#it always ends like this and we never learn

[indexthejester]

01: meh I think. Getting better I suppose.

02: My friend, we say it when ending calls

03: far too much. Sometimes it hits me like a bullet to the chest. Feels like the metal ball in my brain pinballs into a bumper that gives negative points.

04: no definitely not <- she lied

05: single and looking for friends which may turn into queerplatonic relations. Not that I'm crossing my fingers.

06: slowly and calmly enough to analyze the way it feels to die, but not too peacefully that it's otherwise uninteresting.

07: Zaxby's chicken strips

08: tried a few. Not my thing. Except tennis, I liked that one. Not sure if snowboarding counts but I like that too.

09: Yes I do it sucks.

10: never had one, unless wrestling counts

11: I like many people. I love them too. I suppose I have a crush on people that I relate too, especially if I find them interesting. I want to know every part of them intimately. To drink it all in.

12: yes

13: I don't think so, I try not to. I don't think it's very useful for solving my or the world's problems, and it makes me feel pretty miserable in the process.

14: probably somewhat, I'm pretty lonely most of the time so yeah almost always. I work and live better when I'm with someone I like. Whether talking or just present in the same "space".

15: 2 family dogs, one day I'll move out and get a cat probably. Cats are great.

16: chill, minus the usual slight heartburn. Just got our of the shower and am lying in bed, getting messages from a new friend, living well.

17: no, very out of left field question

18: not really. I find them interesting though. They either look like insects or weirdly mammalian despite being neither. Weird that scorpions are more closely related.

19: nah there's nothing for me back there.

20: god I wish

21: talk to a friend and life planning

22: no, I mean I'm good with them and it's very fulfilling I just find it stressful. Right now I have so much I want to do I can't see myself adopting and settling down but maybe idk.

23: 2 for earrings

24: Math and English I suppose. Programming too if college counts

25: Maybe. Not at the moment. In recent past, it was fun to hang out at the lgbtq center in college. Sucks that I'm stuck at home now.

26: more social interaction. I may be anxious about how I reply or generally talk through textual messaging, but it makes me feel all comfy inside :3 also sleep because it is 2:36am for me rn.

27: idk

28: no

29: never had one

30: eye strain and heart burn and social anxiety.

31: I think so. I don't think it's for me to say, I try to love myself at least, though it's really hard.

32: magenta, or some other combo of purple and red. Hence the Melantha pfp. Also she's autistic.

33: yes, very much so

34: can't remember. The last one I remember was very sexual which is unusual for me.

35: cried on a call with a friend of mine I think. Just scared of the state the world's in.

36: I don't know, I don't know if I've had to

37: depends on the person I guess. Sometimes you can't do either. Just gotta learn to live with what happened.

38: So far absolutely not. But in the past 4 days I've had a lot of fun being alive. It is fun to make new friends and connect with people and have fun.

39: excluding my parents it hasn't happened

40: yes

51: chicken alphredo and chicken cordon bleu

52: I don't believe in fate, but I do believe in causality, to an extent.

53: brush my teeth I think. Maybe watch a youtube video or masterbate, though I usually do the latter as I'm falling asleep so I'm not sure if it counts.

54: I'm sure you could invent some crazy scenario where it is, but in general I think betraying your partner's trust is just about the worst thing you can do in a relationship.

55: I try not to be.

56: 0

57: when I am vulnerable and comfortable, I am filled to bursting with love for the world and everything in it. So if "true" means "pure unfiltered" then maybe yeah. Me x The Universe. Me x All My Friends.

58: bright but not too bright, grey skies, no visavle sun, chill in the air. Can move around without sweating buckets.

59: YYYYYYYEEEEEEEEESSSSSSS

60: very much so someday. Already planning it out.

61: never had it happen to me though it seems pretty boring standard. Call me your owner, handler, mad scientist, something interesting.

62: a loving community and the ability to freely create art

63: yeah obviously

64: yeah I'm too old for that it's weird

65: what are we role-playing now? I don't know, depends on the context. (Treating "sex" as "gender" for these questions btw.)

66: no, I don't. I wouldn't call any of my friends men.

67: My father but I honestly wonder if he's not a little trans

68: like a really deep conversation? Uhh definitely @thatweirdyellowrat. Haven't felt that much mental clarity after a conversation in a long time. I would not be as happy or geared to make new friends if not for that.

69: Fuck no.

70: I think so yeah, more than one actually. Which is saying something because I value my life a lot.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[starlightkyeom]

hit replay | x.mh

(where your ex moves into the empty unit in your apartment building and maybe the relationship isn't over after all)

pairing: xu minghao x afab!reader genre: exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers | fluff, romance, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 12.7k (this was less than 4k yesterday idk) warnings: mentions of food & drinks, talk of the previous relationship, massages (f. receiving), body worship, light nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), briefest hand job, protected sex, they're just very soft for each other, that's it, reader doesn't use gendered language but has female anatomy

a/n: thank you to the amazing @camandemstudios for hosting The Lonely Hearts Collab ❤️ make sure you check out all the amazing fics! this ended up much softer (and longer) than i thought it would, but i'm not mad at that. we all need soft hao for love day. i hope you enjoy it!

taglist: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya, @lostmembrane (join my svt taglist here)

Sometimes you think your life should come with one of those signs like they have in workplaces. You know, the ones that say how many days since the last accident? The ones that people always seem to use as memes? You think that might be appropriate in your case, too. Except, instead of days since the last accident, it would count days since you’d last seen your ex. The man who shattered your heart. The one you can’t seem to get over no matter how hard you try. 

Days since I last saw Minghao: 396

You’re not sure why your brain counts the number. Not sure why you can’t just put it out of your mind. Move on, for real this time. Of course, that’s not the same number as the days since he broke your heart. No. Unfortunately, you’ve run into him a couple of times since then, despite him moving away. A consequence of you still having a number of friends in common. And you can’t even blame them for keeping in touch with him. He didn’t really do anything wrong. Not to them and not even really to you. The two of you just…grew apart. 

Thinking back on it, even years later, you still can’t really pinpoint where it all went wrong. You remember falling for him, entirely too hard. Back when you didn’t think he took much notice of you. Always too absorbed in his latest project. You were friends, kind of. More on the periphery of each other's circles. Until you went to an art show with some mutual friends. Until you saw yourself in several of his works. None of your friends seemed all that surprised. They just let you have your little moment. 

It all happened kind of fast from there. You learned that Minghao wasn’t always one for showing his feelings in words, but he showed them in a million other ways, as long as you knew where to look. He showed them in the little things he did to make your life easier. In the way he incorporated you into his art, sometimes without it even being obvious. In the way he quietly made space for you in his life. 

Things were great, until they weren’t. And it still feels sudden all these years later. Even if it maybe, possibly, wasn’t sudden at all. 

You remember finding a new job. The kind of job you never thought you would land. The kind that Minghao instantly encouraged you to follow. Except it meant much more normal hours where Minghao kept weird hours. Sometimes he wouldn’t come to bed until the sun rose and other times he had been at work for hours when you woke up. Something about inspiration and lighting and just letting it all come together. Neither of you notice when it starts getting harder to make time for each other. At least, you didn’t notice. Only focusing on making the most of the time you do have. 

So, when Minghao tells you that he thinks you need to talk, you’re completely caught off guard. Haven’t seen all the signs that may have been there. He tells you he’s got the opportunity of a lifetime to further his career and it means he’s going to be leaving your city. Leaving the country entirely. Tells you that it’s been great and he still loves you, but he’s got to do this. Tells you that he thinks it’ll be right for both of you because you’ve been growing apart, haven’t you? You’ve both been prioritizing other things like work and friends over each other. He’s going to take this chance and he hopes you’ll understand. 

Maybe you do actually remember it falling apart after all. 

But, it’s time to cast aside your walk down memory lane. Time to leave everything behind in the old year and get ready to ring in a new one. A feat you tried last year as well and seemingly didn’t succeed at. This is the year, though. New year, new me and all that. You take one last look at your outfit before rushing out the door. Your slightly eccentric (and totally loaded) neighbors are having a party up in the penthouse of your apartment building. And even though you normally hate anyone with that kind of money, they’re actually cool and incredibly kind. They go out of their way to understand their privilege and involve themselves directly in charity. You can’t even hate that they’re barely older than you and have it all. Plus, who are you to turn down a party like this for the new year. 

The party is in full swing when you get there. Soyoon always does an excellent job of setting up a party, too. She makes sure there’s an area for people to dance and for people who want things a little quieter. And she always stocks up on top shelf drinks with so many snacks you could make an entire meal out of it. It only takes her a second before she’s waving you over. You weave through the people to get to her, so focused on your friend that you don’t notice anything else. Though you should. 

“Hey! You finally made it!” she says and pulls you into a hug. 

“Worrying I wouldn’t show?” you joke back. 

“No,” she says, smiling her megawatt smile. She indicates to someone. “I wanted you to meet your new neighbor I mentioned, the artist…”

Something drops in your stomach when you register that she says artist and you slowly turn to see the person she’s indicating. Hoping against all hope that you don’t recognize them. Instead, you see the lean figure of someone you know well. Dressed all in black and still looking like one of the most fashionable in the room. The black also works well to offset his blond mullet. It’s not a color you’ve seen on him before, but you’d know him anywhere. 

Days since I last saw Minghao: 396 0

Fuck. 

“Minghao,” you say softly, immediately kicking yourself for the way it comes out. 

“Yeah, oh. I thought you hadn’t met yet,” Soyoon says with a slight frown of confusion. 

Minghao is quick to answer, casual as can be. “I hadn’t run into her yet but we knew each other once, years ago.”

“Oh, how fun! Shall I leave you two to catch up?” she asks. 

You say no just as Minghao says yes. Soyoon looks confused, but ends up leaving the two of you alone anyway. It’s the last thing you want and there’s nowhere to go. At this rate, you’re going to get a much different start to your year. 

When you wake up well into the first morning of the New Year, your brain feels a little fuzzy. Not hungover though, so you can thank past you for that. You cannot thank past you for anything else. Not when the night before comes rushing back to you and you remember. Remember kissing Minghao, not just at midnight. Remember admitting that you still think about him. Remember wondering if he was single. Don’t remember asking him why he’s back now and without a word to you. Not that he owes it to you. It’s been years, after all. You just can’t believe that the mysterious new resident two doors down from you is none other than the ex you can’t seem to forget. 

Thankfully New Year’s Day is really about recovering from the night before and getting ready to face the rest of the year. It also gives you time to figure out what you’re going to do about Minghao. You’re sure there’s something in there about second chances. About how people change as they grow. It’s not for you, though. The more time you spend thinking about the night before, the more you realize that things are better left alone. This isn’t some great sign to revisit a painful past. It’s a way of telling you that it’s okay to finally figure out a way to move forward in your life. 

You’re just going to ignore that the person you’re moving on from lives two doors down from you. Shouldn’t be a problem at all. 

As you’re considering what you want to do for food, the doorbell rings. You’re not expecting someone and your heart plunges a little. What if it’s Minghao stopping by to talk about the night before? You can’t exactly remember all of your conversation, so you’re not sure if there’s something else that you need to talk about. You’re not prepared for any of it. When you open the door, it’s not him. It’s just someone delivering from one of your favorite take-out places. 

“I didn’t order anything,” you say, confusion clear on your face. 

The delivery guy only shrugs and shows you his phone. It’s your name and address. “I just deliver the orders I get. The tip was nice, too.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” you say and accept the bag of food. 

You decide to eat it on your couch so that you can settle in and binge something truly awful on TV. As you ponder who could have sent it, you think about Soyoon and how she loves to do this kind of thing. Yes, that seems likely. You’ll have to send her your own little thank you and thank her in person the next time you see her. Sending a text wouldn’t do it because she always says that doesn’t feel as personal. Eccentric, but endlessly kind. She’s definitely the kind of person that would want to make sure her guests are taken care of after such a great party. All feels much more calm as you settle in and your mind stays firmly off Minghao. 

The whole idea of keeping your mind off Minghao works for a while. You see him around the building and he’s always perfectly polite, but never forces a conversation. Says hi in passing and smiles. That’s just kind of how he is. It’s not that he doesn’t have plenty to say, he just doesn’t chase after anyone for a chat. Doesn’t see the point in forcing something when both people aren’t interested. Honestly, it’s a bit disarming because as well as you knew him once, it’s not what you’re expecting. There are times when you even consider if you should strike up a conversation with him. At the very least, there are things left unsaid from New Year’s. Things you know that you should get out of the way. Especially when Soyoon asks for details on what’s going on and you’re not really sure how much to share. 

But, then life catches up with you, as it seems prone to do. Things pick up at work and you find that you’re back into your routine without a second thought. That’s always the thing about the new year. It starts and it’s kind of slim on holidays while you’re getting into it. It also seems unspoken that people just don’t take time off then. Not when so many take time off around the holidays. (Something you also did, taking off the two days after New Year’s so you wouldn’t have to go back for a short week. Best decision you’ve made in a long time.)

You blink and January fades into February. Your brain is somewhere else entirely when you rush into your favorite coffee shop by your office, running a little bit late because you’re heading in on the weekend. The shop is decorated for Valentine’s Day already, like it seems to be every year once the calendar hits February. Something in you fights rolling your eyes. It’s not that you hate the holiday, it’s just that you’re a little bitter for another one spent without a partner. As much as you may say it doesn’t matter, it feels like it would be nice to have someone. Even if all you did was stay in to have a nice meal or play a game or watch something on TV. Just a moment for the two of you in the midst of all the chaos. When the barista asks for your order, you shake away the thoughts and give it, pulling your phone out to tap and pay.

“Oh, it’s covered,” she says and your brow furrows. 

“What?” you ask.

“Someone already covered your order today,” she repeats.

“But how did…” you start to ask under your breath and trail off. 

“Did you need anything else?” she asks brightly. 

“No, I guess not,” you say and put away your phone.

As you head down to wait for your order, your brain whirs into action. Who is out here just somehow paying for your order? You cast your eyes around the shop and nobody looks familiar. Well, a few people do in that way that regulars stick out when you’re also a regular. Nobody seems to be paying attention to you, though, or giving you any indication that they paid for your order. It shows up on the counter before you can think any further about it. 

The rest of the week goes in a similar fashion. Your coffee order is taken care of any time you stop in and the barista only smiles when you ask her who’s doing it. The only answer she gives is that you’ll realize it if you think about it. Not entirely helpful. At work, you get a surprise lunch just as you’re on the verge of a breakdown over a project. Mingyu, one of your closest friends even outside of work, offers lunch as a break and you take it without question. After all, the two of you were friends before becoming coworkers so it’s not unexpected that he would realize you’re feeling burnt out. Another of your friends asks you to go with him to a show you’ve been wanting to see and won’t even let you pay him back for the ticket. There are other little things, too. Things that you wouldn’t normally notice, but it’s like everything is going your way. It makes you a little wary. Mostly, though, it just makes you grateful. It feels like such a good way to start the year.

It isn’t until the weekend that you finally put it all together. Saturday morning comes and you let yourself sleep in after being out a little later the night before to go to the show. There’s an unexpected knock at the door that gives you a little deja vu back to New Year’s Day. You yawn and stretch as you get out of bed and head to the door. This time, there’s no delivery person waiting for you. There’s just a basket, clearly put together very thoughtfully. You bring it inside and start to look through what’s in there. A calming tea. A bath bomb. Some chocolates. A candle. A book that you've never heard of and somehow know you’re going to love. It’s the perfect kit to have the best and most relaxing day. 

And that’s when it hits you. The coffee, the lunch, the show, all the little surprises. It’s all coming from one person. The one person who likes to let his actions speak louder than his words. The one person who clearly hasn’t just been letting you be since the party. This is Minghao all over. You’re a little surprised at how easily the realization clicks into place. Also a little surprised that it didn’t click sooner. Maybe you had forgotten more about him than you thought. Maybe he wasn’t the only person taking up residence in your mind anymore. 

There’s a lot to think about and you figure that you’ll use the time taking a bath to do just that. Well, you shower first to make sure you’re clean and because you didn’t do it after getting home the night before. But then, you’re ready to relax in the bath and just let your mind wander. Hope you’ll end up coming to a decision about what you want to do. There’s so much history. So many nights spent trying to figure out how things might have gone differently. Until it clicks. Minghao was right back then. You both needed that space. Needed the separation to go off and figure yourselves out. Needed to learn who you were as an adult before you could learn to make space for another person. When he left, it cleared a path for you to take chances you never would have otherwise. Maybe it did the same for him. 

That’s how you find yourself outside his door after the bath, the tea in hand because you know that it’s a brand he loves. Or, at least, he did once upon a time. He opens the door too quickly for you to second guess if this is a good idea. Or to wonder if he’s even home. His eyes seem to sparkle at the sight of you and at the tea in your hands.

“You got my care package,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. 

“And figured out who was behind all those wonderful things this past week,” you admit, causing his smile to slip into a more genuine one.

“About time,” he says under his breath.

“Can I come in for a cup of tea?” you ask and he regards you for a moment. That’s always been the hardest part about being around Minghao. He has a way of looking at you and peeling back all the layers. It’s like being naked in front of him. And you’re not as comfortable in front of him as you were once upon a time. It makes you shift on your feet and cast your eyes down.

He steps aside and you let out a sigh of relief at the movement. “Come on in.” 

Stepping inside his apartment almost feels like stepping back in time. Everything about the decoration feels familiar. There are a few things that you do recognize but mostly it’s just because it’s so inescapably him. Everything has a place and it looks like it could be featured in a magazine. But, it’s better than that. Better because it feels lived in, like a home even though it is straight from some aesthetic moodboard. You turn back to him when you recognize a figure that you gave him years ago. It makes your heart constrict that he kept it all this time.

“Did you want to share that tea with me?” he asks, noting the box in your hands.

“Oh,” you say, a little startled back into the present. You look down at your hands and then back to him. “Yeah. Well, if you still like it, that is.” 

“I do, yes,” he says and accepts the box from your hands. “You can go sit down and I’ll bring the tea out in a minute.” 

It’s so impossibly normal and also one of the most abnormal things in the world. The contradictions are making your head hurt, so you just do as Minghao suggests. Sit down on the couch in the living room and sigh. This is the most comfortable couch in the world. That’s another thing you remember about him. Everything fits his aesthetic and it’s never at the expense of comfort. None of that unusable furniture for him. Without even thinking about it, you pick an art magazine off the table. It’s the only thing that seems out of place and there’s a sticky note attached to it with an advanced copy for you to look over scrawled on it. That’s when the cover catches your eye, previously covered in part by the note. Minghao looks back at you, surrounded by some of his artwork. It seems like it’s a profile on him. He must be doing even better than you realized. 

“I hated posing for that,” he says softly as he appears with two cups of tea. 

You start a little in surprise at hearing his voice and drop the magazine back on the table. “I didn’t mean to…”

“There’s no need to be scared,” he says with a low chuckle as you accept the cup. “You can read it if you’d like.” 

“It seems like things are going well for you,” you comment, looking back at the magazine.

“Professionally, sure. Although I’m finding creating a little more difficult lately,” he says and you look at him. 

“Why’s that?” you ask and then shake your head.

“What?” he asks.

“We’re just…talking like no time has passed,” you say.

“I guess I thought that after that party and sending you the food the next day like we…” he starts.

“That was from you?” you ask, clearly surprised.

“Would…what?” he asks, shifting mid thought. “Yes?”

“Aren’t you sure?” you ask with a laugh.

“No, I’m sure. I just thought…well, we talked about it that night,” he says.

“I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I don’t remember exactly what we said that night,” you say and look down.

“Ah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well, I figured we’d talk about everything when there weren’t people around and we could have time to ourselves. Then, I sent the food and just never heard from you,” he says. 

“You could have said something,” you tell him.

“I’m not always very good at that, the saying something part,” he says.

“You’re great at taking care of things I need, though. Everything the past week or so has been so thoughtful,” you say. 

“I know I should have talked to you. I just didn’t know how to start the conversation,” he admits. 

“It’s been a long time,” you say. 

Just as an awkward silence is about to fall over you, Minghao turns to face you. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Before we go down a path of talking about everything that happened back then and about how much I miss you now, do you think it’s worth it?”

You consider that for a long moment and miss the way Minghao seems to hold his breath. Miss the way he searches your face for a sign of the answer before you give it. Don’t realize how many ways your face has changed in the years since he really knew you. When you meet his eyes, you finally see that he looks unsure. All you can do at first is nod. 

“Is that a yes?” 

You take a deep breath. Ready yourself to jump in with both feet. “I think it’s at least worth having a conversation, yeah.” 

And so that’s what you do. You sit down and talk about all the things you wish you had said back when he left. All the things you could have done differently. All the ways you’ve changed since then. It feels good to say all the things that you’ve kept to yourself over the years. There’s something very open and honest about the way you talk. Somehow even more honest than back when you were in a relationship. Maybe because there’s no fear about the other person’s reaction or feelings. Or maybe it’s just because you’re much more mature now than you were back then. You’re not really sure. Not really sure it matters either. 

This is probably the most you’ve ever heard Minghao say at once. He even admits it’s because he knows that he’s going to have to do things that make him a little uncomfortable if he wants you to consider trying again. He’s also very understanding as he listens to everything. Not defensive when you point out how things could have gone differently. And you know you can’t be defensive when he points out the things you could have done, either. After all this time, you finally realize that it was very much both of you responsible for the way the relationship ended. Yes, Minghao’s the one that accepted a position that would take him far away from you. He’s the one that suggested that maybe the relationship needed to end. But, you also had your role in all of it. You also have to acknowledge that you got distant. Prioritizing other things in your life over him. No longer able to communicate as effectively as you had earlier in the relationship. Both of you had been growing at different rates and in different directions. 

Now, years later, you can realize that it’s something both of you needed. You had to separate to grow in ways you couldn’t do together. Had to be alone to learn the hard lessons, the scary things. To understand what you need and what you want and when to compromise. You’re no longer wearing the rose colored glasses of your early 20s. 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“What do you want?” you ask and he sighs a little. “I know, I can’t make you be the only one to talk.”

“I want to know if you still have any space for me in your life and…” he says, but trails off.

“In my heart?” you guess.

“Yeah,” he admits softly.

It’s another crossroads. One of those moments you’ll look back on. You know that you need to be a little brave. “I never really got over you. Not fully.”

Minghao’s face brightens at that and he meets your eye with your favorite smile. The soft one that you always felt like belonged only to you. “Me either. I’ve lived all over the world since we broke up and I still get my best inspiration from you.”

That one sentence pushes all the air out of your lungs. Has you entirely speechless. You hold out your hand and he intertwines his fingers through yours without a word. “So we try?” 

“We try,” he agrees. 

Trying is both intimidating and the most comforting thing in the world at the same time. A weird duality just like the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Going on a date with someone that you dated for years and then broke up with years ago is like starting well into the relationship. There are all sorts of things that you already know about each other. Yet, there are also things you can’t assume. Things you may have known once may not be true anymore. Or it’s possible that you remember something that wasn’t true at all, even then. 

So, you start with the most obvious date night activity: dinner. It gives you something to do without being too distracting from a conversation. Minghao surprises you a bit, too. He’s somehow more thoughtful and more open all at once. He still doesn’t always know how to say what he wants to all the time, but he’s trying harder to get his thoughts out. You’re also trying much harder to meet him where he is rather than expecting something that just isn’t who he is. Another byproduct of how much the two of you have grown in your time apart. You can appreciate how well the two of you fit together now. Can appreciate how your individual strengths complement each other. 

After dinner, Minghao starts to suggest going back to the apartment building. You have another suggestion, though. There’s this Art After Dark event that the local art museum runs on the second Saturday of every month that you’ve wanted to check out. Life has been too busy until now. And you also can admit that some part of going felt a little difficult. What if you saw something that Minghao created? Or something that reminded you of him? Or what if there was just a piece of art that you couldn’t understand? You’ve always appreciated the beauty in creation, but some things just went over your head. 

The suggestion makes Minghao’s face light up. He’s heard of the event and somehow hasn’t been since moving back. Not that he’s been back all that long. Still, it’s nice to know that you’ll be able to experience something that’s meaningful to him for the first time. 

The drive over is quiet, mostly only filled with the sounds of the playlist Minghao picked. It’s not uncomfortable, though, far from it. You’re thinking of how easy it is being in his presence again, especially given how long you spent thinking you needed to avoid him. In the passenger seat, Minghao scrolls what looks like the website for the museum. Probably seeing what installations are there currently on display. Or what special events they have for the evening. Either way, you’re happy to let him prepare before getting there. It’ll only help you on top of it because he’ll be able to walk you through everything. (If you think about how pretty his profile looks in the low light, then that’s your business.)

Once you get there, you insist on covering the admission because Minghao paid for dinner without giving you the chance to even offer. It’s nowhere near even, but it’s the least you can do for now. They also check your IDs on the way in because there’s an open bar, apparently. You each grab a drink off of the tray going around and then head into the first room. Live music drifts softly through from somewhere you can’t see. It adds something nice. Something that makes the whole setting somehow more intimate when combined with it being less busy than during normal hours. Minghao doesn’t wait for you to ask him to lead the way, he just knows. You follow close to him, not quite brushing your arm against him. 

This has always been one of your favorite things about Minghao. Watching him at a museum or an art gallery is just special. He walks through and talks about the different artists, the influences, and the history. He can tell you about different periods of an artist’s life and why they might have created the way that they did. There is so much living in his brain that it puts the plaques with each piece of art to shame. Occasionally, you notice someone standing in the area stop and listen to the way he speaks about a piece. It’s endearing to watch him when he’s passionate. Somehow softer and less guarded. Some people might find it sexy, and you do as well. It’s just that you find him cute first. There’s nothing about him that sounds like he’s bragging or talking down about his knowledge. Minghao has always believed that art should be accessible to everyone. That it’s a gift for all people to enjoy. When he speaks about it, that comes across. It’s something familiar, something you’re glad is the same. 

Minghao always wants to know the pieces you’re most drawn to. He wants to let you walk into some of the rooms first so he can watch you experience the art for the first time. Wants to know if you’re drawn to the pieces that he expects. You are, mostly. Usually, you wouldn’t want this much attention on you, especially in a place that isn’t your normal comfort zone. But, Minghao makes you feel at ease. At least, until he starts talking about which pieces of art remind him of you and why. It makes you turn away a little to hide the way your cheeks flush. It just feels so intimate. Feels like he’s baring his soul. Feels like too much for someone who’s been a stranger to you for years. Although, can you really say he’s a stranger? Yes, things change. People grow. You and him have certainly both grown. Maybe you’ve grown into the people you both imagined you’d be back when you figured you had the rest of forever together. 

It’s not until the last room of the museum that you realize Minghao picked the path deliberately. He motions for you to go ahead of him and you assume it’s just so he can see your reactions to the art, like he has in other rooms. And it is, in a way. Just not for the same reason as any other room. Your attention immediately falls on a piece you recognize immediately. Not because you’ve seen it before. It’s because it’s you. Or, you should say that you know it’s meant to be you. It’s that same style of abstract art that you know belongs to Minghao. The same style that feels as familiar as if it was a polaroid of you. That’s not why it takes your breath away. It’s the fact that he must have painted it after you broke up because you haven’t ever seen it before. And here it is, hanging as part of a long term installment in the museum less than 20 minutes from your apartment 

“You knew this was here,” you say. 

“I had to double check,” he says softly as he follows you. Your feet bring you right to the piece without any other thought. 

Minghao uses art as an expression. Says it’s easier for him to convey the hard things that way, like so many artists seem to. Says he’s not good with words, could never be the kind of creative that writes poems or novels with long scenes expressing intense emotions. It’s so clear looking at his art that he doesn’t need to. So clear that his work is the reason people say a picture is worth a thousand words. You think you could have ten thousand words and still need more with this piece. And most of his pieces, honestly. You yearn to reach out and run your fingers along the canvas, to trace the lines that he uses. Instead, you take in each color and each stroke. It causes conversations from when you were both younger to come flooding back. You remember lying in bed and listening to him talk about his process. About when he brought something to the foreground versus leaving it in the back. About the choice to use a vibrant palette or something more muted and neutral. About how he could play with the different colors to express each emotion. In saying all of that, you remember hearing what he couldn’t say. It’s funny, in hindsight, to think about how Minghao always said he struggled with emotions. He just says what he needs to in a different way.

His feelings are crystal clear to you in this piece. The representation of you is front and center. The first thing your eye lands on when you look at it. Everything else is in the background. Like he’s saying that you’re the center of the universe in this piece. The colors tell you just as much. They’re rich with his affection. With tenderness and forgiveness. With yearning. Like a hand reaching out to pull you in. You even think he might have put a version of himself in the background, muted to throw you into sharper relief. It’s beautiful and passionate and incredibly raw. You may need to know him to see the last bit. It’s only then that you see the date on the piece. Just over a year ago, probably after you had seen him the last time before he popped up at the party in your building. 

Finally, you turn to him and find his eyes on you. Studying you, looking for answers before you give them again. And you see the nerves there. He’s grown so much, but he knows you have too. Doesn’t presume to know everything about you anymore. Your mouth curves into the most genuine smile. “It’s amazing, Hao. I don’t even know what to say.” 

“You like it?” he asks, a little less sure of himself than you’re used to. 

“I love it,” you assure him and turn back to it. “It might be one of the most expressive pieces of yours I’ve ever seen.” 

“I know I shouldn’t have been drawing inspiration from you, but I couldn’t stop myself after I saw you that time a year ago,” he says, confirming what you thought. “I was halfway through the painting before I realized it.” 

“No matter what, I will always be honored to inspire you.” 

“That’s a relief.” 

“You know, you’re much better at expressing your feelings than you think,” you tell him, looking over to see his reaction. His face is soft. 

“Only if you remember how to read it,” he says. 

“It’s all coming back to me,” you say and delight in the way he smiles. 

Minghao is a study in contrasts. He’s every bit of what you think about when thinking of an artist. Introverted, intelligent in a way not everyone can appreciate, thoughtful, sometimes a little intimidating to approach. If you don’t know him, he could seem cold or detached. When you do know him, though, he’s anything but cold. Certainly not intimidating. Although he can be guarded, he’s an open book to the people closest to him. He’s incredibly soft and caring. Willing to let all his defenses fall away for the right person. 

He takes hold of your hand, even though he’s not always one to seek out physical touch in that way. Not in public. “I want to give this another try. We’ve both grown a lot over the past years. You don’t have to make a decision now. All I want to know now is if you’ll be my Valentine.”

The way he says it doesn’t really sound like a question. It’s also infinitely more direct than you’re used to. You can’t help the teasing look. “That’s so corny.” 

The smile you get in response is worth it. Minghao only shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s worth it.”

“Yes, Hao, I would love to be your Valentine,” you say, fighting a bit of the urge to say that you’ll just be his again. 

Even though you know that rushing back into something is the last thing you need to do, you’re still excited. Feel lighter than you have in ages. It’s kind of like autopilot for the rest of the time you spend at the museum. And if it’s the best date you’ve been on in years, well that’s your business. It’s also your business if you get back to your apartment that night and think about all the things that happened that day.

Sunday dawns and the first thought in your mind is Minghao. Not exactly surprising after spending a whole day with him instead of continuing to avoid him. Yet, it’s not quite what you’re expecting, either. After years of protecting your heart, it shouldn’t be this easy to open up to him again. That thought does make you pause, just for a second. Then, you think about all the things you managed to cover just in one day together. There’s still plenty to talk about, but you can’t deny the obvious. You’re both so willing to be open and vulnerable. Willing to accept your faults to make sure things are different if you give it another shot. There’s definitely something to be said that he’s the first thing on your mind when you wake up. (And the last thing you thought about before falling asleep.)

It’s time to do things differently. Time to not overthink everything. You’re older and wiser now. Feel like you can trust your gut and the vibes now with more life experience. Instead of giving yourself time to second guess, you send a text to Minghao to ask if he wants to come over. It’s one of those catch up days. You need to grocery shop and run some errands, do some laundry, and do a little cleaning. Minghao loves quality time, something still true now. It’s nothing exciting, though, and you give him plenty of space to say no without it being an issue. All he asks is what time he should come over and if he should eat breakfast first. 

Which is exactly how he ends up at your apartment barely 20 minutes later.

Plenty changes and just as much stays the same. Minghao can cook, he never starves. It’s just not his favorite thing to do if left to his own devices. You offer to make him breakfast if he’s going to keep you company during a bunch of errands. While you cook, he keeps himself busy making tea for himself and coffee for you. Doesn’t have to ask how you like it since he covered your coffees for the past week at the shop by your work. Since Minghao likes acts of service just as much as quality time, he empties your dishwasher while you’re finishing up breakfast and tidies up around the kitchen behind you. There’s so much comfort in falling into patterns like that, even though it feels entirely different than before. 

Breakfast passes quickly and Minghao helps motivate you out the door. Points out the sooner you get things out of the way, the sooner you can come back and relax. You’re not shy in telling him that he makes an excellent point. The praise falls easily from your lips and you delight in the way it causes him to smile shyly. Some things really never change and you’ll never tire of pulling that out of him. 

Several hours later, you’re done with all your errands (in record time, no less, even though you took care of getting things for him as well). Back at your apartment, Minghao unloads your groceries for you along with the light lunch he insisted that you pick up. It should be scary to see him making himself at home in your life again. It’s not, though. It just fills you with an endless amount of warmth. You can’t help the way your heart flutters at him setting your food out on the table and calling for you to come join him before it’s back to checking things off your little list for the day. He just seems so comfortable helping you and sharing in your space. Content to let you set the pace and clearly pleased you texted to invite him over. 

After lunch, Minghao shoos you off to get your laundry started while he tidies up in the kitchen and living area. He’s not a clean freak by any stretch. Although he does like for everything to be in its place. You know he’s only doing it now to help you because he doesn’t mind. The warmth is going to be too much at this rate. You let yourself have hearts in your eyes over him for a second before disappearing into your bedroom to gather your laundry. 

Once you have your clothes in the washing machine, Minghao says he needs to get something from his apartment and returns with his sketch pad. He’s got a few ideas that he wants to plan out and hopes it’s fine to do with in your living room. You agree as long as he doesn’t mind you rotting away with your TV obsession of the moment. It’s in those quiet moments that you get the most answers. The comfort of being in a space with him, not saying much and yet knowing you could. Sometimes you feel like you have to fill a silence to avoid any awkward pauses. There’s this sense of anxiety about what the other person is thinking, even if you know it’s probably not about you. It’s not the case with him. Which tells you all you really need to know, doesn’t it? No matter how hard you’ve tried over the years to find someone else, to date and have it something more, it’s never been like this with anyone but him. 

You’re scared of what comes next. Scared of being hurt. Yet, this feels like one of those chances you just have to take.

The next week goes something like the weekend. You spend a lot of your free time with Minghao. Sharing all the things that have happened over the years. It’s easy to talk about shared friends or new ones. Not quite as easy to talk about all the work updates, though it feels just as important. The two of you stay up late having hard conversations in the quiet hours of the night. Talking about everything that’s different. Neither of you even shy away from past relationships. It doesn’t even feel that difficult. You both had lives since you broke up and those lives shaped you into these people now. Twice, he even shows up for lunch to get you out of the building for a break. The looks from your coworkers are both knowing and happy. Everything feels like it’s going toward the obvious conclusion. 

Somewhere in between all the time spent with Minghao, you also carve out time for dinner with your best friend. Need to carve out the time, you think, to get her opinion. She’s been with you since just before the relationship ended. Even though you know that you can make decisions for yourself, it feels important to get an outside perspective. The last thing you want is to rush back into something and end up in the same place as the first time. If nothing else, you know she’ll ask you the difficult questions to make you think. Make you answer if you’ve really thought out what a second chance for the two of you looks like. If you’re doing this because you want this now, in 2025, for if you’re just holding onto a past that felt comfortable. It can be easy to just stay in a bubble without considering what that looks like when the bubble breaks. When you have to go exist together in public or with friends, not just in your own little world.

She does all those things and is adamant: this isn’t like before. Tells you that you don’t need her to tell you what you already know. Instead of justifying everything that happened years ago, you acknowledge. You don’t make excuses because there aren’t any to make. Sometimes things don’t work. You and Minghao are different people now than you were years ago. Somehow, against all odds, you’ve grown into different people that have even better compatibility than you did when you were younger. As cliche as it is, he seems like your right person at the wrong time and the universe is telling you to hit the replay button now. It’s all the confirmation you need. You’re going to dive in and feel confident he’ll be there to catch you. 

By the time Valentine’s Day comes around, you’re both completely at peace and nervous for the date itself. It’s been the theme of the last week. Another set of contrasts that somehow work. You trust Minghao, more than you expect. But, you haven’t had a date for Valentine’s since just after you and him broke up. And it was a disaster. So, you’re trying not to set your hopes to an unrealistic level. 

But, he quickly proves that you don’t have anything to worry about. Before work, he shows up with flowers, coffee, and a pastry from a shop nearby. It’s really difficult not to just call out from work and spend the day with him. Admitting that makes him laugh and press a gentle kiss to your temple. It’s so sweet that you want to melt. Sadly, you have to go to work and he’s got two different meetings that he can’t miss, one with a museum curator and another with a prospective client. So, he’ll see you after work as planned. 

Work seems to drag and more than once, you consider leaving early. Probably would too if Minghao hadn’t been adamant that you couldn’t come by his place until after work. It makes you pout a little, which, in turn, makes Mingyu laugh at you when he stops by your desk. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to avoid bringing up Minghao anymore since they’ve been in touch the whole time. You’re so happy looking forward to the date that you can’t even get mad at your friend. Besides, it can’t have been an easy spot to be in all this time. 

Minghao takes your breath away when you actually show up after work. 

After quickly changing out of work clothes, you’re on his doorstep, waiting for him to answer. The second you step inside, you see why he had you wait. He’s decorated the entire space in a way he knows you’ll love. All your favorite colors and little things that are cheesy, but also adorable. There are also several paintings, both old and newer, that you know you inspired displayed around the living area. It feels like the perfect space to celebrate with him. All you can do is wrap your arms around him. He’s quick to pull you tight against him. There’s so much emotion. 

“The food is already on the way,” he says when you pull away from him. “Thank you for paying, even though you didn’t need to.” 

“You’ve been paying for everything. It’s my turn,” you say and smile, looking around his apartment. “And thank you for this. I know it’s not usually your style.”

“You like it. That’s all that matters,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“Can I say something that’s maybe too honest?” you ask.

Minghao’s gaze on you is soft. “To me? Always.”

“I do like it, but I think I would like anything because I just like you. A lot more than I realized,” you say and watch him. Every part of you wants to look away. You already feel naked with his gaze on you when you’re not confessing to your feelings. 

Minghao reaches for your hand to pull you into him again. Lets the silence settle around you for a moment. He speaks without releasing you. “That’s good because I’m very much in love with you. So I’m glad you like me so much.”

That makes you pull away, eyes wide. “You’re in love with me? You’re sure?” 

“Does that scare you?” he asks, studying your face the same way he studies his favorite artwork.

The answer is on the tip of your tongue before you even realize it. “No.” 

“You don’t have to know yet. You don’t have to love me back at all if it’s not right for you. But, I’m sure. It’s always been you for me and it’s always going to be you for me. I’m not going to waste a second chance by not telling you how I feel.” 

It’s overwhelming in so many ways. The Minghao you loved years ago couldn’t express himself this easily. It was you that had to be good at using your words and interpreting him through actions. At the time, you thought it was fine. Now, seeing him be strong for both of you, you realize that sometimes it’s nice to hear exactly what he’s thinking. It’s nice to just know without having to read his actions. It’s also his way of showing you that things are different. That he’s going to be the partner you need and he’s going to make sure both of you are the best versions of yourself. Somehow that simple statement, along with everything he’s done the past week, are the final piece. You know this is going to be a partnership and you know you’re in it. Whatever happens, happens. 

Dinner passes quickly and the food is great, like you know it will be. It’s also nice not to have to cook or clean anything up. Even nicer to have the space to enjoy each other’s company without going out to dinner like every other couple for the holiday. And Minghao clearly enjoyed setting his table just right for the two of you. After dinner, you suggest watching something. Minghao lets you pick and the two of you settle onto his couch. Without overthinking it, you adjust to put your legs over his lap. He lets you get comfortable before putting his own hands back down and absently tracing patterns into the fabric of your pants. For a fleeting moment, you imagine him using your body as a canvas. Shaking your head to clear the thought, you focus back on the TV.

After a while, you start to feel a little uncomfortable. Not with your legs in Minghao’s laps. That’s providing a lot of comfort. You’re stretching out your neck and rolling your shoulders without realizing it. It’s been a long week at work with too much time hunched over a computer. 

“Do you want a massage?” Minghao asks, interrupting the show. You look over at him with raised eyebrows. “You keep rubbing your neck and rolling your shoulders.”

“Of course you noticed,” you say with a chuckle. 

“Maybe a massage would help,” he offers again. 

You bite your lip in consideration. You haven’t so much as kissed Minghao since you started to spend time together again (since you’re ignoring any drunk kiss that happened at Soyoon’s party for New Year’s Eve). It’s only been a kiss to the cheek here or a temple kiss there. This is definitely more than that. You want to go slow, but you also miss the way he feels. You remember the massages after long nights of studying. 

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you say. 

The warmth in his eyes when you agree is familiar. Older and wiser, sure, but still familiar. He gets up off the couch and reaches a hand to you. “Come on, let’s go into the bedroom so it’s more comfortable.”

You place your hand into his and follow him. It’s the first time you’ve seen his bedroom and it’s so simple. A few pieces of his art sit in the corner. For the most part, you can tell he only uses the space to sleep.

“I’m going to get some lotion. You can get settled,” he says and places a soft kiss on your temple. 

Once he disappears, you make a decision. You remove your shirt and bra so that your back is bare when you lay down on his bed. You settle on the bed with your head up by the pillow so that you can collect part of his sheet around your chest. It’s a little awkward, being half-naked and wondering how to position yourself. It only takes Minghao a few moments before he’s coming back through the bedroom door. His breath catches when he sees you. 

“I hope this is okay,” you say, carefully turning to look at him. “My shoulders and neck are so tense that I wanted you to be able to reach them easily.”

He gathers himself quickly and crosses over to his bed. Sits down next to your hip and runs a hand gently across your back. Like he’s testing if you’re actually there. “As long as you’re comfortable, then I’m happy.” 

“I am, yeah,” you say softly. 

“Okay, then let me take care of you,” he says, just as soft.

Without another word, he moves to straddle your body, using his knees on either side of you to hold the majority of his weight. Gently, he brushes your hair off your neck and over to the side. It’s enough to make you sigh and close your eyes. You hear him open the lotion to put some into his hands. Always so thoughtful, he warms it before putting his hands on your back. He starts just below your shoulders and works his way up, feeling for knots and increasing the pressure as needed. Barely a minute passes and you already feel like you could melt into his mattress. It’s definitely not just the release of tension that has you so comfortable that you could drift into sleep. No, it’s the person with his hands on you. It’s the care he shows with each movement. 

Before long, you really are drifting in between the land of being fully awake and asleep. It’s not that you could fall asleep on him. You still feel each movement. You’re just incredibly relaxed. Each of your muscles melt under the gentle touch of his nimble fingers. Even when he digs into a knot, it still feels relaxing. Professionals should be thankful that he took up art instead because he could put them all to shame. Though, admittedly, you’re biased. And you haven’t ever found the thought of a stranger massaging you to be that relaxing. There’s always the initial awkwardness before settling in. None of that happens with the person you know you trust more than yourself. 

He bends down to your ear and his breath alerts you before he says anything. “Going to fall asleep on me, sweetheart?”

His tone is light, almost teasing. It’s also confident, but not in the cocky way. He’s proud of the way he can relax you so easily. Your brain is a little foggy and maybe that’s also a good thing. You turn towards his voice and wind your arm up so that you can place a hand on the back of his head. His eyes aren’t just filled with warmth when they meet yours anymore. There’s desire there now, too, the same desire building within you. You pull him towards you and kiss him. Slow, almost lazy, at first. It quickly deepens into something more. 

It’s an awkward position, though. Minghao moves off of your back and you take the chance to also reposition, turning over and sitting up. There’s no awkwardness anymore and you don’t bother pulling the sheet with you when you face him. He takes a second to drink you in. Swallows hard as his eyes travel over your chest. In the next moment, he pulls you toward him so that he can kiss you again. You position your legs on either side of his hips to allow you to press tight against him. His kiss is urgent, tongue tangling with your own as the two of you meld into one. You wind one of your hands into his hair, only playing with the ends of it at first, wrapping pieces around your fingers. 

Minghao pulls back like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Both of your chests rise and fall quickly to catch your breath. “Are you sure?”

“That I want this?” you clarify.

“That you want this with me,” he says, still a little breathless. 

“Yes,” you say. 

“Are you really sure?” he asks again. He’s checking for consent and also giving you an out.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you confirm. 

You think that he’s leaning back in so that he can kiss you again. Until he uses a hand to tilt your head to one side and kisses along your jaw. He carries his kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Like he’s mapping every inch of your body. Committing it to memory or maybe making up for the lost years. When you were younger, you found it difficult to accept this kind of attention. Always worrying there was some kind of imbalance. Now, all you can do is moan out your appreciation for the way Minghao worships every inch of your skin. You’re not in a rush and he’s clearly not either. You run your hands through his hair, allowing your nails to scrape lightly against his scalp and shudder at the way he moans into your skin. Do it again just to feel the way his lips vibrate. 

His hands find their way to your hips and he grips hard. Anchoring you in place and also checking to make sure it’s all real. That it’s all happening. That none of this is another one of his dreams. Every time you run your nails along his scalp, it’s a reminder that it is happening. That the two of you really have found your way back to something. In that moment, he knows that he’ll risk his heart to not spend the rest of his life wondering what could have happened. Be vulnerable now and hope it’ll work out. 

Spurred on by the soft sounds falling from your lips, Minghao moves from your collarbones down to the hollow between your breasts. You arch into his mouth and dig into his scalp, just for a second. It’s the only thing he needs to feel. Quickly, he moves his mouth over to your nipple, taking it into his mouth. Swirling around it and nipping it lightly. He moves one of his hands from your hip to take the other nipple between his fingers. Can’t have either feeling left out. It’s embarrassing how much it turns you on, like you’re some kind of horny teenager. His fingers are so nimble, so intentional in the way they tease you that you can’t help it. He swaps his mouth to your other nipple, replacing his fingers. You’re not sure what you want more.

This time, you pull back. Still kind of breathing shallowly even though you hadn’t been kissing him. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, and a little concerned. You’re quick to reassure him, hands moving to the hem of his shirt. “Can I? I don’t want to be the only half naked one anymore?”

“Of course,” he says with a smile. 

You pull the shirt up and over his head, thankful that he’s not overdressed to make it more complicated. For a second, the sight of him renders you speechless. Gently, you run your finger along his chest and down the muscles of his stomach that weren’t there when you dated him last time. The way he shudders under your touch only spurs you on. There’s a scar along his side that you don’t remember. It’s smooth to the touch, just slightly raised.

“Beautiful,” you whisper confidently. 

He can’t stand it anymore. He takes your face in his hands and pulls you into him. Kisses you again, slowly but with so much intensity that it makes your heart skip several beats. You still fit in with him like you were made for each other. He uses the kiss to shift both of your bodies and disentangle your legs. Dips you backwards until your head hits the pillow without his lips leaving yours. Once you’re lying back, though, he breaks the kiss again. Resumes kissing down your body. Makes sure to kiss away any insecurities in the process. Whispers praise into your skin that feel like a salve. This is Minghao, your Minghao. You’re safe with him. Loved. Cherished. Supported. It’s overwhelming to feel all of that come rushing back after years spent apart looking for it in someone else. Of course it’s always been him. 

Normally you’re somewhat ticklish, and you do have to fight a little nervous laugh as he kisses down your stomach, especially when his face is so close that you can feel his eyelashes against your skin. But, there really isn’t anything funny about this. Not when Minghao looks up at you while kissing your body. Seems to be mapping your reactions just as much as your skin. He pauses with his hands on your pants, silently asking for permission. Checking in to make sure that you’re still okay with this. You nod and he kisses your stomach again before unbuttoning your pants. Pulls your pants and underwear down in one fluid motion. He takes a moment to appreciate you, laid out before him. Any remaining nerves disappear. You’ve never seen someone look at you with that much love in your life. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Until Minghao resumes kissing down your body and it’s a different kind of overwhelming. His breath ghosts across your core as he places slow, open mouthed kisses along your thighs. 

Nothing has really happened, but by the time he settles between your legs, you’re already worked up. Wound so tightly that you think he could have you coming with just a touch. You consider if that would be too fast for half a second before catching sight of Minghao. He looks up at you, hair falling into his eyes, and you don’t care what happens. Don’t care how fast anything happens because it’s him. Can hardly believe that this beautiful person wants to put your needs before his own. His eyes narrow like a siren, full of focus and desire, and it takes your breath away.

“I don’t want you to hold back,” he says. “I’ve been waiting years to taste you again.”

“You wha - fuck,” you hiss out. 

He effectively short circuits your brain with one move. He doesn’t bother teasing you, just goes straight to licking into your wet cunt. Uses two fingers to spread your lips open so that he has better access. There’s no concern for building up to something. He wants to taste you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. When his nose hits your clit, it makes you groan out and snap your thighs around his face. His groan in response vibrates through your pussy. Makes him use his thumb to rub circles on your clit without slowing his speed licking into you. It’s entirely too overwhelming in the best way. In just moments, Minghao has you writhing underneath him, gripping onto anything within your reach. His hair. The sheets. The pillow. Anything. The tension builds entirely too fast and you’re not really ready for it to be over. Not ready to have it end. 

You’re not sure if he has the same thought or not, but Minghao pulls back to look at you. The moan at the sight of your wetness all over his lips and chin is immediate. Somehow it makes him even sexier and you can’t take your eyes off him. Can’t look away as he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. With careful movements, he pulls himself up your body and lies next to you on his side to face you. Winds an arm under your neck. Places two of his fingers against your mouth and you suck them in without a thought. Swirl your tongue around his slender fingers with your eyes locked on his. Smile at the way it seems to be affecting him. With what looks like regret on his face, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and moves his hand down between your legs. Runs his middle finger up your still wet folds before inserting it. 

“Minghao, fuck, you can’t just…” you start, only to have your words cut off. 

You’re kissing again and it’s the most heated yet. The taste of you lingers on his lips. Seems to mark him as yours. You realize that maybe he’s not teasing you because he meant what he said. He’s been waiting too long for this to go slow with you. There’s plenty of time to slow down later. This is what both of you need now. He slides another finger into your pussy and pumps even faster. Doesn’t let you pull away from the kiss, catching every sound you make and adding his own sounds. The tension builds, even faster than before. In no time at all, you’re coming all over his fingers. Gasping for breath as you break the kiss and he gently pumps into you to guide you through the orgasm. 

When you can catch your breath, you look over at Minghao. Appreciate the way he just watches you. He gently brushes a piece of hair out of your face and then leans in for a soft kiss. You’re not letting him get away with that, though. Not now. Not when he just had you coming harder than you can remember in a long time. You knock the kiss up in intensity and he lets you lead. Lets you set the pace and meets every kiss with the exact right amount of pressure. Your hands are everywhere on him while you kiss, exploring all the lines and the muscles that feel a little foreign. The only obvious sign of the passage of time.

He pulls back just long enough so that he can pull his pants and briefs off. Doesn’t even look where he tosses them in the room. All he can think of is connecting his lips with yours again. About making up for all the years in between, even if you both know that you needed that time apart to find your way back. You wind your hand down between your bodies and grip his dick in your hand. Slowly run your thumb over the tip and find there’s already precum there. It fills you with so much satisfaction to know that he’s as turned on as you are. It’s a little diary, but you spit quickly in your hand. You run your hand up and down his cock a few times, twisting your fist around him. Checking to see what kind of pressure and speed he likes. 

“I just want…fuck, sweetheart,” he groans out as you run your thumb across his tip again.

“What do you want, Hao?” you ask, making your eyes as big and innocent as possible.

“I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me,” he says and your breath catches. “I don’t want to cum from a handjob like some teenager.”

“Fuck,” you say with a nod. “Yes, please, yes.”

He rolls away from you for a second to reach for his nightstand and returns with a condom and some lube. Rips the condom open with his teeth and then rolls it onto his cock. You’re about to ask him how he wants you when he pulls back and spreads your legs open. He looks at you as he lines himself up at your entrance. For a moment, he just looks at you. Then, he pours some of the lube onto the condom. Makes sure this is going to feel good for you.

“I want to watch you fall apart,” he says, voice thick with desire.

“Please,” you say softly. “I need to feel you, Hao.” 

Minghao lines himself up and presses his tip against your entrance. You’re a little sensitive from his tongue and his fingers. Still wet from that and from the intensity of the kisses afterwards. You wrap your legs around his waist as he angles into you. He leans forward, arms on either side of you so that you’re caged in. He’s sliding in so slowly, so carefully. It’s the first time he’s even come close to teasing you. Or maybe it’s just so that he can draw it out. Either way, you want him buried inside you. Can’t stop from wrapping your legs tighter around him. It’s hard to have him looking at you with so much intensity. So much eye contact. You catch the chuckle at your impatience with your lips. 

It works, though. He bottoms out with one final thrust and you would scream it if not for his lips on yours. You let him set the pace even though it’s just slower than you want. The sensitivity just makes everything feel more intense. Each time either of you breaks the kiss to catch a breath, your eyes are on each other. Uttering praise and promises into the space between the two of you. More Minghao than you, which is incredible. A steady stream of both coherent and incoherent thoughts. Somehow it all makes sense to both of you. All seems like it’s exactly right. And true to his word, when the tension builds in your body again, Minghao breaks the kiss entirely. Watches the way your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open. Appreciates every sound you make. Later he’ll tell you that he’s never seen anything more beautiful than you in that moment. For now, all he can do is watch and pick up his own pace. He wants to follow right behind you.

There’s less build up this time when you fall over the edge, toes curling and back arching. It’s even more intense too, something you didn’t think was possible. Hazily, you feel Minghao’s thrusts falter in their speed as he comes hard just after you. You try to take over the rhythm, but your body feels spent. After his final thrust, he offsets his weight so he’s not lying fully on top of you without pulling out either. Your breathing syncs up with his as you come back to the bedroom and the reality of what just happened. 

You can’t help yourself. His hair is a little wet with sweat and you reach out to brush it away. Think about how this may be your favorite hairstyle he’s ever had. He catches your hand before you even realize his eyes are on you and he kisses your palm. It makes you smile at the care in his eyes. When he releases your hand he props himself up to slowly ease out of you. You figure that you should get up as well before he presses your shoulder gently down.

“I’ve got you,” he says. 

And he does, doesn’t he? He’s shown you with his actions and even followed it up with his words. He does have you and you think he’ll probably always be there. You hear the water running from the attached bathroom and then watch him return with a wet washcloth. The bright light behind him highlights his silhouette like an angel. That’s not where it stops, though. Instead of letting you clean yourself up, he sits on the bed and runs the cloth carefully over your body. It makes your heart hurt to have him taking care of you like this, so tender and full of such pure affection. Once he finishes, he tosses the washcloth over to the nightstand. You pull him into you so that you can cuddle close. 

Even though you could probably stay like that for the rest of the night, you know that you either need to change the sheets or figure something out. You run a hand over his arm thoughtfully. That’s when it hits you and you turn your face to his. “Do you wanna go sleep in my bed with me and we can deal with your bed tomorrow?”

His laugh is light, easy. “Inviting me to bed on the second date, what will the neighbors say?” 

You swat at his arm without any real force. “That you’re incredibly lucky, I expect.”

“They’re right about that,” he says, any teasing gone in the completely honest statement. It’s a little too much for you, at least for a minute. Minghao, in his infinite wisdom, lets you have the moment. He moves from the bed and helps you up with him. Even helps you track down your clothing that’s gotten more scattered than you realize. 

It’s so easy to fall back into a rhythm with him even though it feels entirely different. Familiar and new. Fitting for the enigma that is the man before you. Which is when it hits you, just as he’s reaching the door to the hallway. Minghao stops to turn around and see why you’re not right behind him. 

“Are you coming? I don’t really want to have to break into your place,” he says with another light laugh.

“Been working on your cat burglar skills during the past few years, have you?” you joke back and he just shakes his head. Closes the space between you and collects you into his arms.

“I think that’s your wishful thinking about wanting a cat,” he says and you laugh.

“Could be,” you concede.

“Shall we?” he asks when he releases you.

“Just a second,” you say and he regards you with clear curiosity. “Earlier you told me that you loved me and…”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. You mistake it for him thinking you don’t feel the same.

“No, I need to say something,” you say and he swallows anything else. “I love you, too.”

“I know,” he says with a smile that has you rolling your eyes. Of course he knows. You’re entirely smitten and once again, the last one to know. “And how lucky am I to have someone who loves me like you do as a Valentine? To be loved by someone that I love as much as I love you?” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hao.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Here’s to a lifetime more of these.”

“I can’t wait.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Worth the Effort

Summary: On their first Valentine’s Day together, Glen goes above and beyond to show his love in a way that proves just how much the reader means to him.

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff and good vibes.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: Thank you to the Anon who sent in this request! This one was fun to write with the holiday coming up! Also put a little bit of myself in this one as I've never really had a partner put effort into Valentine's Day. So it was fun to brainstorm what someone would do to make Valentine’s Day special!

A Few Days Before Valentine's Day

The phone rings just as you’re settling onto the couch for the evening, the glow of the lamp next to you casting soft shadows against the walls of the living room. You glance at the screen, and the second you see Glen’s name your heart gives an involuntary flutter.

“Hey, babe,” you say, leaning back against the cushions. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Isn’t it like…two in the morning over there?”

There’s a chuckle on the other end, warm and familiar. “Nah, we wrapped late, and I couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice first.”

Your stomach tightens. He always knows what to say.

“Well, I’m honored,” you murmur, smiling despite yourself. “How’s London treating you?”

Glen sighs, and you can almost picture him. He’s probably stretched out in some ridiculously nice hotel room, one arm behind his head, hair tousled from a long day on set.

“It’s good. Cold as hell, though.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You poor thing.”

“I know, right?” he says, voice dripping with mock suffering. “I need to get back to Texas.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, drama queen.”

There’s a pause just long enough for you to hear the subtle shift in his tone when he speaks again. “Speaking of me coming back,” Glen starts, “don’t make any plans for Friday.”

Your brows pull together in confusion. “Friday?” You blink, glancing at the calendar on your nightstand. “What’s Friday?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You’re messing with me,” Glen says flatly.

You tilt your head. “I’m… not?”

“Babe.” His voice dips, both amused and exasperated. “Friday is Valentine’s Day.”

Your stomach clenches. Your fingers tighten slightly around the phone, but you force a casual laugh.

“Right,” you say quickly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about coming home for just that. It’s just a stupid holiday.”

You’re met with silence. Not a long one, just a couple of seconds that are barely noticeable, but you hear it. And knowing Glen, he’s probably hearing everything you’re not saying.

He exhales softly. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

You shrug, even though he can’t see you. “I’m serious. You don’t have to come all the way back just for some commercialized excuse to buy me chocolates and overpriced roses.”

His voice is softer now.  “You really think I’d let our first Valentine’s Day together be just another day?”

You don’t know how to explain what’s going through your head, at least not without sounding pathetic. But the truth is, the only other serious relationship you’ve ever had was with someone who hated Valentine’s Day. He called it pointless. Overrated. He never bought you flowers. Never made plans. Never did anything. And eventually, you just learned to stop expecting it.

Glen, though? Glen isn’t like that.

Still you shake your head, keeping your voice light. “I don’t know. I think you’re underestimating my ability to spend the night in pajamas bingeing bad reality TV.”

There’s a chuckle, but it’s quieter this time. Then, his voice turns gravelly, lower than before. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I already have something planned.”

Your breath catches. “You—”

“I’ll be home Friday,” he promises. “And once I get home I’m all yours.”

* * * * *

Valentine’s Day - Morning

Soft morning light spills through your curtains painting yours and Glen’s bedroom in soft golden hues. You shift under the covers stretching lazily, the quiet hum of the world outside lulling you back into a light doze. For once you don’t have to rush. No work. No emails. No meetings. You took the whole day off not for Valentine’s Day, of course. Just…because. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The faint sound of the front door unlocking downstairs barely registers in your half asleep state. Your mind lingers somewhere between dreamland and consciousness until a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“Babe?”

Your eyes flutter open. There’s a brief second where your brain doesn’t quite catch up. Because Glen is in London. He’s supposed to be thousands of miles away.

But then a slow grin spreads across your face as you remember his promise. Pushing the covers off, you scramble out of bed and  run toward the living room. 

The second you turn the corner, there he is. Glen. Standing in your doorway, looking completely and devastatingly like home. His hair is tousled from travel, and his jacket is slung casually over one arm. But it’s the expression on his face that makes your breath hitch. That stupid heart melting smile.

“Hey beautiful,” he says, voice rich with amusement.

You don’t even think. You just launch yourself into his arms. Glen catches you easily, like he’s been waiting for it. One of his arms wraps around you, strong and warm, holding you just tight enough to make your heart squeeze.

“You’re here,” you mumble against his shoulder.

His laugh rumbles through his chest. “Told you I would be.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding to cup his face. He’s slightly scruffy, his jaw rough with the shadow of a beard like he hadn’t bothered to shave before hopping on a plane.

Your fingers brush over the stubble, and Glen just smirks.

“You checking if I’m real?” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “I’m debating if I should kill you for not telling me when your flight was landing. I would’ve picked you up.”

He chuckles, but before you can say anything else he pulls something from behind his back. A bouquet of roses. Deep red, vibrant, freshly wrapped with ribbon.

Your lips part, but for a second, nothing comes out.

Because this has never happened to you before. No one has ever shown up with flowers. No one has ever gone out of their way to make you feel like you’re worth the effort.

Glen watches you carefully, his gaze softer now. “You okay?”

You swallow, nodding as you take the bouquet from him. The petals are velvety under your fingertips, the scent delicate and sweet.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head. “I know.” Then leaning in he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “But I wanted to.”

Your chest tightens. Because for the first time ever Valentine’s Day doesn’t feel like some stupid, commercialized holiday.

It just feels like him.

Glen leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching as you tuck the roses into a vase. “So,” he says casually, “what time do you have to be at the office?”

You hesitate for half a second before replying, “I actually took the day off.”

Glen raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Did you now?”

You shoot him a look already knowing where this is going. “Don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna.” He steps closer, tilting his head. “Did you take today off to avoid your office turning into a Valentine’s Day war zone?”

You sigh dramatically. “It’s not a war zone. It’s just…” You gesture vaguely. “Okay maybe it is kind of like a war zone.”

Glen chuckles. “So you’re telling me that right now, at this very moment, the entire office is split into two camps. One group gushing over their gifts, the other dramatically swearing off love forever.”

You snort. “Pretty much.”

He grins. “And you just…opted out?”

“I didn’t opt out,” you argue, crossing your arms. “I just thought, you know, a personal day sounded nice.”

Glen hums, unconvinced. “Mhm. Just a total coincidence that you took off work on Valentine’s Day?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, actually.”

“Uh-huh.” He steps forward, hands slipping around your waist as he leans in. His voice drops, warm and teasing against your ear. “Admit it. You were worried I wouldn’t come back.”

Your stomach flips, but you try to keep your expression neutral. “You are so full of yourself. Not everything is about you, you know?”

He laughs, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your neck before pulling back. “Maybe.”

Moving effortlessly around your kitchen, Glen grabs a frying pan and starts pulling things from the fridge.

You frown. “Are you…cooking?”

He raises a brow. “What, you think just because I’m a pretty face I can’t make breakfast?”

You smirk, hopping up onto the counter. “I think I’ve seen you burn toast before.”

He points a spatula at you. “That was one time. And I was distracted.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “By what?”

Glen grins. “You, probably.”

Your cheeks warm, but you shake your head laughing as Glen effortlessly takes over the kitchen.

The rest of the morning is easy. Pancakes, fresh fruit, coffee. You sit cross legged on the couch while Glen flips through the channels, landing on an old movie you’ve both seen a dozen times.

The world outside drifts by, but here in this little pocket of time, everything feels calm.

Because it’s not about the holiday. It’s just about being with him.

Later That Afternoon

You’re curled up on the couch, half asleep, when Glen nudges your foot.

“Hey,” he says, stretching. “We should probably get ready soon.”

You frown, peeking one eye open. “For what?”

He smirks. “C’mon. I’ve got plans for us.”

You hesitate, eyeing him suspiciously. “What kind of plans?”

His lips twitch. “The kind where you should wear something nice.”

Your stomach flips. Because Glen Powell does not do basic.

Which means whatever he’s got planned…it’s something big.

You stand in the middle of the walk-in closet, hands on your hips, staring at the rows of clothes as if they might magically assemble themselves into the perfect outfit.

Something nice. That’s what Glen had said. But what does that even mean? Does he mean nice boots and jeans? Like Texas casual nice? Or does he mean nice dinner nice?

You sigh pulling out a dress, then immediately putting it back. You check your phone like maybe Glen has sent some kind of clarification, but no. Just a winking emoji in response to your earlier “Where are we going?” text.

So helpful.

Just as you’re debating whether you should just put on leggings and hope for the best, you hear footsteps behind you.

“You’re overthinking.”

You turn to see Glen leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, grinning like he’s caught you doing something embarrassing.

“I am not overthinking,” you say even though, okay, maybe you are.

Glen pushes off the doorframe and steps inside, his gaze flicking from the half-unzipped dress in your hand to the growing pile of discarded outfits on the bench. “You’re standing in the middle of the closet looking like you’re solving a murder,” he teases.

You huff. “That’s because you were vague.” You gesture toward him. “What does something nice even mean? You’re wearing jeans!”

He glances down at his outfit—jeans and a crisp button up, the sleeves rolled up in a way that does unfair things to his forearms. “Yeah. Because I know where we’re going.”

“That’s not helpful.”

He laughs, stepping closer. “Here.” He slides past you, reaching into your side of the closet like he’s done it a hundred times before. He pulls out a sundress. It’s one of your favorites. Light, comfortable, effortless. The kind of thing that works for a casual dinner or something a little special.

He holds it up. “This one.”

You take it, raising an eyebrow. “You picked that fast.”

He shrugs. “I like this one on you.”

Something about the way he says it is so easy and certain. It sends warmth curling through your chest. You glance at him, suddenly aware of the way he’s watching you, like he already knows you’re going to listen to him.

“Alright,” you say, fighting a smile. “But if I’m overdressed, I’m blaming you.”

Glen grins. “That’s fair.” He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

You smooth your hands over the dress as you step out of the bedroom, your heels clicking lightly against the hardwood as you make your way down the stairs. There’s a hint of nerves buzzing in your chest. Not because you’re unsure about the date, but because Glen has a way of making everything feel like it means more.

As you reach the last step, you spot him near the front door, messing with his watch. He must hear you approaching because he glances up. And freezes.

His fingers pause, his whole body going still as he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You recognize that look. It’s the one he gave you the first time you ever dressed up for an event together. The one he gets when you’re wearing something that knocks the breath out of him.

His lips part slightly, his brows lifting just enough to be noticeable. His eyes take a slow appreciative once over, lingering on the soft fabric of your dress, the way it falls just right, the way it hugs your curves without even trying.

“See something you like?” you tease, one eyebrow quirking as you reach the bottom step.

Glen blinks like you just snapped him out of a trance. Then that easy, borderline cocky grin of his slides into place. “I always do,” he says smoothly, stepping toward you. “But damn, sweetheart.” His voice dips lower warm and teasing. “You really outdid yourself tonight.”

You roll your eyes fighting back a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stunning.” He closes the space between you, reaching for your hand. His fingers slide against yours, warm and steady. “If I didn’t already have a whole plan for tonight, I’d be seriously reconsidering leaving this house.”

Your face warms at his words, but you shake your head with a laugh. “Well, now I definitely need to know what this plan is.”

He smirks, giving your hand a quick squeeze before leading you toward the door. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart.” He opens the door, gesturing for you to step outside. “You’re gonna love it.”

As you step outside the cool evening air wraps around you, carrying the scent of fresh grass and the lingering warmth of the Texas sun. Glen’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you toward the garage where his truck and SUV sit side by side. Your car is parked in the third spot.

You glance between his truck  and the SUV, expecting him to open the door to one of the vehicles. Maybe he’s planned a nice dinner in town or some kind of fancy event. But instead of going for the truck Glen veers to the side…toward the Gator ATV.

You stop short. “Uh… did you forget we’re dressed nicely?” You gesture between the two of you, your dress swaying slightly with the motion. “Because I don’t think this outfit is exactly ATV appropriate.”

Glen just grins, already pulling open the driver’s side. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Should I?”

He leans against the roll cage, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I did put in all this effort to plan something special for you.” He tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “So, what do you say? You gonna climb in and find out, or are you gonna stand there and keep looking pretty?”

You bite your lip, giving the Gator a once over. It’s not what you expected, but with Glen the unexpected is usually the best part. With a small sigh you step forward, gathering your dress slightly as you climb into the seat.

Glen smirks as he watches. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I swear, if you send me flying—”

“Sweetheart.” He places a hand over his heart. “I would never let anything happen to you.” Then with a wink he turns the key, and the engine rumbles to life beneath you.

As he pulls out of the garage, the headlights cut through the dusky sky, and the excitement in your chest starts to build. You still don’t know where he’s taking you, but you can already tell whatever it is, it’s going to be unforgettable.

The ride is short, but the anticipation builds with every bump and turn down the dirt path. The air is crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of wild grass and the faintest hint of cedar. The last bit of golden sunlight lingers on the horizon, casting everything in a warm glow.

As Glen slows the ATV to a stop, you finally see it—a clearing in the middle of his land, wide and open, with a sky that seems to stretch forever. And right in the center of it all, a blanket is spread out, a carefully packed picnic basket resting on top, along with a small lantern glowing softly in the evening light.

“You did all this?” you ask softly, turning to Glen as he kills the engine.

He grins, already stepping out of the ATV and moving to your side. “Told you I had something special planned.” He reaches for your hand, helping you down with that effortless, gentlemanly ease that always makes your heart race.

As soon as your feet touch the ground, you kick off your shoes, the cool grass tickling your bare skin. Glen watches with amusement. “Getting comfortable already?”

“You expect me to sit on a picnic blanket in heels?” you tease.

He chuckles, slipping his arm around your waist as he guides you toward the setup. “Fair enough.”

Once you reach the blanket Glen lets go of you just long enough to sit down first. Then with that easy, confident charm, he reaches out offering his hand to you.

You place your hand in his letting him help you down, and as soon as you’re settled, he stays close. One arm propped behind you for support, his body warm and solid beside yours.

“This…” You take another glance around, your heart swelling at the effort he’s put into all of this. “This is amazing, Glen.”

His gaze softens, a small smile playing on his lips. “You deserve it.”

And just like that the tension in your chest, the years of past Valentine’s Days that were ignored or dismissed fades into something warm and weightless.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the way your emotions threaten to creep up, but Glen must notice because he reaches up, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “none of that. No sad thoughts tonight.”

You exhale a small laugh. “I’m not sad,” you admit. “I just…I think this is the first time Valentine’s Day has actually felt like something special.”

His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face toward his. His voice is soft, steady. “That’s because you’re special.”

And before you can argue, before you can brush it off, he leans in, pressing a soft lingering kiss to your lips, sealing the moment in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

Glen reaches into the picnic basket, a playful smirk on his face as he starts unpacking the meal he’s carefully put together. There’s fresh fruit, a variety of cheeses, slices of warm bread wrapped in a cloth, and a thermos that smells suspiciously like homemade soup.

You raise a brow. “You went all out for this.”

He grins as he pops open a container, revealing chocolate-covered strawberries. “Told you I had a plan.”

As you both start eating, the atmosphere settles into something warm and intimate. The sky deepens into a soft indigo, stars beginning to peek through, and the lantern beside you casts a cozy glow over the blanket.

At one point, Glen picks up a piece of cheese, holding it out toward you with an exaggerated look of expectation. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes but lean in anyway, taking the bite from his fingers. His smirk widens. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

You swallow, shaking your head at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.”

You snort. “That’s still up for debate.”

Glen gasps dramatically, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Damn. And here I thought I was winning you over.”

“You’re gonna have to work a little harder than feeding me cheese,” you tease.

He leans in, voice dropping just a little. “Noted.”

Your stomach flutters, but before you can react, Glen reaches back into the basket, pulling something out and setting it in front of you with a little flourish.

“Speaking of working harder,” he says, “here’s your real Valentine’s Day present.”

You blink, looking down at the small, wrapped box in front of you. Your heart stutters. “Glen…”

“No arguing,” he warns, nudging it toward you. “Just open it.”

Your fingers hesitate for a moment before you carefully peel back the wrapping. Inside, nestled in a velvet box, is a delicate bracelet—simple but elegant, with a small charm that catches the lantern light.

You recognize it instantly.

The charm is in the shape of Texas, and etched into it, so small you almost miss it, are the coordinates of Glen’s ranch.

Your breath catches.

“So you always have a piece of home with you,” he murmurs, watching your reaction closely.

A lump rises in your throat as you run your fingers over the charm, heart swelling at the thought behind it.

You glance up at Glen, eyes shining. “I—”

But the words don’t come.

Instead, you reach for him, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss that’s soft and slow, filled with everything you’re feeling but can’t quite put into words.

You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper, “I love you.”

Glen smiles, pressing a kiss to your nose before pulling you into his arms. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

The sky is painted in soft hues of orange and pink, the last remnants of daylight sinking beyond the horizon. The warmth of the setting sun lingers on your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth radiating from Glen as you lean back against his chest. His arms are wrapped loosely around your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns along your forearm.

You sigh contentedly, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. “This was perfect.”

Glen hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

For a while neither of you speak. You just sit there tangled up in each other watching the sun disappear. There’s a peacefulness in the quiet moments between you, in the way Glen’s breath moves steadily against your back, in the way his fingers never stop their gentle absentminded movements against your skin.

And then, as the last bit of daylight fades, Glen shifts behind you. “C’mon,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before gently pulling away and standing up.

You blink, watching as he makes his way over to the Gator. “Where are you going?”

Glen doesn’t answer. At least not right away. Instead he reaches into the vehicle, flicks on the headlights, and suddenly the entire field is bathed in a warm golden glow. Then from the glove compartment he pulls out a small Bluetooth speaker.

Your heart stutters as he powers it on and scrolls through his phone for a moment before a familiar melody starts playing.

You recognize it instantly. It’s the first song you and Glen ever slow danced to on the first date.

Your breath catches as he turns back to you, the softest smile tugging at his lips. He makes his way over, holding his hand out. “Dance with me?”

You don’t hesitate. Slipping your hand into his, you let him pull you up and guide you into the middle of the makeshift dance floor. The headlights cast a dreamy glow, the stars begin to dot the inky sky above, and the music wraps around you like a warm embrace.

Glen’s hands find your waist, drawing you in close as he sways you to the music. You rest your arms around his neck, your fingers playing idly with the hair at the nape of his neck.

For a moment, you just move together, slow and easy, as if the rest of the world has faded away.

“You remember this?” Glen murmurs, his lips close to your ear.

You nod against his shoulder. “Of course, I do.”

“I do too.” He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “I remember thinking that night that I’d do anything to get the chance to dance with you again..”

Your breath shudders, emotion tightening in your chest. “Glen—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. Instead he dips his head and kisses you slow and deep, like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does.

The music plays on, the soft melody weaving between the night sounds of crickets and the occasional rustle of the breeze through the grass. Glen holds you close, his warmth wrapped around you like a second skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

Neither of you speak, but words aren’t necessary. Everything you need to say is in the way he holds you, in the way he sways with you, in the way his fingers trace gentle patterns along your spine.

As the song nears its end, Glen presses his lips to your temple, lingering there for a long moment before whispering, “You get it now, don’t you?”

You blink up at him. “Get what?”

He smiles, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “That you deserve this. That you’re worth the effort.” His thumb skims over your cheek. “And that I’d fly across the world a hundred times over just to spend a day loving you.”

The words steal the breath right out of your lungs. Emotion swells in your chest, tightening your throat, burning behind your eyes.

You shake your head, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you whisper, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Glen chuckles, tucking you against his chest once more. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”

And so, you stay there—wrapped up in his arms, slow dancing beneath the stars, as the music fades and the world around you stands still.

Just you and him.

Exactly where you’re meant to be.

[maskedbyghost]

it's a happy ending, i promise!

The first thing Simon registers is pain.

A dull, burning throb in his ribs, a sharp sting along his jaw, and the constant, nagging ache of his wrists tied behind the chair he’s strapped to. The room is dimly lit, damp with the scent of mildew and blood—some of it his own. He keeps his breathing even and controlled, despite the way his head pounds from the last hit they landed.

A man steps forward, cracking his knuckles. "You’ve killed a lot of our people, Ghost." The way he says his name makes Simon's stomach churn. "You really thought that wouldn’t come back to bite you?"

Simon doesn’t answer. He’s learned silence is its own weapon.

The man chuckles and gestures to one of his men, who rolls a small television stand into the room. The screen flickers to life, static at first, before it settles on an all-too-familiar image.

Simon’s house.

His breath stills. The camera angle is high—hidden, probably in a corner of the living room. And there she is.

You.

Moving around the kitchen, completely unaware. A soft glow from the stovetop lights up your face as you hum to yourself, stirring something in a pot. Simon can almost hear your voice, that familiar melody you always hum when you’re cooking.

Ice settles in his chest.

"You see," the man continues, circling Simon like a predator, "an eye for an eye. You took our people from us. Now we take something from you."

The screen changes. Another angle. The front of the house now, where three men slip through the unlocked door like shadows. They move fast.

"Now, we could just kill her," the man muses, crouching beside Simon. "But where’s the fun in that? Maybe we start with a few fingers. Maybe a knife to that pretty face."

Simon jerks against the restraints, the chair creaking beneath him. His muscles coil with panic, and rage. His voice is muffled against the tape over his mouth, his heart hammering in his chest.

He watches as the men move closer—one creeping toward the kitchen doorway. He wants to scream, wants to warn you, to do something.

And then—

You turn.

And everything shifts.

The first man lunges.

You sidestep easily, grabbing a pan off the counter and slamming it into his face so hard he crumples instantly. The second man barely gets a hand on you before you spin, kneeing him hard in the gut before driving an elbow into his throat. He staggers, gasping, and you grab a knife from the counter, plunging it straight into his chest.

The third man hesitates.

Simon can see it—hesitation—as if he just realized this isn’t the easy job he thought it would be. He tries to pull a gun.

But you’re faster.

You twist his arm, forcing the gun toward his own leg before squeezing the trigger. He howls, dropping to his knees, and you grab the knife from the dead man’s chest, slashing the last attacker’s throat in one clean motion.

Silence.

The only sound is your heavy breathing.

The room Simon is in is frozen. No one speaks. No one moves.

"What the fuck," one of the men behind the camera mutters.

Simon can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. His body is still tense, his pulse still erratic, but his mind is caught between disbelief and something close to admiration.

He didn’t know you could do that.

Hell, he didn’t even know you knew how to throw a punch properly, let alone take down three armed men like it was nothing.

On screen, you quickly search the bodies, taking one of their guns and their earpiece. Then, without missing a beat, you grab your jacket and bolt out the door.

The man next to Simon snarls, grabbing a radio. "Find her!" he shouts. "She couldn't have gone far!"

Simon lowers his head, exhaling through his nose, swallowing down the relieved laugh bubbling in his throat.

That’s his girl.

It takes hours for you to track Simon down. Hours of listening in on enemy radio chatter and moving with the precision you never thought you’d need outside of training. Your heart pounds, but your hands remain steady as you grip the stolen gun.

When you finally pick up on the radio chatter—"Move the prisoner to the safehouse outside the city"—you know exactly who to ask for help.

The moment you contacted Price, he didn’t even hesitate. "We’re on it," he had said, and that was that. Now, as you move through the safehouse with the Task Force, the sound of suppressed gunfire fills the air as they clear the rooms.

Your thoughts are simple. Find Simon. Get him out.

When you reach the back room, you kick the door open so hard it nearly flies off the hinges.

Simon lifts his head at the sound, and the sight of him knocks the air from your lungs.

He’s tied to a chair, his wrists raw from the rope digging into them. There’s blood at his temple and a bruise darkening along his cheekbone. His mask is gone, and his hair is damp with sweat. But it’s his eyes that stop you in your tracks—sharp despite the exhaustion, locked onto you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters.

"Jesus, Simon," you breathe, already moving.

You reach him in seconds, hands shaking as you rip the tape from his mouth.

"Fuckin’ hell, love," he rasps, his voice hoarse.

"You look like shit," you mutter, and his lips quirk up at that, just a little.

"Feel like it too."

But you’re already working, fingers fumbling at the knots around his wrists, trying to ignore the way they’re rubbed raw. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you? How bad is it—"

He cuts you off.

"Marry me, woman."

You freeze. "What?"

"Marry me." And there’s no hesitation in his voice.

You blink, mind struggling to process. "Simon, are you concussed?"

"Dead serious, love," he mutters. His head tilts slightly, eyes flicking to the doorway behind you. "Get me outta this chair first, then we’ll talk rings."

Behind you, a low chuckle sounds. "Well, that’s one way to propose," Price comments, stepping into the room.

"Should we give ‘em a minute?" Soap adds, grinning.

You don’t even look back. "No, because I’m gonna kill him."

Simon snorts, and somehow, despite everything, that tiny sound makes your chest ache.

Your fingers work faster, finally loosening the ropes enough for him to yank his arms free with a hiss of pain. The second he’s out of the chair, your hands are all over him—checking his bruises, pressing against his ribs to see if anything gives under your touch.

He catches your wrist. "I’m fine."

You glare up at him. "You’re not fine."

"M’fine now that you’re here."

And there it is again—that way he looks at you, like you just flipped his entire world upside down and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

You shake your head, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, exhaling hard. "You scared the hell out of me, Simon."

His hand slides up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your jacket. "Didn’t know you could fight like that, love."

"Yeah, well, I don’t advertise it." You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. "Didn’t think I’d ever need to."

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Lucky me."

"Lucky you," you agree, voice softer now.

Simon’s thumb brushes against your cheek, and there’s something raw in his expression. "So, that’s a yes, then?"

"To what?"

"Marry me."

"Simon—"

"You literally just saved my ass. Killed three men in our kitchen. Lookin’ downright stunning doin’ it." He squeezes your waist. "Think I’d be an idiot not to put a ring on you."

You stare at him, pulse thudding in your ears. "Simon, you’re literally bleeding out right now."

"And?" He tilts his head slightly, looking at you like he’s already made up his mind. "Still waiting on an answer, love."

You groan, pressing your fingers to your temple. "Can we please get you out of here first?"

"So that’s a yes?"

"It’s a 'get moving before I knock you out myself.'"

His smirk is lazy, but there’s something warm in his eyes, something real. "Close enough."

Behind you, Soap snorts. "Bloody hell, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard."

Price sighs. "Sort it out later. We need to move."

You shake your head, but when Simon tugs you just a little closer before letting go—you know he already knows your answer.

-----------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[patricide1885]

This argument will never end for a specific reason. I know this is risky but I'd like to try to directly, albeit clumsily, address the elephant in the room that I think we all know exists but have been avoiding because we don't want conservatives and TERFs to use it against us.

Not all people under the trans umbrella are the same. By their own admission (as in, if you ask them directly what their socialization experience is), not all trans people of either gender have the same socialization experience, and at some point we need to accept that.

And yet we have to pretend that everyone is coming from the same place because obviously we don't want to say there are "real" and "fake" trans people. But regardless, the only thing we *all* have in common is that we identify as a gender different than what was assigned at birth. Which "identity" can mean multiple things in itself.

In the end, everyone should have full autonomy over their bodies regardless of reason. But to pretend that we are all doing this for the same reason of have the same gender experience is simply not true. And that's why a lot of trans people are so fucking transphobic/transmisogynistic towards other trans people - they're projecting because they don't actually see themselves as the gender they identify as in the same way, or have different understandings of what that means.

For example, in my experience FTMs might see themselves as simply a "guy with a medical condition", a "girl pretending to be a guy", a "a third gender that's guyish", "a female that identified as a man", "a person who doesn't think gender is real but likes being in the male category the best given the options". Some identify as lesbians as well as as men. Some people identify /as/ trans itself where others will identify as male or female, and view trans as either an adjective or a verb. Some view transness as "wanting to be" x gender, and others have an internal sense that they simply are and always have been the gender they say. And everything in between.

This also explains why so many trans people endorse the "gender/sex" divide. For me that's insane and hurtful. When I transitioned, gender wasn't even my focus, I was occupied by my sex dysphoria. Do I identify as a man? Well yeah, but, I can't comprehend being happy with calling myself a "female man". I am not going to say such people are not real, or valid, or that I am somehow "realer" or more valid than them, but they are different from me. Our self concepts and experiences are different.

So there are trans women and trans men out there who don't actually fully see themselves as the gender/sex they identify as or have the same experience of gender. And unsurprisingly they often act accordingly. I have seen plenty of a examples from both sides. And I have also met many trans people who absolutely were socialized as the gender they identify as. I also think a lot of people had a secret third thing.

I think to pick up socialization you have to either believe on a deep unconscious level that that socialization is for you or you have to fail the other socialization (among other things that also affect cis people). I don't think this decides whether you're a valid trans person or not, and I think it's a spectrum. Personally, I have noticed that in certain ways I'm more male socialized than a lot of the trans men I interact with. I did identify with a lot of male messages as a child, and I failed at being feminine despite myself in many ways. But I wasn't fully male socialized in that there are a lot of things I had to learn and unlearn, and there are things both positive and negative that I simply for one reason or another just didn't pick up. I don't think that makes me less valid as a trans person.

I know this opens up a horrifying can of worms that people can use for transphobia and transmisogyny. But it's the truth. And I'm tired of us tip-toeing around it. Until we face the messiness of transness head on, 1. Some people will be told real things they see aren't real, which will lead to full on reactionary beliefs as they are forced to either not believe themselves or be full on reactionaries (especially when the trans person themselves is saying that they are male socialized or only kind of a woman or what have you - that's kinda hard to refute then), whereas 2. Many trans people themselves will secretly feel that their validity is a house of cards that they have to keep on posturing to hide and be constantly terrified that others will discover this. But there's nothing wrong with the truth outside of the fact that we fear reactionaries won't accept it and we are afraid to be subject to intense gender scrutiny.

And again, the thing is - it's not a secret. Trans people say this stuff all the time. Some trans women casually say they were "male socialized", or that they don't have dysphoria, or they didn't identify as their gender until recently, or that they to this day still see themselves as a man with a female body. And the same goes for trans men, who often actively shrink away from being considered men-men and pointedly identify as a "trans man" rather than a "man", because they want you to know that they're not like those "evil" cis men - that they're intrinsically different somehow. And obviously many say all the time that they were "female socialized" and use that as a cudgel against trans women, because if they are "female socialized", obviously all trans men are too, and therefore obviously all trans women are male socialized too, right? That is the logical conclusion to understanding trans people as a sort of monolith who have a consistent shared experience.

Pretend you didn't see that.

This is a level of transmisogyny that is somewhat hard to comment on because the things that one would normally point out as transmisogynistic implications are said so brazenly that there can be no pretense about any of the involved parties being unaware of it. The authors know, the readers know, everybody understands that this is pure transmisogyny. There is no plausible deniability.

It's an attempt to establish proximity between transfems and cis manhood in every way possible. Their bodies, their histories, their "socialization", the way they are treated by others, the way they treat and view others, their ways of thinking, even their self-conception. Every aspect of their being is cast as essentially male. Transfems are being called "men" in all but name - and not just any "men", they are made into embodiments of the worst aspects of hegemonic manhood. Not just male socialized but continuing to benefit from male socialization. Not just engaging in abusive behaviors stemming from male socialization but being afforded the freedom to do so because they continue to be treated as men. (Suffice it to say that this does not align with reality)

This is unadulterated sex-essentialism and it's intentionally being used to delegitimize and devalue the standpoint of transfems in feminist discourses. It's clear that the author is projecting transmisogynist ideas onto transfems and simply assumes that these ideas must be correct without considering any alternative. (The fact that transfems do not internalize "male socialization" has been reiterated many times over and should not have to be continually reasserted. This is a baseline level of understanding that we should be able to expect and demand from members of our community.)

Misogyny is framed as being contained within the realms of sexed bodies and gendered socialization in such a way that it allows for the casting of transfems as people enacting misogyny without being primary targets themselves - like cis men.

The claim that the animosity some transfems exhibit towards men comes from wanting to "prove" their womanhood serves the double purpose of casting their womanhood as inauthentic and denying the misogyny they suffer at the hands of men. One would be hard pressed to find a more cruel mischaracterization of transfems' experiences than this.

The cynical misappropriation of the standpoint of the people this screed is directed at by the use of "we" despite making it abundantly clear that the behavior that is being criticized and its supposed causes exempt people such as the author from the possibility of engaging in it should also be noted as an attempt at weaponizing a compromised version of standpoint epistemology against transfems.

The only plausible target audience for this kind of rhetoric are those who carry extreme ressentiment towards transfems and are susceptible to softened formulations of TERF ideology. These are the same kinds of ideas that TERFs have tried to push into trans spaces numerous times, e.g. under names like "sex-conscious feminsim".

A formulaic "retreat" from this post consisting entirely of platitudes has been published after the author received backlash for it but nobody is under any obligation to accept it and they absolutely should not. A person who was very obviously attempting to promote TERF ideology in trans spaces and in the same stroke accused transfems of being uniquely prone to making false accusations is not trustworthy, even if that person backs down upon realizing that the reception is more uniformly negative than anticipated.

@genderqueerdykes @gateway-2000 is a transmisogynist, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Its entire worldview is permeated by transmisogynistic assumptions, ideas and biases at a fundamental level. It has straightforwardly expressed an understanding of transfems' interiorities, their experiences and their social positions that is so incorrect that one has to wonder how someone holding these views could have navigated trans communities for a considerable amount of time without encountering the many transfeminist rebuttals to all of its demagoguery. How could someone with even a passing level of familiarity with TERF ideology or "gender critical feminism" read and espouse these ideas without recognizing them? It's completely unthinkable. It's not unreasonable to assume that it simply misjudged the consensus within its audience as being sufficiently anti-transfeminist for ideas such as these to fall upon fertile ground and it is now going back to waiting until the time is ripe to reintroduce them and to expressing them in more subtle ways until then.

But you can't un-ring a bell.

We can and should assert boundaries against reactionaries engaging in obvious subversion such as this. Refusing to do so is a deleterious error in judgement. This is very far beyond the limits of what any trans community that wants to consider transfems a part of itself can be allowed to tolerate.

[fangdokja]

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

❤︎ Synopsis. He was the omnipotent author, the cruel god behind the screen—until he decided to step into the story himself, turning ink and paper into flesh and bone, pain and pleasure. Now, trapped within his twisted narrative, you are both his muse and his masterpiece, rewritten and defiled with every stroke of his pen.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Author x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Fate’s Final Draft - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 6,077

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, rape, psychological manipulation and conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, cannibalism + vore, gore, torture, death, angst + tragedy, bombing, penetration using objects, forced penetration, implied + slight masochism

♡ Yandere! Author, who never gets jealous. Not in the way normal people do. He doesn’t feel that tight coil of possessiveness, that human bitterness. No, his jealousy is something far worse—something that twists, mutates, and takes shape in the form of a game.

"You’re distracted," he says, voice lilting, amused. "Your attention is... scattered. Like a kitten chasing too many strings."

He taps his fingers against his chin, head tilting in mock thought. "And here I thought you’d learned by now. That the only string worth chasing is mine."

♡ Yandere! Author, who watches you interact with others, not with anger, but with a quiet, lingering curiosity.

"You’re always so helpful, aren’t you?" he hums, stepping closer, his breath warm against your ear. "So kind. Picking up strays, offering soft words, being the ever-so-gentle protagonist. How utterly dull."

He chuckles, a sharp, manic edge cutting through the sound.

"But I suppose it’s my fault," he sighs. "I’ve been far too lenient with you. Letting you walk around, letting you play with all these little characters. Letting you breathe."

His eyes darken, his grin stretching too wide.

"I should remind you of what happens when you take my attention for granted."

♡ Yandere! Author, who crafts stories of tragedy and despair, who delights in pain and suffering like a composer weaving a symphony.

"But this time," he says, fingers tracing idly along your arm, "I won’t just watch."

His grip tightens, just enough to make you feel it.

"You like playing hero, don’t you? Always trying to defy the script, to make things better for others?" He exhales a mockingly wistful sigh. "How sweet. How naive."

A shiver of amusement runs through him as he leans in, whispering against your skin.

"So let’s play a little game, shall we?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who spins scenarios of horror and despair, who orchestrates nightmares with the precision of a masterful puppeteer.

"Tell me," he muses, voice dripping with saccharine malice. "How do you think your precious little cast would react if they saw you... like this?"

He hums, thoughtful.

"Torn apart. Begging. Ruined."

His fingers brush against your throat, slow, deliberate.

"Would they still look at you the same way? Would they still adore you?" His voice drops lower, threading with something almost gentle, almost loving. "Would you?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who always remained an observer, a sadistic god behind the screen, watching his creations squirm.

But now?

Now, he’s stepped into the story.

And this time, he’s the one writing the scene.

────────────

You woke up to the cold, sticky embrace of blood-soaked earth beneath you, the metallic scent of death thick in the air.

♡ Yandere! Author towered above you, his silhouette framed by the flickering candles scattered around the room, casting eerie shadows across the faces of the lifeless bodies that surrounded you.

His eyes gleamed with a dark excitement as they raked over you, and he licked his lips in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "Look what you've done, my dear," he mused, gesturing to the carnage.

"You've made me clean up your mess again."

You stared at the decapitated heads, the sight of their vacant eyes hauntingly familiar, as he stepped closer, his foot squelching in the pool of crimson beneath your trembling form.

"I hope you're ready for your punishment," he said, his voice a dark, seductive purr that made your stomach twist with fear and disgust.

"You've been a very naughty girl, making me jealous like that." His hand reached for the hem of your top, and you knew that this night was going to be one of the worst you'd ever endure.

As ♡ Yandere! Author tore the fabric from your body, leaving you exposed to the chilling air, you felt his anger like a living force, a palpable entity that wrapped around you, squeezing until you couldn’t breathe. "You think you can play games with me?" he hissed, his fingers digging into your skin.

"You think you can ignore me and flirt with my characters?" He grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with a possessive fury that made you feel like you were drowning.

"You belong to me," he spat, the words echoing in your ears like a curse.

"And I will show you exactly what that means." His touch grew rougher, more punishing, as he yanked your legs apart, the sound of his zipper like a gunshot in the tense silence.

With a sadistic smile, ♡ Yandere! Author positioned himself between your thighs, his erection a blunt, unyielding presence against your trembling flesh.

"Look around you," he ordered, gesturing to the grisly scene.

"These are the consequences of your disobedience. Your carelessness." He leaned in, his breath hot and rancid. "Do you like your audience?"

♡ Yandere! Author didn't wait for a response, thrusting into you with a brutal force that made you scream.

The dead eyes of the characters you once knew bore into you, a silent, damning judgment as he claimed you again and again, each stroke a declaration of his dominance. The pain was intense, a stark reminder that you were his plaything, his to manipulate and control.

♡ Yandere! Author grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, while the other trailed down your body, leaving a path of shivers in its wake.

His grip tightened, his teeth sinking into your neck as he slammed into you, your cries muffled by his mouth. You could feel the sticky warmth of blood from the nearby corpses, a morbid reminder of his power as he fucked you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and arousing.

The smell of death and decay filled the air, mixing with the scent of sex and sweat.

♡ Yandere! Author didn't bother to clean you up; he liked the mess, the reminder of what he'd done.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

"So vulnerable, so fucking perfect." His other hand found your throat, squeezing gently.

"You're mine. Do you understand?" He emphasized his words with a particularly vicious thrust, making you gag.

His eyes gleamed with a twisted mix of pleasure and malice as he watched you struggle under him, surrounded by the grisly remnants of his narrative wrath.

♡ Yandere! Author had always enjoyed the thrill of watching his characters suffer, but there was something uniquely satisfying about seeing you, the protagonist he had grown to both despise and adore, at his mercy.

His grip on your throat tightened as he pumped into you, the warm, sticky mess of blood and gore from the slain characters around you coating both of you, a macabre reminder of his power.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice a harsh rasp. "Look at me when I fuck you."

You refused, turning your head away and doing your best to muffle your voice.

With a snarl of frustration, he reaches for his signature fountain pen, the gleaming silver instrument that had so often been the harbinger of fate in his grimdark narratives.

♡ Yandere! Author presses the tip of the pen against your left eyelid, watching with a perverse fascination as your pupil contracts in terror.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a harsh whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "Or would you rather I show you how serious I am?"

Before you can react, he drives the pen straight into your eye, the sharp tip piercing the tender flesh with ease. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching in agony as the warm, wet sensation fills your socket.

The world goes blurry, your vision obscured by a curtain of pain, but you can still feel him thrusting into you, his movements growing more erratic and frenzied as he watches you suffer.

The pen digs deeper, the ink mixing with your tears and blood, painting a crimson streak down your cheek.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out the pen, leaving your eye a ruin, and throws it aside with a satisfied smirk.

"Scream all you want," he says, his voice dripping with malice.

"They can't hear you." He gestures to the lifeless bodies that surround you, their vacant eyes seemingly watching the gruesome display with silent judgment.

♡ Yandere! Author leans in closer, his breath hot against your face as he whispers, "But I can. And I fucking love it." His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply until your vision starts to darken at the edges.

With a twisted smile, he reaches for the second pen, the gleaming metal reflecting the sickly light from the candles scattered around the room.

You can feel the anticipation coiling in his muscles, the thrill of his sadistic desires about to be satiated once again. He presses the tip against your other eye, watching you with a mix of hunger and disgust as you whimper and squirm beneath him.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice low and filled with malice. "Look at what you've made me do."

You try to turn your head away, but his grip is unyielding.

The cold steel of the pen pierces the soft flesh of your right eyelid, and you can feel the warmth of your blood trickle down your cheek.

The pain is blinding, stealing the last semblance of dignity you had. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing your screams. You bite your lip until you taste blood, your eyes struggling to squeeze shut tightly, trying to block out the horror of what's happening.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a dark symphony of desire and anger. "Look at the monster you've created."

With a sadistic flourish, ♡ Yandere! Author plunges the second pen into your right eye, the sharpened tip digging into the delicate tissue.

You feel a burst of searing agony as your eyeball ruptures under the intrusion, the gelatinous fluid mingling with the sticky blood already coating your face.

The pen slices through the ocular nerve, sending a shockwave of pain that echoes through your entire body.

You can't help but scream now, the sound a raw, primal wail that fills the room, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the ears of the lifeless figures around you.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with perverse pleasure as he watches you writhe and squirm beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author swirls the pen around in the bloody mess that was once your eye, the metal grinding against the bone socket. "Scream for me, my little protagonist. Show everyone how much you enjoy this."

With a grunt of pleasure, he starts to thrust into you harder, the squelching sound of your mutilated flesh a symphony to his ears. His grip on your throat tightens even more, cutting off your air supply and turning your screams into desperate gasps.

Each movement of his hips sends fresh waves of agony through your body, the pain from your ruined eyes mixing with the brutal violation of your most intimate space.

You feel his hot breath on your cheek, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispers sweet nothings about how much you're his, how he's going to make sure you never forget this moment.

His lust spikes at the sound of your gargled screams, the sight of your ruined eyes, and the feel of your squirming body beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls the pen out of your right eye with a wet pop, a grin of sick satisfaction on his face as you try to clutch at the empty socket, only to encounter the sticky mess of your own blood and viscous fluid.

He throws the pen aside, his focus now fully on your suffering and the ragged sounds of your breathing. He grabs your chin, forcing your face towards his, his other hand digging into your hip. His eyes, now wild with desire, bore into yours—what's left of them—as he starts to fuck you with a fervor that borders on violence.

His eyes gleam with a twisted hunger as he brings your ruined right eye closer to his mouth. You can feel his breath hot and heavy on your face, his tongue darting out to taste the coppery tang of your blood.

With a sickening slurp, ♡ Yandere! Author begins to lick around the wound, his tongue swirling in the bloody mess that was once your eye. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, a mix of revulsion and pain that makes you want to scream, but his hand around your throat won't allow it.

His teeth clamp down on the gelatinous flesh, tearing a chunk of it away from the socket.

He chews, savoring the taste of your suffering, your essence, the very core of your being. You feel him swallow, the motion sending a bolt of horror through your body that's almost as intense as the agony of his teeth in your face.

He laughs, the sound echoing through the room of dead characters, their lifeless forms a silent audience to your degradation.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs harder as he consumes more of your eyeball, his teeth tearing into the delicate flesh and crunching through the gelatinous interior.

The sound is obscene, a symphony of his depravity playing out in the quiet room of the dead. Each bite sends a jolt of horror through your body, but the pain is a distant second to the realization of what he's doing.

Your mind reels, trying to process the grotesque intimacy of the act, the ultimate violation of your bodily autonomy.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls away, the last piece of your eyeball still caught between his teeth, his grin wider and more sadistic than ever. He leans in and whispers, "Mmm, so sweet," his breath hot against your ear, before swallowing the final piece.

He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing it across your cheek. "You're so much more entertaining when you fight back," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

His other hand slides down your body, finding its way between your legs. He groans in pleasure as he feels the wetness there. "It's a shame you're not enjoying this more. I've written some of my best work when my characters are in pain." His fingers delve deeper, the pressure increasing until you're writhing beneath him.

As you try to struggle away from his vile touch, the his grip on your throat tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh around your windpipe.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs darkly, the sound echoing through the room like a chilling symphony of madness. "Oh, so you want to play hard to get?" His free hand reaches for the pen still stuck in your left eye socket, the metal now cold and slick with your blood.

"Let's see if this loosens you up a bit, shall we?" He says, a twisted glint in his eye as he pushes the pen deeper, the pain making your vision swim.

You feel the sickening crunch of your socket collapsing under the pressure, and the warm, wet sensation of your eye popping out, leaving nothing but a gaping hole filled with his digit.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out his hand, bringing with it a fountain of crimson.

The room spins around you, and the world turns red with your agony. He holds up the ruined mess that was once your eye, examining it with a disturbing fascination. "This is what you get for making me jealous, you little whore."

He tosses it aside, the wet slap of it hitting the floor making you want to vomit. His hand moves back to your throat, squeezing harder, cutting off your air.

♡ Yandere! Author yanks you back down onto the makeshift bed of lifeless bodies, the cold, sticky blood of your former companions seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

His other hand is on your chin, forcing your face up to look at him. "You're going to scream for me now, aren't you?" His smile is wide, his teeth glinting in the flickering candlelight.

"You're going to scream like you've never screamed before, because this is your grand finale, isn't it?"

With a final, brutal thrust, he pulls out of your ravaged pussy, his cock slick with your blood and the juices of your pain.

♡ Yandere! Author grabs you by the hair and forces your head back, aiming his thick, pulsing shaft at your face. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it spurts out, painting your cheeks and filling your eye sockets with his seed.

The salty, bitter taste coats your tongue as he pushes into your mouth, his grip on your throat tightening.

He fucks your face with the same fervor he did your eyes, his hips bucking as he empties himself into you. Your throat is raw from his earlier assault, but you swallow his cum without protest, the taste of his dominance overwhelming your senses.

"Look at you," he pants, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. "Such a good little slut, taking it all for your master."

♡ Yandere! Author releases your chin and wipes the last droplets of cum onto your cheek with his thumb, smearing it into your skin. "You never did know how to pick your battles, did you?"

His grin widens as he positions himself above you, the bloody corpse of your recent companion lying between your legs, your vision nothing but a blur of pain.

His cock, still slick with your tears and blood, slides back into your ruined eye sockets. You can feel the warmth of his semen coating the inside, the sensation sickeningly intimate.

♡ Yandere! Author starts to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands gripping your hair tightly as he uses the leverage to push even deeper. You want to scream, to beg for mercy, but all you can do is whimper, your throat raw from his previous assault.

The pain is unbearable, a symphony of agony that resonates through your entire being.

"Do you feel that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "The warmth of your storyline being rewritten, the essence of your existence being claimed by me?"

His thrusts become more vigorous, the sounds of squelching and slapping echoing through the room. The dead characters seem to watch in morbid fascination, a silent audience to your suffering. "You’re mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek. "Every part of you, every drop of your despair—it’s all mine to savor."

You try to scream, but the only sound that leaves your throat is a wet gurgle. The pain is unbearable, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body, making you feel like you're being torn apart from the inside.

Yet, you find yourself unable to move, to fight back, your body a puppet to his twisted narrative. The warmth of his cum in your eye sockets feels like molten lead, a constant reminder of the horror of your new reality.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out of you with a smirk, watching as his semen leaks from your eye sockets, mixing with the blood and gore of the room.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at the carnage around you. "You see this?" he says, gesturing to the mutilated bodies.

"This is what happens when you don't belong to me. This is what happens when you dare to think you can have a story without me."

His grip tightens, his thumb pressing into the raw flesh of your cheek. "But don't worry, I'll always be here to save you. To use you. To make you feel alive." He laughs, the sound echoing through the room, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. "You're going to love the next chapter, my sweet, obedient little bitch."

Your don't give in.

But your silent, weak struggle only serves to fuel the his desire.

♡ Yandere! Author watches your defiance with a mix of amusement and annoyance, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of the challenge. He grabs you by the throat, his grip tightening as he hoists you up, your feet dangling in the air. With a cruel smirk, he slams you down onto the floor, the impact jolting through your broken body.

His eyes flash with a dark excitement at your silent defiance.

He's always loved a challenge, and your refusal to break is just another delicious twist in the story he's crafting. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a third fountain pen, its nib gleaming in the dim light.

Without a moment's hesitation, he aligns it with your already abused vagina, the cold metal sending a shiver of fear through your body.

"Let's see if I can make you scream," he whispers, his voice a chilling promise of more pain to come.

With a swift, brutal motion, he drives the pen into you, the nib slicing through your flesh with an ease that speaks of his practiced cruelty.

You bite back a scream, but a gasp of agony slips through your teeth.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in your skull like a death knell, as he starts to move the pen in and out of you.

As his third pen plunges into you, the sharp nib tears through your tender flesh with a sickening sound that makes your stomach churn. Blood and fluids mingle, creating a macabre painting around his twisted tools of domination.

You feel the metal slide in and out of your violated body, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of agony that crashes over you like a crimson tide. The sensation of being impaled by something so cold and unyielding is almost too much to bear, but the pain is a reminder that you're still alive—still the star of his twisted story.

With a sadistic smirk, ♡ Yandere! Author watches your body convulse around the third pen lodged deep within your cervix.

The agony is palpable, painting your face with the colors of despair as you try to scream through your bruised and bloodied throat.

The warmth of your insides clench around the cold metal, a stark contrast that sends shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He twists the pen slightly, eliciting a guttural sound from you, one that is a mix of pain and unwilling arousal. The gore that surrounds you, the lifeless bodies of the characters he's discarded, only serves to amplify the depravity of his act.

♡ Yandere! Author stands back, his eyes gleaming with a twisted mix of triumph and fascination.

He leaves the pen inside you, allowing the pain to linger, to become a part of you.

You can feel the cold, unyielding metal pressing against your inner walls, a constant reminder of his dominance and the horrors he's inflicted upon you. Your body shakes, a silent scream echoing through the room as the pain turns to a dull throb that you know won't be leaving you anytime soon.

His hands are slick with your blood as he effortlessly picks you up from the floor. You're too weak to fight, your body a mess of pain and violation.

♡ Yandere! Author wraps his strong arm around your neck, his grip tight enough to cut off air, yet not tight enough to end your misery.

You gasp, your eyes watering from the pressure as he drags you across the floor, the coldness of the tiles sending shockwaves through your bruised and abused body.

He reaches up, looping a thick rope around a sturdy beam in the ceiling, and your heart sinks as you realize his next twisted act.

With a sadistic chuckle, he ties the noose around your neck, pulling it tight enough to leave an angry red ring around your throat. He makes sure your wrists, ankles, and everything essential is tied securely to prevent any chances of escape.

♡ Yandere! Author places the chair beneath you, the wood digging into your legs as he lifts you up, your toes barely grazing the floor.

"You're going to hang there," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "until I say otherwise. Think about what you've done, my little muse. Think about how you've made me feel."

His grip on you tightens as you hang from the noose, the pain in your neck a constant reminder of his dominance. Your legs kick out, desperately searching for purchase on the floor below, but find none.

The chair wobbles precariously beneath you, the only thing keeping you from the agony of strangulation.

You can feel his hot, heavy breath against your pussy, his chuckles reverberating through his chest and into yours. His free hand snakes down, reaching between your legs to grasp the bloody pen still lodged inside you, twisting it cruelly. You whimper, the sound muffled by the noose, and your body involuntarily tightens around the object, a sickening mix of pain and arousal.

His grin widens as he pulls out a handful of dynamite sticks from his toolbox, each one glinting in the dim light.

♡ Yandere! Author waves them in front of your face, the smell of gunpowder and fear thick in the air. His eyes are alight with sadistic glee as he explains his next twisted plot twist.

“You see, my dear, I’ve been saving these for a very special occasion. And what better way to celebrate our little bond than with a little… fireworks display?” He chuckles darkly, his voice a serrated knife cutting through the silence.

You gasp for air, the noose biting into your neck as he plays with the explosives. His cruel fingers trace over the dynamite, leaving smudges of your blood on their surfaces.

♡ Yandere! Author seems to revel in the horror etched into your features, the way your body convulses and writhes under his touch.

“But don’t worry, my pet,” he coos, his voice a mockery of comfort. “You won’t be alone in your little performance. After all, what’s a show without an audience?” He gestures to the lifeless bodies scattered around the room, their sightless eyes seemingly watching the grisly scene unfold.

His hands are a blur of movement, the dynamites' sticks pressing against your flesh as he ruthlessly inserts each one into your violated body. You whimper and squirm, the pain unbearable, but he only laughs, the sound echoing through the room like a twisted symphony. His eyes are alight with a perverse glee as he watches you suffer.

"You see," he says, his voice a purr of sadistic pleasure, "the story needs a climax. And what better way than a grand explosion?"

He presses the last stick of dynamite into you, pushing it deep until it's nestled alongside the pen that still remains lodged in your cervix. Your body shudders with revulsion, and you feel a warm trickle of blood run down your thighs.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out a sleek, silver lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a practiced ease that sends a shiver down your spine.

He holds the flame up to one of the dynamite sticks protruding from your body, watching you with a twisted smile as the flicker of fire dances in his eyes.

The room fills with the acrid scent of burning fuse as ♡ Yandere! Author lights each dynamite stick with a sickening relish, the flames licking up your body, burning against the tender flesh of your inner thighs and the cold steel of the pens and the chair.

You scream in agony as the fire spreads, the heat searing your skin and the explosive pressure threatening to tear you apart from the inside out. Your eyes are already gone, but the pain is so intense it feels like you’re seeing stars, your vision a swirl of fiery red and black.

The pens in your body are forgotten for a moment as the dynamite becomes the center of your world, a twisted phallus of destruction that promises to end your story in a blaze of glorious carnage.

♡ Yandere! Author steps back, admiring his handiwork. "This is your grand finale, my love," he says, his voice thick with perverse pleasure.

"The ultimate climax of your tragic tale. How fitting that it ends with you, my muse, writhing in the throes of a passionate, explosive death." He licks his lips, his gaze raking over your suspended, burning form with a hunger that’s as palpable as the heat from the dynamite.

You’re his masterpiece, and he’s about to watch it burn.

With a wicked chuckle, he steps away from you, slamming the heavy, bolted door shut with a resounding clang that echoes through the room. The sound is like a death knell, cutting off your cries for mercy.

♡ Yandere! Author watches you through the small, reinforced window, his eyes gleaming with sadistic excitement as your body writhes in pain. The dynamite hisses and crackles, the flames licking closer and closer to the explosive core, painting your tortured cries in a symphony of agony.

Your desperate attempts to free yourself are futile.

The ropes are tight, digging into your wrists and ankles, leaving you suspended and helpless. The dynamite sticks burn and hiss, filling the room with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the sickeningly sweet scent of your own burning flesh. You can feel the heat radiating from within, the explosives stretching you to your limits as your body fights against the intrusion.

Each twitch and squirm sends shockwaves of pain through you, the pens in your eye sockets and vagina a constant reminder of his dominance.

Your vision is a haze of red and black, the world around you a swirling maelstrom of agony.

The dynamite reaches its crescendo, the hissing and crackling suddenly giving way to a deafening roar. The explosion rips through the room with the force of a thousand suns, the blast wave tearing into your body as it erupts from within.

The pens that were once lodged in your flesh are now shrapnel, shredding your insides as the explosion rips through your core. Your screams of agony are swallowed by the inferno, your body contorting in a dance of pure, unbridled pain.

The explosion is a symphony of destruction, your body the instrument he plays to compose a macabre masterpiece of carnage. The pens, once cold and lifeless, are now molten metal searing through your flesh, painting the walls and floor with your blood. The blast sends shards of wood and glass flying, piercing your skin and embedding themselves in the bodies of the slain characters that lay around you, turning their silent vigil into a grisly tableau of pain.

♡ Yandere! Author steps into the room, the acrid smoke still lingering from the explosion. His eyes are alight with a manic glee as he looks upon the carnage—your remains a grotesque tapestry of gore and shredded flesh.

He claps his hands together, the sound echoing in the silence, a standing ovation for the horror show you've unwillingly become.

♡ Yandere! Author approaches your ruined form with a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Ah, my dear protagonist," he coos, "such a beautiful spectacle of suffering. But the story isn’t over yet."

He reaches down, his hand disappearing into the mess of your remains, and pulls out the still-glowing pen embedded in your shattered pelvis.

"Look how you've been marked by my narrative," he says, holding it up to inspect the crimson coating. The heat from the explosion has made it hot, almost searing his hand, but he seems unfazed by the pain.

♡ Yandere! Author then picks up your torn heart, bringing it closer to his twisted smile, his teeth sinking into the remains of the flesh, as if it's a ripe apple. He chews slowly, savoring the metallic taste of your blood mingling with the charred meat. "Mmm," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours, "still beating. How utterly fascinating."

The room is a macabre tableau of destruction, and he is the artist, standing over your shattered body with a grin that splits his face like a chasm.

♡ Yandere! Author chews thoughtfully, your heart’s rhythmic thumps echoing in his mouth as he speaks around it. "You're still alive," he says, his voice sticky with your blood. "I never said I’d let you die so easily."

His words are a taunt, a promise of more to come, and as much as you want to scream, to rail against the pain and the horror, you can’t. Your vocal cords are gone, torn away by the explosion.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in the blood-soaked room.

He drops your heart into the palm of his hand, watching it pulse weakly as he speaks. "You see, my dear, death is for those who dare to bore me. And as much as I'd love to end this little… narrative, you're not quite ready to leave the stage."

He strokes the heart with his thumb, a twisted affection in his eyes. "Not until I've had my fill of your suffering."

♡ Previous Part. He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

♡ A/N. Sex without true danger is boring as shiz. And yanderes without the fear factor aren't peak yanderes. They're just on the possessive or vanilla shiz. Pathetic. Yanderes have to actually scare the shiz out of you. Because that's how true horror is. It doesn't even have to be gore, of course! These are my rules for myself when writing my "true yanderes". But, I suppose most authors don't want to severely hurt, much less kill the darling, especially if they're actual readers. Aw, but don't worry, I'm different. None of you are truly safe in my stories ahaha. Anyways, this is the second part I was talking about for Yandere! Author. I was trying to find yandere horror content for actual sadistic yanderes that can and will kill the darling, but can't find anything! Ugh, people always want soft, sub, comedic, or braindead sex yanderes, and no true danger of actual MC suffering and death.... WHERE IS THE HORROR. It's always just either pure horror or baseline (or worse braindead smut) yanderes. No proper mixing and cooking of the elements! dsjkfalds I'm starving for content.... Fine, I'll do it myself. Yanderes that will hurt, and may kill you. Happy Valentines, you're welcome. uhahaha.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337 , @mocalocha

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[overadores]

･ ⟢ ⋮ love last ゛༝. ✦ megan skiendiel

You know me well

pairing.ᐟ megan skiendiel x reader

about.ᐟ a sorrowful story of love, sacrifice, and time’s relentless passage, this tale follows two childhood friends whose unbreakable bond grows into something deeper, but as dreams take flight and distance pulls them apart, unspoken words linger—until one fateful night changes everything.

genre.ᐟ heavy angst. hurt, no comfort.

cw.ᐟ major character death, car accident, language.

wc.ᐟ 1229 words

a/n.ᐟ i promise you this is the last car accident story i have, a honorable mention for this lovely song which i highly recommend to listen if yall want to hurt like i did while i was writing this.

It's almost like you love me, I can tell

Have you ever sacrificed everything—your life, your entire world—just to see someone smile again?

Just to remind them that the world isn’t as dark, as empty, as it once seemed?

You did.

It was the summer of ’03.

You were just a kid back then, thrown into the same cabin at summer camp as a stranger, forced into the same space. Megan was a whirlwind of energy, the kind of girl who couldn’t sit still for a second, who danced instead of walked, who laughed at everything and anything at first, she drove you crazy. She was loud, she was hyper, she didn’t know how to read well, she struggled with spelling—but none of that seemed to stop her.

And yet, despite all that, she could read you like an open book.

She tried her hardest to write you letters, struggling to spell out your name, rewriting words over and over just to get them right. She toned down her energy whenever you were too exhausted to deal with it. She listened when you were upset, curled up beside you when homesickness hit, stayed by your side whenever the other kids played their games.

Somewhere along the way, Megan stopped being just an annoying bunkmate.

She became your second home.

You wish you had told her how much that meant to you.

But summer doesn’t last forever. When it ended, you went your separate ways—her on one side of the country, you on the other. The first few weeks were the hardest. You missed her more than you expected, missed her laughter, her warmth. But distance wasn’t enough to break you. You called, you messaged, you sent letters. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough.

You kept this going for years, even into high school.

That’s when you started to realize something was different.

At first, you told yourself it was just a silly crush, something fleeting. You thought maybe it would fade.

You were wrong.

The moment you got your own phone, you were talking constantly. Calls, FaceTimes, texts—it never stopped. Megan always found a way to call, even when she was busy. And when you finally learned to drive, the first thing you did was go to her.

You drove miles just to see her smile.

You sacrificed sleep, time, money—anything, just to be there for her the way she had always been there for you.

And as you grew older, as you stood on the edge of adulthood, you realized something that terrified you.

You loved her.

Not in the way kids love their childhood best friends. Not in the way people expect you to love a friend you’ve known forever.

You were in love with her.

But you never told her.

Not even the night you made your pinky promise.

That night, you took her to your favorite place in the world, the first person you had ever brought there. Megan had never looked happier. Then she took you to hers. You sat together, watching the sun set, golden light painting her face like a dream.

“You know, I’m so lucky to have you,” she had said, turning to you with that soft, radiant smile.

You wanted to tell her then.

You wanted to say, Megan, I love you.

But all you could say was, “And I’m lucky to have you. I hope we spend more days like this, together, until we die.”

She laughed, holding out her pinky. “Then let’s pinky promise on it.”

You hooked your pinky around hers, sealing a promise you didn’t know you would break.

Then came the day Megan called you, her voice thick with tears.

She didn’t get into her dream university.

You didn’t even think. You just grabbed your keys, got into your car, and drove straight to her house.

When she opened the door, her face was streaked with tears, her shoulders shaking.

“Megan, darling, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, pulling her into your arms. She buried her face into your shoulder, crying so hard you could feel your heart breaking.

“But I really wanted to go there,” she sobbed.

“I know.” You held her tighter. “I know, love. But it’s their loss. You’re an incredible dancer, and if they can’t see that, they don’t deserve you.”

She sniffled, letting out a small, shaky laugh. “You always say the right things.”

“I just know you.”

To cheer her up, you took her to her favorite place, bought her ice cream, snacks—anything to see her smile again.

A week later, she called, screaming into the phone.

She got accepted into Dream Academy.

You were beyond proud of her.

But then came the worst part.

She told you that you had to cut contact.

The academy had strict rules—no outside communication, no distractions. You understood. So, you let her go.

You waited.

You watched her from a distance, following every update on her journey. When the finals came, you knew—you knew—she would win.

Then, two days after the announcement, your phone rang.

It was her.

“We can finally celebrate,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “Come over?”

You laughed, already grabbing your keys. “I’m on my way. Get ready.”

She giggled. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

That was the last thing she ever said to you.

The roads were nearly empty that night.

You were driving, one hand on the wheel, the other checking your phone at a red light. Megan had sent a text.

Meg: hurry uppp, im waitinggg >:(

You smiled, typing back a quick reply.

You: five minutes, i promise.

You never made it.

The light turned green. You started driving again.

And then—

A flash of headlights.

A deafening crash.

Everything slowed down.

You felt the impact before you even realized what was happening.

Pain.

So much pain.

Your thoughts blurred, fading in and out, but you still saw flashes of your life.

Your parents.

Your childhood.

And then Megan.

The girl who was waiting for you.

She was probably texting you again, telling you to hurry up. Probably fixing her hair, too excited to sit still.

You wanted to tell her you were coming.

You wanted to tell her you were sorry.

You wanted to tell her—

I love you.

But you never got the chance.

They say when someone dies unexpectedly, there’s a moment—just a moment—when their soul lingers.

Long enough to see the aftermath.

Long enough to see who mourns them.

You don’t know if that’s true.

But if it is, then you know exactly what you would’ve seen.

Megan.

Sitting in her room, waiting.

Checking her phone every few minutes, frowning when you didn’t respond.

Calling you, only for it to go straight to voicemail.

Then, the next day, the call she never expected.

A voice on the other end, telling her the news.

You can imagine how she reacted.

Shocked.

Denial.

Then, the tears. The way she must’ve curled up in her bed, crying her heart out.

The way she must’ve whispered, No, no, no, they promised. They promised we’d have more days together.

The way she must’ve broken, knowing you never got to celebrate her win.

Knowing you never got to say goodbye.

Megan, darling.

You hope she knows how much you loved her.

You hope she knows how much you sacrificed for her.

You hope she knows, even in your final moments—

You were thinking of her.

[gayslutbehavior]

i really admire the way my mom raised me when it comes to books. she always let me pick what to read, and she usually read the same books along with me so that we could talk about them. she likes reading YA, so that helps. i remember she really liked a series of unfortunate events and would help explain some of the funnier lines that might have gone over my head.

if there were books that either of us thought might be upsetting or hard for me to read, she would read them first and tell me what she thought. she wouldn't say i could or couldn't read them, she would just give me a heads up about things that might be challenging. for example, when i was about 10ish i wanted to read the sixth harry potter book, and she told me (with permission wrt spoilers) that an important character dies and that she found it really sad and thought i might too.

there were also books that she read before me and said she thought would be fine and then i ended up feeling uncomfortable about it for some reason and stopped reading. so she knew she could trust that i would take care of myself when reading. i had a panic attack when i read mockingjay for the first time because the war felt so real, and i took a break, calmed down, and came back to it later. but i'm still really glad i read that book because i think it was really good and taught me a lot.

it was the same way with movies - i watched little miss sunshine for the first time when i was pretty young, and she didn't try to keep me from seeing the more inappropriate parts, but she did explain things that i didn't understand. the only part she warned me about was when the brother realizes he's colorblind and can't be a pilot and gets really upset. she said he's going to yell and it's really sad. it wasn't the sex or the raunchy humor that she focused on (she knew that i knew what sex was), but the parts that were upsetting or scary, which makes sense to me.

pulp fiction is one of her favorite movies and we had a poster of it on the wall in our living room, so of course i wanted to watch it, but she told me that i should wait until i was older, not necessarily because it was inappropriate, but because it's the kind of movie that's hard to follow and requires a lot of cultural context to understand. i listened and when i ended up watching it for the first time i totally agreed that i wouldn't have understood it when i was younger.

she used to watch house when it came on and most of the time i didn't watch it with her even though she never said i couldn't because i really didn't like the parts where it would show the inside of a body. if i did want to watch, she would fast forward through those parts for me. i vividly remember watching house with her when thirteen comes out as bi. she paused the show to explain bisexuality to me and it was a huge moment for me as a queer person! the fact that she didn't brush past it or try to hide it from me helped me to learn and grow in my own identity.

the point is, the times when i was most confused or upset or alienated by a piece of media, it was rarely because there was sexual content. having warnings from my mom helped me to be prepared for things that might be beyond my expectations, and with her help i learned how to process and move through those things instead of ignoring them. i also learned that it was okay to feel like i wasn't ready to watch/read something. and i think that's a much safer approach to consuming media than trying to prevent kids from seeing or reading anything challenging until they're a certain age. it's all a process of growing and becoming ready for that kind of thing imo

I keep seeing aggressive "don't let kids read Wicked, it's inappropriate!!!" posts, and they're deeply irritating.

Would I recommend the novel to a random 12 year old I don't know? Probably not! But I first read Wicked at 12, and it's not like it permanently scarred me. It's not like I couldn't follow the plot. I didn't understand all the sociopolitical and religious commentary at 12, but that's why I went on to re-read it multiple times throughout my life. I get more from it each time.

There's sex and violence, yes, but I knew what sex was at 12, and I was seeing violence and war on the news every day. Why's the fictional sex and violence worse? Why should a kid not challenge themself with a book outside their comfort zone? Every kid deserves the chance to wig themselves out with a weird book they don't fully understand yet, and Wicked was mine.

My wife is very fond of a Mitch Hedberg quote I think is relevant here: "Every book is a children's book, if the kid can read."

(Also I think it's weird that people fixate on the puppet sex and the BDSM club, and not the parts where Elphaba bashes someone's skull in, or Turtle Heart gets lynched, or the soldiers abduct Fiyero's entire family as political prisoners. The "sex is evil, violence is fine" moral panic is eternal.)

[emblemxeno]

Hot Take Time!

I think the breakthrough revelation that the Sonic fanbase had about the series' reception during the 2010's, where full-force sincerity in its stories was mocked for being cringe and willingness to stand out in both a gameplay and artistic sense resulted in beloved games being panned retroactively, can be easily applied to FE Engage.

Engage is the most fucking sincere plot the series has had in over a decade. Yes, despite being the guy whose fav FE game is Fates, I think that game was still bogged down by the prospect of following up the blowout success of a game like Awakening and had too many instances of putting in a lot of ideas to see what worked rather than putting the full weight behind a select few core elements.

SoV had the baggage of being a remake while still needing a modern appeal, and ended up with a lot of contradictory aspects. And 3H doesn't know what it wants to be and never did from the ground up.

Engage is different. It wanted to be a grand celebration of 30 years of this great series. It wanted pizazz. It wanted spectacle. It wanted to say "we fucking love this series and we love the fans who supported us."

The characters are flashy and striking to make you remember them. The music is bombastic, with a wide variety of styles so anyone can find a favorite track. The presentation is beautiful, with great visuals and phenomenal sound design. New uber powerful mechanics balanced out by incredible map design, supberb flow, and responsive game feel.

But the sincerity shines brightest with its narrative. The core messages are well written!

Sometimes knowing when to retreat is better than foolhardy bravery. It's always worth considering someone's background and feelings before casting them away. There's never a single easy solution to your problems, and if you think there is, you'll end up repeating the same mistakes. You can find family with anyone, and are not bound solely by those who you're born to. To live authentically as yourself is beautiful and should be celebrated.

The game believes all of those things to a degree which really hasn't been seen since the series was on the brink of death.

But that sincerity was treated as unpalatable, cringe, and plain awful.

The fandom for a series that routinely and infamously has terrible armor designs now suddenly throws a fit because "flower girl has silly dress" or "these characters have face paint/tattoos."

The single laziest form of criticism for FE casts that has permeated the community since Awakening released, that being "the cast is one note tropes that have no personality or development outside of them", came back in full fucking force with Engage.

And it's pretty damn sad. In my opinion, sincerity shouldn't be mocked. Sometimes, you should take a minute and ask yourself "Is it bad, or is it just not my thing? Am I writing off an entire cast's writing because I don't like some character designs? Do I have personal preferences that aren't being met in this instance, and should I learn to grapple with saying that instead of just writing off the product as fundamentally terrible or, at best, half-assed?"

At some point, looking inward and considering community wide commonalities has to be recognized as a factor for why products are received the way they are, rather than just laying blame at the devs' feet for "not making a good product that people wanted." After all, word of mouth is the reason why FE even got this far, considering FE1 was effectively a sleeper hit because people who played it spread the word despite mixed reviews.

TL-DR, Engage isn't cringe, YOU ARE!!!

[seokmn]

VALENTINE’S DAY AT HOME ༘⋆♡⸝⸝⊹。°˖➴

pairing: seokmin x gn!reader wc: 0.6k words warnings: none

📣. tagging: @wonkierideul !

“there’s this thing they call love and i feel it when we touch”

Seokmin looked outside the window and pouted. He was clearly frustrated about the storm, he had planned so many things to do with you on valentine's day, only to be ruined by the shitty weather.

“Hey,” you smiled and patted the bed. Seokmin sighed and laid down next to you, turning his body to face you. “I’m sorry we have to stay at home. I had amazing plans, I’ve been planning things for today since last year,” Seokmin said quietly and you could sense how upset he was from his tone to the way he avoided your gaze like he was scared that you would be mad at him.

“It’s okay, Minnie. It’s not your fault,” you took a strand of hair away from his eyes and caressed his temple with your thumb. “But I wanted to do fun things with you. I wanted it to be a sunny day, not a depressing rainy day that looks like it’s already night.”

You got closer to him, your shoulders touching each other as you ran your index finger through his face, taking note of every facial feature. “Maybe the clouds are sad,” Seokmin looked at you with a confused expression. “Seeing all those lovely couples having fun while they can’t date? Depressing. Imagine if we went out? Do you think the clouds could handle seeing such a strong couple like us? Never!”

Seokmin chuckled and you smiled in return. “There it is,” you booped the tip of his nose. “Am I getting the bright Minnie back? I want him back with his shining smile that can light up a whole town. I want to hear that laughter that melts my heart and my entire body.”

“Eyyy,” Seokmin snorted and turned his head away from you to hide his flustered smile before turning back at you and pinching your cheek. “You’re way too cheesy for your own good.”

“Learned from the best,” you smiled and leaned forward, your lips finding his in a comforting kiss. Seokmin smiled against your lips and cupped your cheek.

The feeling of his smile against your lips made your heart beat faster. Everything about Seokmin made you feel like a teenager in love, but you always went crazy when he did that, and he even knew how to do it properly according to what atmosphere he wanted to create. He wanted to create a lovely and comfy atmosphere, so his smile was sweet, full of love and admiration.

You broke the kiss with a few pecks on his lips that only came to an end because of Seokmin’s grin. “I’m so happy to be with you.”

“Me too,” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for being here with me, thank you for being my valentine.”

He brushed his nose against yours before hugging your waist and pulling you closer. You had your face hidden in his neck as he placed his chin on top of your head.

“You know what? This is actually very nice,” his fingers moved up and down slowly on your arm. “Having you here in my arms while we chill and listen to the rain.”

“See? And there you were all sad for staying at home. We can even cook something different and maybe play some games later.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not upset anymore. The weather ruined my plans, all of them!” you chuckled and he gave you a playful and harmless slap on your shoulder for laughing before sighing. “But I guess you’re right… but I want to stay like this for a while.”

“I agree,” you pulled your head back to look up at him. “Little nap?”

“You read my mind, sweetheart. Let’s take a nap.”

[ribbonedreverie]

“Unsent Love Letters”

Words they will never say, letters they will never send.

──────────

💌 Osamu Dazai – “To the One Who Almost Made Me Stay”

My love,

I wrote this knowing you will never read it.

Isn’t that the safest way to say what I mean?

I have always been a man of contradictions—laughing at things I do not find funny, living in a world I have no interest in staying in, reaching for love while knowing I will never hold it long enough to keep.

You, my dear, were the cruelest of them all.

Because you almost made me want to stay.

And that—that is something I can never forgive.

You saw too much. You noticed too much. You looked at me as though you understood, and I have spent too long hiding to let someone see me so clearly.

And yet, I almost let you.

Almost.

If there is another life, I hope I love you properly in that one.

Yours (but never truly),

Osamu

💌 Chuuya Nakahara – “To the One I Would Have Burned the World For”

Hey, doll.

I don’t know why I’m writing this.

Maybe it’s because I never told you enough. Maybe it’s because I told you too much. Maybe it’s because you left, and I don’t know what to do with all the words I never said.

I would have burned the world for you. You know that, don’t you?

I would have given you everything I had, even the pieces of me I don’t know how to share.

But love—love is cruel.

And I am my own kind of monster.

I wonder if you ever think of me. If you ever wonder what would have happened if we had met in a different life, in a different world, where love did not come with a price.

I would have been better for you in that one.

But here? In this one?

I loved you the best way I knew how.

And I hope, somehow, that was enough.

Yours, always,

Chuuya

💌 Fyodor Dostoevsky – “To the One Who Thought They Could Save Me”

My dear,

You were a fool to love me.

A fool to believe in me.

A fool to think that someone like me—a man built of conviction and cruelty and ruin—could ever be softened by something as fleeting as love.

But you tried anyway.

You touched me like I was something fragile. You spoke my name like it was something worth whispering. You kissed me as if you thought I could be saved.

And for that, I will never forgive you.

Because for a moment—just a moment—I wanted to believe you.

That is the greatest sin of all.

I will not apologize. I will not beg. I will not ask for you to stay.

But if you do—know that I will ruin you in return.

Yours, if you dare,

Fyodor

💌 Nikolai Gogol – “To the One Who Should Have Known Better”

Ah, my dear!

Do you regret it? Do you wish you had run? Do you ever think back to the moment we met and wonder if things would have been easier if you had never looked my way?

Because I do.

I think about it often.

I think about how simple it would have been if I had never touched you, never kissed you, never let you get close enough to make me hesitate.

(Oh, what a terrible thing—hesitation.)

But you were fun. You were so fun.

And I am not a man who lets go of his entertainment so easily.

So tell me, darling—was it worth it?

Would you do it again?

Even knowing how this ends?

With a smile,

Nikolai

💌 Sigma – “To the One Who Made Me Feel Like More Than a Gamble”

I’m scared.

That’s all I know how to say.

I’m scared of what it means to love someone. I’m scared of what it means to be loved. I don’t know if I deserve it, if I know how to return it, if I know how to hold something that is not meant to slip through my fingers like all the other things I have lost.

But I wanted to try.

With you, I wanted to try.

I wonder if that is enough.

If you could be patient with me. If I could learn how to love without fear.

I don’t know how this story ends.

But if you are in it—I hope it is a happy one.

Yours (if you’ll have me),

Sigma

💌 Ryunosuke Akutagawa – “To the One Who Showed Me Softness”

I do not know how to say this.

I do not know how to say anything, really—not the things that matter, not the things you want to hear.

So I will say this instead.

I see you.

I see the way you wait for me to speak, the way you listen even when I have nothing to say.

I see the way you do not flinch when I reach for you, the way you do not ask for things I do not know how to give.

I see the way you are patient with me, even when I do not deserve it.

And I think—I think I love you for it.

I do not know if I will ever say this aloud.

But if you ever wonder—know that I have never tried this hard for anyone before.

And if that is not love, then I do not know what is.

Yours, in whatever way I know how,

Akutagawa

💌 Ranpo Edogawa – “To the One Who Already Knows”

Why would I write a letter when you already know what I’m going to say?

You always do.

You read me too well. You know my moods, my habits, the way I lean against you like a cat seeking warmth but refuse to admit I need you.

You know I will never say I love you outright—because it’s obvious, isn’t it?

I do not waste time stating facts.

I do not waste time on things that are already understood.

But if you need to hear it—if you ever need proof—just look at the way I let you stay.

Look at the way I let you close.

Look at the way I never correct you when you assume I love you.

Because you are right.

You always are.

Yours (as if that wasn’t obvious),

Ranpo

──────────

There’s something tragically beautiful about unsent love letters—words aching to be read, confessions swallowed by time. They hold a love that lingers, untouched by reality, forever suspended in what-ifs. Perhaps in another life, I sent them. Perhaps you read them. But here, they remain unread, and maybe that’s where they were always meant to stay. ♡

[itsactuallylina]

YOU’RE ALL I WANT ꩜ ZB1

SYNOPSIS: spending valentine’s day with them <3

PAIRING: zb1 maknae line x f!reader

GENRE: fluff !

WORD COUNT: .6k, (.2k-.3k for each member)

check out the masterlist —> here! ; reblogs are appreciated <3

ricky: the day will be spend in the art cafe! enjoying each others company, while sipping your favorite drinks and drawing portraits of each other. best believe, ricky will rent out the whole cafe, so you two won’t be distracted by anyone else. since he majored in fine arts, he would love to help you if you’re struggling! if not, he will act like he is having a hard time just for you to come and help him!! not to mention, ricky would get you so many gifts, its adorable. even if you protest, saying you can’t accept it, he will pout. “i was reminded of you when i saw it, so please wear it? for me?”, he says, holding up a really pretty necklace with a bright pink heart, and with that adorable gaze , you realize you never stood a chance. —the rest under cut!

gyuvin: valentine’s day with him would be so chaotic, but fun. it would all start with him dragging you to the rollerblading ring. gyuvin would act so confident, but as he makes the first steps, he immediately falls. seeing you laugh at him makes him smile, but gyuvin still brings you down with him. “I suffer, you suffer”. he definitely would try to slow dance with you on the rollerblades!! after this, gyuvin would take you to the photobooth to take silly pictures. one with you having your tongue out, on the second picture, you doing puppy ears to each other, and the last one! him kissing you on the cheek, while you are smiling so sweetly! the day would end with the movie marathon — your favorite flowers standing on the bedside table as you rest in his arms.

gunwook: in the early morning, he would come to get you, choosing your outfit, just to make sure you guys match. then surprising you with a cute picnic date! the sun shining softly, casting a warm and romantic glow. all of your favorite snacks and drinks on the display. you would play board games he prepared, you losing horribly. but gunwook is a gentleman, so he lets you win<3 not a lot tho, he still has pride to uphold! for the desserts he would prepare something homemade, something he baked by himself, with the help of his mom. not too sweet, because “you’re the sweetest thing ever”. he’d take out the large bear plushie, hugging you. “you deserve everything in the world, but lets start with that”. walking you to your doorstep, sweetly kissing you and calling right away as you disappear from his eyesight.

yujin: oh such a cutie! yujin would pick you up, invite you to his dorm, and cook for you! he learned the recipe online a few days prior, just to make sure it would be perfect. stops you from doing anything, “you just sit pretty and yap my ears off, i love when you do this”. many would think he’s super shy, but as the relationship progresses yujin becomes so clingy and playful! always wanting hugs and kisses, not even shying away from you. after he successfully feeds you, you take a break, playing mario kart, you winning, so he distracts you with a kiss on the cheek. you forgive him tho, cause he is a cutie. you baking cookies together as the last activity of the day! the sweet scent of strawberry cookies fills the air, the one that you both-oh, so love! yujin would feed you a few before making a little mess and having a decorating session. so many hearts and bunnies, that end up being eaten by you two, you wouldn’t have it any other way though.

a/n: valentines special <3 hope you had a great one, bcs i did <3 my friends gave me cute valentines and we joked around a lot. me, my sister and my dad then ordered take out and it was tasty. no boyfriend ≠ great valentine’s day. you’ll all meet someone perfect for you one day<3!!

[ap0cryph0n-in-space]

SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 1 FINALE

CHECK THYSELF AND ENSURE THOU HAST READ THE FINALE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE

Hello. So Buddy’s a key.

Prepare for more mind blowing never-before-heard statements such as that last one.

As we can already assume, Buddy was not always a key: he was human before being put through a (dubiously ethical) process that turned him into a key, presumably by whoever the “Old Man” of Ex-Libris is. He and Violet were working together to turn him human again, and we don’t know exactly what they need to do that yet.

So far what we do know is Buddy’s been specifically following Chase into the books: not the keys themselves, or Deacon and Prunella.

Bearing that in mind, I would like to propose that in order for Buddy to stop being a key, he needs a candidate to take his place. And for some reason outside of his control, the most likely candidate is Chase.

Not sure why exactly, maybe Chase’s personality matches the character key he would correspond to— which is proobably our resident Hero key, Goldie. I’ll get back to that, just a sec—

Punko said a couple of things in the season finale Q&A that caught my attention, mostly about Buddy’s irises being drawn differently from the human characters. It turns out they’re moonstones with a smooth cabochon cut instead of the OG keys’ faceted gem irises. But I’ll get back to that too, hold your horse gods—

OK, Chase being compatible with Goldie. The other thing was when Punko mentioned that in the book world, key holders tend to get sorted into either hero or side-character based on how much they take control of their life choices. Specifically that Deacon’s arc the whole season thus far has been about becoming the hero of his own life; when asking for things to go his way doesn’t cut it and especially when his friends and family are in danger, Deacon learned he needed to make things go his way himself and just take action. (Can relate…)

When Buddy said Chase “might be useful after all,” in episode 23, it was after Chase had made so much craziness happen in a book about cats trying to “Parent Trap” Stagtown cameos, that it was going fully off the rails- and through quick thinking and sheer trying things he got the book to a satisfying and frankly more entertaining conclusion. You know, Chase is just like that.

My guess for how Buddy needs to swap places with Chase is he just needs Chase and Goldie to be in the same book together before he initiates something on his end, and then Chase would… merge with Goldie in the book? Which makes me worried for Goldie too, if that’s what does indeed happen😥Idk. (Maybe that’s part of why Buddy talks like the most Disney Villain mustache-twirling theater nerd of all time, too, his mind’s been combined with the Villain key’s to become Nox.)

Buddy didn’t know that they had found Goldie until Prunella revealed herself, finally he has everything he needs, and I think he was hurt enough to unhappily consider going through with the plan- but then of course drama happened and they came to an understanding in the book and it was GREAT🥲

Still, even though Buddy’s decided he won’t go through with it, I have a feeling that it will end up happening somehow. Because Drama.

But enough of that, all that theory up there? Who cares, whatever, that’s all build up for my REAL point:

Buddy’s key form has a moon theme, and moonstone cabochon eyeballs,

Thus I propose

Get ready

You’ll never believe it

Chase with

☀️SUN☀️ STONE YORBS

(My god, what a feat of Logic)

Oh!! Oh oh, and Yes, the metallic striations (usually hematite?) can appear teal, pink, and yellow AKA Chase’s colors as a card-carrying 1980’s vaporwave pop punk lad— it’s almost like it was planned or something 😈

*maniacal cackling

ROCKS!!!!

[a-minke-whales-tale]

Misanthropy and Reconciliation

Sometimes I wonder if we need other words to describe various levels of misanthropy. I distrust humans - I fear humans - though I do not hate them or believe it is their inherent nature to be evil and hurt others. Often when this topic comes up people bring up discussion of eco-fascism or a philosophy of misanthropy, and often the idea of human nature as evil and destructive. Perhaps those posts are not meant for me, at least that part does not apply to me.

Though often in the same post or from others will talk about the distrust and fear of humans. It is as well part of misanthropy, or at least one of the definitions of misanthropy to have that distrust and fear of humans. When we talk about that fear and distrust of humans for trauma and what the humans have done to us, often I see people write that it is our own problem, something we have to work on. I have to wonder "why?". I think few people would judge a dog who fears men. They may not know the story of why, but understand something must have happened. Our fear and distrust of humans is not something innate any more than the hurt humans do to us is innate to them. In our case though the hurt still goes on - we are still being actively hurt. We are forced onto medicines that destroy us, we are isolated and ostracised from the wider therian community, and have our own communities interfered with or tried to be destroyed by self appointed saviours doing it in what they believe is for our own good in the most charitable interpretation. My podmate Ike once said, it isn't all humans but it -is- always a human. Only a few humans hurt us in the hospitals and turned us this way directly - but how many humans were needed to facilitate those actions, how many humans support what was done to us as either a gift or necessary? It is very many, even among therians.

Still, I desire very much reconciliation. I do not wish to fear the humans and wish I could be comfortable with them. In a rather cruel twist, my freedom and salvation lays essentially with the same group that has done to me so much harm and made me this way. I will never be able to return to the sea and I will always live in human captivity, for now as what looks like a human, and later in a tank. There is often a lot of human positivity posts floating around to try to counter the misanthropy posts; and perhaps it is just who I follow, I see far more of the former than the latter. Humans are pretty neat creatures at points in the things they do and create. Perhaps someday I can come to fully appreciate them without fear or concern they will hurt or kill me if I do not do precisely what they wish. I admit though it is difficult to believe I could ever exist without some amount of fear and distrust to the humans.

People often say that it is our responsibility to move on from the hurt that causes our fear and distrust. It is true most humans did not design the world they live in and are just as much victims of circumstance as myself. I was born into a world dominated by the humans and my life is dominated by the machinations of the humans. I know the humans are in charge and I do not mind that I am lesser than them. Still if the humans want for me to not fear and distrust them, it is their responsibility to show they are safe and they are trustworthy and they won't hurt us.

At points I can make bits of progress. I may not trust humans, but I can learn to trust -a- human. I can learn to connect and feel some level of safety around them. It takes a very long time though, and that trust is easily shattered. When I go to live in a tank we will have to put a huge amount of trust in our trainers and caregivers. I imagine at first we will be a bit nervous with our trainers and with the humans around us but I hope in the end we can form a tight bond with them and feel safe and secure, that even if we can never feel truly safe around humans we do not have that relationship with, we will feel comfortable still because we know our humans will make sure that others won't hurt us. Perhaps that is for us the best outcome we can have.

[constantfragmentation]

Agreed.

Do I believe Vander blames himself, that he wronged Silco? Yes, I do. But he really doesn't do much beyond extended a weak olive branch to a trusted friend that he just tried to kill. It wasn't a fight that got out of hand, he tried to kill him.

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm sure as hell not going to seek my attempted murderer out afterwards to 'reconcile'. Yeah, no. Silco isn't going to the their special place in the mines, the Drop or anywhere else in FEAR he may run into his attacker and die the next time.

Let's also not forget, the Felica reason is really stupid. He lost his head? The writing is so weak here. Silco and Vander's break seemed more profound than an accidental death of a mutual friend. People get hurt and die in revolts. They had to know there would be casualties or why bother with revolting against Enforcers, who are heavily armed?

Also, if we use a vague timeline between the Day of Ash, Silco recovering from extensive injuries mentally, emotionally and physically, to the point in Arcane S1E1, WHERE... Vander and Benzo make the comment of 'there are worse things than Enforcers out there" meaning Silco and immediately painting him as the big baddie in the first episode.

So, by the age of the kids supposedly on the Day of Ash and then in Ep1, Vander had YEARS to try and contact Silco. They lived in the Underground, know the same people. There's not exactly an infinite places to stay hidden. Vander and Benzo clearly know Silco is operating in the Undercity.

You can't tell me in all those YEARS, Vander couldn't have made the effort to actually contact Silco and clear shit up. He chose not to and continued painting his 'brother' as a bad guy. For someone who 'never forgave himself', he sure didn't make an effort to find his brother. His effort was the weakest ever.

Even his "I never forgave myself" is hollow. No, buddy, you should have been begging your brother's forgiveness for what you did to him. It's this pathetic attempt of Vander's is what I find insulting. We're supposed to go, "oh look he was sorry , if only Silco KNEW!". But it doesn't address the work needed to regain a person's trust and forgiveness.

Vander didn't put in the effort to deserve Silco's forgiveness. End of story.

The mutliverse episode just felt like a slap in the face in this respect. Silco's personality completely changes which makes ZERO sense. The young Silco and Timeline Silco in S2 don't make any sense compared the characterization of Silco in all of S1.

Young Silco HAD to have traits that build into what makes S1 Older Silco. The drowning isn't going to make those traits magically appear. It was always about the cause. Even if Vander apologized, his handling of the Underground and working with Enforcers is what pits Silco against him. THAT is the betrayal.

I don't think Vander's letter would have done much if we're going off S1 Silco explanation of the drowning and aftermath. Silco tried to see if he could get back the 'old Vander' but also knew it might not happen and had Plan B in the wings.

" I let a weak man die".

Silco decided that the cause was still the most important thing to him and learned not to trust anyone so willingly and blindly.

The Felicia angle is so weak. There is no build-up to this magical trio of friends. Silco doesn't seem to know her kids or vice versa. The kids seems to see Silco as an enemy most likely due to Vander and Benzo.

If Silco was a true friend, why doesn't he know the kids or vice versa? You'd think due to their age prior to the bridge, Silco would be a part of their lives and not just Vander?

S2 was such a disappointing mess. If they really wanted to explore these relationships, then they should have laid some of the groundwork in S1 but didn't. The fact it was dealt with in such a sloppy manner and expected fans to love it? That's what bugs me.

And the blatant character assassination of SO many characters in order to make their plot work.

All of S2 was poorly executed. Period.

y'all. y'all know the letter wasn't the apology right. it was the olive branch. "you know where to find me" was an invitation. he couldn't apologize in a letter. he wanted silco to meet him. yeah it was a shit apology. because it wasn't one. my word.

[breadandlottery]

I think I'm going to make people upset but let's go Do you think Gi Hun has grown in terms of character development? In my opinion, what bothers me most about round 6 is the lack of significant growth in gi hun because he doesn't seem to have lost several people in the first season he remains naive I expected an improvement or development from a person who has already won the games. I would like you to answer me, I love your analyses.

My dear anon, apologies in advance for what is sure to be a very lengthy response…

I would like to say first that this is a tough question for me to answer with confidence since we haven’t seen season 3 and because it feels a little like a season 2A and season 2B situation. 

I’ve been working through scenes that I’m flagging in my mind for moments that should have raised red flags for Gihun but, from what we’re shown, didn’t. As I often tag ramble about, I do hold out some hope that he had legitimate suspicions of 001 and a loose backup plan. I have also noted that, interestingly, s2 does not have any of the flashback/realization scenes we were given several times in s1 and honestly, that feels very intentional? Like we’re supposed to notice it’s missing (I also have thoughts about ADHD Gihun, but that may just be me projecting because I’m real familiar with the exact kind of lightbulb moments he has, lol). My hunch/hope is that the show has been misdirecting us to make us believe everything you just said about the apparent lack of character development.

Now, I do think there has absolutely been character evolution. I can understand fans not seeing it as “development”, because I think we tend to think of character development as positive growth, but honestly, it doesn’t have to be… like a villain arc is still character development (just an example, I do not think this is a villain arc situation). I think instead of a lack of character development, I’d be more apt to call it a lack of “learning his lesson” or a lack of apotheosis (the point of realization/epiphany).

If we view squid game as monomyth/hero’s journey, he’s kind of not to the point yet where that would have happened (because the end of S2 would be the abyss?). Now, am I certain that the story being told is a hero’s journey? No, although I am somewhat confident.

So— I'm working under the assumption that we have a hero’s journey told in trilogy format. We have a LOT of comparison media out there… the Matrix, Star Wars, LOTR, among the most popular. What does the end of the middle installment of all of these have in common? They’re bleak af. 

Matrix: Neo unconscious, Agent Smith breaking into the real world

Star wars: Luke battles  Vader and loses his hand/almost dies, Han encased in carbonite

LOTR: Gollum’s betrayal, battle of Helm’s Deep (a win but with an ominous warning accompanying it)

The psuedo trilogy structure is where I do feel slightly perturbed at netflix for passing off a split season as 2 separate seasons. With a “real” trilogy, each component should be able to stand alone (like with 3 act structure-- set up-> conflict -> resolution) which is true of the examples above because the primary narrative conflict is actually resolved but super not true of squid game s2. Which means s2 and 3 combined could be the middle of the trilogy, with the mystery future season being the final part, but I don’t know that that’s in the cards. 

As an aside, we could just be totally wrong about the direction this is going in. Narrative arcs that involve the protagonist “learning a lesson” isn’t a universal concept. I always think of James Bond movies (especially the older ones) as an example of a “flat arc” character, because like, if you sleep with her she’s probably gonna die James, didn’t you learn this last time? If you’re too reckless there will be consequences, didn’t you learn this last time James? Like. That guy never learns. Not every character learns from their mistakes. Do I think Gihun is ultimately gonna be a flat arc character? No. Is it possible? I guess, man, look at the world, anything’s possible!!

So, ugh, sorry that’s a ton of speculation and uncertainty that isn’t directly answering your ask, but I do think that any of these possibilities can explain what we’re calling a lack of character development because we’re just not at that point in the story yet.

NOW.

Personally, I do think that Gihun is very perceptive, and I hold out hope that he wasn’t as trusting and oblivious as we’re made to think. I also believe that even if that is the case, he’d still have further to go/more development needed before he could actually reach the end of his journey. The reason for this (and I think one of the reasons people sometimes think of him as not smart) is the narrowness of his worldview. Not narrowmindedness, just literally not having broad knowledge about the world. Like not knowing where Pakistan was. Or not really getting that neither he nor the Frontman have the power to end what's happening because it is a symptom of a much larger, systemic problem. And in complete fairness to this sweet man, lack of perspective and a narrow worldview is an incredibly common flaw in people. 

So a few things that can be interpreted as Stagnation or Lack of Development:

Still a gambler: as seen in Russian Roulette and in going back into the game. Definitely risky, definitely reckless. He is like kinda suicidal though, so I don’t know that the underlying cause of this behavior is the same as it was in s1.

Still just out here trusting everyone: Yeah. That’s what he does, though. He came right out and said it, he doesn’t do it because he thinks people are trustworthy, he does it because what else is he gonna do? Is this a dumb-as-shit approach that should be “character-developed” out of him? Or is it a very important key defining feature of who he is as the hero of the story? I could go either way on that, tbh.

Naïve/easy to fool: I don’t think he ever was all that easy to fool, I think he consciously chose to let a lot of things slide and/or second-guessed his intuition because people called him stupid and slow all the time. 

Things that I think are Character Development

Ability to Focus: Maybe I’m ADHD projecting again, but this guy was all over the place in the beginning of s1, now he’s running a whole ass operation (maybe the medicine Mr Kim brought over was secretly adderall lol).

Leadership: I’ve said all along he just naturally exudes leadership, but he wasn���t really aware of it or comfortable with it in s1. In s2 he’s really embracing decision-making (even if they’re bad decisions) and seems comfortable being the one planning and leading, which is impressive.

So. To sum up a very very long answer:

I do see character development, if not the “hero finally learned his lesson” kind

I do still think it’s possible that Gihun wasn’t quite as clueless as we’re shown, and I’ll cling to this delusion until at least June 27th lol

I think it’s possibly too early in the narrative for his full revelation, anyway, but-

Part of why that feels “off” is because s2 is missing the “last Act” of the story it was telling (like don’t split a sequel in 2 and try to shoehorn it into a trilogy if it’s not an actual trilogy please for the love of god it throws off the balance)