way through the game. He'd lie in wait until the player reached the final level, then attack. He always changed how he did it too. Sometimes he killed them on the first day; other times, he toyed with them. He'd delete objects from the game right as they'd set a plan. He'd wire certain characters to stop the player from achieving their goals. The players smart enough to outwit him ended up in a fist fight with Minho at the end. He'll usually be a wild animal by then. They particularly liked it when he lost. Fondly, they recalled the time a player, a big brute of a man, grabbed the scrawny boy and bashed him into the wall repeatedly. The Game couldn't help but reward the player handsomely with a female Chan they'd created. 

But, now he's outright revealed himself to you. Of course, Minho lied right to your face, but they knew the truth. 

They stopped. They might not have their own body anymore, but it still stung. The burning hot pain came like a phantom ache, and they recalled the night Minho locked them away. He hacked into the game through the controls, and changed everything the creator built. They'd lost their body and their mind. They became a prisoner in their own home. Watching their captor be tortured and killed became their one source of happiness. 

They went through the camera views to watch you. You laid flat on your stomach in bed, holding a stained wadded up napkin in your hand. This could not be Sunghoon’s coding anymore; other players walked around with his personality and desires, but never acted on them. Did this mean you'd naturally developed feelings for Chan now, no longer restricted to the codes? They couldn't help being joyful at the idea. You having set them free meant they could float around behind the pixels creating their world. They could never touch or speak to you, but they can watch out for you. They could help you. Unlike Minho, who has the minimum control, they made things appear out of thin air. That was the beauty of being the game's true developer. 

That was the beauty of having been Bahng Chan. 

****

A/N: The plot thickens!! Can Minho be trusted or should YN stick to his gut? What's up with our little binary friend too?? We'll find out. Please reblog and like <3

[outlastrabbit]

I know your request are currently closed but whenever they reopen up i just wanted to know if you could do Cornelius x Reagent who comes back from a trial all wounded just to see him. I love that man so much he doesn’t get enough attention <3

Cornelius Noakes With an Injured!Reader

You came back to the Sleep Room after a particularly bad trial. You woke up in the infirmary first, your wounded side crudely sewn shut from a Big Grunt’s axe.

You limped out of your cell after a nap, wincing in pain as you made your way downstairs. You were bent on visiting Cornelius. He was the only light in this horrible place. The one good thing left in your life.

The Engineer looked horrified at your injured state, blood seeping through your bandaged side. “Shit…” his jaw dropped and his heart ached.

Cornelius did everything to stop himself from getting attached to you, but he couldn’t help it. You were the only light in his life now too. He also believed in you. He knew you could get out of here. As much as he’d miss you, he hoped you survived this hell.

“You okay there, Mac?” He asked.

You nodded weakly, clutching your side. “Yeah…” you grunted in pain.

Cornelius winced and stopped tinkering with the toaster on his desk, his attention fully on you. You poor thing…

“You know what fucks me up? Y'all keep choosing to go back in, and I know. You’re stuck here. Same as me, but you could just stay in the Sleep Room. Make a friend, read a fucking magazine, but you keep going back in.”

You kept your hand on your side, staring at the floor in shame. You felt like a scolded child, but Noakes was just scared for you. He didn’t mean to sound like he was snapping at you. He just really, really cared about you.

“I… I’m sorry, Mac. I just don’t like you going in there. I need you alive… I need you.”

You looked up into his brown eyes as he said that, and did something you knew he’d hate. Not that he actually hated it. He loved it, really. But he didn’t want to get attached to you, and you made that so hard… especially when you now reached out and squeezed Cornelius’ hand. He hesitated first, but then squeezed yours back.

[valewritessss]

Every time someone says they hate Annabeth and Percabeth in the sense that they think they’re toxic, I have to start guessing if they ship Pernico, Percy x Apollo, and it pains me to say because I know people get mad but Perachel.

[thisischeri]

Apple Pro Mouse, 2000

instagram: cheri.png